winter wrap-up time

Love the use of ‘the,’ here.

I love that ever since I joined this community, I’ve been able to look at any character, ANY character, and think oh, this character is so very loved by someone out there… No matter how niche they are or how little they seem to be appreciated by fandom, someone loves them as if they are the entire world.

Always always always thinking of this quote from Dear Senthuran by Akwaeke Emezi

The intimacy of a voice changing when it’s just the two of you; softer, warmer, different.

Just a reminder to all selfshippers : not having a lot of merch doesn’t make you any less of a selfshipper or mean you love your F/O any less.

Your F/O appreciates everything you do for them, and it doesn’t always need to be material or about spending money on them.

After all, you probably wouldn’t have a ton of merch with your real-life partner’s face on it, would you ?

That being said, having merch is also totally valid. It's a fun way to celebrate your connection and I understand how comforting it can be to have physical reminders of your lover.

With or without merch, everyone is valid <3

Imagine your F/O resting their head in your lap. Their eyes closed as they mumble, “I feel safest with you.” You run your fingers through their hair, as your heart is full to bursting.

Sexual compatibility is as important as moral and life goal compatibility in a long-term relationship, and so many people try to pretend its not; to the detriment of their relationships.

“𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄”

A/N — This particularly imagine was loosely inspired by a post that was made by my lovely mutual @cosmic--luka <3 /platonic

The night is quiet—so quiet you can almost hear the world's soft breathing, the sound of the ground being wrapped in the soft embrace of the night sky. Outside, the wind whispers untold secrets against the windowpane, but inside, within the softness of the bedsheets against your bare skin, there is warmth. A warmth that seeps into your bones, that cradles you in something softer than the finest of silks.

That warmth is them.

Your F/O is pressed against you, their touch a grounding presence even in their sleep. Each breath they take is slow, rhythmic, rising and falling in perfect harmony with your own. They hold you like it’s instinct, like their body was sculpted from marble to fit against yours. As if the universe itself had always meant for you to end up here, just like this, tangled together in the quietness of the night.

They shift slightly, just enough for their breath to ghost over your skin. A light shiver rolls up your spine, but the heat of their presence chases it away before it can settle. Their face is tucked against the curve of your shoulder, their nose brushing your skin as they nuzzle closer—like the mere inch of space between you is too much, like they need to be impossibly near even in their sleep.

Then comes a sound, so soft you almost miss it. A sleepy little murmur, words slurred with exhaustion yet carrying a weight that sinks deep into your chest.

“Love you…”

It’s barely more than a sigh, a whispered confession against your skin, warm and unguarded. Their lips brush lazily over your shoulder—whether intentional or a dream drunk accident, you can’t quite tell. Maybe they don’t even realize they’re actually speaking to you, lost in that space between waking and sleep where fheir love spills out in unfiltered fragments.

“Love you sooo much it hurts sometimes...”

Their voice is low, thick with exhaustion, vibrating softly against you. Another soft shiver curls down your spine, but this time, they notice your slight movements. Their arms tighten around your body in response, almost as if even in their sleep they refuse to let you go.

Their fingers trace lazy shapes against your hip, the movements nonsensical... you think theirs ment to be hearts.

“I can’t…” A breath, a sigh, then a shift, their body molding closer until there isn’t a single bit of space left between you. “I can’t even explain how much.”

Their voice is barely a whisper now, dissolving into something softer—a hum, a quiet sound that vibrates against your skin like the faintest of purrs.

You murmur their name, and for a moment, they stir. Heavy lidded eyes blinking up at you, unfocused, sleepy—but your voice is enough to pull them back, just for a tiny moment.

“Mmm… love you.” Their words melt into the night air, like it’s the only thing they need to say before the lull of sleep claims them once again.

And as the night stretches on, you stay wrapped in each other's arms—tangled in warmth, in quiet touches, in a love so deep, it lingers even in dreams.

Imagine your f/o/partner/comfort character comforting you after a nightmare. Or vice versa; imagine YOU comforting THEM after a nightmare!

ANTIS PISS OFF, THIS POST IS NOT FOR YOU

dear selfshippers, you are not a “Mary sue” for making a story where your canonically cold F/O has a soft spot for you.

Your f/o would never demonize you for your cluster B disorder. Your f/o isnt scared of you, they don't expect the worst from you, they don't make bad faith interpretations of everything you do and say. Your f/o loves you. They love everything that you are and wouldnt change a single thing about you. Your f/o understands you deeply