#Genuinely let me know if you liked this I might have to do it for more episodes

[zorbik-guligan]

Not really sure what incongruous means so I'll look it up after but it does feel like as i get older life gets more complex theres more things i understand now that sure i knew about them before but not in great detail but it feels like I've become so fucking complex as a person that if i tried to explain what i actually think and feel it would just overwhelm a person so i try and section myself off into pieces and just use different parts of me with different situations or people and it may just be because ive spent most of my time these past 2 almost 3 years now alone with nothing to do but think and figure myself out that when im asked what i think about something slightly personal its kinda hard to say it just got lost in my head somewhere and that whatever i think will change at a moments notice like i can bring up memories of lots of things and remember nostalgic times but i spent so long thinking about why i feel a certain way or what makes me feel a certain way in order to try and get a better hold of myself that ive kinda forgotten alot of my past like so many memories that i made are just gone because remembering them made me feel a way i dont want to feel like i remember realizing the beginning of 6th grade that i had completely forgotten 5th grade and the reason why was because that time i had was so nice yet not at the same time my brain just frogot because it didn't want a reminder of how good yet not something can be like great teachers who for the first time ever actually seemed to care as far as i could tell class mates who were generally friendly and occasionally checked on me if i seemed off yet i felt so alone cause nobody there really seemed like a real friend like the friends i had before who even when we were in deep trouble wouldn't rat me out and would stick with me who genuinely cared and missed me if i was sick getting older and not having anyone to socialize with for really formative years off my life has made understand those really old dudes who are nice and always up to make friends but just seem extra lonely for some reason despite knowing so many people i guess technically being that alone did hurt me but i kinda learned that im just not alone ever when im outside theres always some squirrels birds or plants nearby that make it more lively its why ive grown so fond of certain forested spots they are always lively and it feels like hanging out with all my friends its also why i enjoy making things like with metal or wood stone or even writing and painting those things feel alive in a way same with music and having time to think so much has made me reflect and realize that no day is the same and even when something changes something else stays the same or gos back to how it was in a weird cycle like growing but remembering where you were growing older for me anyways is like gaining more skills and more knowledge not just on the stuff around me but on myself too obviously people change sometimes pretty quickly too but getting older makes you learn more about yourself which duh that how life works but still it feels weird to be aware of it at 17 when it feels like i should still be trying to figure out my favorite youtuber or something not contemplate who i am as a person and what makes me feel the way i do but its a good kind of weird and theres always more to learn and find so i still have plenty of room to learn more about myself still not being able to really fully let a person know you kinda sucks but to be fair that is a rather special thing its also nice being able to put into words why i feel a certain way so that i can actually explain myself instead of just going quiet cause i dont know myself that well still kinda funny to know your own problems but not be able to jusy fix them when you know its a very deep problem even when it seems surface level and damn i got kinda personal there woops also just noticed that im shaking so might be overwhelmed remembering 5th grade which is probably why i frogot it or at least thought i did

anybody else feel that being human is like being a long-time syndicated cartoon character watching the world get more complex while your own design stays the same until youre incongruous with the reality around you??

[certifiedsexed]

i dont know if this is the right place to go but im so lost why do i have crying meltdowns when my boyfriend turns down sex? it makes me feel disgusting and like im pressuring him to sleep with me, but i would never and thats not my intention. I just get filled with an overwhelming feeling of rejection and disappointment that it hurts physically

I know this may sound hurtful. That's not my intention. I mean this genuinely, in the kindest way possible but it may be that one of the main reasons you have crying meltdowns when your boyfriend turns down sex is that you are not in a space where you should currently be having sex.

It sounds like you have a very strong reaction to what you view as a rejection. I don't know if that's a general thing or just a sex thing but clearly, it's an issue you need to work on. It's not an unheard of issue-What you're describing is word-for-word something that plenty of people who have RSD [Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria] deal with regularly.

But if it's causing you to have meltdowns when your boyfriend turns down sex, it might be a good idea to stop putting yourself in that situation until you've got a better handle on all of it.

That should definitely start with sitting down with your boyfriend and thoroughly discussing with him, "Hey, I have this issue but it's not me trying to pressure you," and listening to his feelings about it and seeing where to go from there.

But from there, you have a lot of options. Therapy, generally exposing yourself to rejection to build yourself up, learning more about how to manage your reactions, etc, that's up to you.

I can't tell you exactly why you have those meltdowns but I can tell you that some people feel things very intensely. And sometimes we can't control our exact reaction to those feelings.

That's not something that makes you evil. Often, there's nothing wrong with feeling things strongly, even if you express them in ways other people view as "inappropriate" or "strange."

But sometimes, it's something you need help with! Like when it's so intense you're feeling physical pain because of something repeatedly! Or when it might interfere with your boyfriend's ability to consent properly. That's definitely an issue you need help with. But it doesn't make you evil.

Not sure how helpful this is, Anon. But let me know if you have any other questions. <3

[goldfades]

COCKY ─── QUINN HUGHES

request: "omg could you pls do quinn hughes + couple tiktok trends <3"

The living room is flooded with the soft glow of the TV, casting a cozy haze over the slightly cluttered space. Quinn is sprawled out on the couch, hoodie half-zipped, and socks mismatched, scrolling through his phone with the kind of focus he usually reserves for hockey tape jobs. You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor, phone propped up on the coffee table, the TikTok app open and taunting you with its endless rabbit hole of trends.

It started as a joke—something to pass the time while Quinn’s team was on a rare break. But it didn’t take long for you to realize that getting him to participate in TikTok couple trends was way too easy. He’d say no at first, always the picture of stoic reluctance, but then you’d bat your eyes, tilt your head just enough, and he’d sigh in defeat like clockwork. “Fine, but only one,” he’d always mutter, knowing full well he was about to film at least five.

Tonight, though, you’ve got something special in mind. You’ve seen the trend a dozen times: girlfriends quizzing their boyfriends on things they’re almost guaranteed to get hilariously wrong, but reacting like they’ve just unlocked the secrets of the universe. The best part? Quinn’s sweet spot is his competitiveness—he genuinely likes being good at things. Even if those things are, well, completely unrelated to reality.

“Babe,” you call, dragging out the word as you wiggle your way onto the couch beside him.

He glances up, suspicion already brewing in his eyes. “What?”

“You trust me, right?”

“That’s a dangerous question.”

“C’mon, it’s just a quick TikTok. Super easy.”

He squints at you, leaning back into the cushions. “You said that last time, and then you made me guess your favorite color while holding an egg. What was the point of the egg?”

“None, but it was hilarious. Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.” You grab his hand and tug him upright. “This one’s even easier, I promise. All you have to do is guess what things mean.”

“Like trivia?” He perks up slightly, his competitive streak flickering to life.

“Exactly,” you say, biting back a grin. Oh, this is going to be so good.

Quinn sits cross-legged on the couch now, facing you with his arms loosely folded over his chest, his expression a mix of cautious interest and the tiniest sliver of smug confidence. You set the phone up on the coffee table, adjusting the angle until the two of you are perfectly framed. He leans in to inspect it, pointing at the screen.

“Wait, is this live?” he asks, eyebrows shooting up.

“No, it’s a draft. We’re not live. Relax,” you laugh, lightly swatting at his arm. “Okay, are you ready?”

“I was born ready,” he says with a mock-serious tone, earning an eye-roll from you. He smirks.

“Alright,” you begin, sitting up straighter, adopting your most serious, quizmaster tone. “First question: what is a pap smear?”

His brow furrows as he leans back, clearly thrown off by the question. He taps his fingers against his knee like he’s analyzing game footage. “Pap smear…” he repeats, drawing the words out as if they might reveal their meaning if he says them slowly enough. “It’s… a type of makeup? Like… winged liner or something?”

Your jaw drops in mock shock, and you let out a gasp that could win an Oscar. “Oh my god, yes! That’s exactly it!” you exclaim, clapping your hands together.

His face lights up, the corners of his mouth quirking into a proud grin. “Really? I was just guessing.”

“Quinn, you’re so smart,” you gush, leaning closer like you’re genuinely in awe. “I don’t know how you do it.”

He straightens up, his shoulders squaring. “Well, you know, I pay attention. I pick things up.”

You suppress a laugh and move on, scrolling to the next “question” in your mental list. “Okay, next one. What’s the difference between toner and micellar water?”

“Oh, easy,” he says immediately, waving a dismissive hand. “Toner is for your hair, and micellar water is… like, for cooking. Like rice water or something.”

You press your lips together, eyes widening in faux amazement. “Stop it right now. That’s… exactly right. Are you secretly a dermatologist or something?”

He runs a hand through his hair, his grin growing even wider. “Nah, I just know stuff. You’d be surprised how much I pick up from you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, the way he’s sitting there all puffed up like he just nailed a final exam making it almost too much to handle. But you’re committed.

“Okay, okay, next one’s a little harder,” you say, putting on a thoughtful expression. “What’s a menstrual cup?”

He pauses for a moment, his confidence faltering just a touch. “Uh…” His fingers drum against his thigh as he considers it. “Like… a trophy? For… women’s sports?”

You gasp dramatically again, throwing your hands up like he’s just hit the jackpot. “Yes! Oh my god, Quinn, you’re literally on fire right now. I didn’t think you’d get that one.”

He lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “I mean, come on, you’re not giving me enough credit here. I know things.”

“You really do,” you say earnestly, watching as he practically glows under the praise. You’re pretty sure his ego has reached dangerous levels, but the sight of him so genuinely excited—and so hilariously wrong—has you biting back giggles.

“Okay, last one,” you say, holding up a finger. “What is… a cuticle pusher?”

His face twists in concentration. “A cuticle pusher… that’s gotta be, like, a tiny rake? For gardening? Like… for plants in small pots or something?”

You slap your hands over your mouth, your eyes going wide with mock amazement. “Oh. My. God. YES. How did you even know that? Did you take a secret gardening class or something?”

He throws his head back, laughing, clearly reveling in his perfect score. “I knew that one would get you. I told you, I’m good at this stuff.”

You can’t hold it in anymore and dissolve into laughter, leaning into his shoulder as he looks down at you, still grinning. “What?” he asks, a little suspicious now.

“Nothing,” you manage between giggles, waving him off. “You’re just… amazing, Quinn.”

He shakes his head, his expression softening. “Yeah, yeah. Tell me something I don’t know.”

You reach for the phone to stop recording, already knowing this TikTok is going to break the internet.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[whereisloe]

my angel ໒꒱

“come from way above” ❀ sevika x reader 𓆝. 𓆟

Got this idea while writing a Silco fic and realized not enough people are writing for this fine ass woman OHMYGOF

I miss my wife, tails. i miss her a lot.

“This doesn’t hurt, does it?” you’d ask as you treated Sevika’s wound, carefully watching every faint expression on her face as you did so. She only grunted in response before letting her head fall into her hand. Considering the positions you both assumed, the woman had been towering over you as you sat comfortably between her legs dressing her abdominal wound. “Aaw , we’re almost done. Just keep being good for me, yeah?” You’d tease with a passive pat to her thigh as you prepped yourself to wrap her waist.

“Shut up” She’d force through a wince as you applied pressure to the deep cut, wrapping it as you did so. “You talk too much”

Once you finished the wrap your hands were quick to roam. Snaking up her chest, and latching onto her neck as you pulled your lips onto her jaw. “Keep getting hurt like this and I might just have to give Silco a little visit for all the trouble he keeps putting you through” Sevika scoffed, half-amused at your wit as she leaned back into the chair. “That man would eat you alive, sweetheart” The petname came off more condescending than endearing as Sevika undermined your words, even brushing off the genuine concern behind the joke with a bittersweet smirk.

“Oh, you promise?” Now it was your turn to laugh as you watched that smirk wipe clean off her face when her expression grew darker. You ignored her very obvious mood change and continued cleaning up your gear. “Y’know, maybe I could get you that pay raise. What do you think?” You’d stand from your crouched position and slowly spin around, flaunting your body at the woman. You even grabbed her rugged hand and bring it to your hip as you knelt into the seat of the chair that had been exposed between her legs.

“Hilarious.” She wouldn’t even half mind you as her hand quickly replaced your hip with a cigar. You rolled your eyes at her passiveness before returning to the ground to clean up your mess. At some point you even walked away allowing Sevika to smoke in peace as you cleaned your equipment.

Once you reentered the room, you’d find Sevika casually reclined on your couch with an unlit cigar still hanging out the side of her mouth. As you got closer her eyes locked on to you, roaming you up and down but once they reached your face, they softened. Just two gentle, big eyes admiring from a distance as you admired back. You were snapped out of your trance when she threw a lighter at you. You caught the metal with ease and examined it. “You forgot to light me” She said plainly, attempting to hide the sentiment she held toward the action. It was reminiscent of the first time the two of you met outside a brothel. Long story short, Sevika was quick to describe you as a huge distraction to her mission that day despite your short interaction that even you barely remembered.

“How cruel of me” You knelt down in front of the couch, now back to admiring your partner from below as her half lidded eyes met your wide ones. Her hand, rough as it was, gently held your cheek as her thumb brushed over your bottom lip. You felt yourself melt into her warm palm as the contrast between her calloused hand and your plush skin sent chills down your skin. You sparked the lighter twice before bringing it to the end of Sevika’s cigar.

She watched you. Allowing the flame to illuminate your soft expressions, and in her eyes, manipulating your features. Making you resemble yourself that night many years ago. She wasn’t any less taken by your more aged features if anything she appreciated them. Glad to see you grow older alongside her than having to admire your beauty from an ageless photo. You would notice her unwavering stare once you tossed the lighter aside and decided to make brief conversation. “You know, I don’t remember much of the first time we met” Sevika took a puff of her cigar before nodding urging you to continue. “But I remember without a doubt the second time”

“I’d be more concerned if you didn’t” She chuckled under her breath as the memories came flooding in. You took note of her already flaking cigar as she held it between her two fingers. Quickly, you placed your ceramic tray gently to her stomach just in time to catch the ash. “That guy had a lot of nerve putting his hands on you, you’re lucky I was there. Otherwise, who knows the things he would’ve did—” Sevika cursed at the thought.

“Well, you were there and I am forever grateful for you,” your voice was low as you rub senseless shapes across her wrist with the pad of your thumb. “my angel” the words were hushed as you kissed the base of her palm, then her wrist, down her arm, and back up her shoulder until you reached her nape where you took a moment. In this time, you pushed yourself onto her, feeling her shift to a more seated position to accommodate for you, you straddle her hips as you tossed your arms carelessly over her shoulders. The ceramic tray had fallen out from under you meeting the concrete with a shattering sound as the shards dispersed. “Damn it” You sighed as you began shifting away from your partner only for her to rest a heavy hand on your waist.

“I’ll clean it, later” Sevika gently guided you back into herself only to latch onto your neck. A shaky breath left your agape lips as you laid helplessly above Sevika. The heat in your cheeks only spread as she shamelessly left those sticky love bites all over your neck.

The sounds that fell from your lips only further egged her on as she found herself getting lower and her hand higher as it slid up your stomach. Eventually, you grew fed up with her slow teasing and brought your fingertips to the seams of your shirt and watched as Sevika’s gaze grew harsh with anticipation. You were ready to lift the cloth but quickly felt your blood run cold as three heavy knocked fell against your front door. You practically jumped out your skin as Sevika scowled at the source of the noise. “Fuck, I’ll get it” You held a hand over your heart as your slowly opened the door, meeting the eyes of a man who seemed to be one of Silco’s goons.

“Sevika, boss needs ya” The man completely disregarded you. You huffed under your breath and glanced up noticing how she was already behind you, prying the door further open. “Gotchu, now get the hell out of here before somebody sees you” Sevika’s voice was cold and harsh as she talked with the man, her tone almost foreign to you as you waited behind the door for Sevika to finish. Once she did, the door was shut with a frustrated grunt as she leant up against the door contemplating her next move.

“You need me to kill him?” From behind, you brought both your arms around her, pressing your face against her shoulder, you felt her laugh. “I’m sure you could.” She turned around and pressed a brief kiss to your temple. “Drinks on me next date to make up for this”

“Drinks are always on you” Your thumbs rubbed anxiously against her waist as you become increasingly aware of how much you hated when she left.

“Guess I need to stop fucking up, then” She gave your cheek on last stroke before turning to leave only to be stopped when you grabbed her mech hand. “You’re off to a bad start if you’re just gonna leave like that” You pulled yourself into her chest, standing on your toes as your lips locked with hers. Moving in tandem, Sevika fell against the door as you cupped her face in your palms and grew warm as her hand fell on the small of your back. Toward the end of your kiss you felt that warm, genuine smile of hers form against your lips as you fell back onto your heels.

“Be sure to fly back home to me, my angel”

god punishes me by making my wives fictional :( also have yall read that hexstrap fic??? sevika please just the tip 🙏😩

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

I was going into the BuckTommy AO3 tag again, this time not to find out about whump, but about fix-its. So, you wanna come along?

Right now, nominally, we got 5,589 works tagged Evan "Buck" Buckley/Tommy Kinard. I don't count them all as genuine, because we all know what happened, so minus the tag Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, which are currently 860, that leaves us with 4,729 works. Also, if you want to filter, some of the fics hide it a bit better by using the Buck/Tommy tag, but also things like Pre-Relationship Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz or Pre-Buddie. I found 40 fic in total using these tags, which would leave us at 4,689 works. There are also some minor tags you might want to filter if you're picky, like Eddie Diaz and Evan "Buck" Buckley are family, Eddie Diaz Loves Evan "Buck" Buckley, Evan "Buck" Buckley Loves Eddie Diaz, Tommy Kinard Bashing (which makes our numbers -10!) and lots more. Look out for those if you're trying to get the real deal.

Let's say we're not that super picky and leave it at 4,729 works. 225 of those use the tag "fix-it". Now, people have of course used the tag since April, simply to do some episode fix-its, so it basically doesn't tell us much. Therefore, I scrolled up to November, which counts for minus 29 fics that were done before the on-screen breakup. The majority of fix-it fics, currently 196, were done ONLY in November. Not bad at all! 81 of those are rated T, 80 are G. Explicit and mature are 28 resp. 24 of them. 12 are not rated at all, they seem quite normal to me, but just be aware.

All in all, I think our little community has found a way to cope. And this is only AO3, and I know people have written break-up / make-up fics for BuckTommy way before November. Those should be interesting to compare! (I've not read one, I'm afraid)

Shout out to all of you (and me, hehe) for all your work!

[dangermousie]

Random other fun things I noticed on my rewatch of ep 1.

The way the camera keeps focusing on his wedding ring makes me think of FoE. But also, she never wears hers (since she's the secret wife, it makes sense) but it's also pretty symbolic since by end of 2, we can tell he's obsessed with her and she wants out of the marriage even via reckless means.

Two eps (and book spoilers) in, it's clear he's not lying. But it's so interesting that the only times we've seen him show any strong hint of his feelings, it's never to her but to others - the ambassador or even 406 (since he loses his temper to 406 in both eps, and he doesn't know it's her, so he thinks it's a random.) It's like he CANNOT admit it to her because it would make him so very vulnerable and he's a man who is terrified of being so - plus he's clearly operating on a very sane principle of "if I can't open up to her, she can't reject me" - it's like those high school kids who send a friend to feel it out with their crush because they can't confront them directly. The most he can manage is this indirect confession that he can backtrack out of to her if he has to. Between all his issues and personality and the fact that it might be hard to convince him any move she makes to reciprocate is of her own volition, it's hard going for these two even if she wanted to make it work which she doesn't. Ironically, by playing as 406, she might find out just how much gone he is for her (and being able to believe it the way she'd never believe an actual confession to her as her, because she could think that's manipulativeness but why would he manipulate her about his feelings as 406?) And I do think if/when he finds out she's unhinged enough to do the 406 thing, he might put at least one fear to rest - that she's vulnerable/fragile/weak enough to only jump him because Mommy ordered. A woman insane enough to do what she's doing now is no (longer a) pushover, if she's acting like she wants him, it's of her own volition.

Her rant is glorious but his face is giving me pause because...does he understand what she's saying? Hmmmm. I mean, he holds everything so close that he could very well know sign language and not let on. I genuinely have no idea.

Everyone has already posted about the indirect kiss but all I can think of is how weird lipstick would taste on wine. You poor simp, just beg her to give you a chance and drink wine from a clean glass like a normal person.

Also there are a couple of really fun moments in the convo where she as 406 mirrors what he told her earlier. Wonder if he will notice.

And the amount of money she asks as alternative to divorce is exactly the divorce penalty!

Also, it's so great to see his freak out when HHJ is threatened. FL thinks it's threat to his career but we all know it's her.

I need more eps! I got spoiled with cdramas and eps every day!

[constantcrying]

Ersatz, baby

m!shape-shifter!yandere x gn!reader. 4k words. yes. I'm so sorry.

TW: Obsession, possessive thoughts and behaviors, mentions of violence, gore, consumption of humans, idk how to tag it but the shape-shifter eats humans and has considered eating the reader so like heads up about that

Heeeeey

Somebody PLEASE tell me if the length of this piece is detrimental to the experience of reading it it’s like 4k words. Here’s something I’ve been kicking around for ages. Frankly I am shocked I have something at all after a year

“Odd couple” is the best way to describe the friendship between you and Sasha. You’re awkward and responsible and outwardly boring. He’s highly social, wild, and intriguing. You’re genuine to a fault. He’s an expert in facades; he is a facade. You’re human and he’s something utterly not.

The freak accident of affection between you two is...still hard for him to wrap his head around. It seems to be your fault. If you weren’t so pitifully earnest toward him he would have just gotten rid of you. You were aware of his true nature, and definitely scared of it, but you kept going out of your way to be the Good Roommate™, to play friends. He had to let you live, just to see what the fuck your deal is. Now it’s too late. Now he wants you around.

You are the only person in the world that he has shown his real body to.

Some of his victims have seen it, but you’re the first person he intended to see it. The decision was quiet, perhaps a little impulsive. A simple exchange of “What are you, Sasha?” and “I don’t know. Wanna see?” had you both going to your bedroom and locking the door.

For the first time in his life, his heart pounded as he shed his clothes. He almost didn’t want you to turn around and look. It might be better if you only knew the carefully curated version of him, the handsome appearance he painstakingly crafted for the easiest social life. Even though you already knew he wasn’t human and pretended it didn’t matter, what if you saw him now and knew with absolute certainty that you didn’t want to look at him ever again? He would have to swallow you whole. He wasn’t sure if he could do it.

Regardless he said, “turn around.”

He showed you the unvarnished form that he had inherited from his mother. To be frank: It’s a predator’s body. Worse that that, it’s a monster’s. There are features and junctures of him so uncanny it must hurt the logical mind to observe them. If you were ever looking for the perfect rebuttal to the existence of a loving God, look no further than his cruel mouth.

He crept onto you bed looking like this, towering over you, your bed-frame screaming to protest the weight. He’d have to cut you off at the source, if you were to scream. And though he could smell the fear wafting from your skin, could practically feel the constricting blood vessels and tightening muscles in you, you still asked him, “Hey, is it more comfortable? Do you prefer being like this?”

Honestly? He isn’t sure there’s a body that’s comfortable and natural to him anymore. He’s so used to a human state that anything else feels awkward, even when it’s easier to shift to. As you took his massive claws into your hands and examined them with gentle curiosity, though, he was struck by the warmth of you. It was a long time since anyone had really touched him. It might’ve been even longer for you, loner that you are. Which meant you were the only person who could understand the way he felt in that moment.

He flopped over next to you, letting out an embarrassing dog-like whine, but you just laughed sweetly, and shifted pillows around to accommodate his bigger size. His feet and tail still dangled awkwardly off the bed. “You can relax in here,” you said. “You’re always welcome, since you’re my friend.”

You rambled about your classes and professors until all the adrenaline had left your system. He didn’t say much in response, but you didn’t mind. After a while, you could almost meet his preternatural gaze. You even dozed off like this, with a monster beside you, you utter weirdo. He put his head closer to your chest and felt your sleeping breaths for hours, thinking that your throat would be butter-soft under his teeth.

Sasha knows very little about what he really wants. He’s not sure if he’ll stay in his major, or in school, or even in human society. He knows for certain, though, that he wants more time to study you. He wants just your quiet voice and humble body heat and the understanding that, whatever he is, it isn’t going to chase you away.

So you two keep doing this. Every few days he’ll skulk over to where you are and make room for himself, and the two of you will talk for hours. Sometimes he shifts. He doesn’t always want to, but you get more comfortable with him that way. You...seem more keen to pet him when he looks and acts like an animal, and he wants you to touch him so bad he’s worried he’ll start asking for it. Could he ever live it down, if he started asking to be coddled? No. So he wags his tail and butts his head against you like that isn’t it’s own special brand of pathetic.

It’s not like you’re one to judge, though. You’re just so happy to have a friend that comes to hang out with you. You’ve never had very many of those, but of course Sasha knows he’s extra special. There’s much he’s learned about the world from his strange perspective, and you’re always excited to listen to his stories.

You do understand that he needs to eat a lot. You see him clear out four bacon cheeseburgers as a snack once, and he cracks jokes about how breakfast was red bull and adderall, but you know that it’s just a part of his biology that works against him. So you go out of your way to cook more meat, and give him bigger portions than anyone else, ignoring the way your blatant favoritism must look to the other roommates and occasional visitors. He doesn’t bother explaining that your idea of a big meal is like his idea of an appetizer, and he never will.

He doesn’t talk about the people he eats, either. He’s starting to think you don’t realize he does that.

(If you really don’t know, if this is the way you treat him when you don’t know, there’s no fucking way he can tell you.)

As for you, you talk about your courses and your classmates. From the way you talk around it, he’s mostly figured out the sad shape of your childhood and he decides that’s why you’re so weird and naive.

Mostly, you tell him about your hobbies, and your taste in TV shows. That’s when something in you is unlocked, revealing you to be more witty and giggly than your initial impression. It’s gratifying to know most other people don’t discover that side of you, like being the only prospector who knows where gold is. You tell him about everything you used to watch and play with your best friend, back when she had time for you. He’s a little confused by just how fervently you love things, how you start to care one day and then never, ever stop.

He never did it before, but now the two of you watch garbage TV together. (You tried to invite your best friend to join you, but to Sasha’s satisfaction, she gave you that cringing sort of smile and told you she didn’t have time.) Every Friday comes a new episode of Crater County, this schlocky supernatural police procedural, so every Thursday night you ask him to watch it with you. He’s a busy man, of course, but he’ll fit it into his schedule since he knows you so look forward to it.

This Thursday you must have forgot.

Somehow, in the early morning on Friday, you slip away without Sasha noticing. He wakes up to the honks of geese and distant cars, and the ever-present hum of electricity. As he thinks of pestering you to make ham and eggs, just to watch you get annoyed, he notices the conspicuous lack of your heartbeat.

He knows better than to doubt his hearing. But he still goes into your room across the hall to find the bed unmade and unoccupied. He almost goes to check your pillow for warmth, only stopping when he realizes it’s...stupid, to do that. He stays in the doorway for a long moment, overly-conscious of your scent. Then he goes to pace in the empty kitchen.

It hadn’t occurred to you to say goodbye to him, or leave him a portion of breakfast as you usually do, so you must have been in a hurry. Distantly, he remembers your fast food job. You probably got called to cover for someone at the last minute. Even so, shouldn’t you have said something to him? So that he wouldn’t wonder? Because he’s—

—well, you called him your friend.

It bothers him the more he thinks about it, while he showers and gets coffee and goes to class. The two of you haven’t talked since Monday and it feels weird. You always tell him when you’re going out, so what happened? Where can he even find you?

Not that he would need to find you. Sasha isn’t clingy. Clingy is his ex making alt account after alt account to pester him on instagram with stupid questions like, “are you seriously trying to ghost me you asshole?” And Sasha isn’t doing that. He hasn’t even texted you yet, because you haven’t texted him, and you always text first. If you don’t go through with the trouble of asking for him, he absolutely will not bother coming.

You haven’t sent so much as a “hey!” in the last seventeen times that he’s checked, so. Guess you guys aren’t hanging out. Whatever. It’s not like he doesn’t have stuff to do. He’s behind on several classes, a habitual skipper, and there are four other people begging him to come out tonight. He hasn’t hunted in a while so he should probably do that too.

He should go and talk to other humans, re-acquire their speech patterns and body language. He should catch himself when he makes gestures you would make, stop himself from making them. That’s why he goes to lunch with a friend group he met last month, and fits in with them seamlessly—or, almost seamlessly. No one can say he isn’t a good talker, slick as oil and quick with comebacks, but he’s a little more sensitive than usual today. While he’s in the middle of charming them he slips up and says something you would say.

“Isn’t that a Crater County reference you just made?” One girl says to him, stopping the conversation cold. “I thought you hated nerdy stuff like that.”

Sasha laughs shortly. “What? Says who?”

“Says you. You laughed at someone’s Supernatural tattoo at the party, remember?”

“It was a fucking horrendous tattoo. And I don’t like Crater Country or whatever, either, I just know some lines because my,” his throat feels like a desert, but he continues, “my roommate is obsessed with that shit.”

They brush over that thought soon enough, shifting focus to upcoming concerts, but Sasha can’t get comfortable again. He feels like he forgot how eyes work, and his are going to slip and turn reptilian in the middle of this well-populated restaurant. He’s scared his hands are going to morph into paws. In the end, he excuses himself before he can finish his meal.

Since he’s still quite hungry, Sasha decides he’ll drop by the butcher and get a few pounds of beef chuck to tide him over until dark. He’ll go to that fancy shop with all the grass-fed cruelty-free organic stuff, because he’s passionate about the well-fare of livestock, and definitely not because it’s just down the street from your job.

But since he’s there, anyway, he’ll pass by and peek through the windows to see what’s happening there.

Your restaurant is packed. A sports team, or special event or something, has filled every table in sight, and more people queue up at the register. You’re boxing fries and passing them over to waiting customers’ trays. Even though you’ve got mountains of food to work through, you’re smiling. It takes only a few seconds to find out why, following the arc of your eye up to a man in the same uniform as you.

The guy is tall and average-looking, and he keeps leaning toward you to talk like he doesn’t know how to speak loudly even though he works in a goddamn kitchen. Sasha doesn’t know him by face, or by word of mouth, since you’ve never told him about a co-worker that can make you giggle so much.

Why hadn’t you told Sasha about the funniest man of the century, huh?

More importantly, why hadn’t you noticed the way this asshole was looking at you? Staring so intently, exaggerating his expressions, mirroring you. All the same tricks Sasha has used before but with none of the grace, and yet somehow you liked it from this guy when Sasha had seemed scary to you.

He just can’t understand. That wouldn’t be such a problem if he hadn’t believed that he did understand you, and the way your mind worked. You had said Sasha was your friend and you had sat in the truth with him, relieved to see him for what he truly was, and you had been asking after his health and his happiness, wasting nights with him, cooking for him, cuddling up with him, and now here you were forgetting about his existence with another friend that he didn’t know about.

Sasha has been cheated on by a partner in the past. They left him one night and came back in the wee hours smelling like a fresh shower, with traces of someone else’s odor still clinging to them. It hadn’t felt like anything, to know that they were sneaking behind his back. Not a betrayal, no sting or ache in the heart he supposedly had. He broke up with them a week after, and that, like all his other breakups, was simply annoying. Sasha had always felt like he wasn’t with any of the people he was with. He was watching them, and touching them, and living among them, but there was some kind of invisible barrier between him and all the world. So when they broke a connection, well, what was there to even break? How could he care?

And why did being cheated on come to mind when he saw you happy with some other guy?

Sasha would later find out that you pulled a twelve hour shift that day, and, pushover that you were, you didn’t take a break long enough to check your phone. But he doesn’t stay to watch you, he really couldn’t. A pit had formed in his stomach, some void, some black hole that he had to attend to.

He leaves you there in your job and your apparent fun, none the wiser, and goes to the butcher. He gets himself a rack of ribs, and a few pounds of steak, and a heart just because the shop had one on hand and they were happy to serve a customer with such deep pockets as him. He gets a couple of cheeseburgers for the ride home and finishes them in a few bites.

As soon as he knows your other roommates aren’t home, he tears into the paper packaging of the prepared meats and gorges himself over the kitchen sink, soiling his shirt with myoglobin. It all tastes like ash, disappearing into him the way so many things do. When he’s done, when every last shred of flesh and sliver of bone has been swallowed, his stomach growls.

He’s always been this empty. Maybe that was the thing you saw that made you so afraid upon first meeting him—the bottomless trench that he actually was.

You said he was your friend. You knew what he was and didn’t back away. But you have so little else in your life. If you gained anything more, real friends, real family, a lover, wouldn’t someone as hollow and alien as Sasha be easily discarded?

There’s nothing for it. He has to go and hunt now.

Your co-worker is pitifully easy to discover. By checking the likes on your posts, he finds the creep has been hounding you for three weeks now. His unmitigated social media addiction leaves the entirety of his existence splatter across the internet. Sasha learns and forgets his name. He knows exactly what place he’ll be at tonight, with whom, for how long. He shifts to look exactly like you, heads out and stops at the right street corner with a bulky gym bag, waiting.

It’s so easy. Sasha can play You, but this guy hardly deserves all that effort. It’s enough to show up magically with your face, even if your clothes and piercings seem out of place. All Sasha has to do is bat lashes and flash a smile that he has already memorized—your stupid sincere grin that had made you, like the sun, difficult to look at directly—and this idiot thinks the person in front of him is really you, out on the same night by coincidence. He’s happy to see you, and happier still that you want to go somewhere together. He lets Sasha take him by the hand, convinced that the two of you are going out for drinks through innocuously empty backstreets. It doesn’t strike him as weird that you’re so energetic and flirty all of a sudden. Asshole.

He at least has the decency to carry the bag, no doubt hoping to come off as a gentleman.

“Why a duffel bag, anyway?” He marvels.

“To change clothes before I go home, silly,” Sasha tells him, leading him further into the night.

It turns out the co-worker is deeply uncomfortable with silence. He cracks jokes that aren’t funny, to which Sasha politely chuckles for what is only ten minutes but feels like an hour.

“When you kept turning me down,” he says, predictably, “I was worried you had a boyfriend or something.”

“Why would I not tell you if I had a boyfriend?” Sasha croons in your voice, fighting with all his will-power to not crush your co-worker’s hand. They’re finally on a quiet street, between two condemned houses, where there are no cameras and no pedestrians.

“Haha, I don’t know. You’re like, really private. That roommate you talk about all the time? The one going to the same school? I honestly feel like I know more about her than I know about you.”

“You mean, ‘him’? Sasha?” Sasha blinks owlishly with your eyes, his heart melting a little when he imagines you gushing about him to other people.

The guy laughs nervously. “No, I mean Maya. Is Sasha another roommate? Have you mentioned her before?”

Really. Maya. That “best friend” who basically pretends you don’t exist, who takes up valuable real estate in your mind when some people who have spent months getting to know you don’t even get a text.

Sasha gives up on looking friendly.

Your co-worker has finally sensed something is off, wincing as he tugs his hand out of Sasha’s vice-grip. Stretching out his fingers, he asks, “Hey, how much farther ‘til we get there? I swear we’ve passed like, three bars already...”

He doesn’t get to say more because Sasha lets out his teeth and goes for the throat.

It must be said that a warm meal always beats a cold one, but other that that it’s a shitty fare, gristly and lacking in flavor. This guy’s blood, fresh from the veins, is flat and forgettable. Even the marrow of his bones disappoints. At least he didn’t put up a fight...though maybe some enrichment could have saved this boring dinner.

Sasha feels more bloated than full when it’s all over. He wipes down and changes into fresh clothes, stuffing all the bloody garments into the duffel bag. He still feels kinda gross, and considers a long, hot shower while picking muscle fibers from between his teeth.

Are you going to worry about your co-worker? Are you going to miss him? Will you cry if they identify his blood on clothes found in the dump? Will you even tell Sasha why you’re crying?

Sasha snaps out of his deep thoughts when his phone buzzes. The text from you reads:

hey! i forgot to ask, are you on for crater county tonight?

What the fuck. Renewed frustration flushes through his system. What is he, your backup plan? He has a life—actually, many more lives than you! You should know better than to screw around with his time. He shouldn’t even dignify your bullshit with a response, but he does anyway—

At a party

And your answer is,

oh ok

we’ll watch it some other time

have fun!

…

Stay safe ok! Call me if you need something

It’s such a low blow he has to wonder if you’re doing it on purpose: you’re telling him all the same things he’s heard you tell Maya when she blows you off. He can hear the disappointment and embarrassment in your voice, the way you assure her of your eternal affection and concern while she practically dismisses you. Once he’s imagining your face, then, all he wants in the world is to look at it.

He’s a good runner. He’s barely out of breath when he arrives home, tossing aside his sweaty hoodie and kicking off his shoes while he quietly closes the door behind him. The dishwasher is running. He can just make out the low moan of the central air system, and one lazy heart thumping in the living room.

For a moment you don’t notice that Sasha is there. He gets to watch you quietly. You’re languishing on the couch in your bedclothes, staring blankly at the No Signal screen on the TV with a bowl of popcorn untouched on the coffee table. It surprises him. He hasn’t seen you with an expression this dull in a while.

But it disappears in an instant.

“Sasha!” You bolt upright, your face brightening like the sky at dawn when you find him standing in the doorway. “Did the party end already?”

He doesn’t know what to say.

You glance back at the TV. “Um, I swear I wasn’t going to watch without you! I was just…”

“Were you waiting for me?” He asks.

Your expression flickers, betraying the anxiety in your eyes before you have the chance to look away. Why did he even bother to ask? You’re here for him, like a puppy waiting for their owner, and suddenly he’s flushed and queasy—no, it’s not sickness that he feels, it’s butterflies. He’s so delighted he feels dumb, all of his frustration and embarrassing angst vanishing in an instant because all he can think of is how sweet you are.

“Ah,” he laughs dryly. “I’m screwed.”

Before you even know to cry out, he’s thrown himself at you, arms coiling around your waist. The two of you fall back on the couch.

When you get your bearings, you scold him. “Sasha, don’t just do that! You scared me!”

He mumbles, “I had a bad day.”

“...you did?” Your left hand cups his head, almost protectively, and your right strokes his back. “What happened? You’re not hurt, right? Are you hungry? I have some stuff in the fridge—”

“Can we just stay like this?” He asks.

“U-um. Well...” You must be thinking of your other roommates, who could walk in on this scene and “misunderstand” the relationship you have with him. You don’t want to cause weird rumors or tension. But he wants you so much he can’t pretend to be above it anymore. He squeezes you just a little bit, betraying his own desperation, so you say tenderly, “Of course we can.”

It’s scary to be honest. Sasha considers it contrary to his nature. However, he has never in his life avoided adapting or transforming to get what he wants. If he has to bare himself again to endear himself to you, he’ll do it.

“You’re the best friend I have,” he admits, “and I didn’t see you all day, and I missed you.”

Your heart quickens. “Sasha…”

“I know I’m being clingy. I just can’t help it. Say you missed me too. Say I matter to you.”

“I did miss you,” you murmur, your smile bleeding into your voice. You pull him closer. “It feels wrong when we don’t talk all day. And I worry about you, you know. I never see you make a proper meal.”

“I like it better when you make it. So keep cooking for me. Please.”

“I was going to do that anyway,” you say.

His whole body thrums with satisfaction. You care about him so much he can feel it all the way through. He’s soaking up your warmth and savoring your smell, face pressed into your neck. Twisting his hands into your shirt, he finds that he resents your clothes. He even resents your flesh and bones for barring direct access to your heart. Right now, though, he’s almost content with a body in his grasp, a pulse fluttering under his lips.

God help him, he’s been starving for this.

[rin-hanarin]

I realized that I've never addressed the elephant in Lucanis's room, also known as his romance plot, as a "Had been delusional about him for months before release" individual, so here's a surprisingly long rant/summary of how I felt about it in the process of playing the game.

As a Rook de Riva player, I obviously loved "Coffee with the Crows": we met Illario, joked about haha three Crows talking about nothing, talked business, Rook and Lucanis had a nice moment getting to know each other better outside of being teammates, Rook de Riva's background was acknowledged again, it really felt like a nice bonding moment, right?

Thennn a whole lot of nothing happens during any of the conversations between them, huh. Lucanis doesn't acknowledge flirting, which is fine, take your time bud, you'll get there; you keep pushing being supportive, he ignores you, you deal with his personal stuff for him one (1) time, and in my case he then proceeds to ignore Rook for 10+ hours of pure game time while busy talking to Neve at every opportunity until I finally get one (1) dialogue option to "express romantic interest in Lucanis".

And let me express my honest innermost feelings on the matter:

Not only did it feel like Lucanis genuinely couldn't care less about Rook even as a friend, it also felt like Rook was forcing Lucanis into something he simply wasn't interested in and that we were just getting in the way of his relationship with Neve. It was genuinely unpleasant to experience in a videogame that is supposed to be wish fulfillment and whatnot, and let me tell you, it was especially jarring because Dragon Age games also have a tendency of occasionally making you feel like the most special little protagonist known to Thedas, at the very least to your companions who you're supposedly building bonds with.

I loved hangout events in this game, too, I was so happy to just have these conversations about whatever with companions, have these little one-on-one moments with them that genuinely felt like walks with friends (especially with my bro my bestie my homie Davrin), and with Lucanis it started and ended with the coffee date. His fears and doubts about Rook later are never addressed, and lol lmao even, yeah, why would they be, when it feels like he barely acknowledges Rook exists outside of accompanying him to deal with his problems, none of which need Rook there? There's no reason outside of gameplay for him to ask Rook and not, say, his favorite Neve he talks about everything to? Somehow a lot of times when I hoped for any sort of dialogue with him, I was met with him talking about something very personal like his current feelings about Illario to Neve, like, isn't Rook supposed to know anything about anything, or are we just his convenient weird coworker he sometimes asks favours from?

We persevere though and keep supporting Lucanis, and can you take a wild guess what was waiting for me after like 40 hours of the game and after the infamous "kabedon assassin style" scene? Yeah bro, Lucanis just happened to talk to Neve. I wish I was making this shit up. My coping strategy was to come up with an entire jealousy subplot for my Rook because if I have to feel like I'm in the shittiest unrequited situationship of a triangular shape, I might as well do it on my own terms, right? It feels petty and stupid because as a player I like Neve, too, she's one of the coolest (no pun intended) characters, but as Rook, and Rook de Riva making an obvious choice especially? Yeah, let's just say this relationship fucking sucked for a while.

So after many trials and tribulations we're finally back with Inner Demons, and yeah, Neve is there again, I couldn't even give a shit at that point, and I'll be real here, the locking in didn't feel like we went through angsty slowburn or that we earned Lucanis' trust. Remember DA2's Fenris situation? Because I suddenly did, and surely one of many, many Neve banters I had to eavesdrop on could be sacrificed to have one or two banters that acknowledged Lucanis's anything towards Rook at all?

Also, Spite? Spite seemingly likes Rook more than Lucanis does. In between "It's so over" and "We're so back" in the Fade Ossuary it feels like somehow Rook gets more bonding time with Spite, which is kinda crazy to me.

We are so back though! As I mentioned, I was a "delusional before release" individual, I am perfectly capable of filling the gaps and extrapolating meaning from implications, and here's where one of the most infuriating things is: the rest of the romance is good, too! I can write whatever the hell I want between the beginning and the end of it, but like, why should I? How should I go about it, when in my game I was under the impression that Lucanis would rather just spend time with anyone other than Rook for seemingly no reason in particular, because there's simply nothing there? The fact that none of my pre-release ideas or comics even necessarily contradict anything about Lucanis or his romance as it is now is more telling than impressive honestly.

So where do I land with this exactly? Well, mostly in the glorious Fanon Land where I've been making my silly comics the whole time anyway. The highs are high, I love what they did at the end and how stable, protective and devoted Lucanis is, but the lows made me salty as shit and I wish I didn't have to feel that way to begin with. I wish I didn't have to connect the dots and joke about how badly Lucanis sucks at this and "Let's go girl give us nothing." And yes, I know about writer lay-offs, rewrites, restarts, etc etc, and it's a miracle that this game came out at all, but it hardly matters when you're just trying to do the good old datesim part of a Dragon Age game and end up feeling like a third wheel while trying very hard to get anything out of the character you're interested in.

[autumnhobbit]

Genuinely think half the problem here is a lot of parents are not in a place themselves where they can teach their kids how to recognize when something is good, and how to handle the intricacies of emotions, attraction, and decency while navigating social relationships with other people.

When I was growing up, the way adults talked about relationships, both amidst themselves and directly to me, gave me the idea that marriage just sort of happened, like it was something you tripped into without conscious choice and were now stuck with. This led to a conclusion by me that any male I met could possibly be my future husband, which colored every interaction with stress and awkwardness and fear and kept me from actually being normal around other kids, because I had artificially inserted this importance into interactions that should have just been. Well. Interactions.

Looking back on it now, I can see that every single crush I had had absolutely nothing to do with looking at another person objectively, judging their character and decency, or even seeing if I liked them; if they made me feel safe, or engaged, or reinvigorated. I only had crushes on boys who I found cute or attractive. None of those necessary thoughts ever went into it, and none of the boys even liked or noticed me. Maybe one or two of them were actually people I liked and talked to. Hindsight also helps me see that when a guy was interested in me or had a crush on me, I was oblivious to it and was incredibly uncomfortable, because we were all kids and didn’t know how to talk or act and it just came off like them showing off around me or trying to talk to me when I didn’t know them, which led to avoidance on my part.

My husband was the first guy I ever met whom I actually liked and was interested in, and he was the first one who actually seemed openly interested in me. When I daydreamed about marriage as a kid, the only thing I thought about was a boy liking me. I never thought about what I would like about him, just about being appreciated and valued myself. Selfish, right? But I was emotionally neglected and it came out as desperately longing to be important to someone. And then when I found it, I realized it naturally came with a reciprocal effect on me. I do find my husband fascinating and comforting and I enjoy his company, I want to do things with him, experience new things with him, build a life with him. That couldn’t have happened if I dismissed him right away because I wanted to avoid the awkwardness of getting to know him.

I am aware we got incredibly lucky with each other, and I’m grateful for it. But what we have also took work that we both consciously chose to do. We had the guidelines of knowing that premarital sex wasn’t an option for us, and that certainly helped. But it’s tragic to think how many people could build happiness with someone if they could just let go of their fantasies and expectations long enough to see what’s really there and what could be if there’s mutual effort. But how could they? No one taught them, because no one knew how themselves. So many families of origin weren’t formed by conscious choice but by natural consequences of behavior, even if your parents are decently healthy and love you, they might well have no clue how to navigate relationships with others.

trads who use the term "courtship" are an immediate red flag to me

[plurapony]

How the Mane Six would react if you told them you're a system!

1. Fluttershy

"I'm sorry I don't know what this is can you explain it to me? [after explaining] oh okay! I'll be sure to make sure I'll be kind to whichever one of you I meet!"

Always makes sure she's not offending you in any way, doesn't want to get anything wrong.

Wants to ask more questions because she's curious but feels it might be too invasive so just keeps her questions to herself and asks Twilight Sparkle later on.

Super kind to nonhuman and little alters and acts as a caretaker.

2. Rainbow Dash

"Oh no way! You really have all that stuff happen in your head? Can I talk to them too?"

Doesn't really understand much about systems but is very interested whenever you talk about it.

Whenever any of your alters talk to her she gets so incredibly excited about it and talks to them eagerly.

Sometimes gets things wrong on purpose just so you can correct her and explain more about being a system.

3. Pinkie Pie

"WAIT OH MY GOD DID YOU ENTER THE MIRROR POOL TOO? DID YOU GUYS DESTROY THE TOWN???"

Is convinced that she has the same experience as you and she knows what it's like to be a system. (Maybe she does?)

Doesn't really understand but her heart is in the right place.

She's encouraged your alters to go into the mirror pool to get separate bodies on several occasions.

Screams at anyone who is mean to you and is very protective over you.

4. Applejack

"Sugar I really don't understand what you're talking about, but I'll help in any way I can"

Makes you feel extremely comfortable even though she doesn't completely understand.

Never judges any alters that you split and treats them all as equals and how she treats you.

Stands by your side whenever other people are making you uncomfortable, ready to defend you as soon as you want her too.

5. Twilight Sparkle

"Oh Dissociative Identity Disorder! I've read about this in one of my books! Let me know what I can do to help!"

Has asked you to take part in several experiments so that she can write her on paper on DID.

Whenever you vent about being a system to her you notice she's got a notebook and she's furiously scribbling down notes.

You always feel so reassured while around Twilight she genuinely cares about your system a lot.

6. Rarity

"So my dear, each of you have different personalities? So I can make a different outfit for each alter?"

Made different dresses and outfits for each of your alters that encompassed their personalities and made them feel comfortable.

Doesn't ever pry about system stuff and just treats all your alters as individuals.

THAT'S ALL FOLKS!!!! LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT MORE PONY PERSPECTIVES!!!!!

[IMAGE ID: ponyville is a (pro) endo free zone break dni and get blocked loser! END ID]

[professeurm]

so, uh, I do this thing when I'm bored or need to calm myself and that's telling myself a story. typically i do fics and in my head unless im completely alone. yes, I love talking to myself

these stories goes on and on, like i flesh out a whole plot and everything. it might as well be a whole book and sometimes it helps me get pass a trick part in a fic im writing or helps me work out the plot. it also sometimes gets written down because I'm like "this worth writing down"

this going to be long. read if you dare 😂

now the reason why I'm telling yall this is because my best buddy, @the-torchwood-magician , got me hook on Malcolm Merlyn. We both love his character and would talk for hours about him like we're teenagers in heat 🤣🤣

we also both love Ianto Jones and I honestly do not need explain why 😂. They introduce me to a ship, which I had no clue it existed, that consisted of Malcolm and Ianto. Even introduced me to a few fics and let me tell yall, I'm interested and hook.

My current story I'm telling myself consist of the pair, where Ianto gets hire as Malcolm assistant (similar to how Felicity is Oliver assistant) and Malcolm is suspicious that the young man is perfect for the job, even perfect for a higher position. Which shocks him because either something isn't right or the guy is just really smart for his age and modest.

He hires him anyway because of his genuine curiosity and Ianto fits in quickly. He works hard and efficiently, even knows what Malcolm needs before he asks him. Malcolm grew fond of him, appreciate his contribute to the company and him. Though that didn't make his suspicions go away so he did a background check. clean records so he had to go old fashion, but little does he knows Ianto isn't the one to share or talk.

yes, this a love story. a slow one in matter of fact

they're relationship won't have a label. this is because I'm pulling a James Wilson, which is Ianto is convinced he's straight but he's still in the closet and in denial despite having feelings for his boss/friend. Also Malcolm heart belongs to his dead wife so he's sort torn between that and his new boy lover.

this won't have a happy ending... letting yall know. I'm like a rabid dog when there's a happy ending, but there will be a twist in the end. basically a cliffhanger

question is... should I put this on ao3..

[creatingblackcharacters]

dia duit! i hope you are well. before i start my ask, i just wanted to say i rlly appreciate ur blog and the MASSIVE amount of work u do, its a testament to ur character and the website as a whole is better off bcs of u.

i was just wondering whether i could get input from yourself, or you followers, abt a character in a story i am writing currently. i myself am a white irish guy, and my story is set in a rural coastal village in the south west of ireland. one of two main characters is a Black woman called mary francis. her dad is a Black man from america whom her white irish mother met while working in america in her twenties, and they moved to ireland, back to the village mary's mam is from, when mary was a toddler. her dad was a professor of literature in [insert american university here], but tbh he didnt like lecturing much bcs he's not a massive fan of public speaking and so when they moved to ireland he rlly appreciated the solitude and space and time to read, and currently he works remotely for an irish university writing articles and the like. mary herself works at and runs the local newsagents, and she is the captain of the parish camogie team. she is a pov character and central to the stories conflict, which is based vaguely off the corrib gas controversy (when shell was extracting gas off the coast of a gaeltacht village, which protested the gas pipe and the onshore gas production as being dangerous to them and the wildlife, and were met with disgusting and disproportionate opposition from the gardaí (irish cops) and private security firms). mary is the head of the protest group against the company doing the mining of a strange new (unearthly) fuel found under the sea off the coast of her village.

my questions centre around 2 concerns. first is that mary is a Black woman in a small rural irish village and ofc there would be some prejudice and anti-Blackness directed towards her. however, i dont want her to be disconnected from her community and have her side of the story be a pure miseryfest while the white characters are havin a grand time. im torn between havin a realistic portrayal of the genuine struggles and racism Black people have to face in ireland, and not wanting mary to be disproportionally unhappy. altho the story deals with a lot of heavy things (environmental destruction, the impact of colonialism on the physical and emotional landscape of a place, neo capitalism, grief, etc) at the end of the day it is a fantasy story with a fair amount of escapism, and i dont want realism to come at the expense of the escapism of Black readers. i know there would be many different opinions on this ofc but i was hoping perhaps ur Black irish followers if u have any might weigh in le bhur dtoil a chairde?

the second concern is that in the real life controversy this story is (vry vry vry loosely) based off, the gardaí and private security firms used force against the protestors, which is true in my story as well, and im worried, given that mary is the head of the protest group and heavily active in protesting, there would be similarities to real life police brutality against Black people. do u have any thoughts/ideas/concerns abt this aspect of the story? as i said before, i dont want the story to be fierce traumatic for mary, and i was plannin that at protests the other protestors would make a point of protectin her and making sure she is alright and not letting the gardaí etc get near her.

thank u so much for all the effort and care that goes into running this blog, and i hope all goes well for u. sorry this ask is so long! also if anyone has any suggestions for what state/university mary's dad should be from, pls let me know bcs idk anythin abt america rlly. go n-éirí leat le gach rud atá á dhéanamh agat faoi láthair a chara <3333

Dia duit! I must admit, I respect so much that you're using Irish in this! I know that's right 😤 make me look that shit up! Thank you for introducing me to the game of camogie, that's some new level sportery. And thank you 🙏🏾

Mary Francis 🤣 yeah this is Irish, all right.

Well first, pick an HBCU!!! omg please pick an HBCU for Black Dad to graduate from, I would love that. They're organized by state on there, and granted if you don't know any states that's fine but given his background, maybe pick one with a literature program that stands out to you? Howard, Clark Atlanta, and Morehouse are easy ones too.

As for your story, well... You don't have to surround the story in her trauma. Like, there doesn't HAVE to be some overtly racist mf in her face making her life difficult. But you cannot have police violence in the story, via the police fighting against the protestors, without recognizing that yeah, there is gonna be some... Racial Context as to how we will be treated, or how her words will be translated versus if someone else had spoken them. For example, very often a Black woman and nonblack woman can say the very same thing, but only the Black woman will be deemed "aggressive" for it. So as a leader, she's gonna have to swallow stuff like that.

You mention that the other protestors recognize her position, and will try to keep her safe. That's another good example. In that, make sure you're able to convey WHY that is important. You don't have to say outright "well we've gotta protect Mary Francis because she's Black". Just a showing of the allyship in the moment, of people checking on her, of noticing when people are being more aggressive with her than they are with her nonblack and white peers- both when they're there and when she's on her own. Integrating things like that allow us as the readers to know that there are moments where her race is affecting how she's being treated. Because in real life, that's how it goes down. It's never really Stated, it's just a fact of life. Most of dealing with racism is just that; day to day microaggressive shit you have to maneuver.

And you're welcome!

[khaire-traveler]

Hello there! I'm very new to hellenic polytheism and came across a question that I am not sure how to approach. I would be really grateful if you could let me know your thoughts on this (please don't feel obligated or anything, tho. I know I am just a random person asking a random question 🫣). So, for a while now, I've been getting more into greek mythology and from there into fandoms that depict the deities (e.g. Epic the musical which I love a lot). Would you say it is inappropriate to seek out fanfiction or fanart (especially those including ships) in those fandoms, or should I refrain from doing that as it would be disrespectful? Or are there limits I should be aware of? Thank you so much should you choose to answer this 💜 (I apologise for missing paragraphs. I am not sure how to do those on mobile.) (Also, is there a right way to end these kinds of letters/messages/questions? Like a way to express my gratefulness?) (Sorry if none of this makes sense. I always get anxious messaging strangers, but I couldn't find answers anywhere, so I thought I'd just ask🫣)

Khaire, Melie!

Ah, yes. The age-old question. How sinful is fanfiction, exactly? /joke (wanted to start this off light-hearted)

In all seriousness, I'll start with this: If you want to know how the gods feel about it, ask them. There is no better answer than the one that comes directly from the source. I understand the nerves around asking this question; some Hellenic Polytheists feel VERY strongly about it, and honestly, seeing their strong opinions has made me doubt my own interests in such media. Remember that some rando's opinion online, however, isn't the law, regardless of how strongly they feel about it or how desperately they want you to do exactly what they're doing. Opinions are opinions; facts are facts - they are separate things. Personally - and this is MY opinion -I think never engaging with modern media depicting the gods is a little too strict of an approach, and by following that, I feel that a lot of people are banning themselves from engaging with fictional media that they might enjoy. Each piece of modern media about the gods is a creative interpretation of Greek mythology, and people have been doing this kind of thing with other religions - that they don't believe in - for AGES. It's entirely normal, even if it is kind of annoying sometimes. Now, some retellings, games, shows, etc. genuinely take things too far, in my opinion, and warp the mythology so completely that it might as well be a different story entirely. I'm bordering on a tangent, so I'll move on.

Modern media about the gods isn't an inherently abhorrent, evil thing that should always be avoided, however, but personally, I do draw the line of engagement at shipping.

First and foremost, live your life the way you want to. Engage with your practice however you wish. I'm not the law-maker of this religion - no one is - and while I might disagree with someone's approach, I'm not going to shit all over them for doing things differently from myself. Now, into my opinion. I don't think shipping gods - be it from a modern form of media or not - that you worship is appropriate, personally. In my experience, it will blur your actual perception of those gods. I've seen it happen over and over again that people confuse the fictional representation of their God in media with the actual god, then feel the need to distance themselves from the media in order to regain something they feel that they lost. Like I said, you do whatever you wish, but I find it's just better to avoid the awkwardness of shipping entirely.

If you want to read fanfiction about the gods in fictional media, go for it, but I'm not personally a big fan of that. I don't know how the gods feel about it; I can't speak for them (no one can). For all I know, they could be reading the fanfiction themselves and laughing their asses off, who knows? But as a worshipper, I'm not personally comfortable with the idea of reading it. Again, do what you want with your life. If you want to read some spicy fanfic of one god with another, I'm literally not going to stop you, but make sure you're able to separate the fictional characters from the gods you actually worship before you do so - that's my advice. Too often, people end up conflating the two. When a fandom or fanfiction begins affecting your worship, practice, or even just the way you view the gods, that's when it's a problem.

I think the community has been torn on the topic of modern media for a while. Some people love it, while others utterly despise it, and you'll notice that answers will vary from person to person. In my opinion, these pieces of media become problematic when they swarm the fuck out of a small religious community that already struggles to be taken seriously. An example of this is what happened with Lore Olympus a while back. When the comic got popular, a ton of people would swarm and attack worshippers of Apollo online, calling them all sorts of extremely vile things, all because of a comic that literally wasn't even mythologically accurate. In my opinion, fandoms can get out of control sometimes, and when you're engaging with one based around the gods, I advise you to just be careful and aware. For some people, fanart and fanfiction of the gods are extremely uncomfortable, similarly to if someone were to ship Buddha with Jesus in the regard that it just...feels weird for people who actually worship those figures. Other people could care less, being able to fully separate the fictional characters from the gods they worship. Base it on your comfort, and the comfort of your gods.

I hope this helped to give you my perspective. I'm not going to tell you what is or isn't the right choice because honestly, different people will give you a different answer, and I'm anything but a religious authority. You're allowed to do as you wish, but I will always advise you to tread with caution and check in with yourself about how it feels for you personally. Reach out to your gods and directly ask them (such as through tarot, or another form of divination), "Hey, how do you feel about me engaging with this?" Asking directly is ALWAYS a good idea, in my experience. Take care, Melie. 🧡

[yellbug]

hey i keep seeing a really disdainful post on my dash about how the op is sick of women talking about how they have body dysmorphia. it's really weird and cruel and I don't want to reblog it, but I also don't want to see any more posts like that and I want to talk about why. In short, believing in vanity and that I was doing the sin of vanity by obsessive-compulsively agonizing about my appearance did not help with my body dysmorphia, and I don't think it would be effective for a single human being alive.

believe me I know people look down on me for having this problem because it's "not real" and I could "just get over it".

to give an idea of it, when it was bad it felt and looked to me as if my face was melting or being pulled in different directions by hooks. you can talk a big game about how when you talk about this you're not talking about "legitimate" cases if you want to, and you might even believe it yourself, but I think that's a bunch of fucking horseshit. I think people who are in agony over their appearance and who see themselves as monstrous when to others they appear normal have body dysmorphia.

I totally get how people agonizing over this towards you could make your own issues worse. it is worth complaining about a culture that makes a pastime of self-loathing for women. It is also definitely complicated and inconvenient to be around a delusional person. However, I would suggest that if your problem is that people are coming to you with stuff like this, that you set boundaries about it. I certainly had to. there are people who I have told I will no longer talk about their body issues because I cannot do it.

The MAIN thing that helped me was escaping from the environment that caused these distortions and being around people who see me in a genuine way. But when I did used to encounter disdain about having this problem the most often, it sounded just like this and made everything worse. because this is really misogynist. The evil self-destructive vanity of women is a very very old idea and it is oppressive. it doesnt help body dysmorphia at all to talk about people like me with so much contempt, or to call us stupid as op does later in the post.

It also helped me a lot to approach my appearance in a curious, interested way and try to let go of the weird awful misogynist hatred that permeates that post. I think it can be really scary to try and be kind about this towards yourself and stop punishing yourself for vanity.

I don't know if I would have ever been able to get better if I had not been able to get away from the environments that were causing this in me. And if i had been less fortunate, I wouldn't have. Anyway I don't want to see any more posts like this and I'm shocked it crossed my dash in the first place.

[kittomykat]

Probably not gonna finish this, so have at it.

🔞🔞Sub Vik/Dom Reader || No reader anatomy discussed, Vik steals your undies lol

Vik steals your underwear, shaky hands reach down to palm his growing erection. Coaxing it to life as he doesn't know how much time he has in this moment. You might be there any second. He thinks about what you might do if you catch him there, fist full of your underwear and canting his hips back and forth. He considers your disgusted face, brows furrowed and stiff lips, and somehow that excites him. He then considers if you'd like to play along. If you'd sink to the floor on your knees and swallow him whole. Or better yet, force him on his knees and you can show him something even better than just your used underwear.

He's fully hard now and he spreads his legs open in the chair he's laid over, hurriedly unfastening his pants. He lets out a heavy sigh as he runs his fingers over his dick, he wishes he could taste you. His tongue slips out for just a moment, wets his lips, and touches the fabric gently. He imagines what it's like with you, would you run your fingers gently through his hair? Would you grab him roughly and ride his face? He grows lightheaded at the thought, and his wrist slowly services himself. The door clicks open.

Your voice is soft, eyes searching the room as he lays on the chair perfectly still. Your eyes find his and you gasp, shock washing over you and boiling into interest. He doesn't need to know that, though. Your expression falls, and you enter the room fully, not breaking eye contact and closing the door behind you. He inhales, fingers still around his dick, and waits.

So do you. You stand and watch him, stiff lips and eyes unmoving. He suddenly feels a wave, a typhoon of shame reaching from his neck down to his toes. He starts to move, lowering the stolen underwear and opening his mouth.

You smile.

You love making him squirm, keeping up the facade of anger was so fun. You smile and walk towards him, arms crossed.

"I didn't think you were that much of a pervert."

The shame that washed over him returns, but this time it makes his dick twitch. Your eyes scan him, committing this scene to memory and you start to speak.

"Can you get on your knees?" Voice soft but firm. It's an agreement all the same as he slowly maneuvers himself from the chair down into the floor. In two steps, you close the distance, legs shoulder width apart, watching Viktor's trembling chin only inches from your sex. He looks down, the shame from before simmers in his gut and he lets go of his dick. His hands rub at his thighs, hoping you'll make a move soon.

Your soft hand traces his temple, to his cheek bone, and then to his chin. Slowly pressing it upwards to look at you, you smile.

"Having fun?" It was a genuine question, you'd never seen him act out like this before. He nods.

"Did you want me to catch you?" His eyes break away, thinking, considering what he should say and how he should say it. You can see the gears turning in his head, it's so charming.

"Vitya," his eyes snap back to yours, lips parted. "I asked you a question, my love."

"Yes. I wanted you to catch me. I wanted to see what you'd do."

Your head tilts as you think. Your eyes hold his in place, the soft amber which reflects all the love you give him and doubles it.

"So I've caught you, malen'kaya myshka. What shall I do with you now?"

He swallows.

________

Wrote this a few months ago and I never got the urge to write more, so here's a nice little daydream for you. ♥

[marauders-bs]

MCD MCD MCD YOU WERE WARNED

the happy is really good though

just to let yall know this is set on hallows eve. its clear in my mind but eh. ali got it but theyre also like, the other half of my brain

Regulus grabs the sides of James's face, smiling just a little. "Shut the fuck up."

James grins, thinking he might know where this is going. Or he could get hexed.

Regulus surges up and kisses him. James doesn't really get a choice what his hands do; he kisses Regulus back as his hands wins up in the other boy's hair.

They break briefly, both smiling as they pull each other back in.

-

They're running now and it can't be earlier than midnight. It turns out that Regulus told Remus, so he's covering for them as they sprint hand in hand to the forest.

"Why are we like this?" Reg asks, his smile transforming his features and sweet Merlin, James really, really, likes him.

"We just are," James responds, and Regulus laughs and pulls him close.

-

"-Ooh, and I'm so pissed at Slughorn, Salazar he has one job and he can't even do it right!"

James laughs, running his fingers through Reg's hair. "Yeah?'

"'Can't put you in a fifth-year class, sorry boyo!' Ok, dick, just admit you hate me."

"If he hates you, I'll light the Potions storeroom on fire," James says, completely genuine. He'd do it.

"Thanks," Regulus says, and he looks up at James with his eyes soft and smiling, and James is so happy he could- he doesn't even know what.

-

Reg found the Room of Requirement.

"Oh, sweet Godric, Reg, we've been looking for this for years! You're just better than us," James says, looking around at the room.

"We already knew that, though," Regulus says, laughing when James nudges him playfully.

"You're my favorite," James says, pulling the other boy close.

"I know," Reg replies, turning a smug smile up to his boyfriend.

-

"Ooh, for the first time in my life I'm thankful I wan't born a boy," Reg says, bouncing into the Room. "Mother told me over the break that if I was a proper boy I'd have married Narcissa! It's bullshit, she and I are practically identical."

James isn't quite processing. He'll never get used to his boyfriend's - boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend James is going to do a flip - morning happiness. "Narcissa, like your cousin?"

"Yup," Reg answers, curling up into James's side. "It's the Black's longstanding tradition of marrying their cousins."

"That's not- whatever. And you are a proper boy, you know that, right?"

Regulus looks down, hiding his face.

"Reg, look at me," James says. He waits until his boyfriend - James is never, ever going to get over this fact - looks at him to continue. "You're just as much of a boy as I am. Probably more."

Regulus smiles, and James will always love it when that's directed at him. "Yeah."

-

The memories are flooding back. Why can't he have them longer? Why did Voldemort have to show up? Why couldn't Peter have just done his job?

Why can't he ever protect anyone?

Why are his final thoughts so sad?