#Attached i never... Ive never allowed myself to get attached to the point i think theh wont leave me. So i dont have any

[mrfoox]

'when someone gets mad at me especially girls in the way where they want space/want to be alone... I get all clingy and lovely dovely bc im scared of them leaving me. That's because of my abandonet issues I for from my mom'

Me: hmm... Yeah i.. I might have something akin to that bc of my dad problems

'oh yeah, how?'

Me: uuuh idk

Me in reality when anyone treats me slightly different, ignores me or seem mad/sad/upset with me or for any reason: I'm sorry. It's all my fault, I should be ashamed I'm so sorry please tell me what I can do to atone? -mad anxiety and possibly sobbing-no please I'm sorry, I know I should not have said that before, its that why you're mad, right? I'm sorry please

[lains-reality]

i think im finally (starting to at least) get nondualism. i think i just understood it intellectually before? i have been feeling very stuck and scared that i was just repeating the same cycle i did when i practiced loa. i felt like i was switching between knowing i wasnt the ego to getting attached again and not understanding i wasnt that. today i remembered seeing someone say that you can see that you are not the ego by either observing or self-inquiry. i found self-inquiry annoying and like it never got me far and observation felt impossible since i believed the ego to be me, so i thought more on self-inquiry just for the hell of it.

i thought about the body first. it exists. where? the world. the world just is, i said. well there are other things in the world, why do i take myself for this? because i observe the world through it? because it doesnt go out of my awareness? but it does. just like everything else, i am not always conscious of my body. as far as i know, everything only exists in my awareness. i dont know of it elsewhere. even things i know i dont know exist because i am Aware i dont know of them. i am aware and so the thing exists not the other way around( not really before either cuz everything is now) but im always with my mind am i not? nd tells me i am not but even when i dream its still the mind influencing the dream. this point is where i usually got stuck before but i continued. i asked myself, when has the mind disappeared from my awareness? i thought about meditation. when you meditate, you may notice a thought or a feeling, but you allow it and are indifferent to it, then it disappears. eventually you arent having any thoughts, and you are likely not aware of the body. also made me think of the void state which i havent experienced but everyone ive seen describe their experience described what i did. everything was gone but their awareness. its called the void state for a reason, theres NOTHING.

so anyway it made me realize that i really dont know that anything else exists but me. yknow truly realize it lol. everything fades from my awareness on a day to day basis but i am still there. i just felt like sharing esp since it could help someone who is struggling. ive sent you a couple asks before and youve been very helpful so thank you

thank you for this!

also about always being with your mind - in your sleep there's no mind!

and with thoughts dissolving - they do that already. when you think a thought, it dissolves when a new one is made. thoughts are constantly passing through and soon they'll slow down. :)

[gramarye]

answering asks because i forgot to and felt too awkward to do so you know how it is.

honestly its the other way around... she loves sitting in them but also chewing them up (shes allowed lol she spits the pieces out, its fine by me bc i can just vacuum it up and she can get her Beast Tearing Maiming Killing Instincts taken out on something that i was gonna throw out anyway) so like. at some point i just give up and throw away a box that she has done too much damage on even though she would love to keep it forever. but i always have new packages coming every few months if only for koshka's food and litter orders so there is always a supply.. she is never boxless

i wanted a koshka box pic to attach here, like a new one but she hasnt sat in one while ive had a camera out in a while. heres other recent koshkys though. so tired.

omg idk if theres any that make me cringe.. most of them are funny. even the more derogatory ones that are sex allegories are like.... i wouldn't want someone to call me them but removed from context they are kinda funny. that said finnish lepakko (bat) is still the best lesbian synonym

i dont think any make me cringe tho it does annoy me when someone is a lesbian and ppl go out of their way to refer to them as sapphic. but its not an issue w the word sapphic itself its more like how some people just refuse to use lesbian for some reason when someone is explicitly using it. idk

idk if these are by the same person but they are abt the same author (I THINK? ARE THERE MORE YURI MANGA THAT FIT THE FIRST DESCRIPTION?) but omg thanks for the recommendations!! i read the one-shot it was soooo cute... i love how different it is from the other manga LOLLL the range of lesbians.. ur so right btw both of these are absolutely my thing in different ways. u rock. thank u

i think i might have even started the OL one before but just never kept up with it (or perhaps when it was releasing) its kinda been a while since i read yuri manga other than how do we relationship so thank you!!!

ive been reading a lot of books for my advanced literature class which is like.. fun but very little time to read for myself...

that said i re-read dungeon meshi LOL, i like kept up with it as it released casually but i wanted to do it from the start to the end now that its been done for a bit. and i've been going through the almost 400 page Essential Dykes To Watch Out For i got from the library, im like 3/4 thru!! oh and i've been reading getter robo for my friend and uh. wuthering heights as a classic on the side

[strider-rambles]

avoidant attachment sucks balls

i keep feeling the urge to spill my guts but i'm so used to keeping everything behind tight lips and grimaces that its almost impossible for me to really put it into words now. i have so much to say and i have so many feelings its just not. happening and i keep wanting to sit my friends down and have heart to hearts and everything else but i think i might've managed to completely convince myself that they don't want to hear it.

and i miss having in depth, intellectual conversation, i guess. i wish i could sit down and have that side of me satiated because its its kind of a comfort i was raised on debates, and beyond that, the wholehearted sharing of experience

but i was also raised to be deeply isolationist. i avoid everyone i love because i get uncomfortable with the idea of intimacy the idea that someones expecting, begging for a reply i get so fucking uncomfortable and yet i crave that closeness to no end

and if i can control it, its fine if i can control every aspect of conversation; when, where, what, etc. i am okay if i can control every aspect of interaction; touch, time, location, i am fine

but that's fucked up. its fucked up. because they have feelings too and they might need more interaction than i can give them comfortably and i wish i wasn't like this i wish i wasn't so scared of the idea of being known, being loved, having expectations placed upon me but i don't know how to fix it so here i am rambling on tumblr, instead of being like. a normal dude, and talking to people, because its gotten to the point where im not comfortable talking to people about these sorts of things BECAUSE i'm so isolated everyones at an arms length away i am trapped in my own prison of fear and boy do i not know what to do about it like you'd think i'd have some idea of how to fix it but i don't and i i kind of don't WANT to fix it. because this is comfortable. yes its lonely but its comfortable as soon as someone starts showing interest i almost just avoid them ive gotten through it a lot of the time and there are special cases where i just don't find the person to be someone i could really get down and dirty in conversation with but a lot of the time its just my own fear that brings me here alone, and sad, and so so so exhausted

i dread it when my friends dm me. like its that bad and i don't want to dread it i want to be excited and everything else but im getting worse. im getting so much fucking worse i just want to be stuck in my own little hole and reach out when i want to but that's unfair to them and it doesn't help anyone not me, but fuck. its just so comfortable and i cant. find any reason to not do it and i fuck

its so unfair to them but i want it so bad i want that control at this point i'm gonna get accused of being a dirk LMAO i am my fathers son, something something fuck, i wish i were normal like its such a pain in the fucking ass to be like this i just god and part of me wishes those friends would find this blog because itd be so much easier than looking them in the eye and explaining this because fuck, man its embarrassing. hey, just so you know, i wasn't allowed to have friends as a kid so im super weird about having friends now and also uh never contact me ever until i reach out to you because i- like shut the fuck up dude

its like i want to punish people for liking me for wanting to hang out with me self hatred is CRAZY dave you should be over that arc i guess its just mild self dissatisfaction because like ugh. i'm totally trying to punish people for liking me and also punishing myself by never letting myself be normal

but heres the problem as well its like god i don't WANT to be honest with people because they get emotional and then that just makes me uncomfortable all over again and like god i just feel the need for control so so so fucking bad. i don't even know why its not that i don't want to get close its just that i don't like when someone RECIPROCATES. fuck more thoughts coming soon maybe i don't know.

[milo-is-rambling]

Couldn’t sleep so I went to get up thinking oh I’ll have to grind weed so I can fall back asleep and then I thought no I’ll take a a dab but I thought no that’s too much I’ll just smoke flower and then I went to get up and I accidentally lifted my blanket too high and knocked over the little jar I had on my bedside table that had ALLL OF THE INCENSE STICKS IVE COLLECTED FROM THE LAST TWO YEARS IN IT. So I breathed. And I breathed. And I turned my light on. And I got really annoyed and picked up small sticks that blend in with my floor for five minutes and then I breathed some more and couldn’t fit all the sticks back in the jar bc they’d been placed meticulously so they all laid perfectly against one side so there was still room to put more and I was not about to individually put all those sticks in that jar when all I wanted to do was to smoke and take off the heavier blanket and pass out. So I moved the incense sticks to my skull jar that I haven’t used in a while and now it looks like this.

But I did earn a dab being allowed from my brain in the process. So yay me. Also funk has been absolutely SCREAMING at me at the top of his little bird lungs bc I turned the light on to smoke and play accidental pick up sticks for twenty minutes and it’s giving me a headache and it’s just like godddddd how can everything go so wrong so fast not just me knocking over a jar of sticks but like. Life. Something about me collecting all my incense sticks and ash since I first moved into this house two years ago and then accidentally dropping the sticks like two days after I accidentally spilled incense ash all over my bed and didn’t even tell anyone cause it made me so annoyed and ashamed for some reason and I can’t even explain why I’m collecting the sticks or the ash. Like I have no fucking clue what I’m doing or why. I started collecting incense ash like three years ago when my friend and I went thru a ooo witchcraft phase and I just never stopped dumping the ash from my ashtray into a cheese container with a small plastic spoon like I don’t even know why I’m doing it I just set myself down this path and now I’m here and I’m attached to a jar of fucking kindling at this point like why did I cry over knocking over a jar of sticks what is wrong with me does it ever get easier why have I been taking my meds for almost 100 days and I still lose my shit over little things I feel like I will never be normal I will never get to be the person that will make my parents proud I feel like I’m constantly gonna be finding myself making one wrong move and ruin the thing I’m doing just to pretend I’m doing something with my life like I don’t even know what I want to do in the future there’s so many options everything is so scary forever I went to Walmart and I wanted to crawl into the squishmallow display and just die like if one more person looks at me and acknowledges I have a body I feel like I’ll lose my shit like oh my god I know I’m mentally ill but fucking hell. Just give me a break (I say while not having a job not doing school not even doing theater rn I’m just sitting at home in my brain and losing my mind waiting for therapy on the third) I’m so close to having someone to help me untangle my brain I really want to open up I want to feel like I can I want to remember shit I always forget I want to avoid crisis modes and be normal I want to get a job I want to shut up. Literally ever. If I could ever at any point learn to shut my fucking mouth and brain mouth up at the same time. Would be fucking fantastic. It seems impossible. Either I’m not thinking when I’m talking and then I’m an asshole or I’m not talking bc I’m thinking so hard about how I’m an asshole. Like either way in my head I am a shitty person forever and like I know I’ve been shitty like I know I’ve done shitty things but like I’m not broken forever I know there’s food in here but I need someone else to force me to see it bc I can’t find it on my own and I don’t trust it when it comes from my family or friends and a part of my brain says oh ur paying ur therapist to say that

But i want a therapist who will call me out on my bullshit and would tell me if I was being the asshole in the situation yknow. Anyways this is a lot of text and I’m not going to reread it all have fun going to the internet rambling blog void block of text goodbye gonna smoke a bowl and pass the fuck out hopefully my back and neck will stop hurting and I will stop being too hot and too cold at the same time and I will not have nightmares about past relationships or future relationships or picking incense sticks up for forever and they all match the color of the carpet and also it’s fine cause they look better in the skull jar and it’s fine and it doesn’t make me irrationally mad still even tho I picked them all up but I don’t know for sure if I got them all but I think I did but it’s going to bother me if I find them on my floor tomorrow. Okay bye

[mapleshmaple]

it would be nice if i could get through An Shift without having to go through the five stages of grief for whatever reason

[meruz]

once again i am answering asks in a big compilation post. included is... gotham, patrick stump, tips about drawing backgrounds, tips about drawing in general, links to my faq, and infinity train

like.... the tv series? No... I’ve drawn dc comics fanart before, though. But it’s been years since I’ve been really into it. I like jumped ship like 10 years ago when the New 52 happened LOL.

AFJHDSLKGH I’m sorry I (probably) won’t do it again??

Actually full disclosure I have a truly cringe amount of p stump drawings/photo studies in my sketchbook right now LOL. He’s just fun to draw... hats, glasses, guitar, a good shape... but I don’t think I’ll rly post those until I can hide them in another big sketchbook pdf.. probably Jan 2022. Stay tuned........ (ominous) 

(ominous preview)

These are all sort of related to backgrounds/painting so I grouped them together even though they’re pretty much entirely separate questions.... ANYWAYS

a) How is it working as a BG artist? Is it hard? What show are you drawing for?

I think you’re the first person to ever ask me about my job! Being a background artist is great. It’s definitely labor intensive but I think that could describe pretty much any art job (If something were rote or easy to automate, you wouldn’t hire an artist to do it) and I hesitate to say whether its harder or easier than any other role in the animation pipeline. Plus, so much of what truly makes a job difficult varies from one production to the next, schedule, working environment, co-workers etc. But I will say that I think while BGs are generally a lot of work on the upfront, I think they’re subject to less scrutiny/revisions than something like character/props/effects design and you don’t have to pitch them to a room like boards. So I guess it’s good if you don’t like to talk to people? LOL

A lot of my previous projects + the show I’ve worked on the longest aren’t public yet so I can’t talk about em (but I assure you if/when the news does break I won’t shut up about it). But I’m currently working on Archer Season 12 LOL. I’m like 90% sure I’m allowed to say that.

b) ~~~THANK YOU!! ~~~

c) What exactly do you like to draw most [in a background]?

@kaitomiury​ Lots of stuff! I really like to draw clutter! Because it’s a great opportunity for environmental storytelling and also you can be kind of messy with it because the sheer mass will supersede any details LOL. 

I like to draw clouds... I like to draw grass but not trees lol,,, I like to draw anything that sells perspective really easily like tiled floors and ceilings, shelves, lamp posts on a street etc.

d) Do you have any tips on how to paint (observational)?

god there’s so much to say. painting is really a whole ass discipline like someone can paint their whole life and still discover new things about it. I guess if you’re really just starting out my best advice is that habit is more important than product. especially with traditional plein air painting, I find that the procedure of going outside and setting up your paints is almost harder than the actual painting. There’s a lot of artists who say “I want to do plein air sometime!!” and then never actually get around to doing it. A lot of people just end up working from google streetview or photos on their computer.

But going outside to paint is a really good challenge because it forces you to make and commit to lighting and composition decisions really quickly. And to work through your mistakes instead of against them via undo button.

My last tip is to check out James Gurney’s youtube channel because hes probably the best and most consistent resource on observational painting out there rn. There’s lots other artists doing the same thing (off the top of my head I know a lot of the Warrior Painters group has people regularly posting plein air stuff and lightbox expo had a Jesse Schmidt lecture abt it last year) but Gurney’s probably the most prolific poster and one of the best at explaining the more technical stuff - his books are great too.

e) Do you have tips for drawing cleanly on heavypaint?

@marigoldfool​ UMM LOL I LIKE ONLY USE THE FILL TOOL so maybe use the fill tool? Fill and rectangle are good for edge control as opposed to the rest of the heavy paint tools which can get sort of muddles. And also I use a stylus so maybe if you’re using your finger, find a stylus that works with your device instead. That’s all I’ve got, frankly I don’t think my drawings are particularly clean lol.

f) Tips on improving backgrounds/scenes making them more dynamic practicing etc?

Ive given some tips about backgrounds/scenes before so I’m not gonna re-tread those but here’s another thing that might be helpful...

I think a good way to approach backgrounds is to think of the specific story or even mood you want to convey with the background first. Thinking “I just need to put something behind this character” is going to lead you to drawing like... a green screen tourist photo backdrop. But if you think “I need this bg to make the characters feel small” or “I need this bg to make the world feel colorful” then it gives you requirements and cues to work off of.

If I know a character needs to feel overwhelmed and small, then I know I need to create environment elements that will cage them in and corner them. If a character needs to feel triumphant/on top of the world then I know I need to let the environment open up around them. etc. If I know my focal point/ where I want to draw attention, I can build the background around that.

Also, backgrounds like figure compositions will have focal points of their own and you can draw attention to it/ the relationship the characters have with the bg element via scale or directionality or color, any number of cues. I think of it almost as a second/third character in a scene.

Not every composition is gonna have something so obvious like this but it helps me to think about these because then the characters feel connected and integrated with the environment.

Some more general art questions

a) Do you have any process/tips to start drawing character/bodies/heads?

I tried to kind of draw something to answer this but honestly this is difficult for me to answer because I don’t think I’m that great at drawing characters LOL. Ok, I think I have two tips.

1) flip your canvas often. A lot about what makes human bodies look correct and believable is symmetry and balance. Even if someone has asymmetrical features, the body will often pull and push in a way to counterbalance it. we often have inherent biases to one side or another like dominant hands dominant eyes etc. you know how right-handed artists will often favor drawing characters facing 45 degrees facing (the artist’s) left? that’s part of it. so viewing your drawing flipped even just to evaluate it helps compensate for that bias and makes you more aware of balance.

2) draw the whole figure often. I feel like a lot of beginner artists (myself included for a long time) defer to just drawing headshots or busts because it’s easier, you dont have to think about posing limbs etc. But drawing a full body allows you to better gauge proportion, perspective, body language, everything that makes a character look believable and grounded.

Like if you (me) have that issue where you draw the head too big and then have to resize it to fit the proportions of the rest of the body, it’s probably because you (I) drew the head first and are treating the body as an afterthought/attachment. Sketching out the whole figure first or even just quick drawing guides for it will help you think of it more holistically. I learned this figure drawing in charcoal at art school LOL.

oh. third mini tip - try to draw people from life often! its the best study. if you can get into a figure drawing/nude drawing class EVEN BETTER and if you have a local college/art space/museum that hosts those for free TREASURE IT AND TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT, that’s a huge boon that a lot of artists (me again) wish they had. though if youre not so lucky and youre sitting in a park trying to creeper draw people and they keep moving.. don’t let that stop you! that’s good practice because it’s forcing you to work fast to get the important stuff down LOL. its a challenge!

b) I’ve been pretty out of energy and have had no inspiration to draw but I have the desire to. Any advice?

Dude, take a walk or something.... Or a nap? Low energy is going to effect everything else so you gotta hit that problem at its source.

If you’re looking for inspiration though, I’d recommend stuff like watching a movie, reading a book, playing video games etc. Fill up your idea bank with content and then give yourself time/space to gestate it into new concepts. Sometimes looking at other art works but sometimes it can work against you because it’s too close. 

Also something that helps me is remembering that art doesn’t always have to be groundbreaking... like it’s okay to make something shitty and stupid that you don’t post online and only show to your friend. That’s all part of the process imo. If you want to hit a home run you gotta warm up first, right? Sports.

I should probably compile everytime i give tips on stuff like this but that’s getting dangerously close to being a social media artist who makes stupid boiled down art tutorials for clout which is the last thing i want to be... the thing I want to stress is that art is a whole visual language and there are widely agreed upon rules and customs but they exist in large part to be broken. Like there's an infinite number of ways to reach an infinite number of solutions and that’s actually what makes it really cool and personal for both the artist and the viewer. So when you make work you like or you find someone else’s work you like, take a step back and ask yourself what about it speaks for you, what about it works for you, what makes it effective, how to recreate that effect and how to break that effect completely, etc. And have a good time with it or else what’s the point.

for the first 2, I direct you to my FAQ

For the last one, I don’t actually believe I’ve ever addressed artwork as insp for stories/rp but I’ll say here and now yeah go ahead! As long as you’re not making profit or taking credit for my work then I’m normally ok with it. Especially anything thats private and purely recreational, that’s generally 100% green light go. I only ask that if you post it anywhere public that you please credit me.

(and I reserve the right to ask you to take it down if I see it and don’t approve of it’s use but I think that case is pretty rare.)

a) @lemuelzero101 Thank you!!! I haven’t played Life is Strange but actually  that series’ vis dev artist Edouard Caplain is one of my bigger art inspirations lately so that’s a really high compliment lol. And yeah I hope we get 5-8 too...!

b) Thank you for sticking around! I’ve been thinking about Digimon and Infinity Train in tandem lately, actually. They’re a little similar? Enter a dangerous alternate world and have wacky adventures with monsters/inanimate objects that have weird powers... there’s like weird engineers and mechanisms behind the scenes... also frontier literally starts with them getting on a train. Anyways if anyone else followed me for digimon... maybe you’d like Infinity Train? LOL

c) @king-wens-king I’M GLAD MY ART JUST HAS PINOY VIBES LOL I hope you are having a good day too :^)

a, b, c, d) yessss my Watch Infinity Train agenda is working....

e) aw thank you!! i think you should watch infinity train :)

[yesimwriting]

playing vices

“A/n a blurb bc ive been working on my novel and ive missed writing for Kirigan :))

--

I am a fool that has played into her vices enough to make them addictions. That must have been Kirigan's plan. He knows that I don't agree with his methods. He is also much too aware of the fact that I am beyond attached to him. He plays into that fact often, lulling me to him whenever he feels that my conscious is in danger of driving a wedge between us.

Which is why I have become accustomed to falling asleep while running my fingers along his skin as he whispers things much sweeter than anything he would say while fully awake.

But now it's late and he's not here. I sit up, kicking the comforter off of me slightly. It seems Aleksander has been more and more absent these days. When he's not with me, the odds that he's doing something that hurts people are high. His absence is also starting to make me feel like he's losing interest in me. It would make sense considering the fact that he looked twice at me in any capacity has never seemed logical.

Maybe that's why we've never indicated commitment to each other. I don't know what commitment would be with him. He seems to grand to be considered a 'boyfriend', but there's something more than friendly about how he holds onto me. I've never cared for labels until I started feeling displaced.

"You're still awake."

I press my lips together, trying to seem a little calmer. "Couldn't sleep."

"Troubling thoughts?" The question is more weighted than it should be. Everything with him is. 

“Has anyone ever called you dramatic?” 

His lips quirk upwards, hinting at a smile. Warmth pools in my stomach, the way it always does when he lets me see the slight glimmer of light that’s still in him. Sometimes I think he only shows me this softness when he feels that I may pull away. It may be rooted in manipulative intent, but I know that it’s real. 

“Only you would have the gall,” he says, voice low yet not dark. 

Kirigan’s easiness coaxes a smile from my lips. A small one, but I can feel the way the crack in my tension feeds his confidence. He takes pride in slipping past the walls I only try to create when cautious or irritated. Today I’m both but I need to pretend like I’m neither. The more resistance he senses, the more forward and effective his advances become. 

I keep my expression neutral. I’m sure Alina could get away with calling him that. I wish she was more unlikable. It would be easier to hide my irritation if I could blame that displaced feeling in my chest on two people. But of course Alina is wonderful, beautiful, and his equal.

Whatever. It’s not like we’re really anything. Every time I see him I wait for his betrayal. There’s nothing worth using me for, and somehow that makes me feel worse. He should have never looked at me twice let alone encourage whatever strange relationship we’ve created. 

My silence seems to displease him because he approaches my bedside easily in quick yet patient strides. Now that he’s close enough to touch I feel some of the ice I managed to solidify melt. 

Kirigan lifts a hand and places it on my knee easily. I stiffen instinctually, he runs his thumb over my skin to fight my resistance. “Who’s upset you?” 

I breathe, forcing myself to ease. “No one has.” I don’t have to meet his gaze to know he doesn’t believe me. That’s the core source of our attachment, we can read each other with less than a look. “I’m just getting a headache,” not a full lie, “I’ll feel better after some sleep.” He squeezes my knee slightly, a soft way of asking me for more. “I don’t think I’ll be good company tonight.” 

His hand leaves my knee, fingertips barely grazing my thigh as he moves his hand to hold beneath my chin. I still as he turns my head so that I have no choice but to meet his gaze. “You don’t need to be good company when what I want is your presence.” 

I press my lips together to avoid melting into the promising pools of warmth that make up his irises. He spent all day with Alina, took Zoya’s side in an argument I had with her earlier this week, and now he comes to me late at night. He seems to only want to acknowledge me when we’re alone, and it’s not like I want more than that. I just don’t know how long my heart will be able to teeter the line between nothing and something. I’m a fool for having let it go on this long. 

The only problem is that his steady stare is chasing away all of my rationality. “I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone more in the mood to offer their presence.” 

My curtness leaves something behind his expression dull, the hint of a smile that was growing on him has now vanished. I am met with a stoic disposition I have never had directed at me. 

“They’re not you,” he counters, voice edged by something I don’t understand. 

That’s the point. They’re not me--I’m average. I can’t offer power and my relationship experience is basic at best. I don’t want to have this argument, not when I’m basically fighting for him to let me go when that’s not what I want. 

I’m making it easier. If it hurts this much when I was only on the cusp of something, imagine the pain I’l feel if I let it continue. I turn my head away so that he’s no longer holding my chin. “Not a bad thing.” 

“To me it is.” He doesn’t hesitate, my chest swells. His thumb brushes against my cheek, soft and comforting. “I’m tired,” he says this like it’s a confession. His admission hangs in the air for a long moment, as heavy and weighted as my heart. “If you’re angry, wait until morning.” 

Something in my heart cracks. “I’m not angry.” My gaze drops, my thoughts struggling to come together. “I’ll be nicer to deal with in the morning.” 

“Y/n,” his tone twists from distant to warning, “the last time you asked me to leave was when you discovered something you didn’t like.” 

I almost wince at the way he’s worded it. When I found out what his real plans were, I told myself I had to leave. He skirted past all of my reservations and walls, twisting my doubt away through coddling whispers and shy brushes of fingers.

“This isn’t like that.” Not a lie. 

He exhales slowly, the sound dangerously sharp. “Then what is it?” 

“Why did you come here so late?” The question leaves me too sharply. I’m exposing too much but I can’t help it. “If you don’t want to answer, that’s fine.” My voice is flat. “I’m sure Alina will be happy to fill me in.” I can’t bring myself to take in his reaction. “And if she can’t, I’m sure Zoya will be able to.” 

He’s silent for a long second. “Unwarranted jealousy doesn’t suit you.” 

His confidence sparks something angry within me.  “I am not jealous.” The most blatant lie of the night, but I don’t care. I turn my head to glare at him, “and don’t just tact on ‘unwarranted’ before something that’s true just because it’s easier for it not to be.” 

I watch his expression cautiously until the slightest tilt of his lips adds to my anger. He’s enjoying this or he did this intentionally or both. “Darling,” he hums, voice soft, “you are the only person that makes me feel peace.” 

My stomach flutters, the sensation threatening to break my weak resolve. “I am not particularly powerful,” I breathe, voice stiff, “or particularly...” How do I explain this all to him? “Anything.” He’s everything, and I am nothing but average. “I’m average at best, there’s no reason for you to want anything to do with me, and that’s fine--but don’t lie and pretend that that’s not true.” 

The sentence is barely out fo my mouth before I feel myself pulled towards him by the collar of my nightgown. His lips are on mine before I can question where this is going. I kiss him back too quickly, but any effort I expend is returned fervently.

He pushes me back slightly as quickly as he yanked me forward. He doesn’t explain. I don’t ask him to. I should demand an answer and shove him away from me or pull him back towards me. But I do nothing. I just stare at him as he stares at me. 

When the weight of the silence threatens to break something in me, I force myself to speak, “Kirigan--”

“Aleksander.” The name is soft and so fragile I worry it will shatter in the air before it can fully reach me. “You know there’s much I’m not ready to say, but that,” he exhales, the sound so sad I want to reach for him, “that is the one name I have not given to myself and I want you to have it.” Something conflicted crosses his features. “I would never give that to someone average.” 

Emotion swells in my chest, heavy yet not painful. “Aleksander.” I’m not sure if I’m trying to call to him or if I’m just trying to feel his name--his true name--on my lips. 

His eyes widen, something unbearable behind them. He moves the hand holding the collar of my nightgown to my cheek. I lean into the contact like a fool as his eyes flutter shut. “Say it again.” 

I don’t hesitate, “Aleksander.” I lift my hand, fingers hesitant to find their place on his cheek. “Aleksander.”

He sighs into both the contact and the name. “You’re the first thing I’ve allowed myself to want,” his eyes open, but I cannot bring myself to meet his gaze, “I should make you feel like it.”

Something about the way he says that is sad. “I think that if it’s fair to say you were a little distant, it’s just as fair to say that I was a little jealous.” 

Aleksander smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m tired,” he admits, “I’ll enjoy my victory in the morning.” 

I roll my eyes, but scoot over to give him a place by my side regardless. “I’m not sure you won, I think it was more of a draw.” 

He takes the space I offer quickly, never letting the contact between us disappear as he settles himself against my pillow. I let him pull me towards him. “This feels like a victory.” 

I try to ignore the warmth in my chest. “You’re lucky I’m tired enough to find that endearing.” 

I relax as his fingers trace shapes I’ll never know about onto my back. “I agree.” 

[hangovercurse]

The Things We Can’t Tell Pete About

Pete invites you to meet his friends from The Dirt and makes you promise not to flirt with any of them, which is a lot easier said than done, especially when Colson Baker acts like that.

Request: “Hey so I love all your writing and I just thought you should know that! But also I’d your requests are on still would you mind writing a youre Pete’s little sister but kells got a crush xx”

Colson x reader

Warnings: Drug use, Cursing

A/N: I know, Dom (Yungblud) wrote the song, but also I am the writer and I say that Y/N wrote it :) Anyways, enjoy. This is only part 1 of what is probably going to be a fun, cute lil series. Also thank you to the anon who sent this! You made my day(s)

Word Count: 2411

| ii | iii | iv | v |

masterlist

New York was lonely without your brother. He had been filming in New Orleans for the past three months, leaving you alone. You had some friends, but Pete was your best friend. You were only eight months younger than him and practically attached at the hip. You supposed going through trauma together would do that to people.

He facetimed you all the time from set, updating you on things in his life, showing you cool stuff from the set, and introducing you to his castmates. You had kept him updated on your music, playing him demos of songs you were writing and getting his opinion on them.

Him being away wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but it definitely sucked for you. So, when Pete texted you that he was having a few friends from the movie over the night he got back, you were ecstatic.

Before you left your apartment to walk to his, he texted you.

You’re not allowed to flirt with any of my friends

You rolled your eyes as you locked your door, preparing a response.

I’ll try my best

Your phone buzzed seconds later.

I’m serious. I don’t trust any of them with you.

And I don’t need that kind of awkwardness in my life

Like if you date one of my friends and it goes badly

I don’t wanna deal with that shit

You chuckled at his chain of texts.

Don’t flirt with your friends because they’re dicks, got it

Don’t worry bro, I know the sibling code

 You came to find out that that was a lot easier said than done. When you walked into his place, everyone in the room turned to look at you. You recognized most of them from your facetimes with Pete, but you doubted they remembered who you were. One who did remember you was Colson, Pete’s new best friend. He made eye contact with you from across the room, a sly grin on his lips. You sent him a small smile, Pete’s text running through your head briefly.

You found your brother lounging on the couch, a huge grin on his face. He was definitely tripping on mushrooms. “Y/N!” He yelled. “This is my baby sister, everyone.”

You rolled your eyes, walking further into the room, grabbing a drink from the cooler, and taking an empty seat on the opposite couch. “I’m less than a year younger than you, Pete.”

You heard a snicker from the one of the guys, looking over to see Colson covering up the smile on his face. “But you’re still younger than me so it counts.”

Everyone went back to their own conversations, which you were thankful for. “Y/N, you remember Colson, right?” Pete motioned to the blond guy.

“Yeah.” You nodded, looking him up and down. His muscle tank exposed the sleeves of tattoos, which seemed to cover every inch of his skin. “Your hair was different, but yeah I remember you.” You opened the beer on the coffee table, taking a swig.

“You’re the musician, right?” He asked you, leaning back onto the couch.

You nodded, “Aspiring musician but, yeah.”

“Oh, she’s great. You should hear her sometime.” Pete butted in, grinning like an idiot at you.

You rolled your eyes but had a smile on your face. “I work primarily as a songwriter and editor right now, but I’m trying to work on putting out some of my own stuff.”

You felt a little intimidated talking to Machine Gun Kelly about music, seeing as he was one of the best in the industry, but he seemed to be genuinely interested in your work. “Well, if you ever want some help or someone to listen to it, I’d be willing.” He flashed a smile, his bright blue eyes sparkling.

“Thanks, that’s really cool of you.” You bit your lip slightly, trying to hide the fact that you were totally breaking Pete’s rule.

Pete sent a glare your way to which you raised your eyebrow. You weren’t really flirting; you were just… making connections. “Anyways,” he cleared his throat, “I’ve been working on this sketch idea, Y/N, and I need your opinion.”

You nodded, letting him talk. “So, I was thinking like, there’s this guy with posters all over his wall. Like life size posters of a bunch of different people. And he falls asleep while doing homework and he dreams about them coming to life. And it plays out like one of those really bad commercials that encourage kids to stay in school and shit. Like the posters are telling him to study for his test, but then there’s this one poster that’s like, very sexy. And she’s just like, talking about hot dogs and everyone else gets really sick of it and one of the other posters tries to like, tear down her poster or something.”

Throughout his description, you got more and more confused. “Pete, that’s not funny that’s just fuckin weird.” His mouth hung open in shock. “Dude, seriously? The big punchline is the playboy poster girl talking about hot dogs until the other poster people get tired of it?”

“Yes.” Pete said, as if it were obvious. “That’s hilarious.” You glanced at Colson with a questioning look on your face. He seemed as unsure of the joke as you were.

“Pete, man, that’s not your best work.” Colson clapped him on the shoulder and you giggled at Pete’s disappointed expression.

“You guys are mean.” He pouted and you two laughed. “Ok, well, how would you make it funny?”

“I don’t know if you can, bro.” Colson’s laugh was contagious. When he laughed his whole body shook, his feet stomping and everything.

“What are the other posters?” You asked, trying to be supportive but knowing this wouldn’t turn out very good.

“Well, I was thinking maybe one is like a video game character. Like that lady from Wreck-It-Ralph. The mean one. And then like a snowboarder who is definitely high, and someone else, I dunno.” He shrugged, taking a hit from the joint in his hand and passing it to you.

“Okay…” You trailed off, looking at Colson for support. You brought the blunt to your lips, inhaling the smoke and bringing it down, letting the smoke leave your mouth slowly. You passed the joint to Colson, who gladly took it, a smirk on his face.

Pete looked between you two at the small interaction, a frown. “So, the posters,” he brought your attention away from the man again, “they’re all really serious about teaching this dude math. But the hotdog girl just keeps talking about hot dogs in like this really high-pitched voice.”

You watched the smoke fall from Colson’s lips, not fully paying attention to your brother.

“Yeah man, I think that sounds funny.” Colson told Pete, his eyes lingering on you for a little longer than they should have. “It could use some work but if anyone can make it funny, it’s you.” Colson punched your brother on the shoulder, but the look he sent you said the exact opposite.

You held in your giggle, taking another sip of your beer.

The rest of the night followed a similar pattern, you and Colson flirting and Pete trying to get in between you two. At one point, after a few more hits of weed and a couple more drinks, Colson brought out a guitar, insisting you play something for him. Where he got the guitar from, you had no idea, but you didn’t ask questions. Instead, you rolled your eyes, insisting that “if I have to play something, so do you.”

Everyone was too caught up in their own conversations to care about the noise, or too drunk. You started strumming, trying to remember the chords to a song you had started writing a few days ago. “There’s no lyrics yet, just a melody I came up with.” You blushed, feeling very self-conscious suddenly.

“Guess I’ll just free style to it then.” He chuckled as you started to strum, your fingers working the strings like they had your whole life.

The blond man closed his eyes, head nodding as you played and thinking of what to rap.

“Watch me, take a good thing and fuck it all up in one night. Catch me, I’m the one on the run away from the headlights.

No sleep, up all week wastin time with people I don’t like. I think, somethin’s fuckin wrong with me.

You smiled as he sang, watching his expressions change as he tried to think up the next line.

Drown myself in alcohol, that shit never helps at all

I might say some stupid things tonight when you pick up this call

I be hearin silence on the other side for way to long, I can taste it on my tongue, I can tell that somethin’s wrong.”

He opened his eyes, looking rather proud of himself. “I had some of those lyrics already, but I just changed ‘em a little. I really liked that.”

You nodded, “That was impressive.” You smiled, looking back down to the guitar when something hit you.

You began to play the same melody but pitched higher to fit your voice.

“Roll me up, and smoke me love

And we could fly into the night

You take drugs, to let go, and figure it all out on your own

Take drugs, on gravestones, to figure it all out on your own.”

You looked up to Colson, watching his expression change, his eyes wide. Pete had a proud look on his face.

“Pete, you are a sucky hype man. You did her no justice.” Colson hit Pete on the arm.

“Whaddya mean, I told you she was great.”

Colson looked over to you, a stupid smile on his face. “Seriously, that was fucking amazing. Like, we gotta write that shit out some day.”

You bit your lip, trying to stop the blush from reaching your cheeks. “Yeah, that’d be cool.” You were trying your best to keep your cool as Colson kept his gaze on you, but you were completely freaking out on the inside.

A little while later, almost everyone was gone except you, Pete, Colson, and Douglas Booth, who joined your conversation not long after your jam session. Pete let out a yawn, directing your attention to the time.

“Jesus, it’s already 4am?” You asked, a frown on your face.

“Why, you got somewhere to be, darling?” Douglas asked you, your face scrunching up from the nickname.

“I have a writing session at 11 am tomorrow. Or, today, I guess.”

Pete reached out to hit you in the head, playfully, which you dodged. “Go to bed, dummy.”

You shrugged, “I’m gonna be dead at it anyways, might as well keep the party going a little longer.”

Douglas rolled his eyes, patting your shoulder. “Be that as it may, I am ending this party and going home. Goodnight, guys. It was nice meeting you again, Y/N. Good to see you guys.” Douglas and the guys did that little hand slap and hug thing before he left.

“I love you both, but I will also be going to sleep. And you should too.” Pete stood up, stretching his arms out before giving Colson a fist bump and leaving to his bedroom.

Once your older brother left, Colson moved to the couch you were on, his arm falling over your shoulders. You looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “And how can I help you Mr. Kelly?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m assuming Pete gave us both very similar talking to’s, given the glares you’ve been receiving all night.”

“You mean the “don’t flirt with my friends” talking to or the other one?” You tilted your head, a sly look on your face.

“That’s the one.” Colson laughed through his nose, an adorable smile on his face. You were both considerably high, but you still knew exactly what you were doing.

You moved closer to Colson’s body, “Well then I guess we’d better not do this.” You said quietly, leaning into him. “Or this,” You grabbed his jaw, inches from his face.

“Or this?” He whispered, connecting your lips. You smiled into the kiss, tasting the weed on his tongue. You adjusted your body so you were facing him, his arm that was once around your shoulder now wrapped around your waist.

His other hand grabbed your leg, pulling you up so you were straddling his lap, and your arms wrapped around his neck. His lips seemed to fit perfectly around yours, and you did all you could to keep yourself from moaning into the kiss as his hand began to travel up your leg.

Realization hit you like a brick wall, and you pulled away, your breathing heavy. “Sorry,” you muttered after a few seconds. You climbed off his lap, smoothing out your shirt. “We shouldn’t do that. I shouldn’t have done that.” You smiled awkwardly down at him.

He nodded, the same realization hitting him. “Yeah, that’s not the best idea. Sorry I wasn’t really thinking.”

You shook your head, cheeks still very red. “No, no, no don’t apologize. It was fine, it’s all fine.”

He nodded, looking down awkwardly. “I should get going.” He stood up, landing a little too close to you.

“Why don’t you just sleep here? Pete won’t mind and it’s a lot easier than going home.” You bit your lip awkwardly, taking a few steps back.

Colson scratched the back of his neck. This was a very different demeanor than he had before, and you found it very cute. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “I’ll get you some blankets and pillows.” You moved towards the guest bedroom, a guilty smile on your face. You moved your hand to your lips, feeling where Colson’s lips had graced you minutes before.

You came back to find Colson laying on the couch, one hand behind his head. “We don’t have to tell Pete about that, right?”

You shook your head, a small smile still playing on your lips. You put the pillow behind his head, watching his eyes as he watched your lips. “Stop looking at me like that or I’ll do something else we can’t tell Pete about.” You said quietly, watching him grin. You pulled the blanket over him, leaning down to be level with his face.

“I kind of like the things we can’t tell Pete about.” Colson chuckled, leaning forward to connect your lips again.

[armillary-spheres-lover]

SP/so vs SO/sx

Not sure how much this can be generalized since it's only my personal experience. When I was a pre-teen my best friend used to be a so/sx 6w7, while I am 9w1 sp/so. Sp dom vs Sp blind... some stuff went down and it’s fascinating to analyze such differences to me (I feel like I'm fascinated by sp blinds in general wtf).

She was the V immature of the pair, throwing herself in any possible weird experience she could have just for the sake of it. She would always cause so much drama it was legit concerning and I always was on the sidelines, not participating and sometimes suggesting her to stop, but did she listen to me? Never, and also, in some ways, I think I did in fact understand her desire to feel alive and feel stuff and do dumb stuff, possibly in that I am sx-blind and I won't fucking allow myself to do that, while she totally did. I guess, I don't usually pay any mind to my sx-blindness but the only time that it kind of felt like I was missing on something was when I would spend time with her? And also now that I'm actually studying the instictual variants I guess I'm starting to realize it (but also not really there's a shit ton of work to do). She would always act as if she was the protagonist of some weird 19th romantic novel but, make it dumber (we were 11-12 after all, how smart could we be?).

I deeply, deeply understand her need and wish to be like a novel protagonist. I do think of myself in that way quite often. But while she did it by acting and getting actively involved in stuff, I’ve always done the same by hyper-interpreting my simpler, more boring experiences (9 basic bitch here, feeling attached to something while being withdrawn and out of touch with your body results in amazing fantasy sky castles). She was never satisfied by this.

If she wanted intensity, she would create it by idk, doing some dumb stuff she would for sure later regret. While she went on to feel so alive, I would stay in the back overthinking my more boring life. An example would be that while she actually acted so that everyone around us hated her and shunned her, I would simply feel and think I was being shunned as well, but in practice I would never do something that would elicit a strong reaction out of others. I basically fantasized about it. As you can tell her being a Social Dominant I guess she got the sx juice she wanted through social stuff (her reputation, going against the social system (social 6s often do that)).

In so many ways, if I were to simplify it, she was a mixture of Dorian Gray and Heathcliff and I was Des Esseintes. She was an edgier version of Dorian Gray, wanting to experience everything but make it dark and painful and tormented (a là Heathcliff), not once holding herself back. Des Esseintes, on the other hand, would also feel like a misfit and a tormented soul but he did so by staying inside his house and hyper-interpreting his experiences to an insane degree, until he basically starts to hallucinate. He barely goes outside of his home and when he does everything seems weird, scary, magical in its own way, and while a bit creepy that’s also part of being sx-blind I think? You secretly want that way of feeling alive via the dark things in life (not sure if my fixes have a part in this as idk other 9s may not relate to this maybe) but also you want to go about it safely (sp) and by not exposing yourself (9), so it becomes like wearing a pair of glasses that adds a layer of poetry and beauty and suffering to an otherwise normal, boring and inane reality (again, 9 fantasy shit). But that’s about it. It’s a magical pair of glasses that at times I feel like I can remove and put on at will when I’m bored and I feel like I want more out of life. Outsourcing sx if you will w/o ever acting on this shit. I relate to Des Esseintes even though he was possibly a sp 4 but whatever I guess...

My old friend, being sp-blind, of course did not feel the same need for “safety” and had nothing to hold her back, really... the 6w7 sp blind brings a lot of energy and a way to never be able to fucking stand still, so yeah... it was so fascinating to see her act that differently from me, but also empathizing with her desire to get MORE out of life and dive into the darker aspects of it. I guess that’s why I sticked with her even when I thought she was being unreasonable and annoyingly melodramatic. Most people would shun her and don’t get her ways and while I can’t say that I got her, I would at least sympathise with her wish to experience more and be dramatic, even if I couldn’t quite elaborate it at the time and I superficially thought she was being too immature (this is so funny, we were fucking 10 and we were already doing instictual stuff with me acting like the adult one idk. Also w1 may play a part in this shit. Me being sp dom felt like I was supposed to check on her but also I didn't really do it because it was fun to tag along with her dumb stuff). But while she had the courage(?) to act on such a wish, I did not - I never had it, and instead compensated by having an hyperactive mental landscape...

There was a Wilde’s quote that went like, “the artist always represents what they themselves cannot live and experience”, or whatever, and I’ve always related to it way too deeply, lmao. I would represent, think, imagine, write the stories, and instead she would actively live them. Also Wilde was a so/sx so I guess that means something

While I may be bitter, because even as a sx-blind I at times feel....... like I want to live and get involved in stuff more? also I guess 9s have a way to dissociate with their life quite easily so that doesn't help (a sx-blind 7 would probably feel like they're getting involved more). Plus possibly having a 5fix makes it worse? it kind of sucks tbfh. Like it feels I've been dissociated since I was 4 yo and never got back to actual earth wtf. 95x sp/so may be the most fucking boring thing on earth + it may bring a neurotic need to keep your little bubble untouched by real life and finding security in that bubble, to the point that you're actually missing out. Idk. I may *do* stuff to make me feel like I'm going around with people more but it doesn't really affect me that deeply so yeah... fuck all of this. It's not even the same as being stuck in your comfort zone? I guess it is but again I may at times challenge myself in some small ways and have new experiences but it's like nothing really reaches me idk.

Again, I usually prefer to go about stuff safely (aka not disrupting my little bubble too much), and in this way, I’ve always had way less regrets than her - so in this, I’m actually fine with my way of playing it safe. I like letting myself wear that pair of glasses when I feel like it and call it a day. I’ve always been content with very little...

Though honestly I’ve not been hanging out with her in years (at least 8 years, wow) and while I do hear from her I can’t say I can get to see how much she’s changed, lol

It was weird, you’d expect that with such a melodramatic friend the break up would be at least as dramatic, instead it has been quite the opposite - we simply slowly stopped reaching out to each other once we had nothing much in common anymore, and something else going on with our lives, lmao...

Also I mistyped her as a 4w3 in the past but it's so funny I got that little about the enneagram and IVs and somehow got her IV right at first try wtf I guess she's just that obvious

[sothischickshe]

#And s4 is kind of a question mark currently#Rio's behaviour currently seems batshit#But if fitz is alive.... Rio might not be stupidest person to ever live?#But like.... This show has wronged me re rio's behaviour making sense too many times for me to expect that.#And personally I think that's one of the most egregious things about the show#And I'm not sure that it is getting worse#I think it might just be getting more noticeable over time and how the plot has escalated#But I am holding out a little hope that there is some reason for his behaviour

I cannot explain how much I felt this. Rio's dumbassery is making this season so hard for me and like - if they gave me even the smallest hint that he was playing along and not actually stupid I'd probably feel so much better about the season

❤️

I have a feeling this is going to get long haha (idk if im capable of making anyone feel better, but i can poss offer a contact numbing...?)

so i like the show. i enjoy the show. i think it’s pretty silly, but so am i so that’s not necessarily a complaint. i am very attached to the show, bc i found it (only s1 had aired back then) at a time when i was dealing with a lot of EXTREME physical and emotional trauma (of which topic some more below) and then thrown into a grief hole, and as a result im not sure there’s a shark big enough for it to jump that would make me abandon it. it’s like...yea, literally my comfort show i guess! and i will always be grateful to it for that, and for leading me back into fandom and into writing fic!

large swathes of the plot do not stand up to scrutiny, and that bothers me not at all. if i wanted to watch a proper crime show, i’d go watch a crime show. and frankly if a person’s still watching this show expecting the concept of time to be treated as existing, that’s on them right?

ultimately i think the two things i love most abt this show: i. the acting is incredible & seems to be allowed to lead the plot reasonably organically ii. i cant predict what’s going to happen bc it’s batshit (which i can understand why a lot of ppl see as a flaw haha, but as someone who watches a LOT of american films/tv & can generally tell what’s gonna happen i fucking love) are often at odds.

anyhooo...i like s1 fine BUT there’s a lot of exposition and dialogue which i find v clunky. i can tho forgive a lot for first seasons (which are rarely-never my faves). i think the biggest issue i have with it/i guess the show generally is the mm lack of historicity btwn the 3 main characters? which is probs its own post but def ties into:

the point at which i went ‘oh this show is made by white ppl’ was s1e3. i was on a lot of codeine lol so idk if i wouldve clocked it earlier otherwise, or if i was just seeing deeeeeply through space and time but as @nakedmonkey has said since day dot basically: ok if something has the only latinx character as the only violent gang criminal character...like....i get what ive signed up for. and im Old so im pretty desensitised to racist tropes wandering in and out of things. and i honestly find it almost quaint how this show seems to manage to avoid stereotypes sometimes by simply not knowing abt them ahaha

but... rewatching s1 after s2 finished and having that context (particularly but certainly not only the s2 finale, of which more below)... idk. rio’s behaviour just seems pretty fucking random?! take: yea yea i love making noise let’s go bang some pots and pans blah blah blah im on facebook too vs. SHUTDOWN!!! like i didnt care when this show was fun and silly, but once youve upset me and im combing through trying to work out if he’s the stupidest person in the entire world, stuff like that sticks out?? and yes, i can find reasonings and explain it to myself (and i can have fun doing it!) but in the context of his batshit behaviour in s2: a lot of his behaviour generally seems wildly inconsistent, like the plot purpose of it is SO visible, and i think that is a flaw! but i have to acknowledge im MUCH more interested in character than plot.

i definitely think his behaviour being bananas inconsistent is casually, callously racist and as the show’s gone on it’s found a bouquet of harmful tropes to play with (what fun) but i can also acknowledge that the beth/rio dynamic wasnt an original part of it & im not sure rio was sposed to survive s1 & im almost certain he wasnt sposed to be as much a part of the show so ive got a lil sympathy for some awkward pivoting, & i think they retooled bits of both beth and rio’s characters to get matchier, which im pretty into.

nonetheless, i think s2 is probs the worst offender for nonsensical rio behaviour. the finale takes the top prize (of which more below) but like... ok can anyone explain to me what’s happening in s2e2? the ending of that ep (im going to teach you) was when i went ‘oh this show is stupid stupid’. like... am i sposed to believe that beth gave rio back the gun & then (he?) thought she was going to..... what beat boomer to death......? yea of course i can explain this to myself! he never thought she was going to manage it! it’s a test! but there’s a LOT of this.

what the fuck is he doing in s2e6? all ive got is: he REALLY wants beth to smack him in the face & doesnt know how to use his words (& also he’s very drunk.)

s2e10! park bench scene! what is happening?! episode before she threw him out! episode the next he throws her out! why??? is??? he??? being???? so???? nice???? (again! of course i can find some way to explain this to myself: well if *i* had some vague leverage plan over someone this is exactly how sweet and nice i’d be to them hahah)

but the overall thing is the whole season i was waiting for him to work out they didnt kill boomer (and try to get marry pat’s number off beth, haha). and then that he had the wrong body. and like......?????

look!!!! i love ambiguity!!! i do!!! omg do i!!!! hi!!!! BUT i love it when it’s INTENTIONAL. when it leads to SOMETHING. and im not sure that’s what the show is giving me...? and also!!! look!!! knowing what your non-pov characters are doing/thinking is a lesson *i* had to learn! i love it when stories have a grasp of what characters do/n’t know!!! s2 has annie realising that noah is fbi cos she sees him meet up with turner....who she’s not met...? and sure of course - she’s seen a photo or the girls have described him well enough or he has giant fed energy...maybe....? hmm

and then the s2 finale. ok. on a character level the thing that most annoys me is like.... kidnapping someone & handing them your only weapon & asking them to murder a fed presumably on camera IN YOUR HOME is STUPID. it’s STUPID. am i sposed to think he’s an idiot? like: it’s fucking dumb.

and from a story point of view: when the fuck did he find out about jeff? is rio omniscient but extremely drunk??????

and from a personal point of view: the knowledge that i wasnt going to quit this show. and that i was going to have to walk my rec back! me!?!?! my recs are fucking perfect 

s3! the beginning of s3 i think is pretty good on rio’s behaviour making sense! except he tells a person standing outside to get in his car for some fresh air. but ok, he’s driving drunk again! fine! fits the rest of his characterisation, sure. it felt to me like they made a conscious effort to write him consistently!!! i was very into it!!!!

& ive got a LOT of time for stuff like the hitman or boring dave -- when the plot machinations are externally-generated rather than rio-generated, his behaviour doesnt end up seeming so random bc he’s reacting to things and/or doesnt need to turn up to do something to make the girls do something else.

but the latter part of s3 into s4. hmm. look, i dont know what the original intent with wrapping up s3 was. there is really no point at which i thought rio was going to reveal he knew abt the hitman. like, i wouldve happily eaten my words! but i spent so much of s2 waiting for a reveal that he knew...anything really. burn me twice? pff good luck.

i suspect the original resolution to the hitman plot was sposed to be...better? rio apparently being a magical gps who doesnt ask qs is... dumb. i can handwave it, i can handwave a lot, but i suspect covid shooting restrictions probs played a part here?

rio’s behaviour this season seems pretty dumb to me. but it’s seemed pretty dumb and inconsistent to me for v long time. my expectations are not high lol. i think there’s a pretty reasonable chance that fitz is alive and/or rio’s put it together abt the hit (and thinks it’s romantic cos he’s a fucking idiot), but im not certain on that.

i was pretty on the fence abt the fingering scene (there were aspects of it that i really liked, including the No Dick TIll I Actually Trust You energy), but ive gotta super rec Be Good To Me by @blizabrth cos BOTH the povs like super sold me on it (and yea, should i need fic to sell me on the show? hmm idk but im used to it from the s2 finale, so)

i think a large part of what’s fucking me off is that BC of the time in which i found the show... it hurts me seeing the trauma (physical and emotional) & grief not being given due weight. it’s probably a bit silly to expect it from a relatively silly tv show (that’s literally what fic is for! haha) but... idk, i can put up with a lot when something is fun, but if you’re going to drag me into violence and angsty shit i need it be handled like that has fucking weight, and especially when im constantly being slapped in the face with SPECIFICALLY only black and brown bodies as sites of violence, my patience is extremely thin.

most of the damage ive taken personally is due to my own recklessness (so i do have a lot of empathy for this fucking idiot lol) but like.... there are certain ppl Involved who if i saw them, i think i’d straight up punch them in the teeth without thinking. im not proud of that necessarily. i dont think that’s a good thing. but... it’s accurate man. like, i wouldnt be all oooh hey wanna see the combo to my magic car safe yknow? (and not just cos i dont have a car). [and no... i did not care this much when they werent super paying attention to dean’s recovery/remembering his scar and that is bc idc abt dean. but!!! i still did sigh at it!!!]

the glee with which i will eat my words if rio is revealed to not be being an idiot is... gigantic. i dont need a lot. i dont particularly WANT rio pov (i think a lot of the desire for it is obvi bc his behaviour...is so...batshit), though i’ll take weary irritated mick pov with fucking pleasure. i dont need a tearful apology from beth, the further we get from the s2 finale, the less i can imagine anything like that happening and feeling even remotely in character/true to their dynamic/the tone of the show, though i’d take a drunk grudging ‘im vaguely glad you are alive’ with pleasure. i would v much like them to talk some stuff out, but i can cope without it. i dont need them to touch, though give me a hug and i’ll die. i just.... want... to feel like....they’re being written internally consistently? and maybe they are! i felt relatively positive abt it when s3 started, and i can see how stuff mayve been derailed by the pandemic restrictions & the cut short season. and i think the fact that they’re introducing rio’s family & backstory is potentially a positive thing, as well as the fact that he’s getting frankly too much screentime considering he’s not had a single scene with dean (I DEMAND MY TAX!!!! NAME A BAD RIO & DEAN SCENE, I WILL FUCKING WAIT)

but i am firmly at I’ll Believe It When I See It bc theyve wronged me & I Do Not Forget

(and most of all what i want is for both beth and rio to be written off the show. like. im not joking. theyre both fucking me right off.)

that all said: if you (even if temporarily) accept that beth & rio are canonically just as stupid as we keep being told they are, and tilt your head to the side..... this might be THE greatest absurdist comedy of all time.

like: writing them as morons is absolutely hilarious, im having a great time but.... that’s how stupid i have to think they are, yknow?

also,  since coming back to writing fiction/starting to publish ff:

-  i think ive become a leetle less judgemental abt like all fiction/storyelling including this show. bc writing is fucking hard & ppl have different strengths/weaknesses & collaborative writing/storytelling certainly has its own challenges & i mean....creating art/media in capitalism certainly has its challenges & the fact that the obsessive attention to detail/depressing realities im looking for from the show are missing may well be a positive thing for the ppl involved in it haha

- i’ve definitely become less frustrated. bc i have somewhere to....put my emotions? it’s genuinely therapeutic, and i strongly recommend it to everyone, even/especially if they dont (intend to) publish it

also also, i really stand by: this is not a show you are supposed to watch sober.

[sukifoof]

Okay I said I only got one so I'm a lot luckier than you but FUCKING MOOD.

Also. Rant incoming feel free to to skip and delete the ask. But!

If I say I do not want a relationship! It is not a personal insult directed specifically at you, my guy! It comes from me spending YEARS considering myself and if I want a romantic relationship, and concluding that I do not! Rejecting you is the happiest outcome! I'm not stuck in a situation burying my feelings to make someone else happy for an indefinite period of time, and you don't need to waste your time on a relationship I KNOW will never go anywhere! Some people just do not wish for romance! GAH!

...The worst part is, engaging in an activity me and a friend mutually enjoy and then getting dinner does sound very appealing to me. I like food and a variety of activities that can be shared with other people. I just don't like the other expectations attached to a romantic date.

Moving from Depressing Real Life to Projecting Onto Fiction. This is why I wish I could find more stories where Toriel is both a lead and not shipped with anyone. She's one of the few characters I've found who are allowed to draw firm boundaries about romantic relationships, doesn't get paired up with anyone, and it isn't treated as a flaw. There is a small number of ships I enjoy, but I very specifically hope Toriel doesn't get paired up with anyone in Deltarune later on.

...Welp. Hope you enjoyed my rant?

oh my god i am so delighted by this is ask thank u for this

i also have a quick Aro Rant. for SOME reason so many guys in highschool took me being nice to them as "omg theyre in love with me i have to never leave them alone and find out where their classes are before they show up and corner them in the hall and Be Incredibly Inappropriate And Manipulative So They Never Stop Talking To Me" and it was. SOOOO bad.... it got to a point where i needed a slip to be able to go to guidance to Escape The Creepy Guys,, i would talk about it but it was Awful. sorry guys i am just Not Interested In Anyone the idea of being in a romantic relationship makes me Unbelievably Anxious

but anyway!! ur SO right about toriel.... i can definitely see her as aro or demiro or something like that,, im not a big shipping person cuz i just dont Get It so i can definitely relate to the struggle of trying to find content of a specific character and theyre always paired with someone for some reason...... i hope u can find some Good Toriel Content soon 🙏

oh another thing,, i think one of the reasons i love ut so much is cuz ive always related to flowey feeling like he cant love and its okay that he feels that way cuz that doesnt mean he deserves to be shunned or hated,,, something about that always really touched me Especially cuz i got into ut right at the time i started questioning if i was aro and when i was having a really hard time relating to people.... i think it took me a lot of time to come to terms with it but recently ive been a lot more comfortable with it and i wouldnt be surprised if that was thanks to good ol flowey the flower..... anyway concept what if. what if deltarune asriel. aro. also what if sans and toriel good aro friends What If

[poliel]

Surprise Egg 13/13

Unfortunately, no matter how tired one was, waking up was an inevitable eventuality. If one didn’t die in their sleep anyway. So perhaps Buddy should be thankful to be waking up even it was to a strange beeping sound and… that distinct hospital smell.

With a groan they opened their eyes to see that… yep, they were in lying on a hospital bed in a hospital room. It certainly wasn’t their first time waking up in such a location but it was their first time waking up in one while attached to what seemed to be a full suite of life support and monitoring machines. Because that’s what the beeping sound was: a heart rate monitor. There was also an IV and other things they weren’t quite sure the purpose of. Ugh, they’d only just woken up here and they were already tired of it and wanted to go home.

They shifted their paws up to try to push themself up but… nope. Even just moving themself to attempt it hurt too much to be worth it and thus they didn’t even really try. If they had to they could force it but while their pain tolerance was high and level of stubbornness even higher, they didn’t have any desire to when there was nothing worthwhile that could be gained from it. And having discovered how far they could push their body before it quit on them they would rather not do so again, especially so soon.

Thankfully as was often the case in such scenarios, it wasn’t longer before a nurse found their way to their bedside. Buddy didn’t give them a chance to say anything before speaking themself. “What happened? How did I get here? And where are my friends?” The last thing they remembered was asking Eggabell if they could take a nap and her encouraging it. Clearly quite a bit had happened between now and then. “Oh and uh… how long was I out for?” That was always something one should when waking in such a location.

The nurse hesitated for a moment, looking down at their clipboard and then back up at Buddy. “You arrived here three days ago. According to your friends you were unconscious for at least two days prior, probably a bit longer. You got here on an airship your friends landed on our roof. They’re all now in their own rooms being observed and where applicable taken care for their own health issues.”

Feeling even more addled than they had back on the island, it took Buddy a few seconds to parse though the meaning of all that. If any of the Snaktoothers hadn’t made it off the island surely that would’ve been mentioned, right? Hard to say for sure but for now they were going to operate under that assumption and hopefully confirm it later.

First, their story. Given the whole snakification thing there was no way word of this event hadn’t gotten out already. How much had everyone already revealed about the bugsnax? Hopefully not much because it was their story to tell! … “May I borrow a phone please. I need to call my boss.”

That earned a heavy disapproving frown from the nurse. “You should be resting.”

“I know and I will but… it’s important.”

“No.”

“Well… can I talk to my friends then?” Surely they would help them contact Clumby and get this whole thing started. Filbo certainly would at least, right? Because he should know what this meant to them. “I also need my pack.” They couldn’t start properly writing their story without it.

“Later. First, since you’re finally awake, there’s some things we need to handle.”

Ugh, hospitals were the worst. But if they cooperated it’d be easier for everyone and should win them some points with the nurses that would hopefully help them later.

~

Buddy must’ve fallen asleep again at some point because they were waking up again despite not particularly wanting to. They had important stuff to do though so they blinked open their eyes.

“Buddy, you’re awake!” Seated by their bedside, Filbo took their paw gently between both of his. “How do you feel?”

“Eh, I’ve felt worse. But uh… better now that you’re here.” They winked at him, squeezing his paw a little as they tried to pretend like the monitor wasn’t betraying their heart rate going up slightly because Filbo was holding their paw and smiling at them. But it was really good to see him. Mostly anyway. He was still snakified and Buddy now knew what that meant and… it was their fault. They’d fed him parasites for months.

Before they could go any further down that rabbit hole of unpleasant thoughts though Filbo squeezed their paw slightly. “I’m so glad you’re finally awake. I was… worried.” His expression sorrowed for a bit before he was smiling at them again. “I brought your pack with your camera and stuff in it. I figured you might want it.” He really was the best, huh?

“Awesome. Thanks. And uh… you think you could get me a phone. I need to call my boss and tell her I’m working on the story.”

“Uh… I don’t think I’d be allowed to. And while you were unconscious, we had all decided that we were going to keep the bugsnax secret ‘cause they’re dangerous and stuff. But uh… we kind of failed at that already. To be fair I did land us on the roof of a big hospital in the middle of an important city. So a lot of people saw us all snakified and you still had Sprout in your pouch so… that was a thing we had to deal with. We didn’t tell anyone anything specific though. All the newspapers and stuff are just circulating rumors and stuff. So… the full story coming out is gonna be from you since you have more right to tell it than anyone else if it’s doomed to come out at all. You have to promise to take it easy and slow though or I won’t let you work on it at all.” He gave them the sternestlook Buddy had ever seen on his face before. It was certainly well deserved though so…

“Yeah, okay. I promise to be good.” And they kind of owed it to him to listen to him after all the times they hadn’t before leading this moment. Speaking of everything leading to this moment though… “Everyone made it off Snaktooth, right?” They still needed confirmation on that.

Filbo nodded. “Yeah. Everyone’s okay.”

“Good.” Knowing that made them feel better for sure. “Now uh… about writing my story?”

Filbo gave them another firm look. “Later, after you’ve rested a few more days, please.”

“Fair enough.”

~

Being bedridden was the worst. Especially since they weren’t allowed to start writing their story yet. The only thing that kept them sane was Filbo staying at their bedside pretty much as much as the nurses would let him.

They were allowed additional visitors too occasionally. Even Gramble was eventually allowed to leave his own room and come see them.

“I brought Sprout too,” was the first thing he said after they’d exchanged greetings with him and Wiggle.

“He’s still attached to it for somereason.” Wiggle didn’t even try to hide her disapproval over it as Gramble pulled Sprout’s buggy ball out of his pouch.

“One little bugsnax ain’t gonna hurt no one. And he rarely leaves the buggy ball so it’s fine. And he still follows the pointer so… he’s different, I think. Since I could never train any of the others no matter how hard I tried. Anyway, here he is.” He held him up for Buddy to see. “He’s only here because you were carrying him in your pouch for so long all of us forgot about him so I figured you might want to see him.”

Buddy lifted a paw in a gesture for Gramble to hand the buggy ball over. He did so without complaint or hesitation. They placed it on their middle, holding it in place with a paw on top, as they peered inside. Sprout was just hanging out inside, looking around and doing a whole bunch of not looking the least bit like how one would think a parasite should look. He was far too cute, especially when he went nuts for the laser pointer. … People kept potentially dangerous pets all the time, right? One just needed to know how to handle them safely and properly and it was fine. So… they looked back up at Gramble “Can I keep him? … Or uh, I know you’re still…”

“Sure. Just as long as you let me see him lots too, okay?”

“Of course.” Permission granted, Buddy carefully pushed the buggy ball into their pouch. Immediately they felt strangely a little better, less antsy.

Wiggle scoffed lightheartedly. “Seems like the paternal instinct that would’ve normally gone towards the egg went to Sprout instead. I guess if it makes you happy though, I can’t tell you that’s wrong.”

“He’s a whole lot easier to take care of than an egg though.”

“Not really,” Gramble said. “With an egg all you got to do is keep it warm.”

“Until it hatches and then you have a grumpling you have to take care of and keep alive somehow. So, no thanks. I can barely even keep myself alive.”

“Well,” Wiggle said, giving them a meaningful look, “I don’t think anyone can argue with that.”

~

They were finallyallowed to start working on their article once a week had gone by and they were doing better. The temptation to push to finish it as fast as possible was there but… they were too tired to really go for it. Not that Filbo would’ve even let them. They lacked the strength to defy him or even try to argue.

Despite everything though they were still good at their job and thus they got it done fairly quickly. After going over it one last time for mistakes or any important details they’d forgotten, they were able to send it Clumby’s way.

Being done with it was a massiveweight off their shoulders. “It’s done! I’m done! I never have to think about Snaktooth again.” They were finally done with that cursed island and never again would they need to think about it. … They would though for sure, it and the unknowing harm they’d caused their friends and Filbo would undoubtedly haunt them. But for now, they were happy to be done with the telling of the tale.

“Congrats!” Filbo said from their bedside.

“Thanks.” They wanted to thank him for everything, helping them and being so awesome but… they were too tired to come up with the words. So their simple ‘thanks’ would have to do for now.

[oceanivoxjoquainx]

i also love samquin thanks to you 🥺 i gasped when i saw danny ramirez fine self with facial hair. it was just *chef's kiss*, you know? 🤤 elevated the whole look. i want to know your headcanons about sam seeing joaquin with facial hair for the first time. maybe they're meeting up after a long time. what's his reaction? does the hair tickle him when they embrace? 😄

I am soooooo so glad you asked about this anon! I have many an idea 🤭 Also glad you love samquín now because of me! I love when other folks fall in love with them like i have!

With that everyone get ready forrrrr

Samquín Headcanons ☀️🌈: The Beard

Sam had decided that it was best for his mental health and his and his families safety if he left the military, quit the Avengers, and left the name of The Falcon behind three years ago. He did it once before when he lost Riley, and he figured it was time to do it again. He and Joaquín argued about it the last time they spoke and it ended in Sam flying away before trashing the wings. Little did he know Joaquín was following him and salvaged them.

Sam did his best to stay far away from anything avengers or super solider or world threatening and focused on supporting and helping his family down in Lousiana. He finally had the peace he always wanted and the safety he had wanted to give to his sister and nephews.

He was able to reestablish himself in the community and continue the work his father started all thos years ago. He went back to his job as a social worker and made sure everyone in his neighborhood was fed every week, slowly expanding his outreach every month until everyone knew that if you were hungry you could just go to the Wilson house and you were taken care of. It was the life he was used to and at that moment what he wanted.

Until some old enemies showed up right on his door step.

He fought until the end but there was only so much a man three years out of practice could do. He could only buy his family enough time to get far away and he determinedly got up every time he was knocked down.

He was down on the ground, about to succumb to his injuries, vision blurry through sweat, blood, and tears, until he saw a figure fly down and begin incapacitating the hostiles one by one. The person had a familiar build with a long mullet but was wearing a green and yellow suit, outfitted with a pair of what looked like bronze wings.....

Sam was in disbelief as he studied the persons fighting patterns and the wings attached to his back. The wingspan, the missiles, and even the stabilizers were all known to Sam. Those were HIS wings!

Soon enough all the fighting stopped and the only person left was the person who had Sam's wings. Sam was barely conscious as the person ran over to him and checked out his body, pressing down and studying for wounds and bruises, before picking him up bridal style and tucking his head into his own neck. The man's beard tickling his jawline was the last thing he remembered before slipping away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam woke up to sounds of rhythmic beeping over his head. His eyes opened very slowly to focus on the white, sterile ceiling above him. His body ached in a soreness he hadn't felt in years but he still felt high enough to not feel it too much.

He looked to his left and saw a heart monitor and a IV drip hanging near his head and into his arm, confirming that he was indeed inside a hospital. Rolling his head over to his right he saw a chair next to the bed with but unexpectedly it wasn't empty.

The man reclining with his eyes closed had a massive mullet paired with the most sexiest anchor beard Sam had ever seen. His first reaction was to immediately reach out and touch it.

His feeble attempts at moving his arms seemed to stir the other man from his rest and his eyes opened, locking onto Sam's where they immediately identified themselves to him.

"Joa...Joaquin?" Sam's voice was cracked and croaky and didn't sound like him. Sam tried to cover his mouth only to find his arm still felt like putty.

Joaquín leaned forward and took Sams hand into his own and rubbed his face against it. "Yeah, it's me. Be quiet though, you're still on the mend." Joaquíns voice was breaking itself as he rubbed his face and beard in Sam's hand. At points Sam's fingers would close around a certain section and they'd stay like that for a while before Joaquín began moving again.

"Where the hell did all this come from huh?" Sam asked. He was amazed at how different Joaquín looked with some extra hair on his face. It was a good different. A sexy different. He wasn't sure if it was the drugs or the fact that the man he left behind three years ago was now sitting on at his bedside but he was definitely feeling a 'flip me over and ravage my hole' different.

"Heh thanks, I'll definitely be keeping that in mind." Joaquín answered, his face heating up and a red blush creeping up his neck and onto his face. "It's just something that happened and I liked it so I kept it."

Sam didn't mean for him to hear the last part but it didn't matter in the long run. It was like falling back into old habits.

Sam attempted to sit up in order to properly look at Joaquín before coughing and giving up. The room began spinning and he felt his eyes closing again. With a groan he closed them. He felt Joaquín return his hand to his waist and then rest his own head in his lap, his beard tickling his stomach as he fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three weeks had passed since Sam was allowed to be taken home and Joaquín stayed with him the entire time taking care of him and everything he needed.

Sam couldn't remember the last time someone had taken care of him. He was always taking care of other people. Joaquín would get water, cook meals, help him to the tub, even wash his back. It was... nice.

He still had his family in hiding while he stayed at the house to make sure no one else came for him but he made sure Joaquín let Sarah know he was alive and okay when he able to fully sit up in the hospital.

Sam usually kept the same routine each day and as it was sunset he hobbled his way onto the back patio and sat down in the porch swing. The rocking movements always soothed his troubled mind as a child and they did so again now. He and Joaquín still didn't really discuss anything about their last and first day in three years together and he wasn't sure how to bring it up.

He knew he was wrong for leaving as he did with no contact for three years, he just didn't know if he should bring it up since everything seemed okay for now. There was always a hint of tension in the air when the house was dark and quiet and Joaquín had put Sam in his bed, lingering in the door frame as if to say something before just saying Goodnight and leaving. But other than that everything seemed... okay.

As if summoned by Sam himself, the back door opened and Joaquín stepped out onto the back patio and scanned the area before noticing Sam and coming to sit next to him. He had brought a blanket out with him and threw it over the two of them before resting his head on Sam's chest. The hair from his beard piercing Sam's shirt and tickling his chest. It was a routine the two fell into some days ago, none of them moving to break it any time soon.

"Knew I'd find you out here. The sunsets down here are always so beautiful."

"Yeah that's why pops built the house facing east. Best view in all of America he'd say."

The two sat together in silence watching the sun fall ever so slowly past the horizon. Tension was slowly building up again and Sam had no clue what it was from.

He had to say something.

Anything really.

He couldn't go on without saying something.

So he did.

"Jo... Joaquín... I was an ass back then. I shouldn't had left you behind to fend for yourself and I should've called, texted, sent a dam email, something. But I was worried about myself, my sister, my nephew's, I didn't think for a second that I was leaving my other family member behind and alone. And for that I'm so sorry."

"It's... well no it's not okay. It hurt me that you didn't consider me family. We were all but married back then. You were my life. I thought I was at least an important part of yours.... but you left and then trashed your wings and dissapeared. Figured I'd never see you again." Joaquín sighed. He sat up and brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them tightly.

Sam didn't know what to do. He had caused this. He did what was best for him and his family but completely left Joaquín behind and in the cold. He did miss him. He just thought he'd be safer without him around but turns out Joaquín was the one saving his ass anyways.

"The wings?" Sam asked.

"Oh i found em right where you left em. Picked em up, took em home, studied em, reverse engineered my own pair. Yours are still sitting in my workshop. I kept it just in case you... ya know... ever came back..." At this point his head was turned away from Sam.

Sam couldn't see the tears but he could hear Joaquín sniffling and wiping his face.

"Hey...." Sam whispered as he wrapped his arm around Joaquín's back, "From what I saw.... you were awesome, perfect even. I shouldn't have left you. You're my family too..." He began poking Joaquín's side.

"Come onnnn Jojo. Look at me. Please?"

Joaquín replied with a grunt and shuffled his head further into his arms.

"Jojooooo," Sam reached under his face and tilted his head up to face him. His eyes where shining with tears and his face was streaked with tear lines. His lips were visibly trembling and his beard had grown noticeably longer. Sam held his chin in his hands and ran them over his beard repetitively in a soothing motion that lead to Joaquín leaning back into Sam.

"I promise I'll never leave you behind again. The past three years were great but these three weeks with you were the best of my life. I hate that it took getting my ass handed to me for me to realize that but my life with you in it is infinitely better." Sam lamented.

Joaquín finally spoke again, "I've loved spending this time with you too, but it still hurt. It's gonna take time for me but I want you in life too." He rested his forehead against Sams and sighed, "I can't stay here with you for much longer. I have unfinished business to take care of but after that's done I'll come back."

"I'm coming with you." Sam replied determinedly, "Wherever you go I'm going too."

"No... no. You still need to heal and you're still needed here. I'll be okay! I took in the mantle of The Falcon and I'm doing what I have to. Can we just enjoy what we have for now until it's time?"

Sam scanned his face and saw he was serious and decided to let it go. He had no place to make demands of Joaquín and he wanted to give him as much length as he needed.

"Yeah... yeah okay..."

"Cool." Joaquín perked up and kissed Sam in his forehead, his beard ticking his face before resting his head back on Sam's face, wrapping his arms around Sam's waist, and continuing to watch the sunset.

Sam broke the silence again, "I just have to ask though..."

"Hm?"

"Where did this beard come from?" Sam asked stifling a laugh.

"Aw shut up!" Joaquín pushed at Sam's stomach and laughed which in turn caused Sam to laugh. "It just grew out while I was going through it and I liked it so I've been working with it okay!"

Sam chuckled at Joaquín's exasperation and slight embarrassment before saying, "I love it. It looks good on you. In fact its kind of sexy."

Sam felt Joaquín's body stiffen on top of him amd heard his breath hitch. There was obviously some attraction to each other and an innate closeness the two had, but they never discussed what exactly they were to each other. Not everything needed a label of course but they just never talked about it. They always glided into these situations.

"Heh. Thanks."

Sam looked down at Joaquín's head and stroked his hair and carried his hands over the other man's shoulder and down his side repetitively. He heard Joaquín sigh before hearing the rhythmic sounds of his sleep. He didn't know what was running through the other man's mind but he knew that this moment was perfect and if he could, he'd stay like this forever.

He thought his life for the past 3 years was what he wanted but turns out this was exactly what he was missing.

[joshslater]

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I would normally be able to roughly keep track of time by how thirsty I was. Master didn't usually tie me up, but there had been many scenes planned by others that had kept me in different kinds of bondage for many hours. This was different on a whole new level. The penis gag kept leaking small amounts of something not quite water. It was the same viscosity, but it tasted more like cum. Perhaps diluted cum, but that wouldn't taste as much as this did, I would guess. It would slowly drip from the end of the rubber dick, back in the mouth where you could easily accidentally inhale it instead. And since you are gagged you can only cough out the liquid through your nose. You quickly learn you can suck it and get a full shot at once, and then nothing for like a few minutes until it starts to trickle again. Makes it bearable, but keeps you awake. I'm getting off-topic I guess. I'm exhausted. I would think that's understandable as this has been by far my longest session, days possibly. I have no way to tell.

This isn't the first time they've changed something or moved my position, but this is the first time they are letting me walk. What a sight that must have been. I could feel them remove the restraints and the other things, one by one. All except the gag, the hood, and the chastity cage. God, that cage has probably been worse than any of the other stuff they did. I have no idea what nasty stuff they smeared on my dick, but I would happily fuck a tube of bengay instead any time. After they smeared the dick in whatever that was they slipped on the tight cage, the kind the also go up the urethra. I've been caged before many times, but pretty soon it just sits there, keeping you horny and impotent. But this shit, it acted as viagra gel, constantly keeping my dick struggling to break free. I can feel it's still trying. But I'm rambling again I guess.

It's the mental version of what pathetic spasms I do when they help me up to walk once the bondages were off. There are at least two of them I can feel, one on each side helping me up, and supporting my steps forward. I feel my mobility is getting back, though we are slowly going somewhere. I can't see where though, for the black sock or whatever covering my head. We are indoors, but it is a bit chilly. That might just be me being naked and suddenly have a blood flow. The floor feels like concrete, I think. Hard and cold.

We walk pretty far, only turning once, and the sound I hear sounds like echoes of a corridor. We turn right and walk into a new room. I can hear more people here, though no one is speaking. After a few turns my guides stop me and something is rolled towards me from behind. I can hear them fiddle with something, then they grab me again, and one of them tells me to sit down slowly. They still hold me, guiding me to whatever I'm supposed to sit on. I suddenly feel a blunt point going up between my ass cheeks. Another butt plug or similar. I slowly lower myself onto it. It is well lubed, and I have had far bigger things up my ass just in the last hour, so I manage to impale myself easily and sit myself down on the modified office chair. It might not be a very thick plug, but it goes deep. Hands grab booth my ankles and pull them backward on either side of the central pole below the seat and I can feel them being secured in some sort of padded, stiff shackles mounted below the seat. Finally I hear a wheel on the side of the chair being turned quickly. I feel the butt plug slowly expanding in my ass, forcing me to sit more and more upright. Certainly more than what I would have liked with the legs folded back the way they are. Then they leave.

I'm more or less naked, secured to a chair, but my arms are free for the first time in I don't know how long. I had cuffs on while master took me to this place. I'm fighting the urge to stretch my arms. I don't know what this is, but if it is a test, I want to succeed. I suppose I could remove my face sock in one quick motion, but that would definitely be a fail. I don't think I want to touch my dick. As painful as it is right now, I don't think it will be any better if I mess with it. Nothing will improve, and then someone will see it and punish me. Who are the other people in this room? I can hear breathing. Are they spectators, or are they secured to furniture like me?

This is worse. When you are tied up you are helpless. You can test the strength of your bondage, but they have so far been rated far above what I can muster in strength. But here you are just sitting almost free, with no idea what to do with your arms. Just waiting, listening, and sucking rubber dick. How is it still feeding liquid by the way? I try to lean back, to see if there is a backrest to the chair, but the buttplug makes it impossible to lean that far back. I know it isn't possible, but it feels like the plug is reaching all the way up to my lungs. Or is it possible?

There's a distant sound getting closer. Several steps getting closer and closer. Once they get into the room, somewhere to my right, I hear them walk to a spot just next to me. Then the same rolling sounds, and the same voice telling the person next to me to sit down slowly. I guess the other people in this room are in the same situation as I am.

They complete the same procedure as was done to me, best I can determine from the sounds. Then they leave, and it's all calm and silent again. You would think I would be used to that by now, after having master tell me to sit somewhere and wait, only to be gone for hours. He doesn't allow me to watch TV or read books, so all I have is to think about what has happened recently, what I'm feeling right now, and on the rare occasion what was long ago. That's on purpose of course, so my thoughts center on master, myself and nothing else, but I can't help thinking like something has been taken from me. Thoughts I might have had.

Footsteps again, lots of them. How long was it since they left us? I tried to keep count of how many times I suck the gag dry, but gave up when I came to about eighty for the third time. I think it was the third time. They don't talk. Their steps all sound the same. It must be at least four of them.

I'm completely unprepared when someone behind me pulls the sock off my head and the light of the room burns my eyes. I haven't seen any light since master put a gym bag over my head, however many days ago. The entire wall on the left is windows. This is a run-down classroom, almost stripped bare. The green blackboard is still on the wall in front of me, and on the small elevation where once a teacher's desk stood a man is standing. There is a desk in front of me, out of reach, with some papers and a pen neatly placed on top of it. There's a line of desks. I look to my sides and see five other naked men locked to modified office chairs. All have a gag secured around their head, with a transparent plastic tube attached to the gag in one end, and a drip bag hanging on an IV stand next to them. This isn't just a weekend at one of master's friend's home.

The man in front of us simply stands still, observing us. Handsome, muscular, short hair, black boots, blue jeans, and white T-shirt. Once bored with our puzzled looks he starts to speak to us.

"Congratulations. Your master has decided to improve you to better serve him. I don't know your master, or what he has done to you before, but I'm pretty sure this next part of your life is going to be your toughest so far. I'm not going to tell you how long this training program is. I'm not going to tell you what you will learn and unlearn. I'm not going to tell you what alterations will be made to your body. But I am telling you that your master knows the answer to these questions, and have handed over you and a sizeable amount of money to implement these changes."

He makes a sweeping gesture in our direction.

"These are your classmates. You will never learn their names, should they still have any." He made a crooked smile. "Though I guess you will be very familiar with what each and every one of them smells and tastes like. While the majority of the program here is the same for all of you, there are some customizations that are unique to you, as per your master's wishes. Parts of the program have already started. No doubt you have reflected on the uncomfortable feeling in your dick and balls. As you know all too well the point of a chastity device is not only to control when you get hard, but also to create an ever-present low hum of horniness, so you are always ready to please. A side effect, though some see it as a bonus, is the ever-shrinking dick size after prolonged wearing."

I wasn't sure what the rules were, but one of my hands sought its way down to touch my cage. I got a wave of dull ache in response. The man's eyes shifted to me, but he showed no change in expression and continued to talk uninterrupted.

"The process you have all started will rapidly accelerate this, both in terms of horniness and dick shrinkage. When you leave here you'll have not much more than a circumcised dick head rubbing against your panties, leaking precum, and keeping you horny. You won't need a dick cage. You'll be unable to play with your dick anyway without a vibrator."

Suddenly someone behind me pushes the chair forward, stopping just behind the small desk. Everyone else has been moved forward as well.

"In front of you is a contract waiving any rights and objections you might have to this education and to any modifications done to you. Nothing done so far is irreversible, but once you graduate we will have done our utmost to make it impossible for you to go back to a normal life. We're talking permanent physiological changes. You think it is water you're sipping on?"

He made a pause, letting it all sink in. I love my master, and this past year with him has been lovely, but is it all I want out of life. What does he mean by physiological changes? Can you actually develop a dependency for sucking dick? Is that what he means?

There is a spray of mist coming out of the man to my right. Sounds like he tried to not swallow any more of the liquid after what he just heard. He makes horrible noises while he recovers. No one moves an inch towards him to help him.

"Read the contract if you want. Put your initials on every page. Sign the last page."

[joachimnapoleon]

“Aim for the heart, but spare the face”

The 4th and final part of my narrative of Murat’s last days. (Part 1: Murat’s Fateful Decision) (Part 2: The Capture of Murat) (Part 3: Prelude to a Show Trial)

***

The commission chosen to enact the farcical trial of Murat convened on the 13th of October. A Sicilian named Captain Starace was to selected to serve as Murat’s advocate, and pleaded with Murat to change his mind about appearing in front of his judges to defend himself. Murat replied that the members of the court were not judges, but executioners; he ordered Starace to say nothing in his defense. Shortly after, the commission sent in a rapporteur to interrogate Murat, asking him his name, age, and homeland. Murat angrily declared: “I am Joachim, King of the Two Sicilies; get out, Monsieur!”

The trial concluded around four o’clock in the afternoon. He was unanimously found guilty, ironically on the basis of a law regarding insurrection which he had enacted himself in June of 1810. Murat received the news of his death sentence with, writes the Marquis de Sassenay, “a disdainful calm.” The sentence was to be carried out, he was told, in a quarter of an hour. He was permitted to write a final letter to his wife and children.

My dear Caroline,

My last hour has come; in a few moments I shall have ceased to exist; you will no longer have a husband, and my children will have no father. Never forget me; my life has not been tainted by any injustice. Farewell my Achille, farewell my Letitia, farewell my Lucien, farewell my Louise; show yourselves to the world worthy of me. I leave you without kingdom and without property, in the midst of my numerous enemies; be constantly united, show yourselves superior to misfortune, think of what you are and of what you have been, and God will bless you. Do not curse my memory. Know that my greatest pain, in the last moments of my life, is to die far away from my children.

Receive my paternal blessing; receive my kisses and my tears. Always have present in your memory your unfortunate father.

[Murat writes his final letter, by Jacques Onfroy de Bréville]

Into the envelope along with the letter, he placed several locks of his hair.

Completing this final task, he was met by Canon Masdea, the septuagenarian priest to whom Murat had bequeathed some money for the San Giorgio church two years prior. The priest prevailed upon Murat to sign a written declaration stating that he was dying as a Christian. He also managed to persuade Murat to make confession, standing firm on the matter when the officer on guard attempted to object due to a lack of time.

“Let us go,” Murat declared after receiving absolution, “and God’s will be done!”

At six o’clock in the evening, he was led out to the narrow courtyard of the castle. He coldly refused both the blindfold and the stool that were offered him. Scarcely ten feet separated him from the twelve-man firing squad. In his hand he held the miniature likenesses of his wife and children, which he now pressed to his chest.

“Soldiers,” he addressed the firing squad calmly, “do your duty. Aim for the heart, but spare the face.”

He gave the order to fire himself.

Details of the aftermath of the execution vary, with one account claiming three pistol shots were discharged into Murat’s head after he fell, which, if true, is excessive enough to appear as more an act of malice than a standard coup-de-grâce. There seems to be no doubt that he was killed instantly by the firing squad’s volley, fired at such a close range that his body was described as “mutilated.” His body was placed into a plain coffin and buried without ceremony in the yard of the church that had benefitted from his kindness two years earlier. Today a marker lies within the church, commemorating the spot where Murat’s remains are said to rest.

[Plaque marking Murat’s final resting place in San Giorgio church in Pizzo]

Caroline Murat had received no news of her husband’s whereabouts or well-being in months. Eight days after his execution, she wrote to Catherine, wife of her brother Jerome, that “this uncertainty is becoming unbearable.” Her older sister Elisa learned that Murat had ended up being apprehended in Calabria. Both sisters expressed the hope that he would be allowed to continue his journey from there to Trieste, but Caroline remained riddled with anxiety. “Oh, my dear Elisa,” she wrote, “loss of fortune seems nothing beside the agonies which oppress me and I would be happier completely destitute if I could thereby spare my husband and myself the cruel sufferings… until the hour when he can arrive and I can know him safe.”

The same day that Caroline wrote the letter above—November 2—news of her husband’s execution was printed in the Wiener Zeitung, the newspaper she had taken to reading daily since arriving in Trieste. Her servants endeavored to hide the paper, substituting another in its place; but she insisted on receiving it. It was yielded to her with reluctance. Catherine Davies, an Englishwoman who had served the Murats since 1804, describes the ensuing scene: “Upon reading the account of her husband’s melancholy death, she was attacked with violent fits which lasted until morning. The dear children were asleep, and knew nothing of their mother’s grief, nor of their own loss, till the following day, when seeing every one looking sad around them, Prince Lucien said to my late English companion, ‘Mimie, what is the matter, that you all wear such sorrowful faces: is papa dead?’ She replied she feared he was. At this moment, they all wept bitterly, for they were tenderly attached to their father, and he equally to them.”

While the Bourbon courts in France and Naples rejoiced at the news of Murat’s death, there were many who responded with horror, grief, and anger. General Guglielmo Pépé, who had come to love and admire Murat even in spite of his political differences with his former king, fell into this latter camp. “The tragical death of Joachim,” he writes, “plunged me into the deepest grief, which I only mastered after a long lapse of time: the whole country was horror-stricken by this sad event. Even to this day, when the inhabitants of Pizzo have occasion to travel the kingdom, they carefully conceal the place of their nativity, so great is the stigma it casts upon them.” Lord Byron, who had, years earlier, written a poem about Murat, likewise lamented the legendary cavalier’s sad fate. “Poor, dear Murat, what an end! …. His white plume used to be a rallying point in battle, like Henry IV’s. He refused a confessor and a bandage; so would neither suffer his soul or body to be bandaged.”

Napoleon, arriving on Saint Helena two days after the execution of his brother-in-law, did not receive news of it until months later. Writes Barry O’Meara, who briefly served as Napoleon’s physician on the island, “Some short time after his arrival at Longwood, I communicated to the Emperor the news of Murat’s death. He heard it with calmness, and immediately inquired if he had perished on the field of battle? At first I hesitated to tell him that his brother-in-law had been executed by military law. On his repeating the question, I informed him of the manner in which Murat had been put to death, to which he listened without any change of countenance.” This sangfroid was typical of Napoleon, who disdained outward displays of emotions (except for anger) in front of his subordinates. But his valet, Marchand, who had been with Napoleon longer and knew how to read him better, remarks in his memoirs that “This news had saddened him, and I heard him talking to Dr. O’Meara, which renewed this pain as he spoke. He said nothing of the King of Naples’ wrongs toward him, adding that to go down to Calabria with fifty men was the action of a madman, but those who had ordered his death were monsters.” General Gourgaud, in his diary, describes Napoleon, later in the evening after learning of Murat’s death, as “sad, preoccupied, plays mechanically with some coins during the reading. He suffers, we see it clearly.” Murat would remain a recurring subject of the Emperor’s conversation during his time on Saint Helena. His reflections on his brother-in-law were as conflicted as his feelings towards him had been throughout their relationship, ranging from fond reminiscences of Murat’s battlefield gallantry, to bitterness over his defection in 1814, to ridicule of his outlandish attire and poor judgment. He never ceased to regret Murat’s absence at Waterloo.

It is impossible to know for certain what Murat’s true intentions were as he began taking the road towards Monteleone prior to his arrest in Pizzo. He was indecisive by nature, but also stubborn. As appalling of a prospect as he found the idea of a life in exile in Austria, his desire to be reunited with his family was genuine; his children were never far from his mind. Yet equally abhorrent to him was the idea of living the rest of his life in a state of dishonor, having relinquished, without a fight, a throne he had never abdicated. The accounts of Galvani and Franceschetti both make it clear that his mind changed throughout the journey between Corsica and Calabria, his natural optimism and faith in himself repeatedly overriding the reality of the hopelessness of his original enterprise. Perhaps he truly had resolved to go on to Trieste by the time his party encountered Trentacapilli; if so, this only renders the outcome all the more tragic.

Some historians have theorized that his voyage to Pizzo was a deliberate act of suicide. This ignores not only his repeated insistences that he intended to join his family in Trieste, but also the resistance and attempt to avoid capture he made prior to his apprehension. If Murat was seeking death, he was not seeking it in the manner of a common criminal. He had been a soldier for his entire adult life, and would have preferred to die like one. Upon his return to Naples from his final defeat at Tolentino, where, like Ney at Waterloo, he appears to have been attempting to get himself killed, Murat dolefully remarked to Caroline that he had been unable to meet death. 

“Thus,” writes his former aide-de-camp Macirone, “fortune was again adverse to courage, and the blood of a hero was permitted to be lawlessly, uselessly, and inhumanly shed, by a sovereign who had never been wronged by his victim. His death was ignominious only to his enemies. Those who had been his subjects will revere his memory. France may reproach it for the evils to which he unintentionally contributed… but when the book of truth shall be unfolded, it will appear that the errors of Murat were not errors of the heart.” It is as fitting an epitaph as that of Murat’s childhood friend Agar, the Count of Mosbourg, who devoted to him a monument listing his military exploits and achievements, closing with the declaration: “He knew how to conquer, he knew how to reign, he knew how to die.”

***

Sources:

-Atteridge, A. Hilliard. Joachim Murat: Marshal of France and King of Naples, 1911

-Bear, Joan. Caroline Murat, 1972

-Cole, Hubert. The Betrayers, 1972

-Colletta, Pietro, General. Histoire des six derniers mois de la vie de Joachim Murat, 1821

-Davies, Catherine. Eleven Years’ Residence in the Family of Murat, King of Naples, 1841

-Franceschetti, Dominique-César, General. Mémoires sur les événemens qui ont précédé la mort de Joachim Ier, Roi des Deux-Siciles, 1826

-Galvani, Mathieu. Mémoires sur les événemens qui ont précédé la mort de Joachim-Napoléon, Roi de Deux-Siciles, 1843

-Gourgaud, Gaspard, General. Sainte-Hélène - Journal Inedit de 1815 à 1818 en 2 volumes

-Macirone, Francis. Interesting Facts Relating to the Fall and Death of Joachim Murat, 1817

-Marchand, Louis-Joseph. In Napoleon's Shadow: The Memoirs of Louis-Joseph Marchand, Valet and Friend of the Emperor 1811–1821, 2018

-O’Meara, Barry Edward. Napoleon in exile, or, A voice from St. Helena, Vol 1, 1827

-Pépé, Guglielmo. Memoirs of General Pépé, Vol 2, 1846.