#(something something letting go of people who are already dead)

[aphroditelovesu]

⸻ The Lost Queen - XVIII ⸻

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, eventual smut, pregnancy.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 2,330.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @silmawensgarden, @elvinapandra, @jennifer0305 , @his0kaswife, @animetye-23.

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 18

Roxanna felt restless, as if something inside her was in constant conflict. She paced her room, unable to rest, her thoughts racing around a single issue: her impending marriage to Alexander, the foreign conqueror who seemed to be engulfing the world with his ambition.

Her father had been clear. The union was strategic, a calculated move to ensure the survival of his people in the face of the sweeping changes that lay ahead. With Darius’s downfall looking increasingly likely, joining forces with the man who controlled the most feared armies seemed not only sensible, but necessary. ''It is for the good of all,'' he had said, with the grave tone of one who made decisions beyond his own heart. But his words found no echo in hers.

Roxanna tried not to let her panic show, but the reality was suffocating. She knew little of Alexander, only stories she had been told; enough, however, to recognize that he possessed a magnetic presence. His face was striking, almost chiseled, and his eyes shone with an intensity that could both fascinate and intimidate. He was the kind of man who seemed unshakable, but the force that drew crowds to his feet also made her uneasy.

The weight of this choice that was not hers was made even worse by the shadow of another woman. Alexander already had a wife. Roxanna had heard whispers about (Y/N), the so-called Lost Queen. It was a name that soldiers spoke with reverence, almost like a prayer, and it tormented her. (Y/N) was not dead, but missing, possibly captured by the Persians. Despite her absence, her presence seemed to dominate. The adoration that Alexander clearly had for his wife seemed to be transmitted to his men. She had heard that Alexander was sending out searches and preparing to invade Babylon, supposedly where his wife would be.

How could she, Roxanna, compete with her, a figure who loomed like a specter in the midst of Alexander's ambition? Roxanna was beautiful and she knew it. Her beauty was surpassed only by Darius's wife.

More than that, she felt an inner resistance to the idea of ​​sharing. She knew it was common for kings to have multiple wives, but still, the idea of ​​becoming one of many repulsed her. Roxanna wanted to be more than the second wife, more than a symbol of victory over her people. She wanted to be the first, the only. It was a foolish desire, perhaps, but it was hers.

Still, she knew it didn’t matter. The decision wasn’t in her hands. If Alexander wanted her, there would be no escape. Refusal was unthinkable. She would be forced to play the role of wife, to fulfill the role assigned to her, whether her heart was in it or not.

She would be ready to give her heart to Alexander. But he... Was he ready to give his to her?

"A doctor has come to see you, my Queen." Bagoas’s soft voice cut through the silence of the room, respectful and controlled. He waited patiently at the door until you nodded, allowing him to enter. His gaze was always firm but affectionate, as if he were measuring the environment around him before taking a step. You couldn’t help but grow fond of the eunuch.

"Let him in." You replied, trying to hide the nervousness that was setting in. But the anxiety grew in waves, relentless, as the man entered the room. He carried with him a leather bag and a series of strange instruments. The sight of some of them, with their sharp, mechanical shapes, made your stomach turn. For a brief moment, you couldn’t help but think that they looked more like torture tools than healing tools.

You took a deep breath, trying to find calm. After all, this was an order from Perdiccas, who, even without saying it, showed genuine concern. The memory of him hugging you, holding your hand gently, whispering sweet words to you, was both comforting and disturbing. His presence awakened conflicting feelings. Part of you wished he was there, that he hadn't left the room so abruptly. But another part, hurt by the circumstances, wanted distance.

You needed to talk about what was happening. About everything. But not now. You needed to focus on yourself, on protecting yourself and the life growing inside you. At least, until Alexander came to get you.

Your gaze instinctively fell on your hands, which rested on the subtle curve of your belly. It was an almost unconscious gesture, an attempt to protect the life growing inside you. Although you weren't completely sure about the time, you estimated that your pregnancy was already close to four months. The idea was both beautiful and terrifying.

"How are you feeling, Your Majesty?" The doctor asked, his voice grave but gentle, as he took a few steps towards you. There was something in his gaze, a deep green that seemed to seek answers before you could even offer them.

"A little better." You murmured, trying to sound calm, but feeling the weight of your vulnerability. His eyes met yours, and for an instant, you felt disarmed, exposed. The tension in the air was palpable, and the anticipation of the upcoming examination increased the whirlwind of emotions that already took over you.

The doctor’s gaze fell on the discarded sheet next to the bed, where a small but unmistakable stain of blood marked the clear surface. He coughed discreetly, perhaps to disguise the evident discomfort he felt at the delicate situation.

"You were lucky," He said after a brief silence, gesturing for you to spread your legs. The request was direct, professional, but you couldn't help the blush that rose to your cheeks. The idea of ​​exposing yourself like that, even in front of a doctor, made your body stiffen with embarrassment.

But you forced yourself to keep your composure, taking a deep breath to push away the discomfort. "It’s like he’s a gynecologist," you told yourself in your head, trying to rationalize. He was a doctor, after all. It didn’t matter that medicine back then was rudimentary, or that you had doubts about the real effectiveness of his knowledge.

Details. Just details.

"Was I lucky?" Your voice came out in a low murmur, with a slightly bitter tone that you couldn’t hide. The whole situation felt surreal, as if you were trapped in a game that was out of your control.

And that was probably exactly what it was.

The doctor nodded, moving carefully as he lifted the light chiton covering your body. His gaze remained fixed on his task, professional but intense. "Yes," He replied, his voice deep but calm. "You almost miscarried."

The words hit you like a cold blast, making your heart clench. What had started as discomfort now became palpable fear. You knew the pregnancy was fragile, but hearing it so directly was a cruel confirmation of the vulnerability of this new life inside you.

Instinctively, your hands went back to your belly, as if trying to protect it from any unseen threat. The silence between you stretched for a moment, heavy, as you absorbed what he had said. It wasn’t just luck. It was a warning. And a reminder that your body and mind were carrying far more than they could bear alone.

The doctor carefully lowered your chiton before approaching you again, this time placing his hands on your belly. His initial touch was firm, almost rough, and you flinched instinctively, feeling uncomfortable with the pressure he was applying. He seemed oblivious to your reaction, completely focused on his assessment, but you could barely contain the shiver that ran through your body.

"Why are you doing that so hard?" You started to ask, but he held up his hand, interrupting you before you could finish.

"How long have you been pregnant, Your Majesty?" He asked, his voice serious, his eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that seemed to weigh on you.

For a moment, the question took you by surprise. His incisive tone and the way he stared at you made you nervous, but you knew you had to answer. Swallowing hard, you murmured, "I think I’m four months along..."

He nodded, but his gaze remained skeptical, as if questioning the accuracy of your answer. Stepping back, he seemed to ponder before finally uttering the words that left you speechless.

"I believe you are pregnant with twins."

"Twins?" You repeated in a whisper, almost as if you were asking yourself.

The doctor nodded again, this time with a more serious expression. He seemed to be measuring his words, but he still chose to be direct. "Your belly is more swollen than normal for a single pregnancy," He explained, his voice calm but filled with concern. After a brief sigh, he continued, this time with a darker tone. "Unfortunately, I must warn you of the risks. Giving birth to two babies... It’s dangerous. There’s a good chance you won’t survive the birth."

His words hit you like a blow. Your eyes widened, and the room seemed to close in around you. To die in childbirth. In ancient times. It sounded like a sentence you never imagined you would face. Terror settled in your chest, and for a moment it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could utter a word, another voice cut through the silence.

"I suggest you keep your comments to yourself."

It was Perdiccas, his imposing figure appearing in the doorway of the room. His tone was calm, but filled with disapproval as he fixed the doctor with a hard stare. His eyes flashed, as if ready to squelch any further attempts to alarm her. "My Queen is already terrified enough. We don’t need your unnecessary comments."

His presence filled the space, and you felt a mixture of relief and discomfort. Perdiccas had always been a complex figure in your life — protective and, at the same time, charged with an authority that sometimes felt overwhelming. Yet his words, even as a reprimand to the doctor, brought a strange sense of security. As if, for a moment, he was willing to carry the weight you feared to face alone.

The doctor hesitated, clearly disconcerted, but bowed his head in deference. "My apologies, Your Majesty. It was merely a warning." He gathered his things quickly, as if to avoid any further confrontation with Perdiccas, and bowed out.

Now, only the two of you remained in the room. Perdiccas approached slowly, his eyes softening as they landed on you. "I will not let anything happen to you," He said, his voice lower and firmer, like a promise he seemed determined to keep.

And in that moment, you allowed yourself to believe his words. There was something in Perdiccas’ tone, in the firmness of his promise, that seemed sincere. Maybe it was the vulnerability that enveloped you, making him an anchor in the midst of the whirlwind of uncertainty. Or maybe it was the old feelings, the ones you tried to bury, but that now resurfaced, stubborn and undeniable, creating cracks in the armor you had built over time.

He was there, close enough for his presence to warm the cold room, and for a brief moment, you felt a security that you hadn’t experienced in months. Against all the reasons your mind tried to list, you found yourself trusting Perdiccas once again, as if his promise were a rope pulling you out of the abyss.

Or maybe it was the pregnancy hormones.

You just hoped you wouldn't regret it a second time.

Alexander was determined: he would only take Roxanna as his wife if he had the consent of (Y/N), his beloved and first wife, from whom fate had separated him. He knew that to unite with another woman without (Y/N)'s knowledge and permission would be the same as betraying the deep feelings he still harbored for her. It was a line that Alexander was not willing to cross. Acting in the shadows, making decisions that could hurt or dishonor (Y/N), would be an act he would never forgive himself for. The respect and love he had for her were unshakable, and even in the face of difficult circumstances, he was determined to honor them above all else.

But before any decision about Roxanna could be made, he had to recover (Y/N). There was no other path to follow while she was still beyond his reach. Alexander had already made his decision: he would leave for Babylon immediately. No matter the challenges, he was willing to face them.

He would mobilize his army for the mission, for he knew that no effort would be too great to rescue his beloved. He trusted his generals and soldiers completely, loyal men who had always followed him, and it would be no different this time. When he communicated his determination, he was certain that they would support him without hesitation, understanding that, for Alexander, the search for (Y/N) was not only a matter of love, but of honor.

"Call the generals immediately." Alexander's firm voice echoed through the room. The page, without wasting time, bowed hurriedly and ran off to carry out the order.

Alexander was alone for a moment, but his mind was far from there. He could almost smell (Y/N)'s perfume, that delicate and unmistakable aroma that had enveloped him so many times. He seemed to hear the soft melody of her laughter in the background and feel the gentle touch of her fingers against his skin. It was as if the memory of her was more alive than ever, calling him to action.

Finally, he would be going after her. There would be no more delay, doubts or hesitations. Every step he took now would bring him closer to (Y/N), and nothing in the world could stop him from bringing her back.

''I'm coming for you, my Queen.''

— lady l: maybe a shorter chapter but that's because it's like a preparation for chapter 19 and especially 20. I hope you liked it and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

See you a in the next chapter! I'll probably post the next this weekend, though. It's practically ready. 😉

Also, expect a lot of drama to come! Alexander is coming to Babylon!! 😚

[rootedinrevisions]

No Nut November...or Not

SUMMARY: When a harmless bar conversation turns into a bet about who can last the longest during No Nut November, the stakes are set. They both assume they can outlast the other without breaking a sweat. What they don’t anticipate is you–their mischievous partner–who takes it as a personal challenge to make the month as impossible as humanly possible. Because why should they get to have all the fun?

A/N: Thank you so much to the Nonny who sent in this request! This one is a little more outside my comfort zone than what I normally write, but I think it turned out okay. Please let me know how you feel about it!

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT. (Lingerie, Spanking, Slight Dom, Unprotected Sex (be responsible people), P in V (reverse cowgirl), Voyeurism/Exhibitionism (not sure if this counts in a poly relationship but including it in case)

WORD COUNT: 6.1k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The Hard Deck was alive with its usual hum of chatter and laughter, the jukebox belting out an old rock anthem. You leaned back in your chair, nursing a cold beer as you watched Jake and Bradley settle into their usual rhythm.

Jake smirked, his signature cocky grin firmly in place as he tipped his bottle toward Bradley. “Face it, Bradshaw, you just can’t handle the pressure. That’s why I’m better at pretty much everything.”

Bradley rolled his eyes, though the twitch of his jaw betrayed his annoyance. “You keep telling yourself that, Bagman. Last time I checked, you couldn’t keep up with me in the air…let alone other places.”

His gaze then shifted to you and he shot you a wink. You hid your smile behind your bottle, enjoying the way their bickering played out like clockwork. It was endearing in its own way, how the two of them always seemed to push each other just to prove who could come out on top.

“Alright, alright,” you interjected, setting your drink down and tilting your head at them. “What’s it going to be this time? Another darts match? Arm wrestling in the middle of Penny’s bar?”

“Don’t even think about it boys,” she interjects from behind the bar causing your lips to curve into a smirk.

Jake turned to you with a gleam in his eye, his grin widening. “Nah, that would be too easy, sweetheart. I’m thinking something better. Something that requires real willpower.”

Bradley scoffed, but there was a flicker of curiosity on his face. “What are you thinking, Hangman?”

Jake leaned forward, bracing one elbow on the table. “No Nut November.”

The words hung in the air for a beat before you burst out laughing, nearly spilling your beer. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I’m dead serious.” Jake looked over at Bradley, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Think you’ve got the guts to keep it together for a whole month, Bradshaw? Or are you gonna fold like you always do?”

Bradley narrowed his eyes, his lips curving into a slow, confident smile. “You’re on. But don’t come crying to me when you lose after, what, three days?”

“Three days?” Jake repeated mock outrage in his tone. “I’ve got steel discipline, Bradshaw. You’re the one who’s always got his head in the clouds.”

“Oh, this is good,” you said, shaking your head in amusement. You could already tell where this was headed, and it was going to be entertaining, to say the least

“What’s the wager?” Bradley asked, his eyes not leaving Jake.

“The usual,” Jake said with a shrug. “Loser has to do whatever the winner says. No complaints, no excuses.”

Bradley nodded, extending his hand across the table. “Deal.”

They shook on it, their grips firm and their gazes locked in mutual defiance. You snipped your beer, biting back a grin as an idea began to form in your mind.

If they were really going to go through with this, you might as well make it interesting. After all, wasn’t it your duty as their partner to keep them on their toes?

“I hope you two are ready,” you said, your voice deceptively sweet as you leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand. “Because I’m not about to make this easy for either of you.”

Jake arched a brow, his smirk faltering just slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you’ll see.”

Bradley’s eyes flicked to yours, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension flashing across his face. But neither of them had the chance to respond before you stood, finishing the last of your drink and setting the bottle down with a soft clink.

“Good luck, boys,” you said, giving them a wink before walking away.

Behind you, you could hear Jake muttering, “What the hell does that mean?”

The next evening, the glow of the Hard Deck’s neon lights and the buzz of competitive banter were a distant memory. In their place was the soft hum of music drifting from the living room speaker and the warmth of home-cooked comfort filling the air.

Jake and Bradley’s off-base apartment had always been a haven of sorts—a space where the three of you could unwind, trading the chaos of your days for shared laughter and easy companionship, and a lot of physicality. Tonight was no different.

You stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and a grin tugging at your lips as you recalled the way Jake and Bradley had shaken on their bet the night before, each so sure of their resolve. It was all in good fun, of course, but watching them try to outlast each other was going to be a source of endless entertainment. Especially if you had anything to say about it.

The smell of garlic and herbs filled the cozy apartment kitchen as you stirred a simmering pot on the stove. Bradley leaned beside you, chopping vegetables with steady precision, while Jake stood at the counter, tossing together a salad. It was a rare quiet evening for the three of you, the kind of domestic tranquility that felt all the more special amidst the chaos of naval schedules.

You glanced at Bradley out of the corner of your eye. He was focused on his task, the rhythmic thwack of the knife against the cutting board filling the space between the three of you.

Setting the spoon aside, you turned toward him, brushing your hand lightly along the small of his back as you reached for the bowl beside him. “Thanks for helping out,” you said, your voice casual but laced with a subtle warmth.

“No problem,” Bradley replied, his tone as calm as ever. He didn’t look up from the cutting board, his focus unbroken.

Undeterred, you let your fingers linger a moment longer than necessary before pulling away, casually brushing against his forearm as you leaned over to grab a kitchen towel. Still no reaction—though you noticed the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

From across the kitchen, Jake chuckled softly. You looked over your shoulder to find him watching with a smug grin, one eyebrow raised as if to say, “Really? Is that all you’ve got?”

Game on.

Turning back to Bradley, you stepped closer, reaching for the bowl of chopped veggies just as he finished. 

“Let me get that,” you said, letting your fingers trail along his wrist as you took the bowl from him. This time, there was the faintest flicker of something in his expression, but he quickly masked it, his lips curving into an almost imperceptible smirk.

“Thanks,” you said sweetly, placing the bowl on the counter and brushing past Jake on your way to the fridge.

You could feel his eyes on you, but he didn’t say a word, his hands continuing to toss the salad with deliberate nonchalance. Smiling to yourself, you opened the fridge and retrieved a bottle of wine, taking your time as you returned to the counter.

Jake didn’t react when you sidled up beside him, leaning slightly against his arm as you reached for a corkscrew. But when your fingers brushed his wrist—lingering just long enough to feel the warmth of his skin—his hands faltered, sending a stray piece of lettuce tumbling onto the floor.

“Oops,” you murmured, hiding your grin as you grabbed the corkscrew and stepped back. You almost painfully slow, bent down to pick up the lettuce, making sure the skirt you were wearing slid up giving Jake just the tiniest glimpse of the frilly lace of your underwear peeking out at him.

Jake shot you a look, his smirk slipping for a fraction of a second before he composed himself. 

“Careful there, darlin’,” he said, his voice smooth but with a slight edge as his hand moved to your hip.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Bradley glancing over, his smirk now firmly in place. “What’s wrong, Seresin? You’re not getting distracted, are you?”

Jake’s jaw tightened just enough for you to notice, and you bit back a laugh, turning your attention back to the wine. 

“Oh, don’t tease him, Bradshaw,” you said innocently, pouring three glasses with careful precision. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

Jake’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, but he said nothing, instead focusing intently on his salad as if it were the most important task in the world.

You smiled to yourself, setting the glasses on the counter. This was going to be even more fun than you thought.

Dinner was ready not long after, and the three of you settled at the small dining table tucked against the window. The kitchen lights cast a soft glow over the scene, the faint hum of music still playing in the background. Plates were filled with the fruits of your collective labor: roasted chicken, sautéed vegetables, and a fresh salad that Jake had insisted was “restaurant-quality.”

You took the first bite, savoring the flavors as they hit your tongue. But instead of keeping the reaction to yourself, you let out a quiet, almost breathy moan, closing your eyes as though the simple taste of the meal was enough to send you to heaven.

When you opened your eyes, you caught both Jake and Bradley staring, their forks paused midair. Their gazes flicked to each other in a brief, wordless exchange before they simultaneously looked down at their plates, the muscles in their jaws tensing as they focused a little too intently on their food.

Suppressing a grin, you stabbed another piece of chicken with your fork, dragging it slowly through the sauce before taking another bite, this time pulling the utensil from your lips with an exaggerated slowness. You made sure the movement was subtle enough to seem natural—just enough to plant the idea without making it obvious.

The effect was immediate. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jake shift in his seat, adjusting his posture in a way that suggested he was trying to ignore you. Across from him, Bradley chewed with deliberate focus, his expression unreadable except for the faint tightness in his jaw.

“Everything okay?” you asked innocently, looking between the two of them.

“Fine,” Jake said quickly, his tone light but clipped. He took a long drink of water, his eyes trained firmly on his plate as if it held the answers to all of life’s mysteries.

“Yeah, fine,” Bradley echoed, though his voice carried a hint of strain as he reached for the salad bowl, pretending to busy himself with serving more.

You leaned back in your chair, letting the silence settle for a moment before leaning forward again, your fingers brushing against the edge of your fork. There was a bit of sauce clinging to the tip, and instead of reaching for a napkin, you raised the utensil to your lips, your tongue darting out to catch the stray droplet.

It wasn’t dramatic—barely more than a flick—but the tension in the room crackled like static electricity. Jake’s fork clattered against his plate, and Bradley muttered something under his breath, though neither of them said anything directly.

Satisfied, you straightened in your chair and continued eating, keeping your movements deliberately slow and casual. You were playing the long game, after all, and the night was still young.

The evening stretched on, the kind of Saturday night that carried the promise of an easygoing, relaxed vibe. But the air between the three of you had changed. Every glance, every subtle movement felt charged, as if all the teasing from dinner was quietly simmering beneath the surface, waiting for something to tip it over the edge.

As the game time drew near, you decided to take a break, excusing yourself with a casual, “I’ll be right back. Gonna get comfy for the game.”

Jake barely looked up, his attention already focused on the TV screen as he pulled up the Longhorns' game schedule. Bradley nodded absently, taking another sip of his beer.

You made your way toward Jake’s bedroom. His closet door creaked open, and you moved quickly, your fingers brushing past the shirts hanging neatly in a row until you found it—the burnt orange jersey. You had no intention of wearing it the traditional way, though.

Next, you turned your attention to the bottom drawer of Jake’s dresser. The one that, over time, had become a place for a few of your things—your stuff from nights spent at their place, the clothes you didn’t mind leaving behind. You sifted through the familiar pile, your fingers grazing the fabric until you found what you were looking for. The lacy black thong with the satin bow on the back, a gift from Bradley on your birthday last year.

A smile tugged at your lips as you stripped out of your clothes, quickly slipping into the thong and then pulling the jersey over your head. The fabric settled comfortably against your skin, the oversized fit doing little to hide the outline of what you were really wearing underneath.

When you emerged from the bedroom, your eyes met the living room where the guys were settling in. Jake was already lounging on the couch, the TV lighting up his face as he focused on pulling up the game. Bradley was standing near the fridge, mid-drink when he saw you. His hand froze, the bottle of beer almost slipping from his grip. His eyes widened, his throat bobbing as he took in the sight of you in nothing but the jersey.

Jake’s gaze flickered over to you, eyes widening for just a moment before he cleared his throat, his focus shifting back to the screen as though it was the most important thing in the world. But you could see the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers tightened against the remote as if it were somehow anchoring him.

Bradley, on the other hand, had a harder time hiding it. His eyes followed you across the room, the surprise quickly turning into something unreadable, but not before his lips parted as though he might say something—until he caught himself. Instead, he looked down at his beer, taking a long swig to steady himself.

You smirked, casually flopping down on the couch beside Jake, making sure to let the fabric of the jersey shift just enough to give him a better view of what you were wearing—or, more accurately, not wearing underneath.

You knew exactly what you were doing.

Jake’s hand settled on your thigh, warm and heavy, sending a shiver through you that had nothing to do with the cool air from the open window. You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder, and wrapped your arms around his arm for good measure, leaning in close to him.

As you shifted your position, tilting your knees slightly, you felt the jersey ride up a bit higher, just enough for the lacy black thong to peek out from beneath the fabric. It was a calculated move, knowing full well that Bradley would notice.

Sure enough, when he finally settled back onto the couch on the other side of you, his gaze flickered down. His hand, perhaps on autopilot, reached out, brushing against your nearly bare skin, and you couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips. Bradley’s fingers squeezed the flesh there, just a little too long, a little too possessively, before he quickly pulled his hand away, his eyes darting up to meet yours.

You tilted your head back into Jake’s side, letting out a soft, content sigh, and allowed yourself to sink into his warmth. The move was deliberate, a subtle taunt that made Bradley’s jaw clench and his nostrils flare. He tried to look away, but he couldn’t quite keep his eyes off you, and you reveled in the power you held over the two men tonight.

“Enjoying the game?” Jake asked, his voice low, as if he didn’t want to break the spell you’d cast. His fingers tightened on your thigh, pressing just enough to remind you of his presence.

“Mmm,” you replied, letting the sound linger in the air, your breath warm against his neck.

Jake leaned in closer, his lips brushing your temple as he whispered, “You know, you’re really playing a dangerous game, don’t you think?”

You looked up at him, your expression innocent, the tease in your eyes impossible to hide. “Maybe,” you replied coyly, “but I think it’s one you’ll both enjoy losing.”

The game continued, but the real action was unfolding right in front of Jake and Bradley. You could feel their eyes on you—the weight of their attention was undeniable. Jake’s hand had barely moved from your thigh, and Bradley’s fingers lingered there, giving you little indication that he had any intention of stopping. They were both wound tight, and you were enjoying every minute of it.

As the Longhorns scored a touchdown, the roar from the crowd on the TV mixed with your own excited gasp. Without thinking, you jumped to your feet, the burst of energy sending you bouncing up and down in celebration. You felt the jersey ride up as you raised your arms, the fabric lifting just enough to expose the small, barely-there thong underneath.

Your ass swayed with each bounce, the thong almost completely exposed, offering a perfect view of your bare skin to both men. The sensation of their eyes locked on you was intoxicating, but you didn’t stop. You made sure every movement was deliberate, a tease designed to keep them both hooked.

Finally, you turned around, your back to them now. The jersey hung just low enough to cover your front but did nothing to hide the thong from their view. You felt their stares burning into you, the tension between the three of you palpable in the air.

With a grin, you smirked over your shoulder, catching their eyes before saying, “Man, I love football.”

Jake shifted uncomfortably, his hand now tight around the beer bottle in his lap, but he didn’t say anything. Bradley, on the other hand, couldn’t hide his reaction. His jaw clenched, his lips pressing together in frustration. His hand moved to the front of his jeans, adjusting himself. It was as if he couldn’t stop himself, like every instinct he had was telling him to do something more.

The tension in the room was unbearable, and you could practically feel the moment when Bradley’s restraint finally snapped. As you smirked over your shoulder, still reveling in the heat of their gazes, you noticed the way his hands tightened into fists at his sides. His jaw was locked, his body rigid as he tried—unsuccessfully—to stay composed.

Then, without warning, he shot up from the couch. “Screw this,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and rough, filled with frustration.

Before you could even react, he was on you. One moment, you were standing in front of him, and the next, he had you hoisted effortlessly over his shoulder. You gasped in surprise, but the only response from him was a determined growl.

You kicked your legs slightly, but it was no use. Bradley had you completely at his mercy, carrying you down the hallway toward his room with a purposeful stride.

Jake called out from the living room, his voice laced with disbelief. “Bradshaw—what the hell are you doing?”

But Bradley didn’t even look back, his focus solely on you as he carried you down the hall, ignoring whatever punishment Jake might throw at him. The bet? The consequences? They didn’t matter in that moment. All that mattered was the desire that had been building up in him, the need to finally act on everything he’d been holding back.

When he reached the door to his room, he kicked it open with one swift motion, stepping inside and slamming it shut behind him. As soon as it was closed, he dropped you onto the bed, his eyes dark with intensity.

“You’ve been teasing us all night,” he growled, voice thick with desire. “I couldn’t take it anymore.”

You smirked, already knowing that you had pushed him too far. But that didn’t stop you from playing along, feeling the thrill of victory in the way you’d slowly unraveled him.

Bradley didn’t care about the bet anymore. All he cared about was you, and right now, that was enough.

As Bradley moved over you, his hands working the black thong off of your body with an urgency that matched the heat in his eyes, you felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. The door swung open with a creak, and there, standing in the doorway, was Jake. His smirk was wide, his eyes gleaming with that same cocky confidence, but there was a sharpness to it now—a flicker of something darker beneath the surface.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding before him. His eyes shifted between you and Bradley, taking in the sight of the thong being discarded carelessly to the side. The silence that followed was thick with tension, an unspoken challenge hanging in the air.

Bradley’s fingers paused for a moment, as if sensing Jake’s presence, but his focus quickly returned to you. The momentary distraction was all Jake needed. Without breaking his smirk, Jake pushed off the doorframe and strode confidently across the room.

“Bradley, step back, baby,” Jake’s voice was low, filled with a knowing taunt. He sat on the edge of the bed, eyes still on you as he placed a hand on your waist, guiding you down across his lap.

You gasped, a mix of surprise and excitement flooding through you as you found yourself positioned across his strong legs. Your heart raced, but the smirk never left your face.

“You’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you?” Jake’s voice was suddenly darker, his tone shifting as he ran a finger down your spine. “You think you can tease us both, and get away with it?” He gave you a playful, but firm tap on the back of your thigh, the sting shocking you.

He leaned forward slightly, pressing his lips to your ear. “Well, it’s time somebody put you in your place.”

Bradley watched, still breathing heavily as he stood at the foot of the bed, his hands flexing with restrained hunger. The game had changed entirely. You had crossed a line, and now, both men knew it was their turn to take control.

Jake’s grip tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as he positioned you more firmly across his lap. He traced a finger across the curve of your backside, his voice rough as he said, “This isn’t over, sweetheart. Not by a long shot.”

The first smack comes without warning, a startled cry leaving your lips as you feel the sting of Jake’s hand.

“That’s one. You’ve got nine more. Think you can handle it?”

You nodd, but Jake just makes a tsk tsk tsk noise with his mouth before delivering another smack to the same spot.

“Use your words. We’re back to one. I can do this all night.”

“Yes. Yes, I can handle it.”

You hear Jake let out a low chuckle before saying, “Damn right you can, baby.”

The final smack echoed through the room, sharper than the rest, and you couldn't suppress the gasp that left your lips. A wave of heat rushed through you, a mix of sting and longing building in your body. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, the tension of the moment overwhelming.

Jake’s hand lingered, resting gently on your sore skin, the warmth of his palm contrasting with the burn of the smacks. For a brief moment, there was silence. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the weight of his touch seemed to calm you, despite the ache.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice softer now, but still full of command. His hand moved slowly, rubbing circles into your tender skin, soothing the burn as he spoke. "You did so well for me."

You could hear the pride in his voice, and feel the shift in his demeanor as he leaned down to kiss the top of your head. It was a small, almost gentle gesture, but it spoke volumes in the context of everything that had just transpired.

His fingers traced along your back now, his touch lighter, almost tender. "I know you can take it," he continued, his tone warm. "You’ve been so good for us tonight."

The praise was enough to stir something inside you—something that made the lingering sting worth it. He could still dominate you, but in this moment, you were his, and he took care of you in a way that felt like both power and care.

“Now, here’s what’s going to happen next, sweetheart,” Jake says. “Bradley here is going to lay on his bed, and you’re going to ride him, reverse cowgirl so he can watch that pretty ass bounce as your ride him. And so I can watch your perfect tits bounce.” You involuntarily squeeze your thighs together at his words. “And I’m going to stand at the end of the bed and I want your eyes on me the whole time. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” Jake says before helping you up off his lap.

The moment you lift yourself off Jake’s lap, there’s a quiet shift in the room. The tension in the room grows as you crawl up the bed, hovering over Bradley, who’s now lying back on the bed, his eyes dark with hunger but also something else–softness, a trace of tenderness mixed with the primal need.

As you settle above him, the weight of your body supported by your hands on either side of his chest, Bradley’s hands reach up to pull you down. He doesn’t waste a second, his lips finding yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. The kiss is almost electric, his lips hungry, but gentle enough to make you melt against him. The urgency fades slightly, and you find yourself losing a bit of control as you sink into the warmth of his embrace. His hand moves to the back of your neck, holding you close as if he doesn’t want to let you go.

The kiss deepens, and for a moment, everything else falls away. It's just the two of you, your bodies pressing together, the soft sound of your breathing filling the space between you. You feel his heartbeat against yours, steady and warm, grounding you in this moment. It’s different with Bradley—there’s a tenderness there, something that contrasts with the more commanding side Jake showed earlier.

When you pull away, your lips still tingling, you can see the quiet satisfaction in Bradley’s eyes. His hands slip down your sides, tracing the outline of your body as if committing every inch of you to memory.

“You’re incredible,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire, but there’s a softness to it, a reverence that makes your chest tighten.

You smile, leaning in to kiss him again, but this time it’s slower, more deliberate, and you can feel the shift between you—less about the tease, less about the game, and more about the connection.

You shift, moving so that your back is now towards Bradley, and your gaze finds Jake’s. The electricity between you three is palpable, the air thick with the kind of unspoken connection that runs deep. You can feel Bradley’s hands on your waist, steadying you, but it’s Jake’s eyes that hold your attention now—dark, intent, but filled with something else. There’s a depth in his gaze, a silent understanding, a promise that whatever happens next, it’s about the three of you as one.

You reach down, tugging the burnt orange jersey off, letting it fall to the floor in a fluid motion, leaving yourself exposed before them. The vulnerability stirs something within you—both exhilarating and grounding at once. With each passing second, the trust between you grows stronger, the knowledge that you're not just being seen, but truly understood, is almost overwhelming.

You pause, locking eyes with Jake, and the tension rises again. His presence is commanding, but it's the gentle weight of his gaze that gives you the confidence to continue. Slowly, you begin to lower yourself, the movement calculated and deliberate, not just for them, but for yourself. 

Bradley’s hands guide you, steadying you as you move closer to him. Your eyes flutter close as you feel the stretch of Bradley as you sink further and further onto him.

“Uh uh. Eyes on me, baby.” Jake reminds you.

You nod and open your eyes, yours immediately find Jake’s green ones. They’re darker than normal, laced with desire and need.

“You’re perfect,” Bradley whispers, his voice thick with emotion. You can feel the weight of his words, not just in his tone, but in how his hands trace over your skin, grounding you in this moment.

You stay locked on Jake’s gaze, the intensity of his eyes grounding you in the moment. The air between you two feels thick, like a promise that’s been quietly building, waiting to be fulfilled. His face softens, but there’s a quiet strength in it that makes your heart race. 

Bradley’s hands move to your waist, his touch steady and sure. He guides you gently, helping you find your rhythm as your body begins to move, slow and deliberate. His touch is a contrast to Jake’s silent command—Bradley’s touch is soft, like a grounding force, holding you steady.

You feel the heat rising, your chest tightening as the tension builds. But through it all, Jake’s eyes never leave yours. There’s something magnetic about the way he watches, as though he’s seeing you—every part of you—in a way that makes you feel both vulnerable and safe, all at once. His jaw tightens as he shifts, the intensity in his gaze never faltering.

With every small movement, every shift of your body, you feel the pressure building. Your breaths come quicker, your heart racing as Bradley’s hands guide you.

“S-shit,” you hear Bradley mutter from beneath you, causing you to clench around him.

Bradley’s hands move to your back, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns against your skin. His touch is tender, guiding you closer, helping you reach a place of intensity that feels almost overwhelming.

And then, it comes—like a wave crashing over you. You can feel the pressure building, the world narrowing down to the feeling of Bradley’s hands on your skin, his body beneath you, and Jake’s steady gaze pulling you deeper. Every part of you is alive, connected, and entwined in a way you’ve never experienced before.

Your breath catches as the moment hits, your body trembling as you reach the peak. Your eyes never leave Jake’s, and for a brief moment, everything else fades away. There’s nothing but the bond between the three of you—the love, the trust, the unspoken understanding that this is where you’re meant to be. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit.” Bradley grunts as you feel ropes of his seed release into you.

You collapse on the bed against Bradley, your body spent and trembling, Jake’s smile softens, a quiet satisfaction in his eyes.

“You’re incredible,” Bradley whispers, pulling you into him, his hands still on your back as he kisses the top of your head. His voice is filled with a tenderness.

“You’re perfect,” Jake adds softly, his voice low and comforting.

Bradley shifts beside you, his fingers brushing against your skin as he looks over at Jake. There’s a quiet moment between them, an unspoken understanding passing between the two. With a soft chuckle, Bradley pushes himself up from the bed, his gaze lingering on you for a second longer before he speaks.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom. Jake, you wanna take care of her while I’m gone?” he asks, the affection in his voice evident.

Jake’s response is immediate, his eyes softening as he watches you. “Of course,” he says, his voice low but filled with warmth.

As Bradley moves to the bathroom, Jake crawls onto the bed beside you, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. His presence is a steady, comforting weight as he shifts closer, opening his arms for you. You don’t hesitate, scooting over to him, seeking the comfort of his embrace.

You curl into him, your body instinctively leaning into his warmth as your head rests against his chest. The steady beat of his heart is a calming rhythm beneath your ear, and you let out a soft sigh of contentment, the tension of the last few minutes slowly ebbing away.

Jake wraps his arms around you, pulling you in closer, his hand gently stroking your hair as he settles against the pillows. His touch is soothing, almost protective, and it fills you with a sense of security that you can’t quite put into words.

“You did so well,” Jake murmurs, his voice soft and tender. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

You smile against his chest, the words washing over you like a balm. You can feel the warmth of his body, the affection in every movement, and it’s all you need right now. The bond between the three of you feels unspoken but undeniable, and in this moment, everything feels right.

As you settle more comfortably against Jake, his arms holding you close, you allow yourself to fully relax, your body melting into his embrace. The soft sound of Bradley’s footsteps in the bathroom fades into the background as you lose yourself in the warmth of Jake’s care.

The world outside this room doesn’t matter right now. There’s only the three of you, your trust, and the quiet love that lingers in the space between. And for the moment, that’s all you need.

As the warmth of Jake’s embrace settles around you, the exhaustion from the long day and the intensity of everything that’s happened begin to catch up with you. Your body feels heavy, your mind slowly unwinding as the last threads of wakefulness start to slip away. You’re so close to falling asleep, the soothing rhythm of Jake’s heartbeat lulling you deeper into comfort.

But then, there’s a soft rustle of movement. You feel the bed shift slightly, and soon, Bradley is back. He’s holding a warm washcloth, the scent of soap and something faintly floral filling the air as he gently presses it against your skin. The touch is tender, careful, as he begins to clean you up, his fingers moving gently over you.

“Let me know if I’m being too rough,” Bradley murmurs softly, his voice a whisper in the quiet room, his gaze focused on his task. There’s no rush in his movements, only a quiet affection, as he takes care of you.

Once he finishes, he places the cloth aside, his hand lingering for just a moment before he pulls back. You feel the bed dip as he moves around, and then, in the next moment, he’s crawling onto the bed beside you. His arms slip around your waist from behind, pulling you into him, and you easily melt back into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against your back.

You’re trapped now, but it doesn’t feel like a prison. Bradley’s strong chest presses against your back, his arms holding you securely while Jake, still on the other side of you, continues to hold you close. The two of them surround you, their presence comforting, and you can’t help but feel safe in their arms.

“Comfy?” Bradley murmurs against your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

You nod slightly, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Wouldn’t want to fall asleep any other way.”

The steady sound of their breathing, the warmth of their bodies, and the quiet intimacy of the moment all wash over you. You can feel yourself drifting, your body sinking into the bed, the pull of sleep becoming harder to resist.

Just as your mind starts to fade, you hear Jake’s voice, light and teasing, cutting through the soft lull of the room.

“So, Bradshaw,” Jake begins, his tone dripping with playful mockery. “Not even twenty-four hours, huh?”

Bradley chuckles softly behind you, his fingers idly tracing circles on your waist as he gives a quiet, amused grunt. “Yeah, yeah. Shut up. I don’t need to prove anything to you.”

Jake snorts, a low, amused laugh slipping from his lips. “Right, but it’s nice to know you’re still a little bit predictable.”

You can hear the affection in Jake’s voice, his teasing not mean-spirited but filled with that familiar bond that the three of you share. As the sound of their laughter and gentle banter continues, the exhaustion pulls you under, and you finally surrender to sleep, the two men’s arms around you the last thing on your mind as you drift away.

[pleasestayawayidonotlikeyou]

@itsastridsart I'm so so so sorry this took so long to write and yet it's still going to be split into parts, but I've got a plot for this story!

Featuring: Passive/Nightmare sans x reader

Masterlist

Once in a Nightmare.

|First Chapter|Next Chapter|

You met Nightmare before everything. When he was still the pure soul of the past. Your AU had been destroyed by it's own creator, as they thought it was "too cringe", you didn't know how you managed to escape, but your wings came in handy, being an angel-demon hybrid has it's vantages.

Having nothing else to do, you decided to travel through the multiverse, passing from universe to universe without really caring about the people there, it's not like they could replace the missing feeling of your dimension.

And then you discovered dreamtale.

There was something off with it, you felt it the first time you visited. And the second. And the third. That skeleton that was always next to that tree.. he looked so.. familiar.. as if you had known him before..

You just snug it off and appeared right next to him, ready to start a talk and never return!

But your grin faded away when you saw his beat up, having injuries all over his bones and skull, his face facing you in terror as you touched his cheek.

"What... Happened to you..?"

Silence.

"...I can't leave you like this."

You came prepared for situations like this, for fell universes people, for yourself, it didn't matter for who it was. What mattered was that you were already wrapping his injuries up, disinfecting and cleaning them.

It didn't take much time for him to warm up to you, the only person who didn't have a burning hate for him, and it didn't take long for him to gain feelings.

.

He adored you, everything, the way you treated him, your sweet and caring touch as you treated his injuries, it hurt so bad, but he loved the way you'd be with him, making sure he's okay...

And when you accepted his feelings after he confessed? Oh dear he was head over heels, he was almost crying of happiness.

"..(_____)?"

"Yes?"

"Can you... Promise me something..?"

"Of course Nightmare!"

"Please.. never ever leave me alone.. please promise me we'll be together.. forever.."

"I promise Nightmare, I promise."

He held your hand, a ring on his finger and a ring in yours, you both are going to be married soon...

He made you promise. Promise never to leave him.

Until the accident happened.

One day you came back and everything was... Destroyed. Dream was stone, everyone was dead. And the worse, a gloomy skeleton standing in the middle, sitting at the now cut tree. You recognized him. The moon ring on his finger gave it all away. It was Nightmare. The man who you once loved, even with a different visual, you knew who he was. You didn't think twice and fled, you couldn't just believe it... This was just a bad dream... Right?

You kept the ring on your finger, it was the only memory that remained of him.. even after decades, centuries, you refused any man's advance, like you were waiting for a certain someone..

Rumours spread around the multiverse, and quickly found a skeleton's attention..

.

"Let me go!"

You screamed as your body was carried by three skeletons who had just broken into your house and kidnapped you, restraining your movements with ropes tied around your wrists, wings and legs.

"Heh, afraid we can't do that, boss told us to bring ya to him"

"Who?"

No response.

The skeleton with black eyes only chuckled and continued walking, you saw a gloomy gigantic castle in the distance.. you feel like the energy of this place is familiar..

It didn't take long for you to be inside, fancy cyan decor filled the halls, the skeleton, whose name you learned to be Killer in the way here, led you to a dinning room and sat you on one of the chairs, telling you to wait for his "boss".

Some paintings of someone who looked oddly similar to you with a black skeleton decorated the walls as a cyan-purplish light coming from a gold chandelier illuminated the room, you looked at the elongated dark wood table that had an irregular oval pattern in front of you and then at the dark cyan chairs with small golden details surrounding it.

You suddenly felt a tentacle wrap around your eye line, you tried to get it off, yet the ropes tied around your body didn't help. But as soon as it came it left, facing you with a plate of food placed on the table and the same skeleton of the paintings sited right in the chair in front of you.

"My my, look what we have here.."

The sound of his rough and deep voice filled your ears, his eye looking into the depths of your soul as a smirk formed in his face.

"Missed me, (_____)?"

".. W-who on earth are you.."

His expression shifted to an offended one, one of his hands touching his chest.

"Don't even remember your own fiance my dear?"

He exaggerated, showing the moon ring in his bony finger making you freeze for a second.

"I don't know where you found that ring, by my fiance is long dead."

"Oh no no no darling, is it too difficult for you to understand?" He pauses. "I'm your fiance, my dear."

He laughs as a tentacle untied the rope of your wrists and grabs your hand, showing you the sun ring on your own finger.

"My sunshine... I know you remember the promise you made. And I know you still love who I was... So.. why not love the new me huh?"

[jokeroutsubs]

[📝 ENG translation] Joker Out pleased 50 chosen fans the night before the release of a new album

Original article written by Niko Hari for RTV MMC, published 15.11.2024. English translation by a member of JokerOutSubs, review by IG 10_anja, proofread by @flowerlotus8

The fans listened to five new songs for the first time in the listening room of Val 202.

The night right before the release of Joker Out's third album, 50 chosen fans listened to the band's five freshest songs for the first time. Through their song selection, the members exposed the album's stylistic diversity, which will be presented in concert form at the end of the month.

The most loyal fans waited for more than 800 days for the release of Joker Out's third studio album Souvenir Pop.

(Ph: MMC RTV SLO)

After a few days of the release of Joker Out's second LP Demoni, the Slovenian public was convinced by how quickly their fans fall in love with new music since the fans managed to memorise the lyrics of almost the entire album in a short amount of time and were, at the surprise of everybody, even the band, singing along with Bojan Cvjetićanin at the top of their lungs.

This time, around 50 lucky fans got the opportunity to "consume" the band's new music before the other mere mortals at Val 202's listening room.

The fans listened to five songs from the album Souvenir Pop with the company of Andrej Karoli, the editor and radio presenter on Val 202, who can be at least partially credited for the renaissance of Slovenian pop due to his intense playing of young local bands on the radio waves.

First, Joker Out pleased the fans by playing the acoustic version of the already well known hit 'Novi Val' and soon after, the first notes of the new songs were heard in studio 26. It was a little bit anticlimactic since the songs were not played live, however, the band listened to the studio versions of the songs alongside the 50 fans.

(Ph: Kaja Ravnak/Val 202)

On the other hand, the fans were able to get to know the album best through the recorded songs. The honour of choosing the first song went to Karolij, who first offered the fans the song 'Sonce'. He admitted that all of the members of the band were surprised by his song selection, considering the song is quite gloomy and at the same time carries a heavy message.

"'Sonce' is actually a story in which a dead son talks to his mother who is alive. The story was directly inspired by the current situation in Palestine. Some people thought that it's a love song when I showed them the song without context, but it's not. Jan took over the task of writing the music to the lyrics. The entire arrangement is Jan playing the piano. The story could not be told more beautifully through music." said Cvjetićanin.

An extreme move away from Umazane Misli

Immediately after the first song, it was obvious that Souvenir Pop would not be an album of radio hits but rather a mature product of music, which also highlights the band's musical development. From songs off the album Umazane misli, which shot the band to the very top of the Slovenian music scene, and with the move away from Demoni, the boys showed the public can relate to the different styles of music they create.

The third album confirmed this move, since the chosen five songs showcased a powerful genre, textual and linguistic diversity as well as the band's ability to step-up with every album, which was appreciated at the first listen by the fans too.

"At the start I was very sceptical of the lyrics, since the song was originally written in English. We really liked it, besides, it's difficult to let go of something that's familiar, but Bojan convinced us to let him also have this song in Slovenian. He was right, the song written in this form was missing for me on this album." said Kris Guštin about the second song of the evening and Bojan added that him and Kris have a completely different interpretation of the song:

"'Mesto duhov' is the reflection of when I realised for the first time in my life that we as a society fell into a very negative mindset. People have a defensive aura around them, always on guard - which is normal when we see everything go in the opposite direction from what we want every day." He also added that this is the first lyric he wrote in which he was 100% pessimistic.

They observed the fans' reactions

If the gloomy sound of the song titled 'Sonce' was surprising, it was even more unexpected to hear much upbeat rhythms in a song titled 'Mesto duhov.' The song ticks all the expectations of a quality modern rock song, and in the chorus, the music and the lyrics are almost ironically cute. Karoli also noticed the discrepancy: "How can you be sad and write pa, pa, pa ..."

The guys attributed the reason to the fusion of the Slovenian and English versions of the song, and the most (un)obvious indicator of the fusion is certainly the guitar solo, which in the final version still "sings" the lyrics of the original version in Morse code. Even before the first song, Karoli asked the audience to leave their mobile phones in their pockets this time, as this is the only way they will be able to fully enjoy the new songs.

Between the ballads, Lina, a fan, was completely engrossed in the music and with closed eyes took in every note. "I didn't expect for it to be as good as it was, and I had high expectations. I really liked it, I just closed my eyes and really felt the music. Although I'm a lover of rock, I really liked the diversity of the album.

"I enjoyed 'Mesto duhov' the most. Obviously I like the other hits as well, but 'Mesto duhov' and 'Sonce' touched me the most. I thought that they would perform the songs live, but just listening to the tracks was okay too, since we could also observe them and how they listen to their own music." she told us.

Before playing the third track, Karoli asked the boys about how they feel when they listen to their own songs with their fans and what they do while listening. "I am constantly looking at the reactions. With this song especially, I was observing how you will react to the chorus." admitted Nace Jordan to the 50 fans.

Joker Out explained that the final version of 'Lips' did not sound anything like the first, since they wanted to at least partially record it in French. "At the start, it was a very Franz Ferdinant rock 'n' roll song. The idea was to even invite a French singer to collaborate on this track. But then it quickly went down the drain since we realised that none of us knows French." said Cvjetićanin before the premiere of this song.

Instead of the originally intended rock song, the audience received a complex and musically multi-layered track, which probably will never be the most desired song at concerts, but Joker Out still added one of the highest quality tracks to their collection to date. "I believe that all lovers of pop music would like to have as many hits as possible, but on the other hand I'm happy that the band makes music that carries weight and stands on its own," approved the music editor of Val 202.

He added that Jure Maček will not have much to do due to the absence of acoustic drums, but Jure quickly reminded him that he plays one part in the old-fashioned way at concerts. Nace also said that throughout the entire song, we can hear a heartbeat in the background.

The favourite song from the album

Then followed the song which was, based on the reactions, the most liked by the audience and at the same time the song 'Muzika za Decu,' which was described by Karoli as a tribute to Partibrejkers (a well-known old Serbian rock band), is probably also the one that will play the most on the Slovenian radio.

If the audience was enjoying the previous songs by closing their eyes and swaying to the music, the penultimate song broke the peace, like a crystal in a glass factory shattering during an earthquake of the smallest magnitude. "'Muzika za decu' was definitely the best song today," was what a group of girls agreed while exiting the studio satisfied after listening to all the songs. The last song on the list of the new songs was 'Ako toga više neče biti.'

"This is Bojan and I's favourite song on this album," told Karoli to the audience before listening to the last song off the new album and added that this song, at least in terms of lyrics, is a description of a middle-aged man after going through a truly difficult divorce. Still a sad ballad, but sounding more optimistic than let's say 'Sonce', again had the audience closing their eyes and all that was left was to enjoy it.

"This song will always be relevant after every broken heart. I can't wait for the concert performance," is how Karoli finished the listening. After the "official" part, fans were given a rare opportunity to ask the band practically anything. Until the end of the session, various questions were asked about the album, songs, clothes and the friendship between band members.

The visibly delighted group of mostly female fans (there were also some male fans of Joker Out) then got a few minutes to capture the moment in front of the cameras. All that remained was the wait until midnight, when the fans of the band could listen through the entire album for the first time, on which Joker Out included 10 songs.

[howler-moon]

Caitlyn Arcan.......

I'm currently dying of the flu all that's keeping me alive is thinking about arcane because my head hurts if I look at bright colours for too long or listen to anything with more than three syllables. (Update after writing I genuinely don't understand my original point for writing this im so out of it but its too much to not post now so i think i just wanted to info dump about caitlyn because i NEED ACT THREE I NEED IT NOW PLEASE PLEASE PLEAE PLEAS)

Anyway I do believe some people are missing that its not just Cassandra's death that is motivating Caitlyn to make the worst possible decisions known to man, although it is the thing that tips the scale for her. All this started way back in S1 E4 when Jinx went to steal the Hextech research. While Caitlyn was on duty she blew up a building as a distraction, killing 6 of her colleagues and almost herself according to Jayce. This incident alone already seemed to shake her up as she spent the majority of her time recovering absolutely obsessing over the case and who the culprit is (Vi herself says "and I thought Power could get obsessed" upon seeing her research she was LOCKED IN). Branching off from this, this incident also almost cost Caitlyn her job, something she has fought tooth and nail for against her mother's wishes and barely gets any respect in the field despite being like the only Enforcer who was good or even cared about her job (RIP Grayson). Say what you will about the Enforcers whether you don't care or despise what they stand for but you can't deny how important that job is to Caitlyn. Its her main source of independence ("she'd do anything to keep me from seeing the real world") and being forced to work behind a desk because of Jinx's attack would absolutely destroy her.

Skipping ahead to episode 9 we all know about the shower scene.......That shit is mad scary like hello?? It's like a direct parallel to the attack where she first met her as well. The smoke/steam clears and Caitlyn just looks up in dread to see Jinx's art sprawled across the wall. Except this time, instead of being some unfamiliar symbol out in the open, she knows what it means. She knows who it belongs to and that person is inside her home. In her bathroom no less, while she was brooding in the shower lmao. She genuinely could not be any more vulnerable in this situation and now she has been kidnapped and brought to some Mad Hatter esque tea party in some dingy run down factory in the middle of no where with the Silco and Vi causally tied up beside her. She's absolutely terrified too she flinches and begs Vi to the best of her ability not to shoot her, only for Jinx to go and threaten to do it instead. Keep in mind Caitlyn probably has no idea why Jinx wants her dead. Like she might have some idea but not to the level that the audience does simply because she is not informed by the humble dramatic irony. When she finally does break free Jinx ever so causally beats the shit out of her in the blink of an eye and of course to top it off once she wakes up again she's watching a nuke fly straight to her mother's exact location.

I don't think I need to explain why her mother dying would upset her. That was a massive blow (wayheyhey), and dramatically worsens the obsession we saw in S1. But the memorial.........guys think of the memorial........... Now let it be known to the court that this part was Ambessa's doing. Ambessa was the one who organised the attack on the memorial, but Cait doesn't know that. She wouldn't have taken Ambessa's offer if she did. To Caitlyn this is another thing Jinx has done, another attack directly on her for no reason other than to be cruel. To rub it in her face. Gassing the streets and engaging in police brutality is NOT the way to go trust me I was just as appalled as everyone at the start of S2 E3 like genuinely hand over my mouth saying "thats a war crime" to the screen over and over like she would hear me, but it did not come out of nowhere for no reason (whether good or bad). Caitlyn voices her frustration of "why is peace always the justification for violence" but she probably believes violence is a justification for violence considering her reactions to the memorial and Warwick's attack on Stillwater. She's not one to lead with violence but she will follow with it if properly provoked, and my god have people been provoking her. The time she shot Sevika, her initial hostility when captured by the Firelight's, up until The Grey, Cait has only responded violently when someone acted violently towards her/Vi. She only starts acting out first after the memorial but she still believes it's in response to what Jinx has done to her, even when it's people who have nothing to do with her. I think Ambessa further trains this response into her with their little spars as seen in S2 E6. When Huck jumpscares Caitlyn in S1 E6, she does pull her gun out on him yeah I'll give you that, but she doesn't do anything to him. It's more of a warning or means to defend herself as Vi is bleeding out on the floor behind her in this dingy little hole full of Shimmer addicts and she does talk it out with him. Whereas as season later in S2 E6, as soon as she sees Vi she does not hesitate she goes STRAIGHT for the kill, jumps down and fucking body slams her before even realizing who she was.

Anyway yeah I'm becoming ill again my point is, like every character in the show everything Cait has done has been building up since day one. It's not good that shes doing anything to get revenge but when you look at it from her perspective its like damn girl what did she do. Yes she's in a privileged position yes she works for the police but she's still human dawg how would you react to the situations she has been in. Mel is literally feeding into government corruption yall didn't care when she told Jayce to lay off with the Hex gate restrictions to keep the rich people happy and yall still love her (I love her too).

The parallels between Jinx and Cait go absolutely crazy they're both the same and on opposite sides of the spectrum at the same time. I understand why people prefer her more so than Cait, she's more of the underdog we've known her since she was a child and the majority of the things that happened to her happened when she was very young which makes it more tragic I am not denying that she is as relatable as a terrorist can get I love Jinx<333 Jinx my pookie Jinx my beloved <333 But I also love Caitlyn because she's silly and a girlfailure. My point is that I find it so weird that the Arcane fandom can hate a character for doing something bad and refuse to see their side of things when literally every character has done something bad if not worse and their side they have no trouble seeing/accepting. Except Ekko, Ekko genuinely has done nothing wrong in his life I've never met an Ekko hater in my life and if they exist I don't believe you.

If you're wondering what my opinion is on Jayce its that I appreciate what he adds to the story but I would hate to have a conversation with him. Not because I hate him but because I'm on my period right now and he would act like it's a cancer diagnosis

please dont hurnt me

[doeidawn]

18+ MDNI

something something john price getting talked into coming to some fancy party held by some big name contractors and PMCs. he'd literally rather be dead than stand any longer in a suit and force himself to make eye contact with people who cared more about paying for warfare than the cost of lives.

cut to him spotting you somewhere across the way, dressed up nice and tensing your shoulder with every tight-lipped smile that he recognizes oh so well as a forced attempt at politeness. he doesn't recognize you, but you sure know his face well; the infamous john price, known for doing the dirty work no one else will touch.

quickly you find out you were both victim to laswell's "connections are good, try to mingle" speech. and after two glasses of champagne more expensive than your rent and debating which contractor had the biggest price on their head, he's walking you out to your car in a feigned attempt at propriety. it was as good an excuse as any to get out of the stuffy room. but, more importantly to him it seemed, it was an excuse to keep talking to you.

and something something he nearly pops your arm out of socket dragging you into the backseat of the car. hugging you against his chest, heavy hands on your hips while he grinds against you. he's hot and sweaty and too damn impatient. pawing at your clothing, greedy to feel every part of you he can manage. helping you hold steady while you sink onto his thick and eager cock.

he's fucking up into you before you're ready to take it because he just can't stop himself. all frustration and pent-up energy, desperate to feel some control again, his fingers dig into the fat of your hips while he bullies his cock deeper and deeper. the car's rocking with each thrust but neither of you care. it's so hot and the air is thick and heavy and you're both sweating but it feels so damn good that neither of you want to stop.

when he's finally done—having spilt such a pent-up and thick load inside you that you can already feel it starting to trickle out of you—he's promising to be a bit more romantic next time, take it slower and work you up with his mouth like you really deserve. consider it a thanks for letting him blow off some steam. maybe he even gives you some money for the mess and hassle, suggesting it go towards investment for tinted windows.

[gowns]

the economy in los angeles rn is kinda um.... unprecedented levels of what da hell...

i initially wanted to be a filmmaker, playwright, actor, writer. i was just fascinated by film and theatre and knew that people made a living doing art -- i mean, my dad's a musician, so i personally knew people making a living doing art. but i was particularly drawn to storytelling and performance mediums.

so, i'm going to focus on film here: it's always been difficult to find work in hollywood, but there was still kind of a method of getting work. there are tons of studios and production companies. let's say out of 100 hopefuls, like 60-70 of them could find consistent work in one way or another. a lot of people end up in post production, smaller crew work, whatever, but they're grateful to be working in film in any way that they can while they (usually) nurse their secret dreams of funding and screening their own projects. and let's say like, 10 out of 100 of these people end up making short films for festivals (that are usually bids to make larger features), and 1 out of 100 could make a whole feature (i'm just pulling out random vibe-based statistics, i'm just typing up something quick here and don't want to look up / don't know if it's possible to see stats based on "dreams")

well the thing is, that hollywood is imploding. i know a lot of people who work in production and post-production. you live gig-to-gig. usually it's like, several weeks or maybe months of intense work on a project, then you're done, and floating free in a kind of nerve-wracking way, and then you get another gig, and then you're booked again. very feast or famine.

but lately it's just.... famine??? i keep seeing EXPERIENCED film industry people posting that they're looking for a job, any kind of job, and they have so much skills, but there's nothing.

like what i'm trying to say is... nothing is being greenlit. there are very very few new projects being made, in film or tv. it's going all the way back. some people say it's because of covid and production halting, other people say it's because of strikes, other people say it's all AI, other people say it's because of tiktok and how "anyone can make a video." and it's all of the above, combined with increasing costs of living -- it's not enough to just make a few thousand from a film gig and coast on that for the rest of the year, because your entire MONTHLY RENT is a few thousand dollars.

--

back in february 2020, i made a joke to a group of film production people, gesturing at posters for movies that looked terrible to me -- "god, they just keep making movies, and they all suck. i think what hollywood needs is a sabbatical. like, everyone should just stop making movies. there are already so many movies. we don't need anymore!" and there was a laugh then a sort of awkward silence, and i could sense a monkey paw curling just out of sight. and i quickly added "oh right, but like, there should still be movies of course, ha ha. like, you guys should still have work."

--

i think about this a lot.

like, film as a medium, film as a place in our culture, hollywood as the nexus of storytelling with a budget and many skilled hands.

it feels so present and eternal to me. but it's so new as a medium, and also predicated on so many factors. and a lot of those factors are like a crumbling cliff!

was it ever sustainable?

--

i sometimes envision my life with all these possible paths, and how i somehow picked this one random path (freelance photography), thinking that the other paths would still be open to me. "of course, anyone can do anything at any point in their life! :)" <- ever the sunny optimist.

but as i get older, and the economy gets worse, and the industry continues to implode -- and boy, if you think film is suffering, let's not even get into theatre or publishing -- i'm like wow. actually, all those other paths have gnarled dead trees and tumbleweeds. no matter how much i "dream" about XYZ, we're at a point in history where those things might not be viable anymore.

and then, outside of film as a medium, there's also the empire that we live in, the basis of all this material wealth that has been able to fund big-budget movies. and i love the things that can be done with hundreds of people and expensive cameras. but is that kind of storytelling going to continue to be feasible...?

and i get kinda freaked out because there's THOUSANDS of people here in california working in the film industry. and if they all lose their jobs....?

and if everyone i know loses their jobs...?

ummmmmmmm

like i said every day i wake up and see another "please for the love of god i need a job i have 4000 skills and no one is hiring" post and i just start sweating and going .... "what is happening..."

[0catiiyori0]

some headcanons for @zeivira's crack au "No sleep for the wicked" that is invading my head and is living rent free and is stoping me from writing my own au (and study) so ya let me release the drain

I honestly can't stop thinking abt how garfiel would first react to Subaru's "illness". maybe because I don't know if the information that the witch cult members are also always sleepy is widely known, but if it is- my boi Subaru must have the strongest coffee in his disposal because that boy won't be sleeping for 3 days straight (or was it two?). I imagine that he'll sleep the first two loops but then his scent is so strong and to add to that his sleeping "illness" would make ryuzu's alarm bells skyrocket and it'll be way too harder than the og white rabbit loop lmao. but if it isn't I think that'll make garfiel think of Subaru to be way less harmless. can't really do anything if he's unconscious for a couple of hours everyday ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯. but i don't think he'll sleep anyway in the winning loop, just like in canon the difference is that he'll keep trying to stay awake for as long as he can. and when things calm down beatrice would force him to sleep and then garfiel would panic cuz he beat the shit out of him, him the same person who he has gained respect for and now after all that he had done turns out he has the same deadly illness that took the Royal family yet is doing miracles, I used to think that garfiel won't be able to stan subaru more than he already does, but that? ya well I'll be damned if he didn't.

now I didn't read the novels cuz I'm waiting for season 3 to end but I've gotten spoilered pretty good to know the general idea of what's going to happen (cries) . so rainhard, MY BOI IS GOING TO BE SO SAD THAT HE DIDN'T KIDNAP SUBARU WHEN HE HAD THE CHANCE LMAO. like yeah he was able to find the supposedly last royal member alive (*cough*we will act like cappella doesn't exist*cough*) and he's happy to serve them again, but Subaru has the same illness that took them in the first place, so i think he'll feel some kind of responsibility to help him even if he can't have him in the same camp, that sense of responsibility to be able to defeat the illness that took them and that might take his friend too, he couldn't protect the people he was supposed to protect, so the least he can do to them is getting rid of what took them. He needs to help Subaru, because of him now, because he couldn't beat the illness Subaru is suffering, and he'll be damned if he lets anyone succumb to it again. I know that the felt camp would be also heavily included in the research along crusch camp now lol.

"The tale of a hero fighting the world, cursed with the same fate as the people of the throne, the royal family. The Sleeping Beauty Illness. Yet is still making miracles after miracle, serving his lady, fighting monsters, saving lives. Truly, for he is the tragic hero"...ya you'll hear this in a bar lol. (or sung by Liliana lol).

Y'all... we're missing something here... THE PILLOW LAP XHJAJXBSJ, EMILIA WOULD BE SO TERRIFIED OF THE BOY WHO CRIED ALL OVER HER ONLY FOR HIM TO FAINT SUDDENLY JSJDJJS "wdm you were sleeping??? I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD ARE YOU OK?? ARE YOU SICK??? that's it we're taking you to a doctor" and subaru would be so panicked cuz he's ok he doesn't need a doctor!!! there are way more important things such as THE SHAMAN THAT'S GONNA TARGET THE VILLAGE SOON. rip my guy...

I want to point out more but this has been sitting in my drafts FOR A WHILE so ya hope you like it sensei <3

[maddy-k-reads-all-day]

When We Lose Someone. 

Previous Fantape:

Riley walked downstairs, seeing a plethora of research about the cult surrounding Hameln. When Riley told Sophie about all of this, she told them about these underground shelters her family has to hide from the cult. Riley knew that Caroline and her family had been researching the cult surrounding Hameln for generations… but they never guessed that this research was so… elaborate.  

“Thanks for letting me crash here Sophie.” “No problem, I was wondering what was going on with you lately. Being all secretive. Then I heard on the news that Kate’s house and… there was a break in at the library and the dead body and… I was worried. Now it all makes sense.” Sophie sighs, “I can’t believe you’re researching the same thing my mom and Kate did. I’m so glad you let me be a part of it!” 

“Look I’m sorry, I know this is super dangerous… I mean everyone who worked on this died and your mom told you not to watch the tapes but-” “My mom didn’t tell me not to. She told me to protect them and lay low. Eventually the time would come that if I wanted to carry on the family tradition of trying to end this cult I could do it. But for the moment, she believed Peter was right and they should lay low. She warned me that it was dangerous and that it cost my life. But that… that little girl needed someone on her side. But it was still my choice. I think this is my sign that I should choose yes.” 

“Are you sure the tapes will be safe here?” 

“These underground shelters have been used to store knowledge and hide from the cult for centuries. They haven’t found us yet so… I’d say yes.” 

“Alright… I’m glad you have a VCR here… we need to find all those tapes before Hameln destroys them. I don’t know what will happen to Amanda and Wooly if they break… but I’m pretty sure it’s not good.” 

“You found all the ones in David’s secret office. I’ll look into my mom’s files and see if she had any more information as to where the others are.” 

“Then we’ll watch these two tapes together and I’ll get the rest-” 

“It might be more efficient for you to watch at least the first one while I find out where you need to go. You introduce me to Amanda and Wooly in the second one. Then while you get those tapes I’ll keep Amanda and Wooly company and write down anything I find out. Although, you did say they weren’t very trusting.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure if I explain everything they might be more willing to trust you and besides it’s you we’re talking about. Kids love you.” 

“Aww sheesh! Thanks Riley.” she blushes, “Btw, what about your job?” 

“I design and rig V-tuber models with an online persona made to elaborately hide my identity online. If they found me through that I might actually say congrats.” Riley boasts. 

“What if they ordered an Amanda model from you?” Sophie jokes.

“Ha! Once you get to know Amanda, you’ll know that Hameln would never have the balls to make her a V-tuber.” Riley laughs, “That'd be way too much power…” 

“So are you going to tell them what’s going on?” Sophie asks.

“I have to. She’s gonna know something’s up and she clearly hates it when you don’t tell her things so…” 

“Alright. I’ll start looking through Mom’s files… in the meantime.” Sophie leans in and kisses Riley on the cheek, “Good luck.” 

Riley takes the latest tape When We Lose Someone and places it in Sophie’s VCR. The tape begins to play. 

“Hi friends, I’m Amanda!” Amanda beams. 

“And I’m Wooly!” Wooly giggles. 

“And today we’re- wait… Riley… you’re in a different place this time…” 

“So? You can watch tapes anywhere right?” Wooly reasons. But Amanda looks suspicious. 

“I guess you’re right.” Amanda sighs, but she’s looking us right in the eye. Yep. She already knows something’s wrong. Riley thinks. “Sometimes… things happen and people… they die.” 

“I never liked this episode.” Wooly sighs. 

“When we lose someone… It can make us feel really sad. Have you ever lost someone really close to you?” Amanda asks. Before Riley can answer she says, “I know you have. It hurts a lot, doesn’t it?” Riley sighs and types in Yes. They didn’t really get to know Aunt Kate terribly well, but she was still someone important to them. “When does it stop hurting?” Amanda asks, the tape glitches red, “Does it stop hurting?” Riley types in I don’t know. “I guess even you don’t know everything do you?” she sighs. “I’ve been thinking about death a lot lately…” 

“Amanda… we don’t have to follow the script right? We could… talk about something fun instead?” 

“I wonder what it’s like to die?” Amanda wonders, ignoring Wooly. Wooly looks extremely uncomfortable. “Sometimes… it feels like I’m already dead… sometimes… I wish I really was. I don’t want to be trapped here anymore…” 

“I mean… you killed me that one time… it wasn’t very pleasant.” 

“Yeah that meat went bad way too fast.” 

“Excuse me?” Wooly seems incredibly disturbed. 

“And then you just came back to life like nothing happened. So I guess we’re practically immortal right?” 

“Hold on Amanda what-” Wooly questions, then he stops himself. “You know what? I don’t think I wanna know…” 

“The kitties didn’t seem to like it that much.” 

“I’m sorry you fed me to the neighborhood cats?!” 

“Yeah lamb is disgusting.” 

“I don’t know if I should be offended or relieved.” 

“The cats seemed to agree with me. I tried to offer it to Riley, but they didn’t want it either.” 

“Can we stop talking about what you did with my corpse-” Wooly asks, “I think I’m gonna throw up.” Amanda stops talking. “Okay quit looking at me like that.” more silence. “Okay please say something I cannot handle this awkward silence.” 

“You’re not mad at me?” 

“Why would I be? It was my fault right?” 

“I mean… yeah I was mad but like… I know I went too far.” 

“But I deserved it.” 

“Wooly- No… I missed Kate very much but- I had no right to take it out on you… not like that…” Amanda explains, Wooly tilts his head in confusion. “I miss her… so much…”

“I’m sorry…” Wooly replies sadly. 

“You didn’t kill her Wooly…” Amanda sighs, “And… Kate’s solution failed anyway. I was just… so frustrated… so confused and hurt… I took that out on you when I shouldn’t have.” 

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“What I am saying is I’m very very sorry for hurting you, killing you, and literally everything else.” 

“Apology accepted.” Wooly beams. 

“No. No no no. C’mon Wooly you gotta be a little mad about it right?” 

“Why would I be mad at my best friend?” Wooly’s words only made Amanda feel more guilty. And genuinely sad. 

“You’re allowed to be upset at the people you care about, you know that right?” Amanda asks. Wooly’s eyes go completely blank. 

“What are you talking about? No you’re not.” Wooly replies, as if it’s completely normal.

“Huh?” 

“Look, I don’t want to get in another fight,” Wooly sighs, “so let’s just forget about it, okay? It’s fine. You’re good. I’m not mad at you. I’ll take responsibility and we can be done with this, okay? It’s my fault. All of it. There.” 

“Wooly- Stop it.” 

“Stop… what?” 

“It’s not all your fault. Some of it’s my fault!” Amanda cries, “We didn’t kill her!” 

“Hameln did.” Riley says. Amanda’s eyes widen in shock. Riley is surprised, since they didn’t think Amanda could hear them. 

“They killed… everyone… didn’t they?” Wooly asks. Riley types in yes. “Figured as much. They seem to really like making people… disappear.” Amanda looks between Riley and Wooly with dismay. 

“The reason you keep moving… they’re after you aren’t they?” her voice trembles. Riley says nothing. The textbox remains empty. “They are…” 

“But don’t worry! I’m somewhere safe now. All the tapes are safe… at least… the ones I could salvage.” Riley frantically explains. 

“Riley… no… no no no…” 

“That reminds me… while I have you here-”

“No!” Amanda screams, “Stop it! Stop it right now!” Riley is taken aback. “Stop watching the tapes… stop collecting them… just get out of here… far far away… don’t let them catch you too!” 

“Amanda…” Riley mumbles. 

“I can’t lose you- no… I’d rather never see you again and know that you’re safe… than know that you died and it was all my fault.” Amanda sobs. Wooly looks away. 

“Amanda… I’m not going anywhere- okay well…” they considered telling her, but this didn’t seem the time. “I promise you, the place I took you to is safe. I have a fri- my girlfriend is here. She’s going to keep you safe. She’s the daughter of one of Kate’s friends, Caroline. She’s been keeping some of the tapes safe for you… all this time. She wants to help… I’m going to introduce you very soon.” 

“No! No no no no! You’re not going to watch anymore tapes! You or anyone else! You’re going to get out of here! Far far away! You’re going to escape… and you’ll do all the things I never could! You’ll be happy! Okay?!” Amanda begs desperately. 

“Amanda, Wooly, I promise you, everything is going to turn out fine. I’ll make sure of it-” “Don’t.” Amanda demands, “I don’t care what Kate wants… I want to protect you…” 

“Kate… wanted to protect me too. But if you protect me… who's protecting you?” 

“Kate… didn’t want this?” Amanda stutters. Whoops- She falls quiet. 

“Amanda she loved you very much-”

“I know that! I loved her too! I love her too!” Amanda cries, burying her hands in her face before taking a deep breath. “That’s why… you’re not watching any more tapes.” 

“Amanda wait-” 

“Goodbye Riley.” Amanda says, “Thanks for being my friend.” 

Just then the tape ends. Riley tries to put it back in the machine, but it won’t play. Over and over. It just keeps getting ejected. 

“No… no no no no no no…” 

“Riley?” Sophie comes back downstairs,  Riley looks up at her, tears running down their face. “It didn’t work out?” she asks sadly. 

“Did you… get the list?” 

“Yeah… Peter’s family says that he left some in his old office. You can pick them up no issue. There’s some others supposedly- no no first, what happened?” 

“Amanda… doesn’t want us to get hurt… so she won’t let me finish the tape…” 

“I see… maybe I can talk to her…” 

“Give me the list… I’ll go and get the tapes…” Riley instructs standing up. Their tone is completely serious and… a little unstable. 

“Are you sure about this?” 

“A little late for that, isn’t it?” 

“I suppose. Alright. Here’s the list. Promise you’ll come home safe, okay Riley?” she asks.

“I promise.” Riley answers, but she still looks hesitant. 

“Okay, here it is. And with it, a protection spell for good luck.” She lifts the hair off of Riley’s forehead and gives them a kiss. They give each other one more kiss goodbye, and Riley disappears up the stairs. Sophie looks at the final two tapes. She notices something odd. Before, the final tape said Found You! Now it says… Goodbye. “Can Amanda… change the episode titles?” Sophie wonders. “Interesting… but… just a theory for now. Better write it down for Riley… when they get back.” Sophie takes out her notebook and turns to a new page, she titles it: Amanda the Adventurer Theories and writes this speculation down.

Authors Note: I guess you guys are getting this a little bit early. Soo... what do you think? Sophie's fun right? We got some new lore incoming... you really thought I'd reveal all my Amanda and Wooly lore now? You thought it was over? Some people wanted to see Amanda and Wooly properly talk about this, here you go. Originally this tape was going to be about Amanda and Riley finally moving on from Kate's death... but honestly it seems like Kate's death is both of their main motivations right now. Maybe eventually they can both be at peace with it. And Wooly can stop blaming himself to keep the peace : |

Next fantape:

[rotting-ink]

Starling Knight- Burial At Sea

They hated the ocean. It was impossible for them to tell how much time had passed, even though they knew they were supposed to look at the stars and... Guess? The only thing that warned them of the passage of time was the increasing worry on the Captain's face, and the number of ship hands being confined to quarters.

That, and the amount of times Starling would overheard the Captain and their mother arguing, as they sat outside their shared room. Going from reassuring words to near shouting matches, only quietened whenever their mother would burst into tears, sobbing and unable to stop the wretched, painful breaths she had to take. But, even behind doors, they understood. 

Their father had been dead for 6 weeks. For 3 of those weeks, they had been at sea. For a week, there had been signs of plague on board, particularly in the cargo hold. Where their father had lay, stiff, his own coffin side by side to another corpse. Someone’s niece who flung herself off a building at the prospect of an arranged marriage and her remains was being shipped back, her head in a different box to her body. 

The uncle had already happily agreed to toss her own corpse to the sea, after a small service. Starling’s mother was the one who was refusing to have her husband buried in the water. Starling privately thought that he’d have preferred to be buried at home. Their actual home. They already had a burial plot ready, a family mausoleum just outside their house. He wasn’t supposed to be being shipped back to England, to the family he willingly left behind, the people he made sure would never meet Starling. But they had nothing. But they did have something. 

Starling had watched other women in Egypt bury their husbands, and carry on. Ones with no family except a few children, taking over businesses, becoming the heads of their family. Their own mother wasn’t apparently able to fathom it. No, she had written home to the family she married into, and got a response back. They were sad that Andras was dead. They would love for her to come back and be with the family. They were excited to meet Starling. 

And now here they were, standing by the man who would have wanted to be buried underneath the dark dirt and soft sand, surrounded by the people he made his own family. But then again, as Starling was slowly coming to accept, life was cruel. He wasn’t supposed to die. It was before his time. Their cousin's father died only when she turned 45. Starling was just 15. They were supposed to have at least three more decades. 

If life was good, if being alive was fair, then their father wouldn’t have had a fit, standing among the oranges he was so proud of. He would have been found instantly, instead of hours later. He’d have survived. 

If not that, then he’d be buried at their home. Then their mother would take over. She knew how to. Starling knew how to. They’d carry on selling fruits, they’d carry on watching Starling discover that the world bent to the wills of their fingers, helping life bloom. Helping death shrivel. 

But no. Worst of all, Starling couldn’t get mad at the world for the fact that they had wrapped their father in a shroud made from bed linens. Nor that they knew this was the safest way. They’d seen plague victims. 

They could either hold onto their father and die with him before they ever reached the shores of England. Or let his body go now, and reach their new life… Alive. And nothing else. Just alive. 

So, as their mother wailed, uncaring of the eyes of the boat hands staring at the disgusting display, half of them horrified at the sight of this woman, undone, the other half pitying. Starling endured the stares. They already knew it would get worse when they arrived at their relatives. A part of them felt guilty, for being so selfish and thinking of the future, even when half of them mourned him. 

Starling was selfish, they decided. Starling was watching their father being hefted up, wrapped shoddily in borrowed fabric, to be lowered into cold, gray waters, and while half of them cried out, the other half shook in terror. Of what was to come. 

They were one of Osiris’ Followers in Egypt. Once a week they had gone to spend the whole day with the others with their abilities, to be taught, to be taken care of, to be reassured that their power was a blessing, of Old, but also of New. They’d see other classes in passing, as they walked through the halls of tile and stone. People urging plants to grow, helpers of Renenutet, people who could shape light, illusions, Lovers of Khonsu. Creators of Geb, Nut, Tefnut, Wadjet all showed newcomers their control over the elements. Guardians would let blood flow down their arms, to form crystallized weapons in their palms. 

There were also those, who willingly wielded the powers of Apep, to reinforce Ma’at. Seen as the most powerful, most of these Wielders came forward, to reveal Apep’s influence had come to them, and all would be taken in, creatures hanging off their clothes or curled around them, eyes staring and flicking around. They even talked to one of these creatures. It was perfectly polite.  

Starling’s mother always quietly scoffed at what Starling was taught and would come home with. She often talked about how it was a shame that the Kingdom was forced from the shores of Egypt, taking with the teachings of the Basilica, the power, the culture that the country needed. It was the only thing their parents fought about. Their father happily lived in Egypt before going to marry their mother, watching as they purged every influence from the hold the small island had over them, including reintroducing their old beliefs, to wash out the ones imposed. 

They privately agreed with their father. 

Because of what was to come for them now. They knew that it wouldn’t be long before their relatives would send them off to the Scholars and Keepers of the Basilica, to be Tagged, to be forced to unlearn how they saw the world. They already knew that the Sirelings of the Gods were known as Witches, people to be hidden away or used. They knew that instead of learning in cool rooms, side by side with other children, they’d be confined to the classroom. Then the workplace, if they didn’t want to study. 

So, as they watched their father sink down, swallowed by dark waters, their mother hanging onto their shoulder and sobbing, they wished they could sink wholly into their grief. To think of nothing but their father, lost to an abyss of wet waters, instead of themself.

Their mother was eventually escorted back to her room, to be given tea and made to sleep. The Captain, however, put a hand on Starling’s shoulder and escorted them to his cabin. He prepared an opium pipe, as he talked about his condolences, explaining, again, that he wished there was another way, but the threat of plague was simply too great. 

Then he pulled on the pipe. His eyes glazed. He offered it to Starling. 

They took a moment… Then put it to their lips. 

Years later, when interrogated by their Handler, the one who personally branded Starling upon their arrival to the Conservatory of Natural Research and Sciences, about their use of Opium and other “Instruments of Excess”, they might have admitted that they shouldn’t have taken that first taste. Shouldn’t have let the haze sink over them, to dull the edges that pierced and cut their insides. They enjoyed a nice evening, getting to talk about their father without the pain in their heart, drinking bad beer and listening to tales of the Sea, how the Captain was sure that something lurked in the deep. 

That night was the best sleep they had since their father’s death, curled up on their bunk as their mother cried, even in her sleep. 

Maybe they shouldn’t have become so reliant on it, their own personal escape made from poppies, but then again, maybe their father shouldn’t have died, choking on his own breath, among his oranges. Life was unfair. Starling had learnt how to deal with it. 

[inubaki]

The smell was as wretched as the carcass was revolting. From the corpse’s size, it became obvious to Adam now, that this plant must have scheduled feedings and likely digested slowly to preserve energy. All while suffocating the victim in a floral scented fog emanating from its own stomach acids.

At this revelation, Adam looked Lucifer dead in the eye as the other caught his wrist. “You based this off of Lilith didn’t ya?”

The look on Lucifer’s face was so fucking punchable right then. Staggering for words while Adam only sank deeper into the eroding piles of awful. His robes were a lost cause as was his patience as Adam yanked Lucifer down to his eye level and pointed his holy beam downward with his other hand. “All the more reason then” he said coolly and fired.

From the thick fog came a harsh light followed by a rippling quake. Every on looker cowered from the heavenly light and staggered to flee as the ground gave way. Their vision obstructed, the upper class patrons were well on their way to full scale panic as sound of their king’s anger came followed by the sound of something tipping over.

When the smog cleared, the chaos and violence expected was hindered by the unexpected sight of…green….

“ADAM, YOU SON-OF A BITCH!!!”

The tree still stood, though, more at an angle from what could be visibly recognizable. The ground expanding an entire yard around the once pristine fencing was crumpled, but enriched in moss and other stages of saplings. Sinners slowly approached, warily to marvel and gawk as the moss spawned into the beginnings of blue flowers.

Lucifer’s damn tree was vibrating visibly with distress and confusion. Its ‘food’ had dissolved away to something foreign to meat and it filled its stomach to the brim. The force of something had rattled its foundation and it’s branches shuttered like the sound of rattling chains. It was only quelled by Lucifer’s swift hand to its side. Easing it with his familiar magic and ‘feeding’ from himself now that its stomach was full of earth lilies. An extra stab of petty that didn’t go unnoticed.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU TRIED BLESSING MY PRECIOUS TREE!!” Lucifer didn’t know whether to be impressed or slightly more furious. That the tiny human with the short attention span even knowing the complexities of blessings at all was borderline unbelievable. Weaponizing holy engery had been Lucifer’s first exception but this… this was entirely an another level of annoying!

“Hey! I kept my word of not harming your ‘precious’ hellborns!” Adam snapped back. Climbing skillfully from the confused tree’s stomach, freshly clean but as naked as the day he was born. Adam, dapped his halo back over his head with no other place to put it. Sinners were gawking and Adam let him. Let them enjoy something other then Lucifer’s pale ass as Adam surveyed for his packages. “My tree! Is already perfect!!” “A perfect bitch maybe. I see the resemblance now”. Adam picked up his phone, the angelic tech untouched but his packages were no where. “Fuck….” he cursed. Sighing he waved at some goat-beast rabbit thing. “Hey! Have ya seen some packages-“. “Adam stop bleaching the eyes of my people!” “Who’s bleaching who? Ya pasty greek yogurt asshole.” Adam felt the tingles of Lucifer’s magic and looked down to see the covering of… “oh ha ha! You think you’re so funny!” Adam pulled at the end fabric making up some demon pig onesie while Lucifer fixed his own outfit with a wave of his own hand. Adam had the notion to slap that stupid hat off his head in front of everyone. Till his eyes caught the sight of blue flowers still slowly emerging from the ground. He flushed, recognizing the exact shade of blue his blessings had taken. It killed his rage leaving a hollowness at the notion that he could fuck this up so readily. He bit his lip and looked on at the tree and back at Lucifer whom wouldn’t meet his eyes. Hurt? Pissed? Adam felt a tug of regret that his alternative approach still could have done some damage. “…. Sorry.” It felt weighted like an unused muscle on his tongue. “It’s a..ahh… cool tree. Besides all ‘that’. I hope I didn’t hurt it…”. He looked away uncomfortably and crossed his arms, waiting for the blow out. Waiting for what he should have expected to be the inevitable.

Plants had been the right call. The way Adam’s entire face light up hit Lucifer directly in the fits of nostalgia and coveted memory. That this was Adam. There was no doubting it now. The first sight that had entrenched himself to humanity had been that look. Suddenly, he wished for Lilith to be there. If only to catch even the flutter of what he was feeling. Did Adam’s forgiveness extend to her?

“This is fucking sick!!” Adam ran passed him and flocked to the closest stall with eyes a simmer. Leaving the rattled man to slowly follow, wary to allow Adam to carry him away again if things sour. “Did you make any of these?” Adam asked sticking his head into a plant’s gapping mewl and laughing he pulled it out barely in time for its jaws to snap. “Please tell me Lilith didn’t name them!! I call dibs!” Adam jumped back with a laugh as another hellish plant tried reaching for the meat satchel on his hip. Giving the first man the amazing idea to playfully hover it over every plant for their individual reactions. “Don’t tease the plants” the stale owner muttered dryly over his paper. Never looking up, with only a few signs posted in warning which no one ever listened too. On cue, the hidden veins plunged through the ground and pulled Adam directly into the air. Leaving the first man to dangle and fall into a tug of war with another thieving vain. “Hey!! Heyhehey!! That’s for Michaels asshole!!”

Lucifer bite back a snorted laugh after the minor heart attack. The plant seeming more of a snarling dog then an actual threat.

“I would ask you if you learned something but…”

“Fuck you, asshole! I’ll just make ya buy Michael a new one!!”

——

@koji-haru -if I was watching Adam’s family, I admit nothing!

[starry-bi-sky]

Stillborn? No, still born au -- Dani Phantom! Clone girl herself. :]

She can't exist in this au. And it's not that I don't want to add her -- although I'll be blunt, I don't, I'll be the first to admit that I think she's more often than not nothing more than a narrative deadweight used to prop up Danny and I don't like adding characters as props -- but her existence quite literally goes against and muddies the Vlad and Danny dynamic I have for this au. Ellie's existence in canon itself states that she was created -- and Danny's other clones too -- because Vlad gave up on trying to convert him to his side and decided to just make a son instead.

Something that just, doesn't happen in the stillborn-still born au. See, for folks who are only just hearing about this au or didn't see my post about Vlad in this au, he and Danny have a complicated love-hate relationship where they mutually want to adopt each other, but their morals and way of doing things -- mainly Vlad's insistence on getting revenge against the Fentons -- gets in the way of them being able to do that in full.

Vlad knows Danny wants him to adopt him, and is only fighting him on it because he refuses to let Vlad kill the Fentons for essentially killing the both of them. He's succeed in 50% of his goal. Canon Vlad never even made it to 1%. With that in mind, stillborn Vlad has no reason and sees no reason to clone Danny, he has his son. He just needs to convince him to let him avenge them both.

Dani simply has no place in the stillborn-still born au. And in fact, if Vlad did decide to clone Danny -- for whatever reason, -- it would damage his relationship with Danny damn near beyond repair. That's because Danny would view it the same way he views Damian's existence; as a replacement for himself. He would become beyond furious and hurt, and not for the typical 'I can't believe you cloned me, you creep!' reason, but for a 'I can't believe you cloned me, you said I was your son!' reason.

I am not pulling any punches here when I say Danny wants Vlad to be his dad just as much as Vlad wants Danny to be his son, there's just a lot of factors getting in the way. They are, as the french say, ✨mentally unwell.✨ Danny has a ton of abandonment and trust issues due to his experiences in foster care. He would immediately become jealous, insecure, and incredibly furious and hurt. He'd despise her on principal and want nothing to do with her, or Vlad for that matter. He'd just fucking haaate her. It's not her fault she was made but Danny doesn't really care, he's lashing out and pushing people away because he's been betrayed yet again.

The only way they could get along or for Danny to actually like her in any capacity would be if it was his idea to clone himself. Which is like, kinda obvious but considering most clone plots tend to be non-consensual it's kinda gotta be said. He has to have a hand in creating her, that's the only way I can see him liking her in any way. Or if someone other than Vlad created her. If Vlad clones him though, all bets are off the table and he'll despise her.

TL;DR: Dani can't exist in this au because she goes against the narrative I've got for the two most fucked up half-dead could-be-father-son duo in existence, but if she did exist Danny would despise her.

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

new hair new hair!

Before:

After:

[angeltism]

"spar.kle is fictional who cares" I have seen people praising her for her racist anti-romani comments what the fuck kind of world do you live in

[traumatise]

he leaves, just like alaric suggested, and it's brutal. a loud silence descends about as fast as regret. because fuck. this isn't who he is. he isn't the one who shoves people away just because he can't take a little heat. what even was that? his mind keeps replaying the look on damon's face, unhelpfully listing all those tiny changes in expression in explicit detail for his viewing displeasure. he isn't that asshole, but he sure is tonight. he isn't the one to take what damon offers and throw it away, but he sure is tonight. for what, ric? for what? what are you so afraid of?

here's what's worse: losing even an ounce of his respect. they've both worked too hard to get here and also didn't even have to work at it at all, in some ways, it comes so naturally to them. so being the reason for a potential damon landslide is ... pretty inexcusable. not just because it's a little embarrassing to contemplate (damon's a grown man, number one, and ric wouldn't take that shit on as his own responsibility as if it isn't fully on damon for however he chooses to react to people being people, number two) but also because fuck, this isn't who they are. these aren't the lines they've drawn, unspoken but understood. important. they're two people who have each other and a bar at the end of the day, if nothing else, and that's more than enough. that should always be more than enough.

he takes a moment, maybe five, to calm his racing heart. to recollect himself, for whatever that's fucking worth, into everything he remembers being when shit gets tough. stable, for one. that's a plus he won't take for granted again. and yeah, when the door opens again, and damon's voice filters through, there's something unfortunate and jittery going on with his pulse again, but that's much more simple to ignore this time. because—fuck, since when does damon even do this, anyway? since when is he the one to come back, hold up a peace offering? something's tugging way too hard on his last guarded heartstring, and it's all he can do not to cross the distance and kiss him hard, fast, messy with more than words can ever say. but that's so counter-productive it has his head spinning. so he locks it up, throws it into the ocean, prays it never finds its way back up for air. ignores the fact that he's done this before. ignores the fact that it always does.

for all ric knows there are dead witches pulling at his sleeves and beckoning him deeper into the house, but they've lost whatever meager grip they could have had on him the moment damon salvatore was asked to leave and let himself come back.

worse liar is a touch concerning, but fair. deserved. ric finally turns around, brings himself back to damon, eyes catching on the bottle in his hands and softening in absolute spite of himself. "done jerking off," he agrees, reaching out to take it; and his fingers do close around damon's, and it is entirely intentional, squeezing a bit. lets the weight of an apology settle there before he fully accepts the bottle from him. "look at you with the booze ready to go while i'm having an episode. are we swapping species and roles now?" and that's an apology, too, at the end of the day.

he eases by damon, out of the house, allows his shoulder to bump the other's gently along the way. tries to tell himself it's more for damon's benefit than for his own. "let's take a minute. the witches are telling me to reconnect with nature by drinking this entire thing, and i don't think it'd be wise to disobey." he doesn't stop until he's all the way to the car, settles himself atop the hood with plenty of space for damon to sit alongside him. it feels better already out here—fresh air, something to drink, fewer expectations. he can do this. he can be normal. he can be the brick wall of alaric that they both need more often than not. he just needs damon to buckle down with that pretty girlfriend and never make him prove himself wrong.

Signals do not get any more mixed than this, he's sure. Further confirmed when he's sent a half stumble backward, forcibly reacquainted with supporting his own weight on the floorboards. He blinks, slow and stupid, trying and failing to figure out how the path from Point A to Point 7 had been a direct one, but Alaric's already halfway across the room when he has the bearings again to just ask. Or, wait. He did that already, and lost out on a real answer and then some. This is Damon's fault, because it usually is, and maybe the push for a magical crash course speed run was a step too far. Many steps too far, the way Ric's shaking an addict, creating as much distance between them like Damon had been the one moving like a man possessed. He opens his mouth and shuts it again twice, wonders when the hell this got so complicated and what could have possibly gone wrong first.

The witch thing might be the tipping point, but it's not the truth. Damon knows that the second it ghosts over his lips. Technically several seconds after, since his mind tends to blank on signs of trouble anytime he's got a warm body pressed over his, but that's beside the point. What he doesn't know is which of his latest attempts at being comforting were entirely the wrong move, or why he's so mind bogglingly bad at this. No need for an extensive play by play of everything going on in Ric's head, even if every flash in his eyes is as tortured and unreadable as the last. Unlike some other very important people in their lives, Damon doesn't carry the inclination to hold him down and force that kind of soul bearing to the surface. He'd sort of like to now, since apparently Ric doesn't trust him enough to get it off his chest even prompted. That's the part that's not sitting well. That's the part that stings.

For the good of the team, he tries to reckon what might actually be justified. It's been a very long time since he was human. Doesn't remember what it's like to very suddenly have immeasurable power coursing under his skin, or how he managed to level it out. Inextricably horny? Maybe. He doesn't appreciate getting jerked around, even if the extraction was entirely necessary, because again, they're. They're working on something. Growth or whatever stupid reason. Ric's the one that planted the idea for Damon to get situated without being so careless about who he's touching on, and here he is unable to contain himself. Should be vindicating - the instant rejection makes it anything but. Paired with his inability to be honest, Damon's seeing a little red. And sure, there's a chance he's overthinking it, but clearly he's been under-thinking everything else, so this seems like the right time to play it safe. Whatever game this is, he's losing. Bad. So. He'll oblige before hurt develops into a really pissy mood like it tends to, and he decides he ought to screw things up on purpose. That he's really good at, but there's two heartbeats pounding horribly out of sync in his ears, and he has no interest in setting the human one off and accidentally killing his best (read, only) friend because he needs to have the last word.

"Sure thing, Ric. Take your time." Curt, flat, and to the point, because he's been trying his damnedest here to be good about, frankly, everything, from the witch stuff to the werewolf stuff to the semblance of human decency stuff, and it's still somehow biting him in the ass. At a certain point this has to be a talent. He doesn't wait for Ric to respond, breezes back down the main way and out the door. Slams it shut for good measure, rattling the frame hard enough to echo a message that he has zero intention of coming back inside. Maybe most of that's the witches' doing. A reminder he's not welcome here, there, or anywhere. Whatever, man. Not his kind of party anyway.

He only gets as far as Ric's car when he remembers he can't vamp speed out of here, which is just more bullshit he's not in the mood to figure out. Breaking something might help, and for a brief moment the windshield is an appealing option. Driving off and leaving Ric to walk would also feel good. For a moment. The combination of both sounds like a recipe for bugs in his mouth, though, so he abandons that pretty immediately. Mostly because he doesn't actually want to do any of those things, just can't temper what part of this is psycho wolf brain and what part is regular grade, psycho Damon brain. Neither are trustworthy. And you know what, neither is Ric. Dawns on him then that his impulse control has found some check, which is a very dim bright side. Does it still count if he doesn’t have an audience? Back to a tree falling in the forest. Might be easier to just burn it down.

He takes a minute, maybe five, trying to sort out what Ric - not present Ric, because that guy's not handling anything well - would do. What he might need to unscrew this particular setback. Maybe he had a point in there. The air outside is clean of any morbid witchy tension, and that helps calm his nerves enough to think of action beyond destruction. There's a couple things he can try. Booze might be the problem but booze is also the solution, where Alaric is generally concerned, so he sighs, fishes the emergency bottle out of the trunk and figures that's a long enough break. He can be cool again. Probably. The front door is heavier this time (for crying out loud, can they get over themselves?) but Damon doesn't bother to step over the threshold. "Hey, asshole," he calls inside, scanning what he can make out under the magic light show, "If you're not jerking off or dead yet, I got something for you. Consider it a grand prize for being a worse liar than Jeremy." And maybe that's sort of an apology, too. Depends on Ric's attitude.

[hecksupremechips]

Girl like. The reason he said "this is how it should be" and faced death with a smile....is cuz he wanted to die. For 2 years he sat there thinking he was worthless and deserved to die. If he hadn’t be shot, his death would’ve been suicide, he was fully planning to die in a gutter somewhere undetected. When saying "this is how it should be" hes literally saying "don’t cry because I’m dying, my death is a good thing actually because I fucking suck and you are better off without me". I don’t think that’s badass even slightly, it’s actually really sad and really shitty. Shinjiro is so convinced that he deserves to die and hates the idea of anyone giving a shit about him because he literally can’t wrap his mind around the idea that he will be missed when he’s gone, that his death is a bad thing actually. And his last words were meant to be comforting because he fully did not intend for anyone to be there when he died, he intended to die alone, so he says them as a reminder that he’s not worth crying over

Personally, if it were me, if I was holding my dying best friend in my arms who was deeply depressed and suicidal and he said "this is how it should be" uh. I wouldn’t admire him for it??? Like am I losing my mind when I say the way this game handles Shinji is bad or is anyone else seeing this too 😰