#Had to rework this I hated the first take

[greykorvian]

sume more mech design exploration for the good of my mental health.

[radiocrypt-id]

The bad kids haven't really looked too closely at the Rat Grinders (meta wise I know it's a commentary on different play styles and how shitty xp farming is and how op players/parties can become by doing the bare minimum if they put in the time while everyone else plays the damn game) but I find the split perspective problems absolutely fascinating. I can't wait for the Bad Kids to look at the Rat Grinders with envy and anger that the Rat Grinders got to live a normal highschool life without all this insane danger and experience being a teenager without it being the end of the world for them. Right now they just hate the Rat Grinders energy and are matching it back (which is a very high school thing to do. To have beef with a whole other group of kids and not even know why but you'll die on this hill because they started shit first)

Because to the Rat Grinders, from a purely outside perspective, the Bad Kids are fucking monarchs of the school, right? They skipped classes, ran around town, fought people, got arrested, hung out with a big devil? Every new staff member came at their recommendation? One of them has both her dads working at the school?? The destroyed school property, got teachers killed, straight murdered the coach? These fucking kids run around and are apparently scott-free? because the principal liked their chaos enough to let it go and help them avoid the police? To the Rat Grinders, the Bad Kids are untouchable. They're exempt from the law. They're liars, cheats and need to be humbled. It's unfair. From everyone elses perspective, it really does look like the Bad Kids have been given crazy favourtism.

Meanwhile, all of the Bad Kids have died at least once. They've been irreparably changed and are in a constant state of fight or flight. They assume everything is dangerous and anyone might be an enemy because for two goddamn years that was the exact case! They couldn't trust any adult first year! Literally anyone could have been infected with Kalina second year! who knows what happened with the Night Yord but I fucking bet they had issues with Yorbies pretending to be helpful just to kill them! Everyone, for two years, has been out to get them! They can't even sleep! And now they have to grind so hard or they fail. Adaine has a seemingly full time job after school basically every day because she literally can't afford to live? Fabian has taken on the most physically strenuous classes and sport one dude could and has dreams of also being a social legend because he's fucking lonely in that big house and he just wants to fill it. If anyone in the party fails or dies Riz is shit out of luck and wont ever get into a university? He so desperately wants his friends with him so he's working over time and ignoring his limits to make up for his party members not caring about the future. Fig is going through the strangest arc I've ever seen in my life? she's hard avoidant and taking three classes, so a 250% work load, because she's desperate to fill her time so she can't think about all the other work she has to do that if she ignores too long could crush her under the debt of her band from her label, or how alone she feels without her girlfriend around. Gorgug is so desperate to prove himself that he's doing four years of school work in one, trying to play catch up and also prove himself at the same time, he's taking it all so seriously but also is so fucking tired. And Kristen. Mother fucking Kristen "hey girlie" applebees. Expected to dedicate her life to a god with no direction, with the weight of failure being her gods death, while also being in school and also at your friends insistence needing to run for student body president and getting your priorities so mixed up and being completely left behind by her peers who didn't have to rework their entire world view and understanding of life in the span of a few months every few months.

The Bad Kids are in a terrible place. They're suffering. I want them to just say it out loud, to stop pretending they have it handled and are fine. I want Riz and Adaine to yell at the party to get their shit together. I want Fabian to tell someone how alone and abandoned her feels. I want Kristen to scream at Cassandra that she agrees, that it's not fair, she's just a kid, how could she be enough all on her own with no help? It sucks a god can only rely on a child, for both the god and child! They're both suffering from this arrangement! Neither is happy! I want Gorgug to beat the shit out of Porter with his inventions and rage at the same time, to make the best shit and use it in the most stunning way anyone has ever seen. I want Fig to finally get some freaking help, to have her teachers and parents reach out in a meaningful way and stop telling her to figure it out alone because clearly the pressure is too much for her to handle and she's drowning. I want someone, anyone, to look at the Bad Kids and tell them to stop. To help them. But I know it wont be that easy. I know it'll be the Rat Grinders yelling at how unfair it is the Bad kids get everything while they're on the sidelines that'll get under the Bad Kids skin and they'll yell about how awesome they are and that they didn't ask for any of this shit to happen to them and to fuck off. I know it's gonna get so much worse before it gets better. I know they'll figure it out and that it'll be a painful road there.

[valiantverses]

Tremors

Ghoap X Reader

Summary: A therapist's waiting room wasn't exactly the place to have the most engrossing conversations. People were usually jittery, tense, or straight-up despondent. Somehow, you manage to strike a strange sort of connection with the retired military couple that had the Thursday slot just after you anyway.

Trigger Warning: Angsty. Discussions of Soap's injuries, the reader has mental health struggles and everyone has communication difficulties to some degree.

A/N: Scuttling out of the woodwork after having a pain flare, a breakdown, a career shift and getting some life altering surgery. Here's a new series while I rework all my previous writing!

Comments, questions, requests and constructive criticisms are welcome. Hate is boring and will go unacknowledged.

_

Maybe therapy wasn't for you.

Baring your soul to a total stranger and unearthing your life to be scrutinised by somebody. Then having that somebody turn around and drop you as a client because you were 'beyond their scope' and recommending you to someone else. It left an acrid sort of burn at the back of your throat as you settled into the sofa in the cheery waiting room of your hastily found counsellor.

Tick.

The leather underneath your fingers was squeaky. Static-y. The kind of leather where the grooves of the well-worn parts of the couch were buttery smooth and a slightly darker shade of black until it reached the bits that weren't quite as worn.

Tock.

The sound of papers shuffling and a low voice calling out a name drew your attention. It wasn't yours. Wordlessly, you watched a woman to your left stand up. The rubber of her cane cracked across the linoleum as she she signed her name on to the clip board at the desk, murmured her greetings to the therapist and made her way inside, the door shutting with a soft click.

Tick.

St. Jude-Thaddeus Hospital's Rehabilitation and Pain Management Clinic had the honour of being the only facility of any sort in your area that offered psycotherapy services. Affordable ones, anyway. Something to do with being integrated into the Ministry of Defense Hospital Units for disabled veterans- but you didn't need to know, so you didn't ask.

You'd take what you could get.

Tock.

You glance up at the clock once more, seeing that you were now close to 10 minutes to your first ever appointment with this therapist. A part of you wanted to fast forward the next 40 minutes of your day. Maybe the next few hours. Get to the point where your obligations were done and the first meeting was over and done with.

Tick.

When the door opens next, you don't look up this time. You try to contain the shake of your hands and focus on that squeaky leather underneath you. The thumps of footsteps don't register before the slight sink of the couch does. When you glance up, it is to the bluest eyes you could imagine.

He was handsome, a part of your brain helpfully informed you. Dark eyelashes framing a sort of azure blue, shards of indigo flecked about like sleet in the rain. His tanned skin had that slight leatheriness that could only come from working under the sun, the hand jutted out towards you littered with callouses-

"-hnny MacTavish, haven't seen you round here before."

Your hand moves mechanically to accept his handshake, mouth producing syllables you knew was supposed to be your name.

Realising the beat of conversation had stretched on longer than it should and it was now your turn to fulfill your part of the social contract that the stranger had looped you into, you broke eye contact and glanced back down at the worn linoleum.

"It's my first time."

There was a snort to the other side of you, from a bulky man sat diagonally from the line of chairs you and Johnny were sat in.

You quickly ammend your statement "-with this therapist. Just moved in."

His bulk seemed to carve away the space of the room, hulking shoulders leading to a thickly corded neck, lower face covered in a black face mask and his eyes a thin ring of deep ocean blue. What little skin you could see of his face looked sallow. Drained.

"Ignore tha' git. Insists on tagging along with me like I'm a wee wain and wreaks havoc of all sorts." The voice from your left supplied as you quickly began reassessing the relationship between the two strangers you found yourself in the middle of.

"You two know each other?"

There was a rumble to your left, a deep bass-y sound you realised was laughter. "Could say that, ma'am. "

"My partner," Johnny supplied, eyeroll evident in his voice as you turned to look at him once more. It was a little overwhelming having to keep turning your head to and fro because of the way the chairs were positioned, and your fingers dug into the leather once more.

Slippery, smooth. Pebbled with some long indentations.

"That's Simon. We've been at this shrink for give or take four months now-"

"Fifteen weeks."

"*-would'a noticed a bonnie lass like you on our weekly, enlightening visits." His quip was cheery, but there was an element of sarcasm you couldn't quite place.

This conversation felt like navigating a field full of landmines. Couldn't ask about his condition, why the weekly visits rather than the gold standard (That is, the national healthcare coverage) of every two weeks, why fifteen weeks- so you asked the only thing you felt you could.

"She any good? The counselor, I mean."

Johnny blinked, head tilting and making eye contact with his partner - Simon - there was a flash of something twisting across his face as the wordless conversation happened in a split second.

It was fascinating. The sort of communication that only happened when two people had an intimate well of knowledge of the other person.

Then dawn broke across Johnny's face and he turned back to you with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Aye, lass. Not afraid to crack into your brain and really dig around. Well good laugh too, great to interact with given I've really only spoken to four people or so since I retired an' all."

You tried not to read between the lines. Tried not to stare at the way he leaned back to rub at the jagged line across his scalp, the puckered edges evident under the peach fuzz of dark hair. He was giving you what he could without dragging a stranger into his own vortex of struggles. You could relate.

"Retired? From military service?"

Regret looked different on people's faces. For some, there was a grimace. Maybe a slight widening of the eyes in realisation, or a hitch in their breath. Self-reproach for bringing it up in the first place. For Johnny, it appeared to be a slight furrowing of his brows and a darkening of his sky blue eyes as he edged backwards.

A cough and the scraping of the chair behind you drew your attention, looking to your right to meet the cold stare of the blond. Briefly, you felt like a cornered animal. Your hands grew still. His gaze was assessing, stony face giving nothing away except the overwhelming vibe of back the fuck off. His eyes flicked over your shoulder and then back to yours.

"Sounds like they're finishing up in there. You should sign in."

It appeared you had clambered out of the field of land mines only to immediately fall into a sinkhole.

Stuttering your goodbyes, you make to stand up, making the same trek the young lady had towards the desk. You fought to control the tremors of your hands. One stayed tucked deeply in a pocket as the other wrote your name down through sheer muscle memory. Sure enough, the door opened and the woman walked out with her mobility aid, a cheery voice calling out your name from inside.

As your shaky palm took hold of the doorknob to twist it so you could enter the room, you caught snippets of the conversation happening behind you.

"Bothering you-"

"-Ost, It would have been fine-"

"Your hands were shaking again-"

"Ach- I had it under control!"

"You don't owe strangers anything. Not after everything you've-"

"Please- I just- I need to have a feckin' conversation about it without breaking down-"

The door shut with a click.

As you sat down in front of your new therapist, you resolved to try and move your appointments to a different day.

[infamous-if]

Dec ✮ 12 ✮ 2024 – update

Part of me hates doing these mostly because it's a whole lotta nothing and me just repeating everything I said the last update (lol) but I do like doing it because I like keeping people updated, even if it's a non-update. I may sound like a broken record (pun not intended) but I know a lot of people don't catch my updates every time so it's nice to just keep people informed yk yk

✮ — Part 2 + rewrite

Fun fact: I had written an entire essay about my excitement for the rewrite and chapter 3 and beyond but it got too long!

It boiled down to me wondering why I'm so excited for this rewrite and realizing it's because I feel comfortable enough to approach it with complete creative freedom. I wrote the first iteration of the demo with the constant worries swimming in my head like "I hope people understand what I'm trying to say here" and "I hope this situation is being read the way I intended for it to be read." And I think I sort of had those thoughts tenfold while writing Part 2. If you paid attention, you can probably see where I was trying to shut down certain discussions in the narrative lmao

Recently I had a tiny epiphany and reminded myself that it's not always about what I intend to write, but what is being understood by each reader. And yes this is basic writing 101 but let me have this moment of clarity okay. Embracing that means I can proceed with Infamous without holding back and sticking to my guns in regards to what I want for this story aka I'm just going to write what I write and like....not worry about the rest you feel (while of course integrating the common critiques and suggestions and improving on the things Infamous falls short in—I am not Shakespeare lmao)

ANYWAY my point is that I'm excited to fix up the demo !!! and just go back to it with complete confidence in myself and write whatever the heck feels right to me (and write the rest of the story lolol) and return with a better story than I have now for everyone!!

✮ — December will be for

planning what I'm going to improve and squeezing that in a reworked outline so it can flow much better narratively.

Outlining Chapter 3 and hopefully have the bare bones first draft drafted up which is mostly just be writing blocks of descriptions

I'm not sure I'll have anything substantial to justify looking for beta testers so soon yet but maybe!

work on my spice writing babey writing/reading spice makes me actually physically recoil but im determined to get better! which reminds me to finish the 6k follower gifts!

And also take a small breather because I am moving!

✮ — Patreon

I've already mentioned this on Patreon and a few times on here, but I do want to reiterate that Patreon content is coming out in bulk this month, in case anyone was wondering why I'm not posting as frequently. The content is still the same in terms of the quantity, it just won't be released every few days! thank you guys for being understanding of that <3

✮ —

My activity has is decreasing little by little due to my move but I do read every question and try to at least answer one question a day. I get quite a few mentions lately so I have to sort through those since I do get tagged in things, but I miss them due to my notifications. Usually I hope for the best and hope tracking the tag puts it on my dashboard <3 im not ignoring anyone!

That's all for now! Hope everyone has a happy December and Happy Holidays!

[eqt-95]

day 2 | courage / trust issues

supercorptober / whumptober the master list

There were clues. Hints and moments. Together it made the end more inevitable, but like time, those hints and moments often just seemed like life until cast under hindsight’s guise.

“Are we going to talk about this?” Kara asked, following closely through the apartment door. She tossed her jacket onto the back of the stool-back and watched Lena’s focused expression fixed on the glow of her cell phone’s dim light.

Her thumbs tapped without interruption.

“Lena?”

tap tap tap tap

“Lena.”

Lena dropped her phone onto the kitchen island and reached for her laptop. Kara watched, perplexed, dumbfounded, and with an unhinged jaw as Lena’s attention turned to the brighter, larger screen. It made the apartment seem darker.

“Is this because I ate that tray of potstickers?” Kara continued. Her hands found confidence poised on her hips. “Because I asked the caterers before and they-”

“What?” Lena asked, her focus broken to interrogate Kara standing across from her. “You what?”

Kara rolled her eyes and flipped the lightswitch, earning a small squint of adjustment and nothing more.

“Did I do something wrong?” Kara prompted, the whine barely concealed under the question.

“Are you really-”

The forgotten phone buzzed, lighting up with an incoming call. Lena reached for it, confused expression never leaving Kara as she answered.

“Jess, hi… Yes, yes, please… No, only once we have NCFD’s approval. I don’t want to activate the nanobots until then… Before midnight if possible. Reconstruction will take at least…” tap tap tap “four hours; maybe five. Any wiggle room before rush hour is a luxury we need… Thank you; keep me posted.”

Kara balked. “This is about the overpass accident?”

“Can we do this later?” Lena asked, though it wasn’t a question. Her attention had already returned to the computer. “I’ve never simulated this kind of infrastructural engagement-”

“You’re really picking a freeway over our relationship?”

“A two hour pause in an argument will have far less implications on the trajectory of our lives together when stacked against the risk of a failed structural intervention, so if that’s how you want to frame it, then yes: I’m picking the freeway.”

“So we are fighting,” Kara huffed.

“We are doing nothing until I get these things programmed-”

“It’s a block of concrete, Lena. It can wait.”

Lena hunched forward against the counter. There was exhaustion in the tired way her jaw worked and reworked until the words felt right. “It is not just a block of concrete.”

“Then what is it? Why are we fighting?”

A tired thumb and forefinger squeezed the bridge of Lena’s nose. “You can’t keep choosing me. You can’t…” a slow breath, “eleven people died tonight. Three are in critical condition. Another four dozen sustained injuries-”

“And that’s my fault?” Kara asked instinctively, defensively; with shoulders straightening and eyes narrowing.

“No, Kara, of course it isn’t your fault, but,” Lena sighed. She sighed because this wasn’t the first time; she knew it wouldn’t be the last. She hated that but didn’t know any other way than to persevere; to echo the words of Rita Mae Brown like a broken record. “Countless others were trapped. J’onn and Nia were there, but first responders were overwhelmed.”

“I wasn’t on duty-”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is it?” Kara asked, a familiar impatience rising in her voice.

“You could have helped.”

Kara flushed and clenched her jaw. “I was celebrating my wife’s big night; her accomplishments-”

“I don’t need to be celebrated, Kara,” Lena said with familiar exasperation. “Especially not when it means ignoring people who could be saved.”

“So I’m supposed to put every part of my life on hold and just courageously carry the banner of a tireless hero?” Kara growled. “There will always be people who need saving. There will be people tomorrow and next week and next decade and next century.”

“And that’s what, an excuse for inaction?”

“I can’t be everywhere-”

“That’s not even what I’m asking for.”

“Then what? What do you want from me? You want me to promise I’ll choose nameless strangers over you? That I should stand with one foot out the door, perpetually waiting for something to interrupt a dinner or a movie or a holiday?”

“Kara-”

“Or better yet: should I promise that, given the choice between a bullet barreling toward you and Mrs. Fischer, I’ll pick Mrs. Fischer? Because I’m not doing that.”

“Even if you promised it, I wouldn’t trust it,” Lena shot back.

The moment of honesty slipped free, and Kara pressed her mouth into a tight line to conceal the tremble in her lip.

“I’ve got forever, Lena,” Kara replied, voice gravely with emotion. “So if it’ll make you happy, you can rest assured that the day after you're gone, I'll go back to saving all of those other people first.”

“That’s a heavy burden for a person to carry.”

“I guess it helps that I'm an alien then.”

“Except I'm not.”

- - - - day 3 | dress / set up for failure

[hijackalx]

PRICE OF WIT +18

(tumblr vers.)

SUMMARY: Astarion can be so mean sometimes, but he swears he can make it up to you.

WORD COUNT: 1788

UNDER THE CUT: F!Reader, dom!astarion, VERY sub reader, make-up sex (kinda?), YALL ARE TOXIC AF TOGETHER, mean!astarion, possessive!astarion, praise, choking, biting, sadism and masochism, small mention of gale being a pervert lol

A/N: reworked this to be in second person, and also edited it since the AO3 version did not get that kind of love 💀 some lines/paragraphs have been changed. also this was originally written with act I/act II astarion in mind but i guess it works for ascended astarion too.

"NO! LET ME GO!"

Intelligent with a silver tongue to boot, Astarion can work his way through and into almost any circumstances he desires.

"I HATE YOU!"

A quick way out of a sticky situation? Got it. A smooth approach into a pleasurable one? No doubt. The world is his for the taking.

"I HATE YOU!"

Except for when it's not.

Sometimes his mouth moves faster than his brain. He occasionally says something a little too harsh, a little too cold— ice cold, and it doesn't matter how much or how little he means it, it still hurts.

Wit has a price, it seems.

You claw and shriek in his grasp. You didn't get far before he managed to wrap his arms around you and stop you from disappearing to who knows where. He winces as your fingernails dig into the skin of his forearms. He succeeds in grabbing your wrists and folding them against your body, trapping you against his chest.

"You're acting like a child!" He shouts through an exhausted growl as you continue to resist his hold.

He knows what he said was wrong— it was a snarky slip of the tongue. But you stormed off before he could apologize, so who's really the problem here?

The fire glows and crackles in the crisp night air, accompanied by Gale and Karlach, whose meals have been so rudely interrupted by your shrill screams. Although, they watch the tussle unfazed. This wouldn't be the first time you and him have had a peace-disrupting argument.

"They're the most immature people I've ever met," Karlach takes a bite of her turkey leg, her tone more irritated than anything. "No good for each other, those two."

Gale watches how you kick up dust and dirt just outside of Astarion's tent. He'd only heard pieces of what led to this as you spoke behind the fabric; some kind of complaint by Astarion that has clearly been taken to heart. Sighing, he meets Karlach's eyes, their shared gaze molding into apprehensive weariness.

"Well," he mutters into a lamb chop, "looks like we're in for another sleepless night."

"I love you, I love you, I love you—" your softly whimpered phrase is the only sound to be heard after the camp has settled in their bedrolls for the night.

All Astarion had to do was guide you back into his tent and successfully lay you down. After that, you were more willing to hear him out.

Your bodies are bathed in the gentle lantern light, your back pressed firmly to his bedding and your legs wrapped around his waist. He intertwines your fingers as he steadies your hands above your head. Soft, white locks tickle your cheek as he nuzzles into your neck, his teeth teasing at the skin every so often.

His pace is rhythmical but rough, his hips flush between your legs as he aims for your cervix— his favorite spot. He loves the way you writhe and try to push him away while pleading for more. The way your heels press into his back, how your voice breaks while you call out for him.

"I've got you, sweetheart," his exhales are hot against your skin.

His hand slips down to pinch your side after hearing you stifle a moan, a quick but effective reprimand. You squeak at how he cruelly twists the flesh, your abdomen tensing.

"Don't hold back," he scolds, and you catch how his brows lower in the corner of your eye. Your modesty has offended him.

You screw your eyes shut, mustering up the ability to speak clearly. "T-they'll hear," you blurt out. It's only fair to be considerate to your fellow party members— or at least try to.

Your response makes him laugh, and this time you're the one scrunching your brows. You don't understand what's so amusing until he says, "You wouldn't want to deprive Gale of his own pleasures, would you?"

You go entirely rigid, your face dropping slightly at how sure he sounds.

Questionably, he sits up to examine you, immediately noticing your change in expression. "What?" He asks. "Don't tell me you didn't know?"

Eyes wide and cheeks flushed a deep red, you stare up at him speechlessly. What he's implying is that... gale has been... touching himself while you and him are together?

How perverse.

He coos, squeezing your cheek and giving it a shake. "You're so cute." His condescending tone doesn't make you want to smack him in the face, strangely enough. In fact, you think you might like it judging by the way your stomach turns.

You take a moment to recover from the thought of your private acts not being so private. Noticing this, he balances his hands on the ground beside you, then pulls out before fully sheathing himself again with a fast, hard thrust. Your body jolts like it's been injured, and you can't hold back your yelp. His features are nothing short of devilish upon hearing the sound.

Sometimes he likes to be mean— but sometimes you like to let him.

"I quite like... the idea... actually," he says through breaths while he fucks you, his half-lidded gaze watching how your tits bounce. Leaning down, he begins to leave a trail of bite marks over your chest, each one he soothes with a gentle kiss as if to say 'sorry'. "Imagining Gale all alone—" another bite, another kiss. "—Wishing he were half as lucky as me."

He groans as your hands twitch and grip at his hair. Your back arches off the ground, and he runs a slightly calloused palm over the newly exposed area, tracing the curve of your body.

"Astarion," you say so weakly, so needy. He can't help letting a moan slip at how his name sounds coming from your mouth.

You're close, he can feel it. It's the way you tremble, the way you can't get close enough to him— wanting him deeper, harder, more, more— You're a greedy little thing, but he adores it. He adores you. How couldn't he give you anything and everything you want?

He sits up, his lustful stare heavy and thick as he peers down his nose at you.

You lift your chin as his hand wraps around your neck, allowing him all the access he wants. He begins to squeeze, your smaller fingers prying at his grip.

"You're mine," he watches intently as you squirm under his unwavering stare, his face still and emotionless. "Say it to me."

"I'm yours," you say readily, feeling your heart skip a beat when the corners of his mouth almost split into a proud grin.

"Tell me you won't try to run away again." His hold tightens.

"I-I won't. I won't leave you," you choke out. That's what you told him last time and the time before that. Just as your head begins to feel light and your eyelids heavy, your body buzzes and jerks with an orgasm.

He releases you so he can watch your full reaction; how you writhe and reach for him, how the hands scraping at his chest plead to close the distance between your bodies.

Tears slip down the corners of your eyes— maybe from pleasure, maybe not. He could hold you, but something inside tells him no. It's almost as if to serve as punishment for trying to run off.

Believe him, he doesn't want to punish his baby. But sometimes it's necessary.

Once your high dies down and you're left a heaving, exhausted mess, he grabs one of your limp hands and leaves a kiss on each fingertip. "Ooh," his thumb rubs your palm. "That was a good one."

You know very well that you're not finished. Luckily, he's kind enough to get you off first, even when he's upset with you. He's considerate where it counts, of course.

Or maybe he loves how much he can undo you with a second orgasm.

He caresses your face while you catch your breath. You lean into his touch, almost petting yourself. His undead palm is cold yet gentle, and you somehow find comfort in it. Your eyelids flutter closed.

"You're doing so good for me," he praises softly, his tone no louder than a murmur. "You can go a bit longer, can't you?"

He speaks tenderly and sweet, making your pulse beat even faster. "For me, darling?" He asks as if it's even a question— as if he doesn't know the answer.

Your body aches, worn and tired, yet you nod with eagerness. Anything, you think in your euphoric, fucked-out daze, anything for you.

There are times when you can't stand him, when he's the worst person in the world— but those only emphasize the times when he's the only person in the world; times when he makes you feel warm and loved, and so, so good.

Like when he nears his own orgasm and wraps his arms around you so tight, so close. He holds you like you're the dearest thing he's ever had, your skin pressed together like you're afraid to part.

And he fucks you so good you'll forget the nasty things he says and does, if only until the next time. For now, the way his breaths shake and his muscles contract in yearning— in need, is distracting enough.

"Fuck—" a word you'll rarely, if ever, hear him say. Too vulgar for his tastes, except for when he loses his ability to keep his composure. "Fuck," he hisses again as he thrusts into you, almost hard enough to lift your hips from the ground.

Before you know it, his teeth are sinking deep into the flesh of your neck. You gasp loudly, tangling your fingers in his curls. He stifles his moans by lapping up the crimson leaking from your puncture wounds, finishing inside you simultaneously.

Between the sounds of him reaching his climax and the bite, it's enough to push you over the edge a second time. Extra sensitive, your body reacts more violently than before. Your nails claw and tear at his back, leaving scratches through the maze of scars. The newly raised lines disfigure the old, tiny pools of blood rising to the top— a gentle reminder of your presence compared to his preferred methods.

"That's it, there you go," he pulls away breathlessly, making sure to use slow, flat sweeps of his tongue to clean up the mess he's made. The smeared red on your neck is licked away into a mere stain.

Your bodies finally ease into stillness. Exhausted, he rests his weight on top of you. His face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, eyes shut as you hold him.

Your lips press softly to his shoulder, your head lying against his. The heavy exhales between you alternate, your chests rising and falling deeply until they progress into something more controlled.

Though out of each other's lines of sight, you share the same troubled expression, your brows furrowed and lips pulled into frowns.

There's a long, silent moment of recuperation before he mutters into your ear,

“I love you."

[zoomzooml]

Dragons:TNR Jörmungandr redesign (rework?) concept

(Also I know that my design pushes beyond limits of TNR animation in more than one way but here I just had fun lol)

I feel like he is not intimidating enough in original. He is very small for an "Apex predator of all dragons" (and let's remember that TNR has Giants Realm so-). I expected him to slide way longer when he was escaping his prison. He also had a lot of troubles with catching dragons (it was honestly sad to watch) And yes, as far as I know snakes are expecionally challenging to rig and animate and TNR doesn't have movie-level budget, but c'mon. It's The Final Boss. (*I think that in concept art he actually is longer so perhaps they shortened him to make animation easier (and cheaper??) considering mad speed seasons were coming out)

Sidenote - that poor danger noodle had so little of any kind of build up. It's really sad. And the first time we see him live he: did shitty jumpscare (build up was actually decent imo, but sound effect and bad animation humbled it), had short, off-screen fight with Sky Torcher after which he didn't even kill him (though he did at least leave some nasty scars and broke Torchie's tooth), and then fucked away. For me it was very underhelming.

Low quality clip for those who didn't watch (I hope Tumblr won't take it down).

Coming back to the design. I really don't like his colors. He got wings but to compensate I decided that he's not a good flier. In my mind he is an ambush hunter. And I know that THE Jörmungandr, the spawn of Loki from the myths, did not have wings, and this is pretty consistent as far as I know, but it is not THE Jörmungandr, so yeah

He is in some way mix between King Cobra, Moray Eel and sea snakes (Yellow-Lipped Sea Krait mostly). I changed his hood to be more similar in construction to a king cobra. In short, it is a bit of loose skin and ribs with the ability to move. In my design, the tips of some of the ribs poke through the skin. Now I don't think TNR would be able to animate it (But i'm not very familiar with 3D animation, especially for shows) so in show he probably would just have hood always flared. His head and sail are inspired by mooray eel because they are dope and I love them. I feel that aspects of sea snakes have died in design - they have a paddle at the end of the tail, but this has already been included in the OG design, so I don't feel the need to talk about it. However, like Sea Krait, Jörmungandr is semi-aquatic. He is much slower on land than in the water, but the difference is not as great as with Sea Krait.

I increased his size - and if he wasn't inprisoned he probably would be about 15-25% longer by now. He's old enough to be a Titan Wing but he isn't normal size - he stopped growing a bit after outgrowing average dragon of his species (let's remember that Red Death is Titan Wing as well!).

*Jörmungandr is longer but Red Death is more massive. Avarage serpents are slightly shorter than Red Death as well.

To be honest, I'm not sure if I didn't overkill it with his size. On the one hand he is large, on the other hand he is mostly long and not that massive. Idk

In addition to the scars, I think Jörmungandr would also be covered with small amounts of moss and other vegetation that started growing on him when he wasn't really active (his cave is very wet/moisty). To survive he spent almost his entire life in a state of brumation, being more active when he sensed meal approaching his reach.

Now, in my mind The Jörmungandr is the name of this particular dragon, not the whole species (Midgard Serpents? IDK), and at the same time he is not a "real" Jörmungandr from the myths. Because words cannot describe how I hate that plot.

I don't know how exactly he got his name but I think it was not because of how big he is, but because of his intelligence and mischievous soul. Again, idk.

Jörmungandr is a tragic dragon. In my version he was not trapped by Hiccup (in my version Hiccup never come back to Hidden World, because c'mon. I don't really like THW but if TNR is continity to that franchise they should follow established canon and not wreck last movie and make it completely insignificant. It loses all it's value if Hiccup, his family and perhaps other vikings, just come back and maybe even lived in the Hidden World anyway! If we have to have human marks and structures, etc. in the Hidden World, I would do it more in the style of “Haddock's Cycle” than “Hiccup and Tom.” Essentially, the creator of these changes is perhaps one of Hiccup's descendants, Tom's ancestors - the "soul of the dragon" that Hiccup and before him his mother had, summoning them to the world of dragons to see "Is it finally time? ”, but it never is, not yet anyway. Idk, I'm trying lol)

I have two concepts: There was once a main entrance to his part of the Dark Realm accompanianed by the waterfalls of magma, but now there's only basalt wall. This would make the closure possible for natural reasons and give Tom an opportunity to show off his geoligical knowledge some more.

Or he was caged in human-build prison, but not by Hiccup. I did that little sketch of how his page in Dragon Book could look in this scenario. Clearly different artstyle than Hiccup's to show that he was not the one to write about this individual (tho in show there's already different styles so--) But at the second thought it can be just illustration for species as whole, so anyway

In both cases, there are ways to enter his personal prison but he is too large to use them. They are still usefull as this is the only way prey will come to his reach. Not many dragons can escape his jaws.

He has spent most of his life in a rather hostile environment to which he was not adapted, which has left scars on his body and psyche. When he's not hunting, he sleeps. Hunger has halted his growth.

Jörmungandr is a damaged, dangerous dragon, the victim of fate and unknown past.

The psychological damage has made him hyper-aggressive, even by the standards of an already aggressive species. I don't think he could ever satiate his hunger either - if he could he would hunt and eat until he consumed everything in range or died of overeating.

For this dragon, it seems too late for a happy ending, unfortunately.

Now about the Midgard Serpents (placeholdern name, I have no idea how to name them) as a whole. Apex Predator may be a bit much, given the existence of dragons like Red Death, Purple Death or Bewilderbeast. However, Midgard Serpents remain one of the dragons that feed almost exclusively on other dragons (and sometimes even other members of their own species - they're cannibalistic), and they're damn good at it. When they feel best in the water, they can follow their prey in the sky or on land. They grow quite large and still are able to take down prey more massive than themselves (mostly thanks to venom and poisonous gas).

I think they are the main predators of 'Deaths and Bewilderbeasts (and other equally large dragons) in the earlier stages of life.

[heliosoll]

How do I stop identifying with my current body? I am trans and I hate it. I want to manifest being born male but the 3D triggers me so much. What can I do?

I get it! Personally, what helped me was cultivating a more "neutral" attitude toward my previous body. I know that can be very hard, and I don't know if this will resonate with you, but that's what worked for me.

My answer will be under a keep reading since I do go into body image here!

I felt the same way, although possibly to a lesser extent, and when I was consciously thinking about how much I hated my body or even body envy, that's when my journey was at an all time low. The reason is because you're, consciously or not, still identifying with that body (as you said) being yours or part of your existence. What I did is every time I had one of those thoughts, I would try to catch myself, and instead, think of my body as belonging to someone else. Would I still think it's bad or ugly or undesirable? Even if you do, would you say that to their face?

Realistically, would you even have these thoughts about their body? <- That thinking is literally what helped me lol In order to stop identifying it as your body, identify it as someone else's body. There's a good chance you're probably not thinking about how much you hate other people's bodies.

So I don't know what you look like but for example, I manifested a flatter chest and taller build to appear more androgynous. When I had thoughts like "I hate how big my breasts are", I would immediately try to switch that to "what the hell am i thinking, commenting on someone else's body like that is disgusting". You obviously don't have to berate yourself in the process lol, but essentially the goal was to identify that body not with me, but with someone else. I would never comment on someone being too short, or too wide, or too curvy.

I actually permashifted in order to achieve this change, but even if I had been thinking of manifesting, I believe this still would've worked for me. Trying to envision my ideal body and associate it with myself was easy, but at the same time, I was also thinking about the (at the time) current, physical body that I didn't want. For me, it took a conscious change of identifying language. Instead of saying, "I'm too short", I would think, "that person is short". Eventually, it just reworks the way you think about yourself and you start to naturally disassociate that body with being part of you. It isn't, so there's no need to comment on it. It's not your body, so commenting on it as if it was would be weird. Yknow?

Tbf, you can also just instantly manifest without having to put in this work lol That just takes belief and persistence, like with any other manifestation. But I understand that physical triggers can make that difficult, so I wanted to share what worked for me. Instead of flipping those thoughts into positivity or mindlessly going "nuh uh", try to envision that body as being someone else. It can take some effort at first, but eventually, you'll get used to it and it'll feel like second nature.

I wish you luck! You got this!!

[bonefall]

Now we've got all six of em, can I just say that CRIPES ALMIGHTY the titles for a starless clan suck major ass! Both separately AND as a group!!

I Do Not Rewrite Arcs Until They Are Done BUT DO YOU WANNA HEAR MY WIP RENAMES SO FAR

Remember: Don't get too attached yet, the only one I can say with certainty will show up somewhere is the title of Book 4.

ARC RENAME: A Starless Clan -> A Prayer Unanswered

The original name is really good but I'm getting a vibe that the theme of the rework is going to be... when love isn't enough.

It's about how some things can't get better. It's about how all the kindness in the world couldn't get Bramblestar to turn around as a leader. It's about how Heartstar might have had good intentions, but occupation never works out in the end. It's Nightheart's relationship to his family being salvageable, not because they don't all want to fix it, but because his life has worked out best with distance from them.

So, Prayers Unanswered is both about the religious part of how RiverClan doesn't have a leader and can't get in proper touch with StarClan, but it's also about every other wish that hasn't come true.

River -> Starcrossed One of the VERY large changes I'm considering is actually massively reducing Nightheart's POV. I'm thinking of doing this, not because I dislike him, but because I think it might actually be a better story if the audience is guessing as to his intentions just as much as the other characters are. So, until he's ACTUALLY needed later, his chapters are short and sparse. So Starcrossed would be about setting up the troubles of the Clans, especially the parts of the conflicts I want to highlight more in BB. It would be setting up the rule changes for "starcrossed lovers" (lmao) but also the brewing anger that the cats have towards code changes... and StarClan, if I do decide to keep the newest revelations and work them in better, in hindsight.

Sky -> Fracture There's a phrase in my head that is so interesting to me that I need to do something with it. "Only frozen water can fracture." I want to make the RiverClan situation worse than in-canon. First of all, there's going to be identifiable groups this time which begin to scramble for power. Instead of having the cats just... forget how to do the chores they've done their whole lives, the Clan is splitting up into factions. This is why they won't be able to win against Heartstar later, when she decides to take drastic measures. They're not fighting like a Clan; they're fighting like a bunch of disorganized teams. There should also be a bunch of needless injuries, maybe even a border aggression that lead to a death, before Heartstar barges in. I also want to make this a bigger part of the story, Erins willing. Too much time was spent on the Catnip Patrol, imo, we're going to have ANOTHER big trip and I don't want this one to eat up so much time. Rowankit is also still going to die; and maybe a couple of elders around the Lake too.

Shadow -> Snakes and Turnclaws Berryheart's hate movement has been too tame, from canon books 1 - 4 as of the time of writing. It's ridiculous that they haven't even injured anyone in the Battle Cat series. I saved Antfur from the previous arc so that she can die here. We've been seeing the Anti-Turnclaw movement rise from the first book, so now with Nightheart's boldness leading him to a place where he will be unsafe, we need to see his rusty butt in actual danger. I'm even thinking that, instead of Nightheart failing his task on purpose, Sunbeam makes him fail by stopping him from getting killed. I need to know the ending of ASC first though, because I MIGHT be having Berryheart getting her exile here. Whatever kills Antfur is either deniable enough that she's able to squeak by while Sunbeam quietly leaves (refusing to accuse her mother of anything publicly) OR it's so obvious that Heartstar casts her out on the spot. Meanwhile, we see the OTHER half of ShadowClan's conflict as RiverClan finally unites... against them, as their common enemy. Task failed successfully, Heartsy

Thunder -> The Source of the River I'm still unspeakably proud of this outline. There's so much I want to do here. She's going to come back with a DND party and I'm hoping that all of them end up in RiverClan with her; INCLUDING Nightheart. I want the fact that he accompanied Frostpaw to actually be the final straw for him. While he's away, Sunbeam is acclimating to ThunderClan and falling in love with her new home. There are parts she misses about ShadowClan, but as she's adopted by Sparkpelt, taken as a secondary apprentice by the deputy, smiled upon by Squirrelstar after she pressures Bramblestar to abdicate... this starts to feel like this is where she belongs. And that's too hard for Nightheart to ever come back to. "You come to the source of the river, and are vexed that you do not find the water that is flowing downstream" dude.... man. That's what BB's about. Change. I also really want Nightheart to choose HIS OWN NAME by the end of this series-- so at some point in this book he should finally admit "Nightheart" wasn't his choice either. (I'm thinking Deltastep. Because his journey with Frostpaw begins at the southern delta of my reworked map.)

And I haven't done them for Book 5 or Book 6 yet, especially since I might end up condensing them or chopping them up to put into the other books.

I do know I'm really love to play with the idea of a starless sky for one of the last books though, I may or may not keep Splashtail's lack of faith in StarClan (hate the Evil Atheist thing they keep doing), but the idea of a "Pitch-Black Star" absolute fucks as symbolism, ngl. Maybe something like "A Gap in the Stars" or "Constellation's Void" or "The Stolen Star"

Also also also I'm having Curlfeather come back as a Dark Forest Demon for at LEAST one scene.

I don't give a good goddamn if they don't go to the Dark Forest or not. ONE weird coincidence that could totally have been Just Good Luck but was actually Curlfeather. Let Her Drown Splashtail, she deserves it. Let her be a malevolent spirit who protects her baby. RiverClan can whine all it wants about Mothwing who ooo doesn't believe in God, Frostpaw's got a demon. Cry about it

Also I hope Frostpaw becomes leader because I'll make it go hard

[straylightdream]

unrequited hearts

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: seo changbin x f.reader & hwang hyunjin x f.reader

friends to lovers, unrequited love

↳ unrequited love is a bitch. Watching your best friend fall in love and get married is heartbreaking, but at least you have someone by your side.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.7k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst, heartbreak, smut warning below the cut.

𝐚𝐧: I wrote this with reader being a plus size/chubby. I decided to reworked one of my old stories on here that I wrote back in 2021. This one definitely hit close to home when I wrote it.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: oral (fem receiving), unprotected intercourse, creampie, sex against a wall.

The undying love you had for your best friend was love you couldn’t explain. He was your sun and your moon and your true meaning for existing. The problem is he didn’t return your feelings. Unrequited love is a bitch.

Hwang Hyunjin is your best friend and the love of your life. He never really knew how you felt though.

When you first met the quiet and serious man you thought he hated you. He barely ever spoke to you and was left questioning if you did something to piss him off. It didn’t take long for him to let his walls down around you and you quickly learned what a kind and sweet person he is. You think the second time you ever spoke to him was when you started to fall in love with him. After seven years of knowing him, people constantly questioned if you were a couple. Once they discover you aren’t they would always ask when it’s going to happen. You always attempted to brush off this statement and would say you’re just friends. Completely lying to whoever asked and lying to yourself in the process. Hyunjin’s response was always different from yours. He would tell them, “it’s not the right time.” You always tried to tell yourself that this statement was a joke. That you’ve talked about how people think you’re a couple often, but he thinks you’re too good of friends. This might have something to do with the fact you aren’t exactly his type. Any girl Hyunjin has ever dated has been beautiful skinny girls, where you’re pretty average and with a soft and curvy body. It could also be that he cares about your friendship too much to risk it.

For as long as you can remember you’ve hidden away your feelings for him. You’ve never told a soul you’re madly in love with your best friend.

Two years ago you made the stupid mistake of agreeing to move in with him. He asked after a long day at work. You were sitting at a ramen place waiting for your food when he asked you to be his roommate. Every part of your body was screaming at you to say no, every part of your body except your heart that couldn’t seem to push away your feelings you shared for him. Like a complete fool you agreed to be roommates.

Living with Hyunjin brought some of the best moments in your life and some of the most heartbreaking. Sitting on your comfy blue living room couch he told you about a girl he met at work. You tried to brush it off thinking it was nothing. One week later Hyunjin was leaving the apartment for his date with the girl. Two weeks later you’re sitting on the couch reading when the front door opens and Hyunjin walks into holding hands with a girl who keeps giggling that can’t seem to keep her hands to herself. The sinking feeling in your chest you get at the sight of together is a familiar feeling that will never seem to go away after that night.

It doesn’t take long before Hyunjin is dating Eun. At first you try your hardest to push away the thought of them together. It’s hard to ignore the fact that he’s in a happy relationship when she starts spending more time in your apartment. The more time she’s there the more time you spend away. You bury yourself in work trying to keep your mind off Hyunjin and your heartbreak. Your best friend is madly in love and completely clueless to the pain you’re experiencing. The more serious Hyunjin relationship grew with Eun the closer you got with your coworker Changbin.

Seo Changbin was the only person who knew your true feelings for Hyunjin. He figured out you were in love with him when he found you crying staring at the engagement photo Eun had posted. Seeing their engagement photo broke your heart for many reasons. One being it was clear that Hyunjin was never going to love you back, and two was the fact you were blind sided by their engagement. Hyunjin never mentioned he planned on proposing. It hurt like hell that he didn’t warn you. It didn’t feel right that you found out through Eun's post.

Tears brimmed your glossy eyes as you took off practically running from your desk. Locking yourself in the bathroom stall you cried over your lost love. You cried realizing Hyunjin would never love you like you love him. You started sobbing and you couldn’t help it. Lost in a sea of emotions you didn’t even hear someone knocking on the door outside.

Your eyes pop open at the sound of Changbin’s voice right outside your bathroom stall.

“Are you okay?” He sounds concerned.

“Yeah I’m fine,” reaching up to push away your tears trying to stop crying.

“Did you want to talk about it? Because you don’t sound fine,” he knows you too well to know that you’re not okay. The moment you open the bathroom stall door he’ll be the first to see past the fake smile you attempt to put on.

“No.”

Changbin clearly doesn’t like that response because it takes him all forty seconds to learn how to open the bathroom stall. He stands there watching you cry for a short moment before he reaches down taking your hand. He walks you to the counter where the sinks are and tells you to sit on the edge. Sitting there with your legs dangling he gets a paper towel and wipes away your tears with cool water. His eyes are filled with sadness as he takes care of you.

“What happened?” He asks, finally breaking the silence that’s formed between you.

“Hyunjin is now engaged,” you don’t bother lying. There isn’t a point in making up some lame excuse to why you’re crying in the bathroom at work.

“Oh.”

“He didn’t tell me he was going to propose. I found out because Eun posted a photo,” closing your eyes you can still see the stupid photo in your head. You absolutely hated how pretty she looked, clinging to Hyunjin with one hand while she held out her hand with the engagement ring on it towards the camera.

“That’s kind of a dick move, that he didn't talk to you about it.” It’s reassuring to know that Changbin agreed Hyunjin should have told you.

“What do I even say to him when I get home?” you ask as he continues to sweep away the tears from your cheek.

“Congrats I had no clue you were planning that.”

“I hate that I started crying at work because of this stupid photo,” a heavy sigh passes your lips as a wave of embarrassment washes over you.

“Is it safe to say you’re in love with your best friend?” he asks, staring right at you. You wanted desperately to lie to him, to tell him he’s absolutely crazy for even thinking that. The problem is you can’t lie to him. You don’t want to keep you feeling buried away from everyone. You want someone to know the pain you’re feeling. It’s hard to put on a fake smile and act like you aren’t in love.

“Yes.”

From that moment on you and Changbin only got closer. You spent many nights in his apartment attempting to stay away from Hyunjin and Eun as they planned their wedding. He came over to your place after you congratulated Hyunjin on his engagement. You put on a fake smile and fought back tears, but luckily your best friend was none the wiser.

Changbin held you and rubbed your back when you stared at the wedding invitation Eun had personally handed to you.

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to sit in a church and watch the man you considered to be the love of your life marry someone else.

The moment he saw the invitation he asked if he could go with you. Telling you that you needed a friend with you. On a warm Saturday after noon in the middle of June you sat in a church in the second row with Changbin by your side. You’re dressed in a spaghetti strap blush colored dress with a pair of small heels on. He’s wearing a dress shirt with a pair of dress pants. His hand is laced with yours as he’s sat right next to you leaving no space between you. Your eyes stayed locked on Hyunjin who was standing in front of the crowd. The moment Hyunjin's dark eyes lock on his soon to be wife walking down the aisle your heart stings. Blinking back tears, you watch them exchange vows.

A tear streams down your face as Hyunjin says “I do”, and just like that your fantasy inside your head is finally over.

Standing in the middle of the dance floor with arms around Changbin's neck you try to focus on just him. Swaying to the beat of a slow song. You originally told him you didn’t want to dance but he practically begged you. His hands are wrapped around you resting just above your butt. You can’t feel his eyes burning a hole in you.

“YN?” he catches your attention. Looking up you find him staring at you. “You look really beautiful,” his sweet words cause you to blush.

“Thank you, you look really handsome.”

“Come back to my place tonight, please,” his statement catches you off guard.

“Changbin,” you aren’t sure what you plan on saying.

“You don’t need to be in the place you share with him,” nobody seems to understand you quite like Changbin does these days.

“I’ll be okay,” it’s a lie you won’t be okay. If you go back to your apartment you share with your best friend you’ll do nothing but cry yourself to sleep.

“Please,” he pleads.

“Changbin why?”

“Because I don’t want you to be sad anymore. Especially over a guy who was too blind to see what was right in front of him,” he stops swaying to the beat of the song and stares at you. His arms still wrapped around you holding you close.

“Bin,” his statement feels like a weight being put on your chest. You aren’t sure if you’re reading too much into it but it sounds like more than just a friend concerned for you.

“Can I cut in?” You look up to see Hyunjin standing there.

Changbin looks at your best friend and opens his mouth before quickly shutting it. You assume he’s biting back telling him no.

“It’s up to her,” Changbin finally speaks.

You want to say no, but you need to do this. You tell Changbin you’ll find him after the next song. That you need to talk.

Placing your hands on Hyunjin’s shoulders he rests his hand on your side and looks at you smiling. There is a sudden awkward tension between you. You can’t even look him in the eyes. Your eyes bounce around avoiding his gaze.

“So you and Changbin seem cozy,” you aren’t sure if he’s bringing up Changbin just to make small talk.

“Yeah he’s a really good guy,” you sigh.

Another slow song starts to play and Hyunjin clears his throat. Looking up at him you see he’s no longer smiling.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was going to propose,” he sighs. Knitting your eyebrows together you’re confused on why he’s apologizing for this a year later. “I thought if I talked to you about it I would talk myself out of asking her.” You don’t understand his statement. Why on earth does he think you would try to change his mind? Even if you didn’t want him to marry her you would have never told him that. You truly cared about his happiness more than your own.

“YN you know you’re my best friend right?”

You nod silently. “Okay I love you so much,” he lets out a heavy sigh. You can’t tell if he means he loves you as a friend or if he loves you differently. All you know is his statement leaves your stomach twisting in knots.

“I love you too,” you say this knowing that you’re always going to love him. Even if he shattered your heart into a million pieces without meaning to.

Looking off to the side you see Changbin standing on the edge of the dance floor watching you. His normal happy go lucky smile is nowhere to be seen on his face. At this moment you would much rather be with Changbin than here with Hyunjin.

“I’m assuming you want to go talk to him. Something tells me I interrupted an important conversation with him,” Hyunjin says, removing his hands from you.

“I think it was an important one, but I might have messed it up.”

He reaches out brushing his thumb across your cheek for a quick moment before saying, “don’t let something good slip away from you. I’ve made that mistake so do me a favor and don’t do the same.”

Your heart drops as you stare at your best friend, “why did you let it slip away?”

“Because I was dumb and selfish. So do me a favor and don’t do what I did.”

Your head spins stepping away from him. You need to leave immediately, just being in the room with Hyunjin is too much. Walking quickly over to Changbin you grab his hand and tug him out of the room. Walking outside the warm summer air hits you and you take a deep breath.

“Did you still want me to stay with you tonight?” You look over at him.

“Yeah.”

Sitting on Changbin’s couch you’re still both dressed in your outfits from the wedding, except you’ve taken off your heels and Changbin has undone a couple of buttons and rolled up his sleeves. You’re watching a random game show barely paying attention.

“Do you plan on still living with him?” Changbin asks out of nowhere.

Looking over at him you find him staring at you. You haven’t thought that far in advance. You don’t really have anywhere else to go so living with Hyunjin is really your only option. You’ll just have to push back your feelings and live with the happy couple.

“I don’t know.”

“Please move in with me, at least until you find something else. Or you can just permanently live here. I have a guest room that you can have.”

You don’t understand why Changbin sounds so desperate for you to move in with him. You knit your eyebrows together processing everything he has just said.

“Why?”

“If I say something I need you to not get up and just walk away. I need you to listen,” he turns so he’s completely facing you on the couch.

“Okay.”

“YN I like you a lot, and not just as a friend. To be extremely honest the thought of you having to live with the man that broke your heart makes me sick. I’m asking you to move in so you can live with someone who’s not completely blind to what’s right in front of them,” he pauses and stares at you trying to judge your reaction to his confession. “If you don’t like me back it’s completely fine, but I still want you to move in. I personally think you need space from Hyunjin.” Everything he says makes you feel like your head is swimming. You feel completely lost, you couldn’t lie you had a crush on Changbin. You’ve had one for a long time. You’ve just been consumed by your love for Hyunjin. It’s left you unaware of the people around you.

“I’ll move in,” you say without really even thinking about it.

A smile spreads across his face, “we can talk about our feelings after a while. I know Hyunjin getting married is a lot to process. I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you being emotional.”

After that night you moved in with Changbin. Him and his friend Minho helped you pack up your stuff from the apartment. All of your stuff was gone before Hyunjin and Eun even returned from their honeymoon. The day before they came home you shot Hyunjin a text telling him you moved out. Your text said, “I’m sorry you’re finding out this way but I have decided it’s probably best for both of us that I move out. I want you to have a good chance and make your marriage work and I think we both know if I live there it’s going to put a strain on your marriage and our friendship. Don’t worry we’re still friends, love YN.”

Two minutes later you received a text from him, “you didn't have to move out. We could have made this work. I appreciate you caring about my marriage, but I want you to know I’m going to miss you. Love Hyunjin.”

You couldn’t respond to that message. You just closed your phone and put it away pushing away the feeling that we’re creeping up.

Two months into living with Changbin is when your feelings for Hyunjin started to fade and your feelings towards your roommate grew more and more each day. Your days were made when you would hear Changbin laugh over the dumbest things. You lived for the little touches you would get here and there. Changbin was starting to fill a hole in your heart caused by Hyunjin. Late nights sitting on the couch watching movies were your favorite. The first few you both sat on different sides of the couch, but now two months in you lay between Changbin legs with your eyes glued to the TV.

Three and half months in is when you've finally confessed to Changbin you’re falling for him. He only responded with a huge smile across his face as he said a simple, “finally.”

Four months in you’re officially a couple and you sleep in his room every night. You’re now to the point where you don’t think of Hyunjin everyday. Your mind only seems focused on the man who kisses you good morning even before you’ve brushed your teeth.

Eight months in is when you received a phone call from Hyunjin telling you that Eun is pregnant, Hyunjin says he wanted to tell you first. Before you can even process if you have any emotions, Changbin has you pressed up against the wall, as his lips nipped their way down your neck. Hungry hands roamed your skin under your sweater. Your mind feels as if it’s in haze as he whispers dirty things to you.

Your mind and heart don’t even seem to care that Hyunjin is going to be a father. You only actually care about the man who dropped down to his knees in front of you pulling your underwear down your thick thighs. Lifting your leg onto his shoulder he licks up your slit. Your head is thrown back as he pumps two fingers in and out of you. After sleeping together twice Changbin made it his mission to learn all the things that turned you on. Your fingers tangle in his hair gently tugging and earning a moan from him as he sucks in your clit while his fingers continue pumping into you. You come moaning his name loudly. Sitting back in his hunches he wipes his mouth, smirking.

“Are you done?” You ask, egging him on.

“Oh god, not even close,” moments later his pants are pushed down just enough to free his straining erection. He wasted no time wrapping one of your legs around his waist as he thrust into you quickly.

With his lips against your ear he whispers, “I love you.”

You don’t even have to think about it as you moan back, “I love you too.”

You’ll always care about Hyunjin. It’s impossible not to, but Seo Changbin is the one who owns your heart now. He appreciates you more than anyone ever has. He goes out of his way to let you know he loves you.

“Are you mine, baby girl?” he groans, snapping his hips into yours.

“Only your,” you whine wrapping your arms around his neck.

He continues to have you pressed up against the wall with one hand tightly gripping your thigh. His lips are nipping at your neck, slowly moving down to the junction where your neck and shoulder meet. He sucks on your skin with the intention of leaving a mark. One of your hand tangles in his hair again tugging once more to receive a hungry groan. The other hand claws at his shoulder.

You come screaming his name as a hot wave of pleasure rushes over you. He nips at your skin with a muffled moan of your name as he finishes inside you. Slowly pulling out he leans forward and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too.”

Leaning against the wall with legs feeling like jello, he rushes off to the bathroom and comes back with a warm wash cloths to wipe away the mess he’s made between your legs.

You spend the rest of the evening curled up in bed with your boyfriend neither of you bother to get dressed. There’s no place you would rather be than in the arms of a man who fixed your broken heart.

Regarding taglist:

If you aren’t interacting with my writing outside of liking the new post I’m gonna have to remove your name from the taglist. You will also be removed if I try to tag you and your blog is listed as "invisible". If you've changed your URL and didn't let me know I will also be removing your name. I’m sorry for the inconvenience but my interactions outside or likes feels like it’s nonexistent right now. All of my taglist are still open though. If you request to be added to one via this form, I kindly ask for interactions in the form and feedback and reblogs. To be quite honest, those really encourage my writing.

[riality-check]

daisy jones-adjacent au. part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. tw substance abuse, ptsd, references to past torture (canon, the russians.) part 7.

ao3

Writing the album is, somehow, the easy part, even after Steve put his foot in his mouth.

He had his suspicions, but he shouldn't have asked that. It was a dick move, and he's been trying not to be a dick for the past few years. So, he apologized and didn't bring it up again.

Eddie softened after that. Like he wasn't expecting Steve to apologize. He accepted it, and things have been good since.

Well, more than good, if Steve's being honest. Things have gotten a lot better since.

He's noticed a few things, even after their permanently discontinued game of "truth or truth." Mostly, the things Steve has noticed have been about Eddie, like:

He laughs at the dumbest things.

He quotes books and movies constantly.

He has an accent that he masks unless he's tired.

He hates strong smells.

He deflects by becoming bigger.

There's more. A lot more that Steve has noticed, but listing everything about Eddie's brilliance and stubbornness, his courage and obnoxiousness, his gorgeous face and sharp tongue would take all day. Steve has noticed a lot over these few weeks spent hunched over instruments and notebooks at his house, and he thinks Eddie has noticed him in return.

He hopes so.

It's been a long time since Steve has wanted to be noticed beyond the superficial adoration of fans. It's been a long time since Steve has wanted to be known.

There are a plethora of reasons for why that's a bad idea. Steve is able to forget them momentarily when he sees Eddie smile.

All too soon, after far too long, they're done writing. They start recording, and that is the hard part.

It always is. There's always something wrong with the levels or slightly out of tune, or someone sneezes right into the mic on the first good take. There's things that work and things that don't, and, always, songs on paper that have to get fixed before they can be songs on the radio.

The album has good bones, though. It's angry and hopeful and scared and sad and triumphant. It's music, it's art, it's life.

And once they can make it work, it's going to be great.

That's what Steve is doing now. Making it work. He's awake at 4 AM on a Tuesday, sitting at a piano and trying to rework the bass line to stop it from clashing so much with the melody.

The only good thing about this situation is that he's made it to seventy three hours awake for the first time, courtesy of a well-timed line right before he got to work.

If it keeps working, he might trash the pills entirely.

He plays the introduction to the song again on his right hand and starts adding low notes on his left. As it is, it sounds empty. To much distance. But if he raises it a fourth-

"Steve?"

He freezes, fighting back against the instinct to jump away from the piano like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. He forgot that the band has been crashing at his house - it's close to the studio and he has the rooms to spare - and because he forgot that he wasn't alone, he failed to remember that most people aren't awake at this hour, nevermind working.

So, he calmly turns around to see Eddie, in pajamas, standing in the doorway, blinking sleep out of his tired eyes.

Steve swallows and hopes that Eddie is too tired to catch him openly staring.

"What are you doing?" Eddie whispers.

"Reworking something," Steve says. "Trying out something different for the bass line in Envy, the one that's giving us trouble."

Eddie covers his mouth to yawn. "Couldn't sleep?"

Steve wonders when the last time he thought that was a bad thing was.

"I can be quieter," he says. "I was just trying to fix this. But that can wait until morning."

"Steve," Eddie says, and he's got that look on his face.

Steve hates that look.

Eddie looks at him like he can see inside his skull, inside his heart, and read his DNA letter by letter. He looks at him like he can see everything about Steve: past, present, and future.

And there's pity in every second of it.

Steve can't stand pity.

"I just- I gotta see the whole picture, you know?" he continues so Eddie doesn't get to voice that pity. "And you guys all have your instruments, but piano gives me everything. I can play the bass and the guitar and sing and- I'm just able to get it better that way. Where are you going?"

Eddie is almost out the door again. "I- I can't be here, Steve."

"Why? Are you tired? You can go-"

"You're high, and I know that if you offer me something, I won't say no."

Oh.

"Eddie, I wouldn't-"

"And even if you don't, if you take something in front of me, I know I'll ask for some," he says, like it's a fact, the same way the sky is blue.

"I'm not- I wouldn't do that to you," Steve says. No point in denying that he's high, not when they both know it. "I wasn't- I'll get off the piano. I'll read, or, well, reread something instead."

He gestures aimlessly at the bookshelf on the wall near the door. It's crammed full of recommendations from Dustin and Robin and Erica and Nancy. All of them have been read at least once, most of them twice.

"You like to read?" Eddie asks.

"No, I hate it," Steve says, completely genuinely.

Eddie huffs out a quiet laugh. "I will never understand you."

"I know."

Because that's the thing. No one can understand it, can understand him, unless they were in Hawkins, Indiana, too. Unless they saw what he did. Unless they signed the same NDAs. Unless they fought the same monsters and went to the same other world and endured the same things.

Eddie, like most other people, will never be able to understand.

So, his smile fades as he stands there in the doorway, confused.

"I like stories, but I hate reading," Steve explains. "I just do it to fill-"

"I can read to you."

Steve stops mid-word. "What?"

"If you want to hear the story without reading," Eddie says. "I like reading. I can read to you."

Steve has spent seventy four hours, at this point, awake. He is sitting at a piano bench at 4 AM on a Tuesday, high on cocaine, and is staring at a hot guy his age who, over the past few weeks, has alternated between seemingly hating him and smiling that smile.

Forgive him for making the stupid decision to say-

"Okay."

Eddie smiles, though it's tired. He takes a book from the shelf at random and walks out the door. Steve has no choice but to follow, back to the guest room Eddie has taken as his own.

Eddie turns on the bedside lamp and lays down underneath the rumpled sheets.

"Come on," he says, patting the space next to him. "I don't bite."

"You sure?" Steve jokes, but he climbs on alongside him, careful not to touch.

He really wants to touch.

He's not thinking straight.

Eddie cracks the book open and starts reading in a low whisper.

Steve can barely understand what he's saying, but that doesn't matter. What matters is Eddie's voice, quiet and rough and breathy. What matters is Eddie's voice, steady and soothing.

It's nice. It's really nice.

Steve finds himself curling up, closer and closer, until his head is on Eddie's chest.

His eyes slip closed at hour seventy-five.

And the next thing he knows, he's standing with his back to a corner, holding a metal, foldable music stand in front of him, with a voice hoarse from screaming.

Clearly, he fell asleep.

Fantastic.

Sometimes, he's able to tell what the nightmare was before he actually remembers it. It's all in the little habits he's developed.

When he finds himself checking to see if all his fingernails are still attached to his hands, blinking nonexistent blood out of his left eye, and still murmuring Robin's name, he knows that this one had to be about the Russians.

And then the memory of the bone saw, of the screaming, of taking hit after hit after hit crashes into him so hard he almost doubles over.

He reminds himself he's safe. That he's unharmed. That Robin is safe in her dorm at UCLA. That they never got Dustin or Erica.

That all of this is fucking useless.

He's gotten it all out. He's written song after song about all of it, all of the monsters and the fighting and the fear and the good in spite of it all. He writes and plays and sings close enough to all of it to almost break the NDAs.

And none of it is of any use at all because, years later, Steve still can't fucking sleep.

He swallows. Swallows again. Tries to breathe, even if it's in the form of great, heaving gasps.

And that's when he realizes that Eddie is standing right in front of him. Clearly confused, clearly terrified.

This is why, though he can never understand Steve, he shouldn't know him, either. This is why Steve can't reach out and touch.

Because even if he could explain it to Eddie, even if he would lie and say he believed him and understood, no one wants someone who can't make it through a night without waking up at least three times. No one wants to have to calm someone down from weekly screaming fits brought on by the back of their eyelids.

"Get out," he says.

"Steve," Eddie says, and there's that pity again.

Steve can't stand pity.

"Get out!" he shouts, heedless of the fact that he's probably waking everyone else up, that this is the room Eddie is staying in.

He can go to Steve's room. Everything in there is hidden, so he can't break his sobriety unless he snoops.

Steve hopes he doesn't snoop. He doesn't want to drag Eddie down to where he's at.

Eddie nods and makes his way to the door. Before he leaves, he stops and looks back.

"I don't know what you're running from," he whispers. "But when it catches you-"

"What?" Steve snaps.

"Let someone know."

If Steve were in a better state of mind, he'd ask what the hell that meant. But he's shaking and tired, so goddamn tired, that he watches Eddie go.

He sits on the floor, in the corner, still holding the music stand. The sun is up. It streams through the windows along with the sounds of birds chirping.

And Steve wonders how he's supposed to live the rest of his life like this.

He makes it an hour before he falls asleep sitting up on the floor. He makes it two more before he wakes himself up again, checking his fingernails.

[glorious-spoon]

9-1-1 Season 7 Post-Mortem

Mostly because I want to put my thoughts in order. Full disclosure: I'm really not thrilled with a lot of the choices this season made, but I'm also not at the 'fuck this show I hate it now' level either. The primary, overarching issue, IMO, is that they tried to stuff a full season's worth of plot into ten episodes, and the pacing and emotional continuity suffered badly. And also there were some writing choices that were simply deranged (and hopefully would have been reworked had they not been laying down the tracks in front of the speeding train, so to speak).

(Cut for me rambling at length)

So: Bobby and Athena were largely really solidly written. The cruise ship disaster was great: campy and OTT, but in a fun way. Their marital issues and the eventual resolution felt like a natural continuation of issues they've had in the past. Bobby Begins 3.0 was a great episode other than the cartel element, which was some ill-considered racial stereotyping (I've said it before and I'll say it again: you could have had the antagonists in that episode be a bunch of angry locals threatening people for tresspassing on their property, and the whole thing would have been 100% less gross without actually changing much of the plot. Really felt like Tim was cribbing from the similar Lone Star arc, which was also lazy and racist). Amir was a fantastic character, and while I could have done without that last scene of him offering Bobby absolution, I feel like he was generally allowed to be both gracious and rightfully angry. The cop Athena stuff in the finale was... less great, but also to be expected. I would have liked much less of that and much more time spent at Bobby's bedside.

(I'm really sad about the house fire mostly because that was one of my favorite sets, but I do appreciate the poetry of the parallel, with Bobby actually managing to get his wife out this time. Though I do wonder where Harry was that night, lmao.)

Hen was similarly wonderful. I really liked getting to see her wrestle with the responsibility of being captain, and the fallout of the car accident scene. In a vacuum, I actually like Ortiz as a villain - a complicated one, with sympathetic motivations, but still ostentatiously cruel. Were it not for the fact that there are basically NO latine characters other than Eddie who aren't villains this season, it would have been great. ALAS.

Did not love the rescue dog/foster child parallel with Mara. Otherwise really loved getting to see her settle in with the Wilsons, and I'm really glad that we got to see Chim and Maddie take her in instead of leaving her at the group home by the end of the season. Really leaned into the found family element, and Chim taking care of his best friend's child in the same way that Mrs. Lee did for him.

CHIM! Chim my beloved. 'There Goes The Groom' is the one episode that I have basically no issues with at all. The hallucinatory trip through Los Angeles, wrestling with Doug's ghost, was gorgeous. Bringing back Kevin - also gorgeous. I loved that we see the Lees explicitly framed as his real family (and am spitefully glad that his bio dad was nowhere to be found. Fuck that guy.) Kenny continues to be, IMO, the best actor on this show. He killed it. We need so many more Chim-centric episodes, because they're always SO good. He can make both humor and pathos feel so natural and human. Give us more Chim!

And of course on to Buck's bisexual arc, which was... so painfully Buck, lmao. Full disclosure: I have a lot of trouble rewatching 7x04 and 7x05 because the secondhand embarrassment is just too much for me, but objectively it feels very right and in character for him. LOVED the first kiss scene, with his dawning realization of what's about to happen and his softly stunned joy afterward. His coming out scenes with both Maddie and Eddie were lovely and perfectly appropriate to both relationships. I really liked him taking the initiative to reach out to Tommy to apologize and ask for a second chance after he fucked up their first date. Loved Tommy showing up at the hospital after what was clearly a long, miserable shift.

Their date in the finale didn't really land for me mostly because of where it was placed in the episode; if they did something with the two of them after Buck spent the entire day at Bobby's bedside waiting to see if he was going to live, it would have felt a lot more natural to me to have them exhaustedly eating takeout on the couch or something instead of having a formal sit-down date with wine and place settings. Intentionally or not, that made it feel like they're still on Date Behavior with each other and despite some gestures toward emotional vulnerability, they're not quite there yet - as seen by Buck steering the conversation back to flirting and innuendo. My overall feeling on the relationship at this point is that it's cute, but I'm not seeing any real depth of feeling between them yet.

Buck and Eddie on the other hand - look, despite my many MANY issues with Eddie's plot this season, I loved how his relationship with Buck was written. I love the intimacy and familiarity of how they are together, I loved the way Eddie let himself lean on Buck, I loved how Buck is clearly positioned as an integral part of the Diaz family.

Unfortunately, that's really the only thing I loved about Eddie's plot this season. His relationship with Marisol was ultimately pointless; she was never fleshed out enough to feel like a real character, and we never even see the fallout of Eddie's cheating with regard to her; it's all Chris. The Kim stuff strained credulity, and also I never felt like he got any kind of emotional catharsis or resolution through it; he still hasn't really confronted any of his issues about Shannon, about their marriage and how it ended. That whole arc felt really wobbly in terms of tone, as well: using plot elements of a very famous psychological thriller without actually acknowledging any of the creepiness of it. I would have liked it to lean into that more especially with the scene where Kim dresses up as Shannon, an objectively creepy and unhinged thing to do.

The Diaz parents handled the Chris thing in a selfish and opportunistic way that felt both disappointing and inevitable. Hopefully that's going to be a hook for the next season and Eddie actually confronting them, but overall Eddie's plot this season really felt like they just tossed a bunch of balls up in the air and mostly failed to catch them.

Gerrard - look, I'm not that worried about Gerrard. I could have done without him, but ultimately he's going to stick around just long enough to make his inevitable defeat satisfying. At least, that's my hope.

[earlgreytea68]

its just one of those days where ive had coffees for closers on repeat

sighhhh

have u ever done an analysis of the song? if not what r ur thoughts?? hope ur having a good day btw xx

Ugh, this song is such a gutpunch. I've talked about it briefly in the context of how it reworks lines from Pete's poem "to you (unfinished, off the top of my head)" in THE MOST PAINFUL WAY POSSIBLE:

He does the same thing with the lyrics he borrows for (coffee’s for closers). Pete’s poem sets the tone for fairy-tale storytelling right at the beginning: “It all started with some friends and a van, a kick drum inside my ribs, preaching electric into a microphone stand.” These beginning images are fond: holding up red cups at house parties, falling asleep together on the grass during festivals, laughing. But Patrick carves those lines out and brackets them with “I will never believe in anything again, we will never believe again.” What an answer to this poem out of Patrick: to take those words and slap them between endless proclamations of not falling for that fairy tale again. Even worse, he tops it off with a rewrite of the “read the charts” line: the poem reads “you can get lonely when u only read the charts.” This feels like more on the theme of “you can get everything you want [but it’s never enough], but it won’t actually make you happy.” You can read the charts, and FOB would be on top of them, but it’s lonely up there, and you need more than that. But the line in (coffee’s for closers) goes: “Only get lonely when you read the charts.” The movement of that “only” shifts the line for me. There are a bunch of ways to read it, but for me it reads like: “You only get lonely when you remember you’re in a band. You’re so busy running around being the life of the party, you’re never, ever lonely unless you’re paying attention to your band.”

The thing is, I consider that poem a fond and wistful love poem from Pete to Patrick, trying to reach across a great chasm, and at first the pain of it is how Patrick initially writes songs that take those lines and rejects them, twists them, spits them back out. Eventually he doesn't. Eventually he soothes the lines back into answering love songs. But in the beginning, he writes songs that are fiery rejections of the mood of this poem, and (coffee's for closers) is one of them. Pete's poem reads all us believers still believe. Patrick in this song writes, over and over and over again, slamming it home, I will never believe again. Take that, Pete Wentz! Never! Again!

To me it's just a brutal song about hating how everything turned out but not seeing a way out of it (I want everything to change and stay the same). The Genius annotation says throw your cameras in the air is about how people always film concerts these days, but I think that's wrong. I mean, maybe, although the song was written in 2008 when cell phone taping was still a fairly new phenomenon. But I think this line is really a rumination on fame, on feeling like everywhere you look there are cameras in your face, and it's not about concerts, it's about your life. Girls used to follow you around...until you got cold, and you were no longer the current big thing, and then it's lonely there in the spotlight, where no one's having a good time, the hands they wave in the air are all cameras pointed at you, hoping to catch the next mistake, and everything that was supposed to be good and great, all those pretty promises Pete Wentz made back in the summer fest days when you fell asleep on the grass turned into this. You've become something I don't even recognize, and I'm just your mascot, some laughable gimmick everyone makes fun of, and you love the mayhem more than the love that was all around you, you threw all that love away like you didn't even want it, and I will never believe in anything again. Change will come, and nothing good is going to come of that, either, because you don't like things the way they are but you know that changing them isn't going to turn out well, either.

This song is just so much. It's so angrily hiatus. It's such a demonstration of how much they had broken down around each other.

But it's okay. Because on the other side of it, eventually, Patrick takes this same poem and makes it into "Favorite Record," so it turns out all right in the end. Happily ever after (below the waist)

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Howl I'm thinking about Nightmare's gang being a cult again.

Just how fucked up is it that Killer had to go through that twice? First with the Something New Player rewiring how his brain works entirely, while Chara meticulously breaks down his boundaries and reworking his identity until only they could decide who he is. Only for Nightmare to do exactly the same once Killer finally killed them.

And not only that, but now he has to watch as the same exact thing happens to others. And Stage 2 can push for apathy as much as they want to try and protect them from that crushing realization, but eventually it's gonna hit. Eventually Killer's brain is gonna let its thoughts wander in that direction because boredom is always gonna be the greatest threat for it. And then Killer will wish he'd never done that, because this whole time he's kinda been complicit in their indoctrination.

But, then again, by then he doesn't really know another way to live. He knows that once he broke free of Chara's very similar conditioning, but he doesn't have a concrete idea of what could come next. He doesn't know what life outside a cultish structure looks like and that makes the prospect of ever leaving terrifying.

I think Color coming in and showing him that there is a possible future out there for him is the saving grace he needed all along. And also the push he'll need to get the others out too. Because he's definitely not gonna let them leave for as long as he doesn't see an exit. Whether they hate him or not for it.

It is extremely fucked up. And that’s why I’ll keep saying that Something New is a psychological horror until someone eventually starts writing a fic about it. /lh

And the realization that hits is still very likely going to be tinged with that deep seated apathy that chara reinforced. I can’t see killer breaking out of his belief that he’s emotionless, that emotions are signs of being weak and that attachments are threats to his autonomy and independence, for many many years, with a lot of set backs, and I can’t see it happening when he’s under nightmare.

I don’t really think killer has broken free from chara’s conditioning—despite how much he’d like to claim he is free now that they’re dead. Because they cant be dead when their voice still rings in his mind, and their eyes still watch him everywhere he goes. A constant lurking shadow.

Chara never died, killer never escaped. they just became more elusive.

I think there’s still a lot going on in killer mind he doesn’t realize is conditioning, such as his belief in his emotionlessness. His kill or be killed, controlled or be controlled mentality. Even the reason why he turned on chara was still within the confines of what they taught him—the most determined decides fate, the strongest controls the weakest, and he had no need for them anymore. and so he will make them suffer.

with nightmare, i do think he wont even realize or care what’s happening to the others—because its just how things work. not until color comes along, showing him that things don’t have to be like that. before that, i can see killer helping only in ways that would benefit or amuse him, or whenever nightmare tells him to help someone—because he doesn’t think theyd ever willingly help him if it came down to it.

but if he realized somehow before color comes along—because he definitely wouldn’t take into consideration anything horror, murder, or cross have to say about it because they are apart of the weak/the controlled and they’re just struggling to realize that. it is inevitable, and it’s pointless to try and change it. or at least that’s his justification for avoiding any responsibility.

but i can see any attempts to “help” them being tainted by his worldview and what he’s been taught; such as teaching them how and when to avoid upsetting nightmare, teaching them the rules of the place, trying to teach them when to go to limp and stop resisting, how to learn how to enjoy the pain of themselves or of others. best ways to torture others, and how to “go away inside” if they truly can’t handle it.

and he definitely wouldn’t let them leave unless nightmare says so, which is unlikely. In his mind this place in castle can be learned and then eventually become predictable, they’d struggle outside of the castle because of who they are and what they do. that’s really the only kindness he knows how to give.

..i can definitely see spiting the Chara in his head for being a huge motivation for certain more “merciful” or “kinder” things. just to prove to himself they don’t have control over him anymore, and to spite them even beyond the grave.

{ @stellocchia }

[freakenomenon]

since you’ve already talked extensively about ted and ellens psychodramas + how they were displayed in the game, what do you think about other characters psychodramas like gorrister and benny?

sits back.

both of their psychodramas are confusing to me, but i prefer bennys over gorristers so ill talk about that first,,

i have like an EXTREME dislike for how they completely took away his entire character in the short story, especially with the erasure of his sexuality. but even beyond that. i just. Don't understand his character??? he was big and strong and handsome and hated the weak and. then what.

id understand if there was some kind of character motive beyond being perfect and not giving a damn point blank period. like if he was trying to prove something. to strive for perfection to the point of killing others because of SOMETHING. but they don't. i don't understand the point of completely reworking this characters already established and VERY WELL IMPLEMENTED backstory for anything other than censorship.

he refused to be weak in any way, but WHY.

it's not like with ellen ( sorry i cant resist ) where she grew up in a bad neighborhood where she was treated like nothing, so she decided to MAKE herself something.

which made it hard to cope with the fact she couldn't just rise above EVERYTHING.

or like with ted where he was forced to work for his family because of their poor financial situation, but then was pulled out of that by someone who was taking advantage of him.

which caused a giant rift in his identity.

benny has just. always been a cool big strong powerful man who didnt care about others!!@ and then when AM took him down he's not anymore boo hoo.

it's watering down what made bennys transformation from man to monkey so god damn horrifying. especially with the lack of compassion. yes sure he cares about nobody but himself BUT FUCKING. WHY? THEY DONT EVEN ELABORATE ON THIS IN THE MANUAL. FUCKING WHYYYYYY.

i like toto though, very fun little guy. very interesting character. he was like the only part of the psychodrama i could really,,, resonate? with.

now. gorristers psychodrama is.

what the hell is even going on

the only thing i could really gather from it is that instead of being an activist and a cautious "looker-aheader", gorrister was a truck driving alcoholic who had a bad marriage and an abusive mother in law who blamed him for driving his wife batshit crazy because he beat her. but. other than that i don't.

understand half of it. what do you mean edna killed gorrister. what do you mean Harry cut his heart out. jesse, what the fuck are you talking about.

i don't fully understand WHY we are supposed to sympathize with gorrister when he is. SOMEWHAT responsible for the mental descent of glynis. obviously edna and harry played a huge part in this, im not ignoring that at all. but the end of the psychodrama implying that gorrister should just forgive himself and bury the past because he wasn't FULLY at fault for punting wife into the looneybin. What.

once again, i don't understand the need for a complete flip of this characters original premis unless it's for CENSORSHIP purposes. alongside that at least the puzzles and the dialogue within bennys psychodrama make SENSE. gorristers just.

DONT?

it's not that the puzzles don't have ANY logic like a good one or two of ellens. THEY JUST. ARENT SOMETHING THAT A NORMAL PERSON WOULD DO OR BE ABLE TO FIGURE OUT WITHOUT JUST CLICKING SHIT ON RANDOM TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS. wait. Wait.

Okay. i know this is supposed to be a rant about their characters but. I just wanna say that a lot of the puzzles. Are things that RELATE to the characters and their stories and backgrounds. which adds to the enjoyment. WHEN YOU REMOVE THE ENJOYMENT OF THE PUZZLES. IT KIND OF MAKES ME. NOT LIKE GORRISTER SO MUCH.

if i kept going id just end up totally rewriting the characters as a whole and that's something for another tumblr rant to soothe my ever expanding rage.

im gonna go get a cheese stick

[olympeline]

Please somebody spare a crumb of kindness and ask me about my scotfruk omegaverse thoughts. I have so many Feelings about the potential dynamics between these three. They are some of my favourite guys to put in situations together. So I’m reworking one of my old posts with a new a/b/o twist:

Gimme a historical human AU where Alasdair, the alpha king of Scotland, was wed to the French prince Francis Bonnefoy to strengthen their nations’ alliance against the English. Everyone assumed Francis - graceful, pretty child he was - would present omega. He might even have been a borderline case who had a “false heat” or two after he hit puberty. So the two royal families were all: “Jackpot!” and married him to Alasdair as soon as they were both of age. Then, disaster! Turns out they’d jumped the gun in the worst way. Against all odds, Francis presented beta. Meaning there could be no children born of his and Alasdair’s union. Disaster for France, much worse disaster for Scotland, opposite of disaster and cause for much laughter, celebrating, and schadenfreude in England. Many jokes made and toasts drunk to royal couple “Alas, no heir” and Francis “Barrenfoy” in the lands Anglo.

Everyone tells Alasdair to set his “useless” husband aside. Annul their marriage and try again. But Alasdair has come to truly love Francis and he refuses. Their wooing was rough at first (ba-dum-tsh!) but opposites attract and they fell for each other in the end. Just in time for all hope to die that Francis could be an omega. Alasdair wouldn’t throw Francis away, though. Fiery, fiercely loving, stubborn man Alasdair is, even Francis himself couldn’t change his mind. Though Francis’s protests are, admittedly, halfhearted as hell. He’s come to love Alasdair just as much. He doesn’t want to lose him or the new life he’s built for himself in Scotland. The guillt still gnaws away at Francis, though. All kings needs progeny as a matter of urgency. If only he hadn’t presented beta. Then everything would be all right.

Meanwhile the English, once they got over their hangovers, decided to take advantage of their neighbour’s political woes and attack the Scottish borderlands. Their forces lead by one Arthur Bloody Kirkland: beta English prince, ready to kick some tartan on his father’s orders. The English aim to seize the lowlands but, unfortunately for them, Alasdair and Francis aren’t so distracted that they’ve forgetten how to fight. It turns into a Battle of Bannockburn style Scottish victory and not only is the English army sent fleeing, but Arthur himself is captured. Though he at least manages to hide his identity and pretend to be an ordinary knight. Swapping armour with a dead comrade just before capture and letting the jubilant Scots believe they’d killed their enemy’s crown prince. The last thing Arthur wants is to be executed or used as a hostage so England is bankrupted getting him back. They’ve lost enough as is with his humiliating defeat. Arthur is taken back to Alasdair’s castle and made into a gift for Francis. Even after such a big victory, Alasdair can see his husband is still depressed and hopes having a sassenach slave to torment will cheer him up. Arthur gave Alasdair plenty of lip while being questioned and afterwards Alasdair decided a life spent on his knees (ahem) as a servant would be just what the doctor ordered for the proud, haughty Englishman.

Francis and Arthur are Francis and Arthur no matter what the universe and sparks fly right from the get-go. Francis does enjoy tormenting Arthur but Arthur gives as good as he gets and Francis…likes it? They both do, actually. Just staring across the room in a: “Grrr, I hate you so much but I want you inside me so badly you bastard fuck you!” way. More guilt for Francis because now he’s attracted to two men on top of everything else and only one of them is his spouse. Alasdair notices and is pissed as hell but then he also can’t help imagining that blonde on blonde Action and ffffuuuuck. He should just get rid of Arthur, who’s a terrible servant anyway, but ffffuuuuck. Seeing him on his knees is…ffffuuuuck. Also, much more importantly, having Arthur around to fight with has rallied Francis’s low spirits at last. So throwing their prisoner in the nearest loch is a big no-no. You played yourself, Alasdair. For Arthur’s part, he knows he should be trying to escape and not thinking so much about Auld Alliance double dickings but it’s like he’s losing his mind around them. Seriously, what is wrong with him? Why is he feeling this way for these sexy husbands he’s meant to hate and also it’s winter so why the fuck is he suddenly so hot all the time?! Scotland is meant to be cold but Arthur is stumbling around flushed and unsteady with a brain full of cotton as if he were drunk. This must be how omegas feel when their heats are close. But that’s not relevant to Arthur, who’s confident he’s 100% a beta and always has been. Which is fortunate because an omega can’t be king in England. Absolutely, totally against the law down there. So it’s a good thing that’s not what Arthur is. That he definitely isn’t one of the 0.01% of omegas who present late for Reasons no one understands yet because it’s the past and advanced medicine still involves covering people in leeches and yelling at stars. No, Arthur is just coming down with something. He definitely isn’t a late bloomer. Definitely. Definitely, definitely. Otherwise his already bad situation would be even worse! And even Arthur Bloody Kirkland isn’t that unlucky. Hahahaha haha…haha…ha

So that’s our pitch, folks! We have Alasdair: the alpha king trying to balance complex political realities with adoration for his spouse. Alongside Francis: the beta king consort torn apart by the guilt of being one of his beloved Alasdair’s Biggest Problems in a way he can’t fix. And finally Arthur: the captured beta (…) secret prince trying to find a way to escape back to his kingdom before anyone discovers his true identity. Oh the drama, oh the angst, oh the romance, oh the everything. Good God, please let me ramble on about these fictional men. I am Like This thinking about them: