#I'm honestly not sure which I used as a reference anymore

[claypigeonpottery]

sold

[deebris]

The Misteryous Visitor 4

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: Bruce finally confronts Damian, and hates how tonight's events seemed to turn out just to remind him what a terrible father he is. He felt like he didn't deserve you, and he wanted at all costs to avenge the injustice Talia committed with you two.

Warnings: Family discussion; maternal overprotection; Bruce has psychiatric problems and is mentally unstable, besides being very angry; mentions depression, post-traumatic stress and the like.

Word count: 3.7k

Note: I apologize for taking so long to post the fourth part. I was looking for inspiration to continue in other fandoms. Now I feel engaged again to continue posting

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

"She is not a secret." Damian tried to sound firm, looking Bruce in the eyes to avoid suspicion. But no matter what he did or how long he tried to maintain the lie, his father had already decided what to think about this enigmatic and strange situation.

"Hmm..." He let out a disheartened murmur, and the boy never thought something like this would happen, but he frowned with worry as he saw Bruce pour another drink. It wasn't like his father to act this way.

When Damian first met him in person at ten years old, he could have sworn Bruce and Talia were somewhat enjoying themselves that day, even with the barbs hidden in some exchanged sentences. Or maybe he was mistaken; after all, it had been so long. Perhaps he had preserved a false memory.

"How much have you drunk?" The boy asked with a disdainful voice, trying to hide that he was truly concerned.

"Why have you never talked about her? She is your sister, Damian." Bruce ignored the question but in a kind of silent acknowledgment, he rested the glass on the side table, preventing himself from getting drunk.

"Why are you acting like this? As if it's a big deal." He made a face of confusion. "Why do you care so much about this? She isn't even your problem. I won't stay here being interrogated because of her." Damian got up, taking hurried steps to the front door. He was running away, and he knew it.

"Where are you going?" Bruce stood to follow him, finally showing some kind of emotion beyond stoicism since they had been alone in the room.

"I'm going to wait for my mother outside. And when she appears, I'll come back to fetch Y/n. Then you won't have to see her anymore, ever again." Damian said, and although Bruce didn't know if in the last part his son was referring to you or Talia, he didn't dare ask for the detail.

"Why didn't you ask any of us for help when you found out she was missing? If she is someone so close to you, you could have talked to us." Bruce was speaking in that strange way again, like when he found out Jason was the Red Hood. He was hurt, and as if a whistle had snapped in his mind, Damian understood that his father was like this because of him. It wasn't Talia or how she always ended up causing problems; it was him. "You hid from me that you were still talking to your mother."

"And did I need to inform you that I talk to my mother?" The boy tried to maintain a haughty tone, repressing the urge to shout so that Bruce wouldn't see his conflicting feelings.

The truth is that it hurt to lie like this. It hurt even more to lie to you. Damian didn't show or openly say what he felt; his mother once told him that was weakness, but honestly, now he was disgusted with himself.

"You didn't need to inform me, but you made an effort to hide it!" Bruce didn't shout. His voice was grave, authoritative, and deep down had a tone of betrayal that had twice the impact of a shout. He seemed to reflect on something, and patiently Damian awaited a lamentable outburst, but just as he himself would do, Bruce was avoiding becoming emotional.

"I don't understand why, but you came to live with me and seemed to exclude her from your life because of us. She is your sister and didn't even know I am your father! You sent letters, which I'm sure you hid not just from me but from her too. And she ended up here in the middle of the night like a fugitive. Will you tell me again that all this has no reason?"

"Even if there were a reason, it wouldn't be your business." The young man replied harshly, and once again: it was a lie. It was his business. Seeing Bruce's angry scowl turn into a defeated look made one of his fingers tremble. Realizing only after saying something that what he did was wrong made a panic arise in his chest.

Bruce sat back in the armchair, giving up on the discussion once and for all. He felt so stupid for thinking he was succeeding in freeing his son from the League of Assassins' clutches, that he was doing a good job showing him he didn't need the blind loyalty Talia taught him to have. He feared that Damian would succumb to a villain's life, exactly as Ra's al Ghul wanted Bruce to be: cruel and ruthless.

Talia stirred bad reactions in him, and his sense of justice hammered in his head. How could he simply hand you back into her hands after you came here tonight? That woman was a bad influence on anyone, and it didn't matter if you were her daughter; you were a child. And wasn't that what he did with all his children? Took them from the streets and bad parents?

He wanted to vomit at the idea of allowing you to continue being raised by someone like her, among those people, but if he couldn't even change Damian, what could he do for you? Bruce couldn't force you to stay, but at the same time, he grappled with the internal conflict of corroborating that one day you would become like they. He is Batman, his duty is to protect. He should protect you too.

Bruce rubbed his eyes, feeling an intense headache and he day was already dawning again"Your mother isn't coming, Damian." He asserted, noticing that a long time had passed since they started waiting, getting up to return to his own room.

"You said we had a lot to talk about." Suddenly, the boy felt the need to prolong the conversation, if this could even be considered a conversation. It was as if they would never speak again if he allowed his father to leave.

"We don't anymore." Was cold, and that made the boy swallow hard. Bruce knew he would regret being so harsh, but at that moment, he wasn't thinking straight. The rational part of his brain was being dominated by his impulsive side.

Bruce opened his bedroom door with unusual violence. Lately, these episodes of anger were frequent, perhaps due to interrupted sleep; this damned insomnia was worse than in the last months. Alfred had already suggested he see a psychiatrist, but Bruce was sure he would leave there with a worse diagnosis than expected, so he avoided it as much as possible.

The butler once dared to mention that he might have some type of post-traumatic stress, but Bruce was stubborn and that led to an argument. He was a controlled man, but that day he shouted. The reaction was not unexpected, considering the tension from the chaos Scarecrow was causing in the city at the time, but Alfred was observant and knew the problems went beyond that.

The death of his parents was a delicate subject, and combined with the pressure of being Batman, Alfred saw Bruce become more obsessive, anxious, and even depressed over the years. Fortunately, the emergence of Dick was a break in the sad loneliness for him. And then came Jason, Tim, Damian, and things improved for a while, but the relapses still existed.

Bruce sighed as he admired his bed, wishing he could sleep again, but knowing he wouldn't be able to without taking another dose of pills, which certainly wasn't an option. Then he noticed your coat there. The garment had been left in his room, carefully placed on the arm of the room's couch.

He walked over and picked up the coat, rubbing the soft fabric with melancholy and noting how well-kept the garment was. It would probably be a good idea to return it to you; Would also be an opportunity to check if you were well accommodated.

Cautiously, he walked to the guest wing. Bruce thought he would need to check the rooms one by one to discover where Alfred had placed you, but a beam of light leaking from one of the doors indicated which one. He hesitated to turn the knob; it felt too intrusive. So, he knocked: three soft taps on the wood. He waited a few seconds, but you didn't come to open it, and he gave in to the act of opening it himself.

In slow movements, he leaned to look inside the room, without entering yet and checking if everything was okay. He saw your figure well wrapped in the covers, eyes closed and breathing in a consistent rhythm. You were sleeping, and the light he saw was the bedside lamp.

He entered, doing everything to control his steps, going to a chair to place the coat there. He felt the need to be gentle with the garment for some reason, handling the coat with such care, as if holding you in his hands.

He was envious of how pleasant your sleep seemed, wishing he could sleep like that too. He thought of turning off the lamp, but regretted it when he saw that his act interrupted your sleep. As soon as everything went dark, he heard the rustle of the covers, signaling that you had woken up. You stayed still for a while, staring at the shadow in front of you, knowing someone was there but too embarrassed to ask who it was, until the light was turned back on and you saw Mr. Wayne.

"Sorry, I think I woke you," he said softly, genuinely feeling guilty. "I brought your coat. I left it to dry better; it's still a bit wet," he continued, gesturing towards the chair.

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne," you replied groggily due to the minutes you spent sleeping. Thinking he would leave, you clasped your hands as if praying and placed them under your cheek on the pillow. A common but funny position.

"Call me just Bruce," he sat on the edge of the bed, looking at your face. He had a question stuck in his throat and thought it would be a good idea to start a conversation. "Are you okay?"

"I am. Thank you for letting me sleep at your house." you answered serenely, and he nodded in agreement. "And you?" You asked back. Bruce blinked, surprised by your question, realizing that your eyes were shining. The truth is he couldn't say how he felt, so he said what anyone would say: 

"Yes, I'm okay," he said, more focused on your face, knowing you might be uncomfortable with that but wanting to see you better. 

“Can I ask you something?” He seemed anxious, and you waited expectantly in silence, which he took as a yes. “Why did your mother separate you two like that? Why didn’t she tell you anything?”

You stared at a random spot on the mattress, feeling a pang in your chest at the memory. “She did, in a way. Mom doesn’t like you very much, Mr. Wayne. I think that’s why,” you said, looking back at him, seeing him raise his eyebrows in amusement; you corrected yourself with a gasp: “Bruce.”

“Did she speak badly of me to you?” Bruce was curious like a silly child, even though a serious scowl was etched on his face.

“Not exactly about you. Mom and Grandpa hate Batman.” By this point, you had already figured it out. It wasn’t hard to connect the dots between your family and Robin with him after a few minutes of reflection. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

Bruce let out a dry laugh, caught off guard. “Yes, it’s me,” he confirmed, and you shifted to sit more upright on the bed, excited.

“Is it true that you killed the Joker?” Your question made Bruce’s scowl turn puzzled. So that was the kind of rumor circulating.

“No, I didn’t kill him. He just... disappeared one day,” the same day Bruce thought he had lost Jason, and although deep down he wanted very much to have done it, he didn’t find it appropriate to admit that to you.

“I’m confused,” your voice became more relaxed, he thought it was due to the casual tone the conversation was taking. “If Damian is Robin now, what happened to the other one? He didn’t die, did he?” You asked the last question in a whisper, fearing it was true.

Bruce laughed at this. He had never thought about how people assumed Robin was a single person all these years. “No, he’s fine. You’d be surprised if I told you five different people have been Robin.”

Your eyes widened, and suddenly you remembered a detail: “There was a girl, wasn’t there? I remember seeing some photos in an old newspaper.”

Bruce was perplexed at how much you seemed to know about him, but in a good way. “Yes, there was a girl. She’s Batgirl now,” when he said that, your smile widened even more. It seemed like you were a secret fan, he would say, since in your own words: "Talia hates him" and Bruce knows she would hardly allow you to have such admiration.

But your smile faded, and that worried him for a moment until you spoke: “I didn’t know that man was Hugo Strange,” you looked at him with regret. “If I had known, I would have caught him for you.”

“Would you?” He asked, doubting you really could.

“Well... I would have tried,” you defended yourself, shrugging your shoulders.

“Very brave. But it’s good you didn’t do anything,” he said playfully, stopping to think for a moment. “Y/n, what did he tell you?”

He saw you wrinkle your nose in a grimace before answering. “I thought we met by chance. I was walking and saw a man smoking a cigarette on a corner. I was going to walk past, but then he asked if I needed help.”

“Which corner?”

“I don’t know, but it wasn’t far from home. I was trying to figure out the street on a map I found in the municipal library’s phone book,” you sighed, frustrated at not being able to give the information. “I ignored him, but he followed me. I got scared and started running, but he said he was a cop, so I trusted him.”

“Did he have a police car nearby?”

“He said he was undercover. But I don’t know what that means; I thought it was the same as being off duty.”

“It could mean that too.” Bruce saw your guilty expression, your lip trembling and your hands nervous.

“You don’t need to feel bad for believing him,” his larger hand enveloped both of yours like they were nothing. Were warm, and it was comforting. “I know Damian said horrible things, but he speaks in the heat of the moment.”

“It was not in the heat of the moment... He never just speaks,” your voice dropped so low it was almost inaudible. Your eyes burned, but there were no tears. Crying for your brother would be the last thing you would do again. “What was in the box?”

“What box?” He was confused by your sudden change of subject.

“Didn’t Dick give it to you?” You asked, feeling his hand move away from yours and touch his left pocket. What Dick had given him was a card and not a box. Maybe he had taken what was inside. “I guess he forgot.”

“No. He didn’t forget,” he quickly responded, snapping out of a stupor. A curiosity grew in his chest, a need to know what was in that card.

Bruce fumbled in the pocket where the card still was and pulled it out. He quickly examined the paper, turning it over to check the back for anything. For a long time, his voice was muffled, and Bruce could only hear a buzzing in his ear. It was impossible for those words to have any real meaning. His breathing became loud and shaky, as if he were in the cold, and you were startled to see his eyes blinking frantically.

“Are you okay?” You moved to approach him, seeing moisture suddenly form on his forehead. It was cold sweat.

“How is this possible?” You heard him ask himself, bringing his fingertips to his eyes, rubbing them to make sure he was really seeing. That card had left him unsettled, you realized, and hesitantly, you tried to take it from his hands to remove it from him, but his grip tightened at the feel of your fingers, so tight that it completely crumpled the paper. “Sorry. It’s nothing,” he stammered, seeing that the abrupt movement had scared you.

He got up from the bed, completely oblivious to you or anything else now. He staggered before reaching the door, very disturbed and seeming out of it. Maybe it was you who did something wrong and didn’t realize it?

He didn’t seem fit to walk, so you quickly removed the covers from your legs and went to him, supporting and guiding him to the chair where he had left his coat. He was very heavy, but he was so disoriented that he went limp. He seemed so shaken that he didn’t protest and simply sat there. You stood in front of him for a few seconds, not knowing what else to do to help him.

“Shouldn’t I call someone?” You asked.

“Dick,” he mumbled without looking at you, and that worried. It seemed intentional, as if it was too difficult to face you.

“Where do I find him?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of something, but Damian’s voice on the other side of the door caught his attention:

“Y/n, open the door.” You stood still, recognizing your brother’s voice, until he continued: “Mom is here. She’s going to take you home,” he said as a warning, opening the door after a moment without even asking. “Come on. Why are you standing there like a statue?”

He was perplexed when you didn’t respond, and then he noticed his father sitting beside you in terror.

“Dad?” He approached, kneeling to assess the severity. He was having another episode. Lately, Bruce had only been getting worse every day and still refused to ask for help.

“What happened?” Your brother turned to you, but your face already showed that you had no idea.

Damian tried to place his hand on his shoulder, but Bruce pushed it away aggressively. Your father would never act like this just because of the argument they had before, much less give him a venomous look as he did now, but beneath it all, there was hurt. He had found out about you, somehow.

He should have felt bad about how the news seemed to have been revealed, but he was relieved not to have to lie anymore. At the same time, he regretted choosing to cater to his mother’s whims once again, deceiving his father this way. But the omission had grown so much over the years he spent in the mansion and, after so long, it didn’t matter when he told him, the damage was already done.

Bruce wasn’t in a perfect mental state. He wouldn’t react like this normally, and knowing that, the man felt pathetic in front of the two of you.

“He asked for Dick,” you said to Damian, giving him space to breathe by stepping back.

“Forget Dick,” Bruce replied firmly, surprising. In an instant, he had a fit, and as quickly as he entered this state, he left it. Now, he seemed furious. “Where is she?”

This was a ploy by Talia and Strange. They were planning this together to hit him, a way to weaken him. It could only be that. It was too much of a coincidence Strange had found you just that night; nothing made sense. When had he and Talia gotten involved again after that day that led to Damian? He couldn’t remember and wasn’t good at recalling such old things. Maybe that wasn't even true. It was as if there was a big blank page in his mind.

“Get out,” Talia’s silhouette appeared at the door where she was leaning. Like most times when referring to the children, her voice was imposing, leaving no room for contestation. “Both of you.”

“You were supposed to wait downstairs,” your brother tried to contradict her. Despite everything he did for your mother, unlike you, he was the only one who had the courage to face her.

Her frown deepened at Damian’s defiance, but her stern expression softened at your trembling voice: ‘Mom...’ She sighed and opened her arms to you, casting a challenging look at Bruce, who returned it with an even harsher one, as she wrapped your smaller body than hers in a tight hug.

She knelt to your level, her hands gently brushing your cheeks and hair, noting how frizzy and messy it was. ‘Look at you. Your hair is all disheveled.’ She ran a finger down to your lip, grimacing at the cut there.

‘I’m sorry.’ Although less anxious now that you knew she wasn’t angry, you still regretted disobeying her.

‘My sweet girl,’ she said in a soft, genuinely affectionate voice. She kissed your cheek, casting that same malicious glance at Bruce again, as if provoking him. He felt a wave of nausea seeing her use you as a pawn just to taunt him. ‘Let the adults talk,’ she ordered, standing up and regaining her authoritative tone.

‘I’m staying,’ Damian protested. Leaving his father alone with her in his vulnerable state was a mistake.

‘Go and stay with your sister, Damian,’ Bruce was as harsh as Talia, but unlike her, he was seething with anger.

The boy closed his eyes in frustration but gave in, knowing it was useless to argue. He glanced at you, who had already walked out of the room and into the hallway. Damian was about to follow, but his father’s voice stopped him again:

‘She’s not leaving the house, Damian,’ his firm tone carried the weight of undeniable authority, with bitterness seeping through. The coldness in his voice left no room for warmth; it was distant. Bruce had finally gotten the push he needed. The possibility of you being his daughter gave him a sense of entitlement, and it made Talia’s arrogant expression falter for a moment; she looked apprehensive. ‘Do you understand?’ It was a question directed at both his son and Talia.

‘Yes,’ the young man replied simply, avoiding eye contact with his mother as he left. Damian paused in front of the door before fully departing, and his mother slammed it shut in his face.

He resisted the urge to eavesdrop and turned to look for you in the hallway, but you had vanished.

‘I deserve this,’ he muttered impatiently. You were avoiding him, and Damian couldn’t help but feel irritated at how childish that was. But he was one of the villains here; he was the one who lied, insulted, and rejected you. Realizing this filled him with shame, and unlike the first time, he repeated the words, this time with a tone of regret: ‘Yes, I deserve this.’"

Tag list:

@lafrone @sylum @mileskisser @belowbreadcrumbs @riddle-me-im-sirius

@rafa-the-beautiful @shehrazadekey @fairuzwhat @bedeater @arianapjs

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@spideybv28 @faimmm @formula-space @cherry-peach-flavored

@godknows-shetried @randomrosie01 @whatsupstark @paastaboi @m3ntally-unstable

@masterradd-28 @justanormalpersin @6000-fandoms @fennecspage

@homan-oid @fluffy-strawberries @animegirlfromvietnam @tamsyien @ari-sama21

@kataraluvr @boatempollstriper @lokisgoodboy @enjisthings @thereeallink

@lumalesa-kadichizho @fyodorssimp1 @shintax-error @lara20aral @sulatsadark

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@strawberrymangoes @lorastone-000 @starryhiraeth @worldussysblog

@urminebutidontwantyou @herondale-lightworm @nyra-42 @ohnoivefallen

@an-introverted-nishinoyasimp @ellie-x0xo @blkmystery

[reyesranch]

I feel like atp even if there were plans to make bvddie canon theyre gone now. if tim minear is even half as petty as I am he would see that reaction and go u know what fuck you u actually don't get what you want now cause ur acting so goddamn entitled. like when tarlos fans got mad about the deleted scenes instead of appreciating them being released and his reaction was to say "okay fine then I just won't release deleted scenes anymore" (like I'm sure it was mostly a marketing decision but part of me thinks they intentionally released a scene about bucktommy just to prove a point.) idk man it's just really upsetting as a bi man to see the absolutely vile shit bvddie stans are saying and even tho I love the ship I now never want it to go canon cause they've fuckin ruined it

hey anon, at first let me agree with the fact that i do in fact also love bvddie a lot and i still love reading fics for them, the edits of them are fantastic and the fanart is S tier. it’s a great pairing with a lot of potential there IF the writers decided to ever go there but…

huge answer below

yeah, i agree. i honestly think before tommy was introduced again in 7x03 and the kiss in 7x04 that in my brain, bvddie was the most logical endgame for buck until it wasn’t.

i came into the show shipping bvddie much like a lot of new fans to the show but instead of hopping onto the tommy anti express hate train i found myself falling in love with buck and tommy together. at first i was still on board with bvddie still being endgame but as each episode aired after 7x04 i became faced with the reality of the situation (at least the way i see it) that bvddie might always be fanon and that’s ok because fandom keeps ships alive whether they’re canon or not. some of the biggest ships EVER are non-canon (i mean, cmon spirk? one of the OG MM ships?) so it didn’t really deter me from enjoying bvddie to this day. what HAS deterred me from interacting with bvddie content is toxic bvddies. i don’t like using the lil nicknames, idc if other ppl do, whatever, but i prefer just referring to certain kinds as just toxic plain and simple.

toxic shippers have made it difficult for anyone who multiships to interact with bvddie content. while there are incredibly nice & welcoming bvddie endgamers out there, it doesn’t overshadow the hateful ones in my online experience at least. i’ve blocked so many ppl over this ship discourse, which ive never had to do with any other fandom before the extent i have with 911. everyday i still find new ppl to block, you go under almost any comment section on the 911 insta and its filled with nasty comments abt tommy and only caring abt whether bvddie will be canon in s8. people projecting their hatred of tommy/lou onto the cast/crew of the show when it’s be said and proven time and time again that it’s quite the opposite. now im certain there’s bad apples in the bucktommy side as well, but from what ive seen online so far it is not nearly to the caliber of the bvddie side. ive blocked maybe a handful of bucktommy’s for being hateful towards eddie or being toxic overall, but ive probably blocked over 100+ toxic bvddies. i can only imagine it’d be worse if i was active on 911 twt which i’m not (thank god) but i have ventured into the tags before on there and let me tell you, it’s fucking horrifying how gross ppl are over there. twt is a cesspool for fandom anyways tho, the fucking asshole of fandom, it’s a septic tank really.

now im my own opinion which could be completely untrue of course, but just basing my thoughts on what i’ve seen online and interviews and such, tim seems to be really happy about bucktommy and idk how ppl believe otherwise. tim has expressed he loves LFJ and wanted him back on the show. tim showed up on set for the kiss scene. tim posting an entire youtube vibe abt bucktommy being soulmates that touches on the invisible string theory and explains how they accidentally found buck’s perfect match. tim sharing the deleted tommy scene is also huge but im waiting to see if he releases more (because i remember seen somewhere that he said there’d be more?) and if he does then great but it’s also still pretty telling to me after the whole karaoke fiasco.

oliver has said nothing but praises towards buck’s queer storyline. he quite literally said if you dont like it then watch something else. despite ppl saying he’s never interacted with bucktommy content online, that’s a lie because he has liked fanart of them.

aisha, kenneth & tracie have all expressed how they like tommy/lou and love working with him.

jlh said she loved bvddie before but is excited to see where buck and tommy go and then on an insta live said she doesn’t think bvddie is happening and was bombarded by toxic fans to the point of ending the live early.

ppl think it’s all some ruse to make it seem like bvddie is never happening so when it does happen it’s a “surprise” ……..

the nasty hate comments are doing nothing but exposing these types of ppl for who they are and that honestly to them, 911 is just the bvddie show to them. the people who run these social media accs for 911 are looking at these comments and cringing, they aren’t running to tim and abc being like “we must give these crazies what they want!” they’re mostly likely being ignored or honestly, as you said, being looked at and just reinforcing their decision to most likely make tommy buck’s endgame so as long as his schedule is open for filming.

what gets me the most about the hate these types of shippers spew online is how they aren’t embarrassed because they are so sooo convinced they will be right one day and therefore their insane, nasty behavior online will be justified. oliver stark literally left twt because of fans like this, people act like he was joking around, that he was shooting the shit probably because “he’s british and british people just have that kind of humor” which yes to a certain extent but let me just add these posts to set an example to why if oliver were still on twt he absolutely would not be happy with the way toxic bvddies are acting right now.

oliver (and ryan&other cast too) being positive abt bvddie never meant it was going to be canon of become canon one day. they do not decide these things, whether they believe it should or not. a lot of bvddie shippers come from previous fandoms where queerbaiting was there, where they were made fun of by actors of their ships, by the creators of the show! so i understand the frustration but oliver is not queerbaiting and buck is not a queerbait character when he quite literally is now confirmed bisexual and in a relationship with a man.

he’s just not the “correct” queer to these people. despite headcanons (hell even i hc eddie as queer!!) eddie so far, in canon, is not queer. by the end s7 he is still shown to not be over shannon and ruins his relationship with his son over this. ryan has stated in interviews he sees eddie as heterosexual, possibly pushing this because of the influx of ship discourse, and he’s glad to see a vulnerable and deep friendship that buck and eddie can have as a straight man and a queer man and how important he thinks it is.

every single thing that points to bvddie never going canon is like they’re being shot point blank in the chest. i get it, your ship not becoming canon sucks, but again, that is what fandom is for! shipping has never been about how canon smth is, there is 20k fics out there for bvddie and they aren’t canon. they can turn that into 40k, 100k, 1M if they really wanted to! instead they use their time and energy posting death threats, wishing death upon a gay character, bullying ppl online for enjoying a ship.

meanwhile from what ive seen bucktommys are rolling with goofy ass spy tommy theories created by antis and making jokes for our own fun.

so yes, i agree overall. they truly don’t deserve what they think they do. we didn’t whine and scream for a deleted scene. they did. we got ours without even expecting it and are having fun.

maybe if they behaved better i wouldn’t be so petty abt it. it’s a shame because of how much potential it has, unfortunately it is just not going that way atm. and even if it does one day, it is not because they paraded online with hate, it is because that’s the story tim and the others wanted to write and abc approved it.

🫳🎤

[lj-lephemstar]

Progress Checkup! (Nov. 2024) | Scratchin' Melodii Devlog

​​Hey again guys! Sorry if it's been a bit since the last devlog. With how much I've been up to, it sure feels like it!

Let's get right into it. For starters, the 3rd rival battle of Act 2 is complete! I'll likely be showing a gameplay preview of it sometime soon. This is the first song to use the new framework that I'll be using for all the other stages going forward, which also means I've had to spend the past couple weeks getting the previous songs working with this new system too... Did you know that in the demo builds, if I wanted to change something about the gameplay, I'd have to manually go back and change it for EACH individual song one by one? Well now, imagine all the songs had like a peace treaty to just share one good, clean, and organized system that I can easily tweak and add to as I please. So development is gonna be smoother than ever from here! This is how most games are SUPPOSED to work, but I was a liiittle too stupid to figure out how to do this until recently!

While I was moving Cream Cheese Icing over to this new system, I took the opportunity to make the chart a bit more beginner-friendly! For example, the first line went from this...

To just this!

As you can see, it has less notes, therefore it is less scary for new players. Believe it or not, I actually never intended for Cream Cheese Icing to be so difficult for new players in the first place! Naturally, being too good at my own game can make gauging the difficulty curve a bit tricky at times, but I think I'm figuring it out!​

You may have also noticed that the characters have new UI icons too! I felt like the old ones were too flat and boring, so I did a new take on them, aiming for more dynamic shapes and angles, not to mention how my art style's just kinda grown a bit in general since I last drew the icons. I also ended up leaving out the circles behind them. I was a little worried I was gonna run out of unique colors for all of them at some point, plus SOME of these guys can have really big hair and/or hats that pretty much just cover up the whole circle anyway. (hi rensa)

Speaking of artwork, here's a little look at some of the updated animation I've done for Stir & Mix! (Try to imagine it in not highly-compressed-gif-form. I promise it looks better in-game!)

When working on Stir & Mix related stuff, I can't help but feel a bit of a sense of dread knowing how people may react to it... Honestly, sometimes I kinda wish it never got as popular as it did in 2022. But hey, doing my own thing regardless of what's expected of me is the most Scratchin' Melodii thing I could do!

Speaking of which, Mia learned a ton of new stuff while doing the VOCALOID tuning for the last rival battle we worked on, so we might revisit Stir & Mix's vocals again at some point before release to give it even more style! (By the way, Mia and 2cada are the same person! Sorry if I refer to both names interchangeably! She's been the one doing all the VOCALOID tuning and vocal mixing for the game since 2023.)

Well, I think that's all for now! Here's another friendly reminder that there will NOT be anymore demos of the game. Any new content will be saved for the full game's release. I know I've said it before, but I probably won't stop saying it until people stop getting confused about it LOL. Thanks for reading!! I appreciate you. - LJ

[ace-of-zaun]

Pas de Deux Pt. 10: 

Silco x f!reader, 4.6k words, NSFW(ish)

cw: (please see chapter 1 for full series warnings) angst, fluff, sexual tension, references to masturbation and sex

also, the story rating is going up to explicit from here on out, but i’ll keep including individual chapter warnings so you can decide if that’s your vibe or not :)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9

It really shouldn’t be a surprise when Silco reverts to his overprotective ways after the Jinx incident, where you’d been tied to your bed and interrogated by his surrogate daughter. And having been followed by the bar incident, in which you’d been held hostage in the middle of The Drop with a broken bottle to your neck, it's no wonder he’s acting like you’re a porcelain doll. 

But you’d grown so used to even just that sliver of freedom, the speed in which he’d torn it from your grasp quite honestly stings. 

Oddly enough, the thing that hurts more is that after the harsh reprimanding he’d given his staff for letting someone get to you, practically nobody but Silco will make eye contact with you anymore. It’s not like you’re allowed to go anywhere by yourself, but you’re pretty sure that if you were to wave a flag and scream in Thieram’s face, he wouldn’t even look you in the eyes. 

So, alone again. 

Again. 

Well, alone except for Silco, who not only won’t let you go down into the bar by yourself, but also insists on having you escorted to and from his office, and even to your studio. What’s worse, he’s reverted to wanting you by his side all hours of the day and most of the evening, as if you’ll slip through his fingers the very moment you’re out of his sight. 

Of course, protesting is no use. 

The times you’d asked why you needed a babysitter all day everyday, and why you couldn’t just go back to the one guard instead of a ridiculous three, his dismissive, drawling responses of, “I cannot take any precautions with your safety, you are too important to me,” and, "I need to protect you, my lovely," had awakened a deep urge to scream until your throat burned out.

You never do scream, of course. And since you categorically refuse to plead with him, after only three days of letting him shepherd you around, you resort to the only method that will get through to such a petty soul.

Sulking. 

So, as you sit on your bed, arms crossed petulantly, you futilely contemplate the odds of being able to smash the window, jump to the nearest rooftop, and just run until you reach people that have never even heard of Zaun, all without being noticed.

The newest guard, who’d made the mistake of infuriating you when he’d looked over your shoulder instead of at your face like a decent human being, had tried to escort you to Silco’s office, to which you’d responded rather emphatically, “Tell Silco I’d rather gargle water from the River Pilt and spit it in his face.”

By the time Silco arrives at your still-open bedroom door, a brief glance at the worried look etched upon his face indicates that the guard may have told him something slightly different. 

“Are you not feeling well, darling?” Silco asks, lithe fingers curling around the wooden frame. 

“I'm fine,” is your short response. You continue to stare blankly at the empty space of wall above your dresser.

“Why don’t we go to my office? Lunch should be ready soon,” he tries again, far more patient than you’d ever expected a crime lord could be. 

“I'm not hungry.”

“Sweetheart,” he breathes out in a tone that’s so soft, you practically feel your heart clench at the unfairness of it all. 

“Just put it on a tray and slide it through the door,” you bite out, building your walls even higher with every sarcastic word. “May as well, since you insist on treating me like a prisoner.”

Across the room, the door shuts with a loud, forceful click, and your head whips over to it, alarms instinctually raised. 

Your eyes widen at the sight of him stiffly leaning back against the closed door, his expression unreadable and hands clenched behind him. A part of you automatically panics that he’s going to get mad and turn this against you. But his promise rings in the back of your mind. 

“You truly think of yourself as a prisoner?” he asks, voice tender but thankfully filled more with frustration than anger. 

You sigh, immediately backtracking. 

Perhaps you were too harsh. He’s only trying to help. 

Elbows digging into your thighs, you allow your head to drop into your hands in defeat. 

“I just feel like you don’t trust me, Sil,” you tell him. (He shouldn’t, but that’s besides the point.)

Silco traipses over to you, carefully kneeling down between your legs as one hand links with yours, the other resting soothingly on the top of your thigh. Now face to face, he searches your expression. 

“Why won’t you let me do anything by myself?” you continue before he can suggest anything that will make you want to knee him in the stomach. "I don't understand what I've done wrong."

"You haven't done anything wrong, my love," he says, the fingers on your thigh squeezing gently. 

“Then why won’t you let me do anything anymore?”

You’re toeing the line of pleading, but won’t allow yourself to cross it. Not this time. 

He sighs and shuffles closer, strong arms wrapping around your waist until you can rest your forehead on his shoulder, a dance that almost feels natural at this point. 

“To keep you s-”

You cut him off by digging your nails into his lower back. 

“Silco. If you tell me one more time that you’re doing it to keep me safe, I’m going to spray perfume in your eye while you’re sleeping.”

He huffs a breath of air, pulling back ever so slightly to peer at you down his nose. His expression is entirely too cheeky and it makes you wonder just what ridiculous thought he’s entertaining.

“Your perfume or mine?” he asks playfully. 

You glare at him, clearly unamused by his antics, so he decides to clarify with a languid sweep of his hand up and down your spine. 

“I wouldn’t necessarily object to being reminded of your gorgeous scent every once in a while, even if it may bring some slight discomfort.”

The rolling of your eyes is accompanied by a muttering of freak under your breath, which only serves to bring out that crooked grin of his, much to your dismay. 

Silco reaches up to tuck a stray section of your hair behind your ear, letting his fingers rest delicately on your cheek as he looks into your eyes, expression suddenly grave. 

“I’m afraid I cannot let you wander about by yourself, my love, not after you were put in such an egregious amount of danger,” he tells you solemnly.

You have to physically hold in the bark of laughter that threatens to erupt from you. 

Egregious amount of danger? Did he even grow up in the same Zaun as you? 

It’s probably not the best course of action, but you can’t help your response. 

“Then, I’m afraid I can’t join you for lunch or dinner anymore,” you bite back, a little bit childishly if you’re being truly honest with yourself. 

Right on cue, Silco’s good eye narrows, his lip twitching in indignation as his hand drops once more to your thigh. 

“Darling, do you not think you’re being a tad unreasonable?” he asks, clearly trying to keep a lid on it. “Can I really be blamed for wanting to keep the ones I love close to me?”

You practically blanch at the gall. 

“I’m being unreasonable?” you gape at him. “You’re the one who’s trying to keep me locked up forever!”

“I am not trying to lock you up,” he snipes back before huffing out a sigh, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “All of this is for you, my darling. I brought you home from that wretched city and its people. I commissioned you a custom-built studio. I have spent hours upon hours ensuring your safety.”

You really could scream now. You never asked him to do any of this, never wanted this. 

Recognising that you’re about three seconds away from completely exploding, you try to remove yourself from the situation before you do something you’ll regret. 

“I’m not doing this-”

You push on his shoulders lightly, attempting to shuffle yourself backwards on the bed and decidedly away from him. 

Unfortunately, Silco tries to stop you.

“Sweetheart-”

One hand darts around to the small of your back whilst the other hooks underneath your knee, and in one smooth move, he pulls you towards him until you’re flush against him.

And your body floods with heat completely against your will, partly in awe of the pure strength needed to manoeuvre you so effortlessly, and partly because in doing so, the angle and position has pressed his broad chest and waistcoat buttons up against the most sensitive part of you. 

You jolt in surprise, a stuttered gasp escaping your mouth as your brain suddenly conjures the sordid image of your legs wrapped around his sinful waist, the look of shock he’s currently sporting twisted in your brain to fit an expression of pure ecstasy. 

And just as soon as it happened, it’s over. 

Silco immediately lets go, allowing you to shuffle back on the bed, but only far enough that you can hug your knees to your chest, as if it would hide your now racing heart and burning cheeks. 

“I-”

You cut him off before he can voice even one more word. You do not want to discuss it (and you’re already blaming it on the raised adrenaline levels from your argument).

“You said you want to keep your loved ones close to you but you let Jinx go wherever she wants.”

Luckily, Silco also appears to be amenable to moving on without acknowledging what just happened.

“Jinx grew up here, sweetheart,” he says after swallowing hard, hiding his unease about as well as you probably are. “She can handle herself.”

Well, you can’t really argue that point without revealing yourself to him, so you’re forced to accept defeat on that line of defence. 

A wave of exhaustion sweeps through you, legs dropping into a cross whilst your forehead drops into the hand propped up against your knee. 

It’s only in the silence that you realise just how heavily you’re both breathing. A cursory glance at the man still kneeling in front of you reveals just how torn he looks, and for some reason, it puts you on the verge of frustrated tears.

He clearly wants to comfort you. 

Slowly, a hand reaches out to rest gingerly against your knee, giving you plenty of time to reject him if you wanted to.

You don’t. 

In fact, against all better judgement, you press his hand firmer against your knee with your own fingers just to show him that it’s okay. 

“I know you don’t trust me,” you repeat softly.

And if he didn’t look heartbroken before, now, it’s practically radiating from him. 

“It’s not you that I lack trust in, darling, it’s everyone else.”

You sigh, flexing your fingers over the top of his. 

“I want to be more for you, Silco. But I just can’t like this. Not when I feel like a bird trapped in a cage,” you say with as much sincerity as you can muster. 

That seems to do the trick, his hand flipping over to entwine his fingers with yours as the other reaches to absentmindedly tug your shirt collar back into place. 

“I’m afraid I’ll have to keep the security for now, but I will… endeavour to find safe ways to help you feel less restricted,” Silco says gracefully. 

You try not to focus on the fact that you’re a million steps back and try to focus on the single step forward. As if this dance couldn’t get any more complicated. 

You achieved partial freedom before, you can get it again. 

“That would make me feel a lot better,” you say, hoping you sound grateful as you shakily climb onto your knees on the mattress. “Thank you.”

Arms encircling him, you feel the moment Silco relaxes in your hold, and you hate how much relief it brings you.

It’s quiet for a moment, the two of you lost in thought while Silco traces patterns on your back until he speaks over your shoulder, asking if you want to accompany him on one of his factory rounds, to see his ‘empire’.

Of course, there’s a list of rules and considerations he insists that he must put in place before you go, but in truth, you barely pay attention to it when you nod your assent. 

All you can think is that maybe there can be some compromise in this fucked-up situation you’ve found yourself in. Maybe this doesn’t have to be all bad. 

-

Almost a full week later, after Silco had meticulously planned out every single detail regarding this trip, you’re finally en route to the factory he’d chosen for your visit. 

Of course, one of the stipulations you’d agreed to whilst blissfully tuned out during Silco’s monologue was that you’d wear a face mask on your trip with him to the factory, one that obscured most of your features.

To protect you from the fumes, he’d said…

His levels of delusion are genuinely astounding at this point. Honestly, you should write a book about him, the real him. You could probably fix Zaun’s economy solely with descriptions of his insanity. 

You’re still fiddling with the edges of the mask by the time the carriage arrives at the large building, drawing to a stop in the darkened alleyway. 

Silco immediately exits the car without a word, and it’s his hand that is waiting to help you out and to swiftly escort you into the monstrosity that is one of his many Shimmer factories. 

At first, you’re not entirely sure how you feel about it all. 

Obviously, the conditions aren’t great. It’s hot, and noisy, and all the oversized pipes, vats, and crates filled with vials of Shimmer make the whole place feel far more cramped than it probably is. It’s like walking into the belly of the beast. 

But then again, you’d struggle to find a job in Zaun that was luxurious or even particularly nice, for that matter.

Silco meanders across the main floor with your hand tucked closely into the crook of his elbow, overseeing the nervous workers who scuttle about completing their jobs, all whilst trying to avoid eye contact with their stoic employer. 

Honestly, you’re unsure why he even suggested bringing you here, given that there’s nothing to really look at and you’re pretty sure half of his working policies aren’t even legal. 

That is, you’re unsure up until he begins yet another monologue. Except this time, you find yourself oddly captivated by his words.

He tells you in low, dulcet tones of his humble beginnings; how he started with nothing, much like the majority of Zaunites. He briefly describes the time he nearly lost his life as a young adult which prompted him to build all of this. How he plans to bring Zaun the independence and prosperity its people deserve, have always deserved. 

And by the time he’s finished speaking and has stopped for a moment to check in with one of the floor managers, you can’t help but stare at him, watching each careful movement and microexpression. 

Here is a man who’d had almost virtually the same start as you, who’d used every last shred of his resources to build himself an empire, all with the goal of elevating his city. 

Of seeking justice.

Silco returns to you after only a few minutes, where you instinctively reach to take hold of his arm again as he continues to walk. You let him lead. 

“Who will they think I am?” you ask when he offers you nothing more than a curious glance, nodding to the workers who keep shooting anxious glances at the both of you as you pass by. 

They definitely can’t see your face with the mask, but by your proximity to their boss, they must presume you’re somebody important.

“I suspect they’ll think you’re a potential business partner,” Silco responds diplomatically. To anyone else, he would appear just as impassive as ever. But you’re able to spot the twitch in his lips that tells you he’s holding back a smirk. 

You huff a short, sharp breath of air in amusement. 

“Do you have many of those?”

He finally comes to a stop at the bottom of a metal, spiral staircase, turning his head to glance down at you as he purses his lips. 

“None as beautiful as you.”

The roll of your eyes is thankfully covered by the mask. 

Now out of view from prying eyes, Silco delivers that smug little smirk he’s been holding back, almost as if he already knows your reaction, before elegantly gesturing with one sweep of his hand to allow you to climb the stairs before him.

And as you climb up and away from the toils of labour, you allow yourself to run away with the idea. 

If you’d met Silco in another life, one where’d you’d never conned your way into a privileged, Piltovian home, perhaps you could have worked your way into owning a large, successful business in Zaun. One that would have brought you into Silco’s world in an entirely different way.

You might’ve even been his equal, a chem-baron with almost as much power as the megalomaniac behind you. 

It’s this thought that inches you one step closer to the dangerous line you’ve been toeing, increases the pressure by just a notch. 

“I don’t think I’m entirely convinced that I should invest in this so-called business of yours anyway, Mr. Eye of Zaun,” you say coquettishly, adopting the air of an entrepreneur with unwavering confidence. 

“Well, that won’t do at all,” Silco drawls, clearly amused enough to entertain your antics. “What must I do to convince you otherwise?”

Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re not facing him that propels you to push it just that little bit further, just a little bit flirtier. 

“I can think of a few things.”

“Oh?” he intones, almost innocently. “Perhaps you’d like to share your thoughts so I can… accommodate.”

The heat that’s rapidly spreading through you must be from the factory machines, the cramped conditions. It must be. 

Reaching the top of the stairs, you find a darkened corridor lined with what must be office doors and for some gods-forsaken reason, it sends a thrill down your spine. 

Turning to face him, you walk backwards a few steps, letting him catch up to you in that slow, smooth saunter. And without thinking, you reach up to undo your mask, letting it drop to the ground as you take in Silco’s heated gaze, catching the way the pupil of his seafoam eye dilates in hunger. 

You allow him to come to a stop in front of you, but he doesn’t stray any farther. He seems hesitant, almost like he’s waiting for your next move, so you carefully loop your arms up and around him, forearms resting on his shoulders, hands clasped at his nape. 

“Hmm, in that case,” you tilt your head to the side, a tap to his shoulder blade with every demand. “I’ll take your crown, and your throne, and all your precious little treasures.” 

Then, you can’t help but lean forward ever so slightly, looking directly into those devastating eyes as you whisper.

“I want it all.”

It’s like watching an eclipse, the rapid darkening of his gaze an abyss, as the hands you’ve watched choke out a man come to rest oh so lightly against your waist. 

“And what would you give in exchange?” Silco asks with a rough swallow. The bob of his throat is simply captivating. 

“What do you want?”

“You know what I want,” he bites back, low growl a dichotomy to the gentle fingers tracing your sides. 

“Do I?”

Your attempt at coyness is met with a spine-tingling amount of conviction. Like he’s never been so sure of anything in his life. 

“I want you.”

Your legs guide him to slowly walk you backwards until your back hits the wood of the door behind you, your arms still looped around him whilst Silco’s hover nervously above your hips. 

He stares down at them, almost as if he desperately wants to but something is holding him back. 

His eyes dart up to yours in a brief look of trepidation, a question in his pointed gaze. So you nod once and resolutely ignore the voice screaming at you to just wait a minute, to stop playing with fire for just one moment. 

Silco’s hands finally press into your hips sending a jolt of fire racing up your spine. He stands between your spread legs, revelling in the proximity. 

“How much?” you ask. Silco only tilts his head in response, eyes distracted by the grip he has on your hips, so you grace him with clarification. “How much do you want me?”

That catches his attention, gaze snapping up to meet yours. 

And gods, you’re suddenly in need of air when Silco finally closes the distance, slowly leaning down to deliver his gravelly response directly against the shell of your ear.

“More than the body needs blood.”

Your hands instinctively reach up to thread into his hair, and Silco hips pitch forward into your own, a gasp escaping your lips at the joint sensation of his warm breath on your neck and the feeling of his arousal pressed firmly up against you. 

“Silco.”

“That’s sir to you,” he commands, scarred lips trailing down your jaw until they finally rest against your neck, pulse beating double time. 

Fuck, why can’t you think? Why can you only focus on the feeling of him pressed up against you?

“Yes, sir,” you repeat, forcing yourself to take a deep breath, in and out. 

He chuckles darkly against your skin as long fingers begin to slowly trail down your body, the other hand briefly snaking up into your hair, as if he just wanted to give it a short tug, just to see what it feels like.

You shiver bodily when that same hand travels back down to cup your jaw, his nose falling into place alongside yours, impossibly close now. 

Silco’s lips hover tantalisingly above yours, barely grazing them as he begins to speak again, tone low and rough. 

“Good g-”

He’s interrupted by an indignant voice from a little ways down the hall. 

“Excuse me.”

It’s like being startled awake - ripped from a dream - the way your body freezes in shock. 

Your hands drop to your sides as Silco inhales deeply, placing one hand flat against the wall next to your head. 

Slowly, he turns to look over his shoulder with a deadly precision and you watch as the worker’s blood drains from his body. It must be his office door that you’re currently blocking and in the darkened corridor, he must not have recognised the back of his boss’ head. 

For a brief moment you worry that Silco is going to literally drain the blood from his body right in front of you, but to your relief, he simply issues a sharp, cold command.

“Go. Away.”

The poor man practically scrambles away without another word, his footsteps tapping back down the metal stairs at a, frankly, quite alarming pace. 

Alone once more, Silco twists back around to face you, seemingly content to continue where you’d left off if his fervid expression is anything to go by. 

But you gently stop him with a hand splayed on his chest. 

The moment is broken, and there’s one thought ringing through your brain over and over again - what the actual fuck are you doing?

“We should get back home,” you tell him, watching as disappointment floods his features. “The fumes are giving me a bit of a headache.”

He pauses, just for a moment, as if he’s considering a counter-argument, but instead he just nods, accepting your lie at face value. 

“Alright, my love,” he says, carefully taking your hand in his and pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles, not entirely dissimilar to the way he did when you were first brought to his office, all that time ago. 

Then, Silco wordlessly leads you through the winding maze of the factory and out to the carriage, where you begin the journey back home, the silence charged with something entirely different to the one you’d shared on the way there. 

-

It isn’t the first time Silco has laid flat out on your bed, legs crossed at the ankle with his hand linked atop his stomach. And it’s unlikely to be the last. 

He stares at the plaster on the ceiling above your bed, mentally replaying that delectable little gasp you’d made the moment he’d pushed himself up against you. 

For months now, all he’d craved was just a little taste. Just a little sample to tide him over. 

But now that he’d finally experienced the sensation of your lips grazing his, of your waist under his fingers, he wants more. He wants everything. 

And it was that everything he’d been imagining just minutes before in his shower, until he’d finished with one shaky hand on the tiles holding him up, head hung low, his panting breaths slowing down incrementally until he’d finally had the strength to turn off the water.

At first, he’d simply recalled the delectable feeling of your body pressed against his. Then, it had devolved into a sordid little fantasy of what could have happened. 

Perhaps one of you would have dropped to your knees right there and then. 

Or maybe you’d have dragged him through the office door you were blocking and he could have scratched the wooden floor beneath the desk and left a bouquet of bruises on your hips all in one go. 

It had all come to a crescendo quite soon after that particular image had graced his thoughts and once he’d dried and dressed, Silco had found himself wandering over to your bedroom before he was truly conscious of what he was doing. 

And now, as you bathe, completely unaware of his presence in the adjacent room, he lays on your bed and thinks. 

Of course, when he envisions you in the bath, some part of him naturally thinks of going for another round, this time surrounded by your heady scent, your clothes held against him. And if he were a younger man, he might’ve done just that, a race to finish before you discovered him. But now, he knows that his body is too tired to keep up with his overactive brain. 

Instead, Silco placates himself by turning his head to inhale deeply against your pillow. 

The fact of the matter is, he wants you. Badly. 

But he’d never forgive himself if he hurt you again or pushed you too far. 

Now that the bliss is beginning to fade, he realises that whilst it may be an incredibly arousing situation, he decidedly does not want your first time together to happen on a dusty old desk in one of his factories. 

He wants it to be absolutely perfect. And for that, he needs your full, unadulterated trust and love.

The sound of you rising from the bathwater next door jolts him from his daydream, and as the water rushing down the drain covers his swift exit from your bedroom, Silco shelves his fantasies for now and focuses his mind on the next problem to be solved. 

It’s only a matter of time now until he wins you over. He’s sure of it. 

-

a/n: hello everyone, i somehow managed to convince myself this was the worst story ever and had a whole-arse crisis about it, but we’re finally back on and i’m gonna continue to wrestle my demons in a boxing ring until this story is finished 🥊

Also, thank you so much to everyone who has left such lovely comments since i posted the previous chapter, I genuinely appreciate all of you so much <3 

[silverwhittlingknife]

hi Silver! o/ because that fanart made me wonder - would you happen to know when/where Dick's stuffed elephant plush Zitka turns up in the comics?

GREETINGS CAM <3333 THAT ART WAS SO CUTE

Yeah, I think your instincts are right - it's a truly adorable bit of transformative fandom, but I'm 95% percent sure it's not comics canon. Barbara has canon plushies, but I don't think anyone else does.

I got kinda invested in the investigation (it's hard to prove a negative!) and I ended up typing out an entire History of Elinore/Zitka, so, uh, if you're curious, meet me below the cut for:

Where does Elinore / Zitka - the animal - appear in comics?

Did Dick ever have a stuffed elephant toy in comics?

Where does Elinore / Zitka appear in comics?

We're gonna go in chronological order!

Dick's circus elephant friend was first created for practical reasons: in Batman 436, Marv Wolfman does a big expanded flashback to Dick's circus backstory as a way to subtly show us Tim before officially introducing him (so that we can have a technically-solvable mystery-of-Tim's-identity in LPoD). In this comic, there's an elephant named Elinore who loves Dick:

Aww. Such a cute elephant!

Batman 436 comes out in August 1989. New Titans 60 comes out a few months later, in November, and guess what? When Dick visits the circus, he is suddenly surprised by an unexpected blast from the past! It turns out that even though it's been years, Elinore still remembers him!

Here's the part where Elinore remembers Dick:

SUCH a cute elephant. I love her.

(Guess who else still remembers Dick even though it was so long ago. Guess which other character is about to be an unexpected blast from the past. Guess which character Elinore is directly paralleling guess guess guess sorry everything is about Dick and Tim in my mind but I can focus I swear)

Four years later, in 1993, Batman: The Animated Series retells Dick's origin story. They like and keep Wolfman's elephant, but they change her name to Zitka:

Wolfman doesn't return to the elephant beyond those two appearances, and a few years down the line, New Titans gets cancelled and Wolfman's not writing Dick anymore anyway. So the animal gets abandoned for a while, until Devin Grayson, a fan of both Wolfman and B:tAS, revives the Wolfman-era Titans team in JLA/Titans and then the ongoing series Titans 1999.

Grayson then brings back the elephant in a flashback to Dick's past in Titans 16 (Jun 2000), where she imports the B:tAS name. Sometimes I'm skeptical of TV-to-comics imports, but honestly, I endorse this one. You lose the alliteration, which is a shame, but IMO Zitka is a better elephant name than Elinore.

Here's Dick with the newly-christened Zitka in Titans 16:

Grayson also briefly references the elephant in Gotham Knights 20 and - in a final angsty callback - in Nightwing 88 (Feb 2004), where Zitka tries futilely to comfort Dick in the midst of his trauma conga line:

... And... honestly, I think that's it for comic appearances? The two Wolfman comics plus the three Grayson comics.

Both Wolfman and Grayson are writing multiple titles - Batman, New Titans, Titans, Gotham Knights, and Nightwing between the two of them, spanning a big chunk of Dick's post-Crisis canon - and both writers use the elephant for heartwarming moments of nostalgia, which means if you're doing a post-Crisis readthrough for Dick, Elinore/Zitka feels memorable. But I don't think she actually shows up that much.

For post-2011, I am not as well-informed - throwing this out to the dash? anyone know? - but I feel like Zitka the heartwarming symbol of Dick's heartwarming circus past is, uh, thematically very at odds with the Court of Owls evil!circus vibes, so my instinct is that this story element was almost certainly dropped in the reboot.

Did Dick ever have a stuffed elephant toy in comics?

In WFA, yes; in main comics continuity, no. Technically, I have not read every comic ever published, so I could be wrong!! But I don't think so.

Below, find my rambling reasoning on the tonal vibes of pre-Crisis, post-Crisis, and post-2011, and why this particular story element doesn't seem right to me for the first two.

Pre-Crisis (...okay, mostly the Silver Age): stuffed animal, yes or no?

tl;dr no, requires too much background knowledge on the part of the reader, plus the elephant wasn't a thing until later

Elinore doesn't get created until post-Crisis, but also just generally, pre-Crisis callbacks are more along the lines of this reference in Batman 129 (published in 1960), where, wow, Batman and Robin are hunting jewel thieves - and it turns out Robin recognized this strongman! BUT HOW?!

The comic goes on to recap Dick's entire origin story in flashback, on the assumption that you may not know it.

(BTW, if you'd like to know more about Haly's Circus throughout the years, nightwingology has a great post here summarizing a lot of fun plotlines and characters!)

Basically: Silver Age comics are very self-consciously episodic and kid-friendly; they're not generally gonna do overly-elaborate callbacks because they don't know what comics their kid readers may have randomly picked up or remember.

By the time of post-Crisis, comic books were being written for an adult audience buying from the direct market, i.e. readers who are collecting whole runs & don't need or want Dick's origin story to be recapped to us in full every time it's referenced. That's why in post-Crisis, we get stuff like "hey, neat, this particular soda brand is getting mentioned in several different books!!" or "in order to understand this story arc, buy SIXTEEN DIFFERENT COMICS in FIVE DIFFERENT RUNS and read them ALL ACCORDING TO A NUMBERED ORDER and also you better be following the individual plotlines and recognize these five minor characters who we don't bother to introduce!! Good luck!!" But the elaborate post-Crisis plotlines - and subtler worldbuilding like a stuffed animal callback to Dick's backstory - don't make a lot of story sense UNLESS you're imagining your readers as completionist adult fans.

So IMO a stuffed animal wouldn't be a pre-Crisis thing unless it was The Episodic Story Of the Week, and I don't think a stuffed animal is action-adventure-y enough for the fast-paced storytelling of the Silver Age. (Unless it, like, came to life and tried to eat you or something.)

Post-Crisis: stuffed animals, yes or no?

tl;dr: no, Dick's a manly tough guy, he's not gonna have a stuffed animal, that'd be lame, like something Tim might do

Part of the edgy grimdark adult vibes in 80s/90s comics is that some characters who used to be kinda silly & goofy & lighthearted - like Batman and Robin - get reimagined as Serious and Angsty and Edgy in a Tough Cool Manly Brooding Way. This massively affects characterization for Bruce, Dick, and Bruce and Dick's relationship.

(I obviously love this change & love the tense Bruce-and-Dick interactions, but plenty of fans of the earlier fluffy comics really disliked the edgy retcons of Miller / Wolfman / Starlin / et al.)

The upshot is that post-Crisis is a period when you could have a recurring reference like a stuffed elephant, but you wouldn't have a stuffed elephant, not for Dick. I think a toy like that would be too cutesy / childish / effeminate to give a male character in post-Crisis, unless you were poking fun at him.

Now, you could probably let Tim have a stuffed animal, because Tim is sometimes cool but also sometimes a tryhard loser who is faking being cool and not entirely pulling it off (see e.g. the Robin comic where he practices tough-guy faces in the mirror, or the Teen Titans comic where Conner discovers his cringy Enya CD, or when he's fanboying over Connor and it's awkward, etc etc.). A stuffed animal would be deeply embarrassing, and you'd have to be careful to compensate by having Tim do something cool afterward - but Tim's character concept allows for "he's kind of a loser sometimes."

But Dick isn't!! In post-Crisis, Dick's a tough / impressive / "cool guy" character, the kind of guy anyone would want to be, even in the flashbacks where he's Robin, and even in the stories where he's more lighthearted than angsty. It'd be kinda lame for Dick to have a stuffed elephant, so he wouldn't. I feel like Dick would be more likely to poke fun at it if someone had one, like when he's making fun of Wally for liking the Hardy Boys. Dick could have a Batman action figure, at most, and if he had one he would have it ironically.

Basically: in post-Crisis, a male character hugging a stuffed elephant feels more likely to be a punchline to me, not something poignant. (Even with Tim, Tim could have an embarrassing stuffed animal, but he couldn't hug it when sad - that's too far. Maybe Booster Gold might do this. Probably he wouldn't, but spiritually, he would. Sorry Booster ilu! <3)

Instead, Dick instinctively deals with his inner turmoil like the TORTURED ACTION HERO he is: by punching things and brooding and yelling and joining the mob and sleeping on rooftops and going on obsessive secret missions and acquiring Angsty Stubble!! Just like Batman!

(Technically I don't know if Bruce ever joined the mob but you know he would.)

Anyway as you know this is my favorite continuity and I am poking fun affectionately, but uh, yeah sdfsfdsfs. No stuffed animals.

Post-2011 / Infinite Frontier / Wayne Family Adventures: stuffed animals, yes or no?

tl;dr it's in WFA! Probably not anywhere else, but it could be.

Post-2011 stuff tends to be cutesier overall, most of all in the current Infinite Frontier era. So I don't feel like this would be tonally out-of-line with IF comics. Taylor tends to go for more meme-y references rather than fanfic references, though.

So the obvious best fit is WFA, which is aiming for a rough approximation of Silver Age family-friendly vibes - wholesome, episodic plots, Teaching Good Moral Lessons For The Youth, etc. - plus lots of Easter eggs for fanfic readers and some comic references.

And look, here we are:

Aww.

Whew - that's everything I could find!

Anyway as you can probably tell, I LOVE the elephant, so this was a very entertaining rabbit hole to go down, thank you <3

[inhuman-obey-me]

Congrats on 🎉4000🎉 followers, you honestly deserve it. I love reading all your work. Can I request 👻 + Belphegor, with MC involved?

Two requests for Belphie with this prompt, wow! Thank you both for your compliments and the request!!

"I'm the creature that haunts your mind." - Belphegor/MC

cw: references to Lesson 16

You weren't always scared of the dark.

The thought has been weighing heavily on Belphegor's mind recently. It comes to him again as he watches you startle backwards at the innocent sight of a door unexpectedly ajar.

You were bold, for a human. You got used to the Devildom's most unsettling quirks with surprising speed. You got mad at him the first time he lied to you, which he'd shrugged off. But you had never, ever been scared of him.

You should have been.

It's your own fault, he tries to tell himself. I warned you. I told you that it was your fault for believing me in the first place.

That's what he tries to tell himself, but he can't.

He catches you as you trip backwards -- "Shouldn't you know to watch your step around here by now?" he teases, trying to raise your spirits. You laugh back with embarrassment, masking the momentary freeze as clumsiness.

It's enough to fool his brothers. But Belphie always was the more perceptive one.

You weren't always scared of the dark -- but you are now, and it's his fault, and he knows it.

Night falls, and he can't sleep, and that's a real problem for the Avatar of Sloth. You aren't sleeping either, he's pretty sure -- he'd know if you were. But it's been weeks now, and each night, he doesn't feel you relax into sleep so much as he senses you succumbing to exhaustion. So when he comes knocking on your door, he's fairly confident you'll answer.

"Oh, hi Belphie," you say with forced cheerfulness as you open up. "Is something the matter? It's late, it's not like you to be up still."

"I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd come see if you were still awake. Although, I guess you should have been sleeping too, shouldn't you?" He gives you an equally forced smile, though he makes his look quite a bit more natural. Well, he's a practiced liar, after all, isn't he? You should know that well enough now.

"Oh, I-I um, I guess so. Yeah, I probably should be, huh? But I just felt like staying up tonight. You know, like...I was reading a scary story before bed, and now I'm too scared to go to sleep. That's what I get, I guess!" you laugh, sweeping away the truth behind evasive sheepishness again.

No, it's my fault. I'm the creature that haunts your mind, his mind screams at him. But he can't say that out loud to you, not when you're trying to keep up such a brave face. What can he say, though? What can he possibly say to make it better? As much as he wishes he could, he can't take it back. He can't fix this. There's only one thing he can say, and it won't fix anything for you.

Still, he should say it anyway, right?

"I'm sorry."

He squeezes you in a hug, not too tight but firm enough to reassure him that you're there -- that you're warm and solid, and that the biggest mistake of his life really hadn't cost you yours. He had grown to like you during those months he'd been shut up in the attic, honestly he really had! But he'd been so blinded by rage and grief that he killed you!

But he doesn't say any of this, so you just blink at him in confusion from within his embrace, softly patting his back in a daze. "Um...you don't need to be sorry that I read something scary, you know...?"

"Not for that. I'm sorry for what I did to you. I'm sorry that you're scared now. I'm sorry that sorry doesn't make it go away. I'm sorry that I'm the reason you can't sleep anymore. I'm just so, so sorry."

You laugh softly against his ear, partly out of surprise but sweet as syrup all the same, and you squeeze him gently back and give him a light peck on the cheek. "I know. That's the reason you can't sleep either, right? It's okay, we can fall asleep together. I think I'll be able to if you're next to me. I love you. I forgive you."

[meanbossart]

Ask Compilation: Advice, influences and Misc.

Apologies for taking so long on some of these, admittedly I'm much more likely to entirely forget about asks that are about me and my interests 💃 Thank you for all the questions regardless! And thank you specially to everyone who just drops nice messages into my inbox out of kindness.

I'm brazillian and a native portuguese speaker!

I'll probably return to twitter eventually, but a) I hate that place and b) It didn't make much sense to me to turn it into a BG3 account out of the blue. I am considering making an Instagram or a new twitter just to have more places where people can follow in case they don't care for tumblr, but it's just been a very busy year so far and so that's kind of low on the list of priorities. If I ever do that I'll be sure to announce it here. Have a nice day yourself!

Sorry to hear that! I've gotten a few messages before about this issue, and the problem is that since I am myself not from the US, my options are also limited :( a lot of patreon alternatives don't work for me because they either don't go through paypal, take insane currency conversion fees, or just straight up block me from signing up.

Speak for yourself, I just assume everyone I speak to online has committed some sort of atrocious crime until proven otherwise. Except for me - of course. I have never done anything bad in my life.

I still have a lot to learn! But I will basically use whatever works for me at the moment, as well as make a sincere effort to learn about musculature and anatomy so I can understand those components and how they move, instead of only knowing what they look like when still - that's how you get better at drawing from memory. Volume mostly comes from coloring and understanding light, which is it's own beast but can very much be learned from similar reference materials and observing it IRL!

My favorite places to get reference are medical diagrams, weird pictures I take of myself, 3D software (often Virt-a-mate) and questionably phrased image google searches.

My favorite artists are Jason Shawn Alexander and Sean Murphy, but I'm not sure how much of it reflects in my art nowadays! I generally seek to pick up techniques from artists rather than to emulate style.

Honestly I love that you guys generally do the thing he would hate the most: take him very non-seriously LOL

I've been in a real Chelsea Wolfe and Amyl And The Sniffers kick lately! But usually you'll also find me listening to stuff like Boy Harsher, Swans, FWF, JK Flesh Lingua Ignota, Nick Cave, David Bowie, and so on. Music for the weird gays, basically.

I went insane and wrote a 23-chapter-long-and-still-ongoing fic in like four months. But also - I'm not that good, I'm just shamelessly pretentious LOL

Hm. That's a good question, but I'm not really sure. Sincerely not trying to be a edgier-than-thou here (in fact, this has made me a little self conscious at one time or another) but a lot of art that I don't mean to be horror-y in nature at all has been associated with the genre. So perhaps I don't know what I'm doing either, LOL.

I think just leaning on making things look slightly "wrong" or "ugly" on purpose is the way, but I also find that if you just seek to depict people as they are instead of idealized versions of themselves, you will arrive at that either way.

Thank you for reading! Honestly, I'm guilty of having not read much at all since I was in my late teens, and the style I'm employing for ANE is very different from the things I would call "influential" for me, or even that I used to enjoy reading at all before. I read a lot of Chuck Palahniuk as a youth (and, no slight to people who do like him still, but nowadays I'm not sure why I ever did. His stories don't speak to me at all anymore) as well a lot of weird experimental lit that I didn't even care to remember the name of. My last book stint from one or two years ago was composed solely of historical and medical literature, and last year I got really into Cormac Mcarthy thanks to the internet.

So, all in all, I'm absolutely all over the place LOL if you put a gun to my head and told me to list my favorite books, I'd say The Indifferent Stars Above and Blood Meridian.

(Consider the reading portion of the question to have been answered above) I really really liked Beau is Afraid and think it's a really great "horror" movie. Sue me.

[therhythmafterthesummer]

IF you ever change your mind and your fingers are itching to post the pretty getting a backhanded compliment Drabble just know that I’ll be willing to receive

previous ask for reference

you know what??? sure. this is way longer than i remembered it to be so i'm not sure i can call it a drabble anymore lol

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader (one of the main pairings of my WereRoomies series, but you don’t really need to read any other instalments to understand/enjoy this one). | Word Count: ~3k | Themes & Warnings: fantasy/supernatural AU · smut | established relationship | physical descriptors of the reader such as: being curvy/chubby and having an absolute dumptruck · annoying co-workers · usage of the word fat in a very neutral manner · Chris in a suit (figured that warrants a warning) · alcohol consumption (very moderate) · possessiveness · pet names · oral [F.Rec] · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method used, but reader is presumed to be on some form of birth control] · praising · creampie · breeding kink

You hardly ever attended events related to work. You only got along with a few people there who you even hung out with outside of the office sometimes, people who coincidentally also hardly ever attended these events. But for some reason, your boss really wanted you to come to this party, and when she told you you could bring a plus one, you figured having your lovely boyfriend there with you would make things much more bearable.

And it did. 

It was a fancy event, and seeing Chris all dressed up stirred butterflies in your belly. The white button-up shirt, the tie, the perfectly fitted black suit… He looked absolutely delectable. The only thing you weren’t too fond of was the fact that he’d asked you to straighten his hair. It was fine, he looked dashing as ever, but you just loved his curly hair so much more. 

Even with the eyebrow slit he’d recently gotten, he still looked like he belonged at the event, and being honest, you did, too.

You chose to wear a lovely black dress, strapless, with thigh slits, sheer tights, and heels. The dress hugged your figure pretty much perfectly, and you were one-hundred percent sure of it the second you were going into the event venue, and you felt Chris’ hand on your lower back just as he leaned in to whisper in your ear. ‘Can’t wait ‘til we make it home so I can rip this fucking dress off of you and eat you whole…’

Everything was going fine, you were doing an outstanding job at pretending you cared about anything anyone was saying to you, and Chris, unsurprisingly, had charmed everyone up. As soon as more than two words left his mouth he already had people at his feet, and you honestly couldn’t blame them.

Two whole hours after you arrived you left your boyfriend at the bar to go to the toilet, and when you came back, just like you had predicted, there was someone already chatting him up. It was this girl from your department that hated your guts, and, boy, if you were ready to give her a metaphorical slap in the face.

“Hi, Gina”, there was a polite smile on your face just as you wrapped your arms around Chris’ waist. One of his arms immediately wrapped around your shoulders so he could pull you in to kiss your temple.

Gina was clearly taken aback by your sudden presence, she looked like a gaping fish, and it almost made you laugh.

“Hi, baby. What’re you drinking?”

You directed the question to your boyfriend, who simply handed you his glass. “It’s a mocktail. Try it, pretty”.

“I must say”, Gina started, just as you took a sip of your boyfriend’s fruity drink. “When Chris said he was here with his girlfriend, I didn’t think it’d be you”.

Ah, there it was.

Gina had an excellent way of delivering her messages… In which they’d always sound incredibly diminishing and condescending. You didn’t care much, though. You were used to people like her, so you just brushed it off, like you didn’t even pick up on it. Chris, on the other hand, had gone a bit quiet. The polite smile was gone from his face, and his eyebrows were pulling together the tiniest bit.

“Yep, that’s me”, you replied simply. Chris offered to get you a drink, and you figured a mojito wouldn’t hurt, so you took his offer. He immediately signalled the bartender just as you diverted your attention back to Gina. “You look really beautiful tonight”.

She did. She looked incredibly beautiful in her outfit, so you felt like telling her. Your plan of action with Gina was to kill her with kindness, so you always tried to treat her almost like you treated everybody else–sometimes you did get a bit sarcastic, you’d admit, but it wasn’t the case with your original statement.

Gina forced a smile, and she took a sip of her drink before speaking again. “Likewise. That’s a very revealing dress. You’re really brave for wearing that”.

Of course. A back-handed compliment was always Gina’s way. In her eyes, you were brave for wearing a dress like this one because you were fat, and fat people never felt beautiful or confident enough to wear something that showed skin.

You could now practically feel the anger rolling off of Chris. This could potentially get really ugly, really quickly, so you immediately placed a hand on his chest, stopping whatever it was he was about to say. “I don’t think I understand, Gina. Why am I brave?”

Playing aloof was something that always drove her crazy. You’d lie if you said you didn’t like to do it on purpose. 

Gina blinked a little, and you saw her left eye twitch. “Well… You know…”

“I’m afraid I don’t? This is just how I normally dress for events like these, to be honest with you. So if anything I just feel like I usually do”.

Gina stumbled over her words, mumbling some pathetic excuse before she left altogether, and you finally heaved a sigh of relief as you took the stool she was previously sitting on. Chris’ form relaxed a bit, but you could tell he was still tense.

He thanked the bartender for bringing your drink, and he handed it to you. “What the fuck is that girl’s problem?”

“She just hates me and likes to be annoying about it”, you took a sip of the drink. It wasn’t particularly strong, for which you were grateful. “What was she talking to you about?”

“Honestly? No clue”, Chris took one last swing of his drink, placing the empty glass on the bar right after. “After I introduced myself and noticed she was trying to hit on me, I just stopped listening”.

“Can’t say I blame her for hitting on you”, you chuckled, taking another sip of your drink, placing a hand on your boyfriend’s thigh. “You look absolutely delicious, baby”.

It wasn’t like you liked when people hit on your boyfriend, but you could certainly understand why it happened. Chris was just unfairly handsome. Supernaturally so. Not only that but his entire aura just drew people to him, so at this point you weren’t surprised when someone tried to make a move.

To you, it didn’t matter anyway. Chris was yours, and yours only. Which was something you had absolutely no doubts about. After all, he had made sure to show you time and time again how true that was, so it didn’t make you particularly insecure if people hit on him, it mostly just annoyed you.

A smug smile spread on Chris’ face, and he placed one of his hands on top of yours on his thigh, hiking it further up. “Do I?”

“You do”, you looked him in the eyes as you said it, taking a sip of your drink. Chris’ gaze shifted, to that predator look of his you knew so well, which immediately had the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

You crossed one leg over the other. The slit of your dress exposed the skin of your upper thigh, and Chris’ eyes zeroed in on the movement. The tights might as well have not been there. One of the many love bites he’d left on your skin a couple of days ago was perfectly visible below the nylon, exposed only when the slit opened up more than it should probably have.

He stood up from his stool, moving to stand right in front of you, bringing a hand to your hip. Your soft flesh dipped under his tight hold, and you held your breath in anticipation when he leaned in to press a lingering kiss on your cheek before whispering in your ear. “Don’t try to rile me up now, pretty… Not unless you want us to get arrested for public indecency”.

You chuckled, but the way your thighs clenched to ease some of the ache that was quickly building between your legs didn’t go unnoticed. When Chris buried his face in the crook of your neck, brushed your pulse point with his nose, and inhaled deeply, you knew that the smell of your arousal probably didn’t go unnoticed, either.

“Say…” Chris spoke once he finally pulled himself away from your neck. “What if we get the fuck out of here?”

“Took the words right out of my mouth”, was the last thing you told him after you dawned the rest of your drink, before you pressed a brief kiss on his lips.

“Oh, fuck…”

After you and your boyfriend stepped through the door of your home, It took probably less than five seconds for him to push you against it and kiss you breathless.

His suit jacket ungracefully hit the floor when you pushed it off of his frame. You hastily untied his tie to also drop it somewhere on the floor just as he was rolling his sleeves up his arms, not detaching his mouth from yours for a second.

You didn’t even manage to unbutton two buttons of his shirt before he was taking a hold of your hips and turning you around so he could press his crotch to your ass. His lips attached your neck, making you whine, making you grind your ass on the very prominent tent in his trousers. His groans whenever you so much as put pressure on his growing erection would always be one of your favourite sounds in this world.

“Fuck, pretty…” Chris pulled you further against his crotch, just as he pressed kisses on your shoulder. “Can’t fucking believe the audacity of that woman…”

You couldn’t help but laugh. Of course Chris was still angry at Gina, you hadn’t expected any less of him. After all, you were comfortable in your body, but Chris was particularly proud of it himself, so he took these things personal. You supposed it was an instinctual reaction.

Before you knew it, he was on his knees, pushing your dress out of the way and ripping your tights. You gasped, surprised. “Chris!”

“I’ll get you new ones…” He replied simply, just as he attached his lips to your buttcheeks so he could suck and nibble your flesh, so he could leave his mark all over. “Fuck…look at this ass. I’ve been going crazy all night just seeing it in this fucking dress, baby…”

Chris gripped both buttocks tightly in his hands, making you whimper. He let go of them only to land mild smacks on each cheek, holding them again to attempt to soothe the sting. You were sure you were dripping already, and your suspicions were proven correct once your boyfriend pulled your thong to the side and got a good look at your bare centre.

“Shit… Push your hips back a bit more, pretty. Arch your back…”

You did as asked, and immediately, his mouth was on you. You swore, loudly, resting your forehead against the cold door of your flat as Chris lapped you up.

Reaching behind you, you buried your fingers in his hair and gripped him tightly, pushing him further into you with a whine. A low growl resonated from Chris, one of those animalistic growls that had goosebumps raising on your flesh, and his movements sped up with your motions.

Everything was a blur after that. You could only register your boyfriend’s devious tongue on your clit, your slit, your ass, anywhere he could reach. It didn’t take long for him to have you coming, to make your legs tremble as your orgasm raked throughout your body.

As soon as he stood back up from the floor, you turned around and pulled him to you, enveloping him in a sloppy kiss. You felt him fumble with his belt and his trousers, and a groan escaped his lips when you lightly scratched his scalp with your fingernails. 

“Sofa. Now”, Chris mumbled against your mouth, right before he pulled himself away from you and started getting out of his bottoms.

You were taking too long to get to your destination, clearly, because as soon as he was bare from the waist down, he took your hand and pulled you towards the sofa. When he sat down, he tugged on your hand, urging you to straddle him. So you did, right as you cupped his cheeks to pull him in for a fervent kiss.

Chris pulled you as close to him as he could, reaching behind you to further break your tights open. Somehow, your thong got caught in the cross-fire, and you would’ve complained about it had it not turned you on so much. He could break all your clothes, for all you cared.

“Need you inside me. Now”, you mumbled against his mouth between kisses, moaning at the feel of his fingers digging on the supple flesh of your ass, at the feel of his shaft dragging through your folds with every roll of your hips.

“Fuck… Go slow, then, pretty baby…”

You’d gotten better at coaxing your boyfriend into giving you his cock with less prep than he’d usually prefer. You were always fine, you were used to him already, considering how often you had sex, so it hardly ever hurt as long as you did go slow.

Separating your bodies a bit, you took his length in your hand, feeling him throb in your grasp as you gave him a couple of pumps. Chris groaned, throwing his head back, and your mouth watered. Both at the feel of him in your hand, and the sight of him, all dishevelled, desperate for you just like you were desperate for him.

“Fuck, perfect little cunt, huh?” Chris mumbled when you started to sink on his cock. He’d told you before, many times, how perfect he thought your cunt was. ‘It’s like… So plump on the outside, just like the rest of you… But so fucking warm and tight on the inside… Makes me wanna eat it all the time, baby, it really does’.

“Your perfect little cunt, Chris. Yours”, you whispered in his ear, whining once he was fully sheathed within your warmth. “Perfect little cunt for your big, alpha cock. Hm?”

Chris hummed, holding your hips tightly so he could guide you to start moving back and forth, letting your clit deliciously rub against his pubic bone. “Your alpha’s cock, pretty. All for you”.

With trembling hands, you unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way so you could press your palms against his heated skin while you kissed him.

Chris always made you feel so full. Not only with his monster cock, but also with the undeniable love he had for you. There was just absolutely no doubt in your mind that this werewolf under you loved you with all of him, and, quite honestly, you had no doubt in your mind that you loved him just as much. You hoped he knew.

“I love you so much”, you gasped, rolling your hips harder against him, and his grip on your hips tightened.

If he didn’t know how much you loved him, you’d remind him. You’d remind him as many times as necessary.

“I love you, too”, Chris replied simply, kissing your cheeks, groaning a bit. “Wanna come again like this, baby? Grinding against me with my cock deep inside you?”

You just nodded, burying your face in the crook of his neck to press kisses on his skin, whining, moaning, feeling your mind empty out, leaving nothing but your boyfriend behind.

“Fuck, I want that, too… Want to feel you come around me, and then rail you on this very sofa. Would you let me, pretty? Let me fuck you dumb?”

You nodded again, speeding the movement of your hips, claiming your boyfriend’s mouth in a heated, sloppy kiss to muffle all the sinful sounds coming out of your mouth.

After a while of this, of just kissing and grinding against Chris, when you started to feel the familiar build up of your orgasm in your belly, you felt Chris’ hands move away from your hips. He dragged them all the way down to your thighs, your calves, and back up, squeezing as he went, humming and groaning into your mouth.

“Pretty, these heels… They make your legs look extra scrumptious”, he dragged his short nails over the fabric of your tights–or what was left of them… “Been–fuck… going insane all night”.

“I–I know”, you replied simply, whimpering a bit as you started to grind even harder against his pubic bone. “That’s why I got them… Why I wore them to go out with you tonight”.

Chris laughed at that, throwing his head back and everything. It made you laugh as well, with the only difference between your reactions being that yours ended in a breathless moan as your boyfriend bucked his hips. “I might be the monster here, but you’re certainly the dangerous one, love”.

“Mmm… My dear monster boyfriend…” You were honestly not even making much sense to yourself, but you vaguely noticed Chris’ gaze softening, which somehow had your lower belly tightening further. “Baby, I’m so, so close…”

“Good”, Chris replied simply, kissing you again.

You needed something extra, though. You knew you could come like this soon, but you were craving a bit more stimulation. “Chris?”

“Mm?”

“My tits”, you mumbled against his mouth, and Chris inhaled deeply, detaching himself from you.

“Want me to play with your tits, love?”

As soon as you nodded, Chris was pulling the front of your dress down so he could cup your breasts without barriers. He dragged his fingers over your stiffening nipples, making you roll your hips harder, faster, and mumble a barely audible ‘More…’

It took only a couple of rolls of your nipples between his fingers for you to finally come crashing down, moaning your boyfriend’s name and burying your face in the crook of his neck. Chris just held you close, mumbling words of praise against your hair as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

When you caught your breath enough, you pulled away from his neck, smiling brightly at him and bringing him in for a sweet kiss.

“Feeling okay, my love?” Chris asked, pressing lingering kisses on your cheek.

“Perfect, baby”, you replied simply, melting under the motions of his lips.

“Good. Now, let’s get you out of this thing…”

Chris helped you get out of your dress, and as soon as he’d shrugged his shirt off, you were on all fours on your sofa. Knees firm on the cushions, elbows on the armrest, and your boyfriend right behind you, shoving his werewolf cock time and time again within your sensitive core.

In no time, Chris had you a whimpering, moaning mess again. His hands were everywhere, on your hips or your waist to pull you back to meet each one of his precise thrusts, on your shoulders or the back of your neck to hold you in place, or even digging on the supple flesh of your thighs.

“Can’t believe…some people would even dare imply…” Chris brought a hand to your shoulder, pulling back towards him and wrapping an arm around your waist so his chest could be flush to your back. His lips attached to your neck, eliciting more moans to fall from your mouth. “…that this body of yours is anything less than perfect, fuck… So, so perfect. All mine to enjoy… I’m so fucking lucky…”

His relentless pace had your mind completely disconnected from everything outside of your flat’s walls. It took a moment to register what he was saying, to remember the encounter with your co-worker earlier in the evening. It was so insignificant to you, but it struck a nerve of Chris’, clearly.

Bringing a hand behind you to take a hold of his hair, holding onto the backrest for stability with the other, you started to push your hips back to the best of your capabilities in this position, just as quiet moans spilled freely from your lips. If there was anything you were good at at this point, it was knowing what to say to your boyfriend to calm him down in situations like these.

“All yours, Chris…” Your grip on his hair tightened, his thrusts sped up, and you were honestly on the verge of tears. “My soft body all perfect for you and your puppies, hm?”

“Oh, shit–Fuck, fuck. Gonna blow–”

“Stuff me full, Christopher. Gonna stuff me completely full of your pups, right?” 

His hair tickled your skin when he nodded. One, two, three more thrusts and Chris groaned, filling you to the brim with his cum, panting, borderline growling against the skin of your shoulder. His other arm also wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to his body, and you immediately relaxed in his hold.

“Your…” Chris started speaking, a bit breathless. “Your soft body all perfect for me and our puppies…”

You giggled at that, feeling yourself flush.

“Get back on your elbows, pretty…”

You did as asked, lowering yourself again. Chris pulled out, and his cum started leaking from your now swollen hole. You heard him swear, barely a whisper before he started wiping you clean.

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I seriously hope you’re not using my black dress to wipe your cum off of me”.

Chris laughed, and he asked you to lay on your back. That was when you noticed it wasn’t your dress, but his shirt he’d used.

“‘Course not, silly”, he started untying your heels to get them off. What was left of your tights came off after, finally leaving you completely bare.

Chris hovered over you for a second, pressing a brief kiss on your lips before he snuggled closer, laying his head on your chest. “I love how you look in that dress, wouldn’t want to ruin it…”

You hummed, burying your fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp. The tips of his hair had started to curl again from his sweat, and it made you smile.

“You looked incredibly handsome tonight, baby…” You couldn’t help but compliment him, kissing the top of his head. “You always do, but tonight especially…”

Chris kissed your chest, finding his way to your neck to lick and kiss your pulse point as well. “And you looked gorgeous, love”.

After a while of cuddles, of a comfortable silence spent catching your breaths, Chris shuffled down your body, kissing his way all the way down to your tummy where he placed loud, lingering kisses there before he stood up from the sofa altogether. He scooped you in his arms, and pressed a brief kiss on your lips, making you giggle.

You found yourselves in your bathroom seconds after, where your boyfriend started drawing a bath while he dropped the words you’d been waiting for all night. ‘Okay, I need you to tell me who was who tonight. I need to put faces to all this office gossip you’ve been telling me for months, baby, or I won’t be able to sleep tonight…’

© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

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[keen-li]

Only one | 01

Warnings: toxic relationship trauma, trauma in general, mentally broken oc, manipulation, yendere jungkook. [Still more warnings to be added]

Psychiatrist jungkook x patient reader

.......

"I just wanna be good enough for someone you get" you play with the hem of your hospital gown.

"But no one is ever good to me" you take a deep breath feeling the tears coming but you hold them in.

"It's okay to cry, don't hide your emotions from me" your psychiatrist, Mr jeon, says having noticed you holding back. Once he says that your tears fall drop by drop until they're leaving your eyes like a waterfall. Mr jeon doesn't say anything, he just notes down what he observes.

"I know I'm good girl, don't you think I'm a good girl?" Good girl, a word You’ve been trying to stop referring to yourself as. Ever since your last relationship, which is one of the many reasons you're in this damn hospital, where your boyfriend would use it so often and even make you refer yourself as that, you haven't been able to let it go yet. Mr jeon hasn't addressed it yet but you're so sure he's noticed it by now.

He's silent to your question, "don't you think I'm a good girl" you ask so genuinely it's sad. Mr jeon simply smiles at you.

"I think you're a good person" he says no emotion behind it.

You scoff.

"I'm sorry, is there something else you would've liked me to say" he sits attentive and alert. His tone is gentle though the question feels sharp.

"I-i just..." You fail to speak and he gives you a reassuring look to help you speak.

"H-he always told me no-one will ever find me good enough apart from him" jungkook knows who the 'he' is, he's been a major topic of your sessions.

"Mmm" Mr jeon acknowledges as he takes note of something. Sometimes you spend your nights wondering what he's writing about you.

Could it be about how much he doesn't want to work with you anymore. Or maybe you're just insecure.

.....

"No please take me back" you flop around in the nurses hands.

"I'm okay, I promise." You don't sound okay and the nurses know better. It's one of those days where you have a mental breakdown. You don't see the damage you cause but others do and that's why they have to take you back to your room to cool down.

Mr jeon watches from afar as they take you away. You were having a session with him that's when you had your breakdown. You weren't even done with the session only in an hour out of the two hours you always have set. Mr jeon has seen your breakdowns before and even took notes of what you said while in that state.

Guess he has to see you next week.

......

You're sick of this place, its so plain and boring. You've been here for eight weeks and even though you feel you're getting better, the hospital thinks otherwise. Mr jeon hasn't given you anything on your progress, only praising you for your strength and openness. You want to know when you can leave this place. You wanna go back to your home, where your can rest peacefully with your dog and pet fish. Oh, you remembered your mother took your pets since you can't be there to take care of them. You just wanna be around them. And they've been on your mind lately.

"So how have you been?" He starts as he settles in his seat with just notepad, glasses glued to his face.

"I'm sorry I wasn't with you for the last two weeks" it's true, he's the only psychiatrist you trust and he hasn't been with you for two weeks. That caused you to have to speak to another psychiatrist, she honestly didn't understand you like Mr jeon does and that made it harder for you to express your true feelings.

"I had an emergency I had to attend to" Mr jeon doesn't talk about his personal life with you only focusing on yours. He doesn't need to tell you anything about his personal life and you don't need to know.

"I've been thinking about home more often lately." You say avoiding Mr jeon's eyes. He noticed you always did this when you expressed something to him that you weren't sure he'd be interested in. But he's always interested in what you say to him.

"Mm, what is it that you're missing at home?" he says in his ever present professional tone.

When he asks this question you remember the cute dog that's probably missing you right now, and the little fish you kept fed and clean in the tank, you hope whoever is looking after them is doing a good job cause if they aren't they're gonna feel it. Those animals have been the only source of comfort and joy in your life, until you were separated.

And now that he's asked that question and you realise the answer, the tears begin to form.

Mr jeon notices and smiles "its okay" his voice is so comforting that it aids your crying. Next second tears are flowing down your face as you try to control your sobs and breathing.

"I-i-i m-miss.." he can see you struggle with your words and reminds you of the breathing tactic he taught you.

You cool down a bit from the tactic, enough to say your words atleast.

"I miss my pets. My dog, my fish" you say and he can see how much they mean to you.

"Why do you miss them?" Seems like a bad question to ask someone in tears but because it's Mr jeon you don't mind.

"They were my only comfort, my only joy and my only hope" you sob as memories of them, especially your dog, make it to your brain.

He watches intently as you sob, he takes down some notes but you're too emotional to notice.

"I just wanna go home " you confess. "I'm tired of it here, I miss home" you sob intensely forgetting about the tactic.

"I'd honestly do anything to leave this place" Mr jeon stops at that.

"I just wanna leave this place" you confess all of this unconsciously. You feel so free around Mr jeon that you don't even think before you say anything.

"I just wanna go home" you whisper finally calming down.

You can see as you wipe your tears, Mr jeon places the note book down and even takes his glasses off. He only takes them off when he's leaving after his shift. He stands going to the door checking outside and locking it when he finally gets back.

You're confused about this new found behaviour, during your sessions he only focuses on you and never does anything else, especially not take off his glasses.

You're confused even more when he squats in front of you as if speaking to a child. He places his palms on the couch on each side of you as you stare at him with raised brows. It's weird seeing Mr jeon like this, he looks different from the the psychiatrist you speak to most of the time.

"Would you do anything to go back home?" he looks at you with so much patience and determination, like you would a child you're trying to convince to go to school.

"You'd do anything huh?" Even the way he's speaking is different, it's more casual.

You remember your previous confession, and even though it was an unconscious confession you still meant it. You can see him waiting for your answer and you unsurely nod.

He shakes his head declining your response.

"I need you to use your words. I need you to be sure" his tone is so soft and gentle and it makes you even more comfortable around him.

After thinking about it, which he lets you do, you have your answer.

"Yes I would." You nod along your words. He smiles at that, feeling to be going in the right direction with you.

"You know I can get you out of this place in a second, right?" He questions you.

You nod. "Words y/n"

"Yes, I know you can"

He nods. "Do you trust me? " It's actually something you've thought about. Do you trust Mr jeon? yes, yes you do. He's the only one you trust in this whole hospital or even the world.

"I do trust you, Mr jeon" he smiles at the honorific. You're unsure to what's he's getting to but you listen close.

"So if you trust me, then let me get you out of this place" why is he asking you this. Does he do this for others as well.

"I can take you somewhere better. I can take you home" and when he says home your eyes light up.

"Home?" You ask and he nods. "I do wanna go home"

"Okay then" he smiles at you. His eyes then turn dark But you can barely notice mind clogged with the hope of being able to go home.

"But you have to do one thing for me"

Next

[frottana-sims]

I changed my neighborhood tree defaults! :3 Autumn is starting in Purple River, and I was no longer happy with the old one.

Before: For a long time I used the silent-dragons tree default replacement. (I'm not sure anymore which one exactly, as there are three versions on their LiveJournal. Unfortunately the pictures are no longer available but I found this post on GOS, and this one too).

Now: With some suggestions from other simmers who were kind enough to reply to me very quickly, I've now changed it to Honeywell's default replacement. 🧡 I also use some of the silent-dragons default replacements that are not included in Honeywell's pack. I also liked silent-dragons' GinkoTree better, so that's stayed too. And I use the single birch from @sixfootsims as it wasn't in Honeywell's pack either. I also considered using criquette's Basic Linden Trees default-replacement, but honestly I'm not a fan of the TS4 trees. 😅

Since my own resource page is gathering dust and will probably bite me when I get closer, I'm posting it here. Mainly for my own reference. But you might be interested too. :3

I also use saramkirk's (smk) mod which allows you to place neighborhood trees wherever you want. And have put them in the same folder as the sixfootsims files as the trees only appear when you load the trees after the mod. (this is why the file is called zzSFBlue_DEFAULT_Beaut_Birches_Single)

And as last thing to say, I use @tvickiesims scrub oak fix. 😊

[flickering-nightfall]

I’m pretty sure that you made a post explaining why the arm is not the umbilical but I can’t find it, so, if you did make one, can you give a link to it? Sorry if you didn’t make one, I don’t have very good memory.

I'm not entirely sure which post that is but it sounds like something I'd ramble about? I have this post talking about making a 3D umbilical and this post talking about making a 3D arm with allusions to that buuut...

If that post doesn't exist then I'll make one right now!

Here, I made a diagram of terminology I use for the puppet/arm/umbilical structure. These terms aren't necessarily canon - they're just what I use.

As for umbilicals being different from mechanical arms, it's an interpretation, I think. But there's reasons why I call them different things.

So first here's this Moon dialogue.

(I think that's vanilla dialogue? The wiki confuses me sometimes. Link here if you want to see it yourself.)

We can assume from that dialogue that the wires + cord are the "umbilical." Moon's are obviously cut, but Pebbles' are not. And Moon's puppet is still attached to her mechanical arm.

(Lots more under the cut)

Umbilicals in real life resemble the wire/cord structure far more than the mechanical arm portion does. So that's another reason I refer to the wire/cord as the umbilical.

Lemme slap some stuff from my iterator headcanons doc here.

I like interpreting the puppet as a place to focus an iterator's consciousness. It acts as a sensory hub and a means to interact more finely with their surroundings. Neurons, in turn, are active memory comparable to RAM. Moon refers to Pebbles' imprints on his neurons as "a ghost left from his processing routines." They're not meant for long-term memory storage, but upper processes such as, well... thinking... cannot be done without them. So removing neurons affects an iterator’s ability to encode, recall, and process information. (Courtesy of my friend Folly, I also think they're mostly made out of fat. Kind of gross to eat.) Although Moon's umbilical is severed, she is still able to see through and control the movements of her puppet. So either she has some sort of other connection to the rest of her can, or her consciousness comes from the puppet rather than the can. The mechanical arm’s functions would be mostly structure-to-puppet function (control movements of arm and puppet, transmit the sensory information of the puppet) while the wire/cord handles more consciousness-in-puppet-to-structure function (facilitates awareness and control over superstructure and all that encompasses). So both the cord and the arm are part of the iterator-to-puppet connection, but the cord is more important. I feel like with the wire OR the arm's internals intact, the iterator can maintain perception of the puppet. When you give Moon an overseer eye, she says, “I am not much more than what you are looking at - a little creature in a box.” This can be literal, or it can imply that her perception is just limited to what she can see through her puppet in her damaged state.

In Rivulet’s campaign, the rarefaction cell could be partial compensation for a missing umbilical. Moon can move on her arm, call up image projections, reconnect to her overseers, and broadcast locally to Pebbles after getting the rarefaction cell. She refers to it as finally having her freedom back. But we don't know how many of her systems she does or does not have access to anymore.

If you eat one of Pebbles' neurons in front of him as Rivulet he says "I would appreciate if you would not eat those. My umbilical will keep me conscious, but every neuron lost is a piece of me lost as well..." We know that Pebbles keeps his wires/cord/arm connected in Saint's campaign, though, and he remains conscious despite having no visible neurons. Does the umbilical compensate for the lack of neurons as well? Maybe there are some still alive in the structure that we can’t see, and the umbilical allows him to stay connected to them.

...honestly, I think downpour makes questions about umbilicals harder to answer than if you only base off of vanilla lore. But I like working with downpour stuff, so oh well.

One last thing - the wiki page for Moon also says this under her trivia: "Looks to the Moon is still connected to the wall by her umbilical, but the damaged hardware lacks power to let her move around." Other references to umbilicals written throughout the wiki imply the arm is the umbilical as well. But! I don't know where the writers of that got that information. I don't think there's anything in the game that confirms that the umbilical and the arm are the same. If there's anything in the game that supports that, let me know~

So to summarize: I think evidence suggests the wires + cord are the umbilical because Moon refers to hers being cut. The mechanical arm could also be a part of the umbilical, or it be considered a different part that provides function in a different way. I usually refer to them separately, but that's just me, and I mostly do it for the sake of clarity. It's not confirmed canon.

There are a lot of things about Rain World lore you can run in circles around for hours, but not find any definitive conclusions for. It's part of the fun even if it drives me nuts sometimes. Come be confused with me :)

[sagescented]

@autisticslp asked (on the old blog):

So a lot of cooking advice that people tend to give that seems very basic honestly comes from decades of experience; there's a post that floats around Tumblr sometimes, actually, that talks about how a lot of "cooking from intuition" isn't actually intuition at all. It's deeply ingrained memorization about the "laws of cooking" that we've learned over time, that feel like second nature to us to the point where we no longer have to think about it or physically reference recipes or tutorials anymore.

In essence: We're good at "taking what we have on hand and making a meal of it" because we have a lot of practice! We've built up a skill! A skill you're lacking in. And that's not a bad thing! But it also means that you shouldn't be too hard on yourself because you don't know or can't seem to grasp this stuff that seems so "second nature" or "easy" to a lot of the cooks you know. You're still really new at this! And with various disabilities and mental illnesses, cognitive issues, etc? Of course you're going to struggle harder at it than "most" seem to, to you!

As a secondary aside to that, you mentioned growing up on a farm. But farming and gardening, and the various forms of food preservation that frequently comes alongside small family subsistence farms, is a very different skill set! Knowing what's seasonal in your garden doesn't necessarily inherently translate into cooking it, and building a full meal up from scratch unless you also had someone who had that skill as well to teach you that.

I know my Husband's mom sure as hell didn't. He grew up on a farm like that, and she could can all day ... But Lord. She couldn't cook to save her life. She attempted to impart neither of these skills to my Husband, either ... I grew up on one, as well. But where my mom couldn't can or garden to save her life, she was a damned good cook and imparted those skills to me. Now I'm passing them on to my Husband decades later, because his mother failed to.

What you're ultimately missing is a fundamental set of basic skills, and a knowledge set built up over time and practice. And the good news is, those are really simple skills to learn. The bad news is, it does take a while to learn them and to build up that pool of knowledge. Most of it's experimentation, though, and not a lot of it's super difficult.

For basic knowledge of cooking science and spices, I'd recommend The Science of Cooking and The Science of Spice- both by Dr. Stuart Farrimond. I own both and love them dearly. They'll debunk some common myths, and give you a basic understanding of certain food sciences that are honestly really helpful.

When you feel like you're ready to actually sit down and experiment with spices, I love The Encyclopedia of Spices and Herbs: An Essential Guide to the Flavors of the World by Padma Lakshmi. It has information on various spices, tells you their cultural contexts, mentions what they're usually used on in those contexts (vegetables, which meats, etc), and even gives you some common cultural spice blends (though doesn't provide measurements). It's a thick boy, but it's a really fun one to work through if you have no introduction to spices or idea how to use them.

Past that, something you need to build yourself is a well stocked pantry with staple basics. I can't tell you what those are for you. That's something you have to figure out for yourself based on what you cook, how often, etc. But my minimum has always been at least 2 months worth of food in my pantry at any given time, across a broad enough spectrum that I can pick just about anything out of a recipe and only really need to shop for the fresh or immediate-need ingredients each week.

Staple Grains like Rice, Lentils, Cous Cous, and Quinoa.

Pasta Noodles of various types- like Elbow, Rigatoni, Bowtie, Penne, Fettuccini, and Spaghetti

Potatoes in the form of Mashed Potatoes and Scalloped Potatoes both, as well as a "fresh" bag each of Russet, Yellow, and Red Potatoes

Onions. I keep a mesh bag each of Red and Yellow (or White; whichever's cheapest at the time I'm shopping) on hand at all times.

Boxes of Stock (Chicken, Beef, Vegetable, and Protein Broth when I can find it)

Canned items that I use a lot of, like Diced Tomatoes, Tomato Sauce, Tomato Paste, every kind of Bean (Cannellini, Great Northern, Dark Red, Light red, Black, Pinto, etc), and Chickpeas; plus canned fish (Tuna and Salmon, Sardines, etc)

Condensed Creams Of (Chicken and Mushroom are the two we use most often)

Spices. Of every kind. You literally do not want to see my spice box. It's insane. Yes I'm proud of it. But it would make the average person cry with confusion and fear.

Frozen Veggies in the freezer (Green Beans, Brussel Sprouts, Broccoli, Carrots, Squashes, etc; personally I prefer the frozen to the canned)

I'm sure there's stuff I'm forgetting. But ultimately when you have a full pantry and only have to buy your fresh or immediate-need ingredients? It not only massively saves your grocery bill each week, but it also makes it so much easier to "make things with what you have on hand". Because a large part of the trick is, honestly, having things on hand to make stuff with in the first place. And that's really the big secret that goes unspoken in a lot of circles. But it really shouldn't be an unspoken secret, because it holds so many people back.

Another secret is just knowing basic cooking methods. What is chopping vs dicing? How do you pan fry? What's a dry fry vs a wet fry? What about baking? Broiling? Boiling? What happens if you stew an ingredient instead? How big does it have to be for each of these methods? How does it perform with rice as opposed to cous cous? How is it raw- if it can be eaten raw? Other than that, just knowing recipes is really going to be the big key.

Unfortunately I don't have a recommend for learning any of these ones, since I learned all this the hard way. I do see some cook books that could be useful (like Veg-table: Recipes, Techniques, and Plant Science for Big-Flavored Vegetable-Focused Meals by Nik Sharma; or Vegetables: The Ultimate Cookbook Featuring 300+ Delicious Plant-Based Recipes by Laura Sorkin). I can't personally recommend them, however, because I've never read or used them. But there's a lot of information out there on youtube that can be very helpful, especially for methodology since it's a visual medium- which is, I think, the best way to learn some of these skills in particular.

Personally, I did the recipe thing by looking at cuisines from regions where those foods or ingredients were really popular. So take your Eggplant for example. Eggplants feature a lot in Mediterranean, Levantine, and Middle Eastern cuisines. So when you want to learn how to use Eggplant and build up your knowledge about it? Looking at the people in those regions who use this ingredient a lot already is going to be really helpful to you. They know what they're doing with it!

When you've made those dishes a few times, you're going to get an understanding not only of how to prepare Eggplant for various methods of cooking, and how to cook it for those methods. But you're also going to get an understanding of what flavors pair well with it. And after a while of doing that, you're naturally going to start thinking "what if I do x instead?" and start experimenting on your own. Play with them. Get to know the ingredient on the most foundational level. And yeah, throw some herbs on it if you're comfortable! See what meshes with what flavors. What do you like? And yeah, some of those are going to be flops. But by the time you start thinking "what if" your skills are usually further progressed than you'd think to give yourself credit for. Just ask my Husband, ha!

As for the stuff regarding disability, mental illness, and cognitive function, I gotchu, babe! One of the most distressing things for me when I became disabled, started suffering really bad from cognitive decline, and started dealing with memory loss, was looking at the potential of never being able to cook for myself again. And that scared the piss out of me, because cooking is my joy. And so my Husband and I sat down and prioritized cooking and making it disability friendly for me. Here's some of the stuff we did.

First step: Get your butt a stool that's a comfortable height for your counter height. Once acquired, sit as much as you can in the kitchen. It conserves energy and lets you use more of it to focus your head.

Second: Get yourself all those fun little gadgets you think look interesting or helpful. Personally I have a fruit slicer (that works on more than just apples), a slap chopper microplane thingy, and a few others. Mostly I got these because occasionally my body loses my hands and has no idea where they went and it's safer for me. But I can't tell you how nice they are even when my body knows where my hands are, ha; they speed up prep, keep your fingers safe (usually), and leave more room for the brain to do its thing.

Third: Make as many lists as you can! I have a list on the inside of all my pantry doors of the staples that are in that section. When something needs refilling it allows me to put a mark there so I know to put it on the grocery list. But it also provides a quick reference when my brain's tired; it's so much easier for me to read a list than try and decipher box labels with various colors, font sizes, etc. Make lists wherever you need them and always keep them accessible.

Fourth: The recipe box. Yes. A good, old fashioned, classic recipe box. I have mine filled with tried and true recipes that I know for a fact my Husband and I love, that I know we have at least 90% of the ingredients on hand for at any given moment. So if all else fails and I can't think of anything? I can just go pull something out of the box and have him jot down to the store for anything we don't have.

Fifth: Keep easy meals on stock, because some days you really can't cook. Your brain won't let you, and that's ok! That's fine! But you still gotta eat, right? So we keep stuff like bagged Blackened Chicken Alfredo, Dirty Rice, Mongolian Beef, Jambalaya, Broccoli Beef, Red Beans & Rice, etc, on hand in the outdoor fridge. If at any point I just can't do it? We grab some of those instead.

And the good news is, you can spruce up a quick meal! Making Dirty Rice? Throw in some bread and butter, and a side of boiled Green Beans from the garden. Blackened Chicken Alfredo? Throw some Bell Pepper on in there; you can bulk this stuff up easily with your produce, and it takes even less effort most of the time.

As for the Covid sense of taste / smell? Keep trucking. It does get better; I suffered bad from Post-Covid Parosmia for nearly 2 years after I caught Covid the first time- bad enough to the point I couldn't bathe myself because of the smell of our water being nauseating to me; couldn't eat anything with Corn, or Wheat, or Onion, or Garlic in it for a year, either. the second I tried, my body auto rejected it. Bananas tastes like Iris flowers smelt ... I feel your pain so hard.

But it does get better. Your system is just rewiring itself completely from scratch right now. And Lord, it's so unpleasant. But the more you give it to taste, and smell, the better it does and the faster it rewires itself. Don't force yourself to eat things that are nauseating or unpleasant. But do branch out. Experiment. Even if it tastes left of how you remember it, keep going! I can't promise you'll get everything back (Lord knows there's still some things that aren't quite right for me, even 4 years later now). But it gets better!

I hope any of this helps- even if it's not as helpful if you'd like it to be. Hang in there, love.

My ask box is always open and Anon is currently ON.

[schrodingers-romy]

Silver-Tongued Devil [Usagiyama Rumi x Reader]

Pairing: Usagiyama Rumi x AFAB!Reader Word count: ~3,200 [Ao3 Link]

Summary: You somehow end up as the sacrifice for an incompetent cult. The demon they summon is not at all what they nor you expected.

Warnings: Kidnapping. Cults. Reasonably graphic depictions of violence and blood. Reader is injured (not extensively) but healed. AFAB reader; genitals are referred to by fem terms but no other gendered terms are used. Graphic Smut (MDNI). Strength Kink. Cunnilingus. Weird demon tongue. idk.

Notes: 3rd fic for Strange Lovers (my little monster!character x reader series for October)! Please ignore this was a day late i had such writer's block for this and i don't know why. I'm not sure if this is good or not honestly I just want to not have to look at it anymore. Mdni banner template from @/cafekitsune

I have the absolute worst luck, you thought to yourself.

Perhaps you had broken multiple mirrors in the past. Did breaking multiple mirrors mean the seven years of bad luck was worse, or was the period of bad luck just longer?

You supposed it didn’t really matter, but how else would you end up like this: hogtied and gagged in the middle of a red painted pentagram, surrounded by what sounded to be frat boys in cult getups.

One of the little fuckers had ambushed you on your way home with a handkerchief soaked in chloroform. Next thing you knew, you were tied up in the middle of the woods, surrounded by a bunch of college kids in dark robes chanting Latin.

You had no idea why you specifically were picked. You had a feeling it was just because you were the first person they had been able to grab; you weren’t sure whether that was better or worse than being specifically chosen.

So far, they hadn’t done anything to you other than knock you out and tie you up. Unfortunately, at least one of them must have been really good with rope, because you couldn’t budge an inch. All your screaming amounted to nothing more than a few quiet, unintelligible sounds through the gag. And just because they hadn’t done anything major to hurt you yet, doesn’t mean they wouldn’t. They had no problem with kidnapping you; you doubted your purpose in their demonic ritual summoning or whatever was just sitting there looking distressed.

The chanting had been going on for what felt like hours; yet however boring it was, your anxiety kicked back up drastically when they stopped.

The cultists stopped circling, and turned to face you. One of them, presumably the leader because of his unique blood-red rope belt, stepped forward until he stood right in front of you, close enough to kick if you had the freedom to do so (which unfortunately you didn’t, no matter how much you tried).

In a loud, booming voice, he started up another chant, different from the first. And then he pulled out a wicked looking blade from the shadows of his robes.

You tried to get away; you tried to scream. You could feel your muscles straining against the ropes, but they wouldn’t shift. The gag kept your voice to a mumble even as you tasted iron in your throat from your shrieks.

It was all futile. He crouched down, holding the knife above you; the blade glinted red in the light of the fire. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for pain.

The stabbing you expected didn’t happen, but you were not spared from agony. He roughly cut away the fabric of your shirt around your stomach, exposing it to the night air; his canvas.  Slowly, excruciatingly, he began to carve a shape onto your skin; some sort of crescent moon, maybe; you weren’t sure, too busy screaming from the burning pain of it.

When the knife finally paused, you sobbed in relief. It still burned; you could feel the blood flowing and dripping onto the ground, both too-cool and too-warm feeling at once. But at least there were no new wounds made.

You drifted in and out of awareness, missing the cult’s final chants, but you did not miss the culmination of the ritual.

Once the final words were spoken by the robed figures, a violent bolt of lightning lit up the forest blinding white. The thunder followed immediately after, so loud it caused your ears to ring.

Your eyes took a minute to readjust to the dim light of the torches, and then you saw her.

You noticed two things about her right away: one, she was beautiful; two, she was utterly inhuman.

Her general figure was humanoid…if humans were seven feet tall. Her skin was a human shade of brown, yet her eyes were crimson red with slit pupils. Her broad, almost cocky, grin revealed shining white fangs. Her hair was pure white, hanging around her face in long braids. It was interrupted by the curling black horns emerging from her skull, and the rabbit-like white ears springing from the sides of her head.

She only wore draping gold jewelry, which seemed to drip down her body like liquid, covering her most private parts delicately. This allowed you full view of her muscles. She was built like a Greek statue: thick arms, prominent abdominal muscles, and thighs that could probably crush a man’s skull like a grape.

She radiated power. If you weren’t writhing on the ground in pain like a tortured worm, you would be cowering.

The cultists do cower a little, trembling in their robes. Finally, the one with the red belt steps forward.

“O Great Miruko, High Demon of the Moon, please accept this humble offering,” he said, gesturing to where you lay. “As per the summoning, we only request one day of obedience in exchange for the blood of the sacrificed.”

The demon tilted her head, never dropping her wide smile.

“So you losers thought you would have control of me with this ritual?”

Her voice wasn’t quite what you expected; it was human-sounding at first, if loud, but it echoed around the trees in odd ways, making it sound like thousands of whispers repeated her words. It was…unsettling.

The cultists seemed to agree. Their leader flinched visibly when the demon spoke. “Y-Yes. According to the ancient tome—” he said, pulling a beat-up leather book out of seemingly nowhere, “—we started the ritual on the right phase of the moon, we recited the proper chants, evoked the correct name, provided the sacrifice for consumption…everything is correct. As per the ritual’s rules, you are summoned to the mortal plane to do our biding for a full day, then you return to the hell from whence you came!” He was starting to sound frantic by the end of his tirade.

The demon crossed her arms across her chest, emphasizing their definition. “Well, you’re almost right…except for the most important part.” She stepped closer, and bent down dramatically at the waist to look the cult leader in the eyes. He scrambled to step backwards; this caused his hood to flip back, revealing a face that looked both scared and young.

The demon seemed amused by his fear. She smiled, cruelly, baring sharp teeth at him. “The one who gives the blood is not the sacrifice…they’re the one with control over me. Not you.”

She stood up again, stretching to her full height. “I’m not ‘contractually obligated’ to give you shit. All the power resides in the poor person you have trussed up like a ham over there.” She gestured to you, finally making eye contact. You shivered at the glowing red gaze.

“So, hon, want me to take care of these guys for you?” she asked, focus still entirely on you.

You were frozen for a second. Your brain was spinning. You still didn’t fully understand what was going on…but you would like your kidnappers gone. So you gave the smallest nod, all of the movement you could manage.

The demon smirked, returning your nod, and then she was a blur.

Your head span just trying to watch her; it seemed like only a second before all of the cultists were knocked out cold from the force of the demon’s lightning-quick kicks and punches.

Once she had taken care of them, she crouched down over you to run her hands over your bindings. Under the caress of her large hand the ropes and the gag dissolved into puffs of smoke.

You raised your tingling arms up to your mouth and coughed. Your throat still felt terrible, and coughing too deeply flexed your abdomen, causing the cuts to light up with pain again. But your limbs could finally regain blood flow.

You looked up at the demon, who was still staring at you. You had a hard time meeting her gaze; instead you looked out towards the cultists lying on the ground. “…are they dead?” you rasped.

“Naw. Just going to be unconscious for a long time. Didn’t think you would want me to kill them all. I mean. I can if you want me to though.”

“Um… no, that’s fine.” No matter how crazy this weird cult was, even if they wanted to sacrifice you, even if they had no problem kidnapping and hurting you…you wouldn’t want their deaths on your conscious. You couldn’t do that.

The demon shrugged. “Okay then.” She seemed much less intimidating and more casual now, even though she still loomed above you.

You tried to swallow, wincing when your raw throat protested the action. “So…what now?”

“Well, I am at your bidding, for a whole twenty-four hours. Then I can go back to hell…I never introduced myself, by the way. I go by many names, but you can call me Rumi.”

You stammered your own introduction.

Rumi gave you a broad grin, teeth flashing. “I’m guessing the first thing you want from me is for me to heal your wounds?”

Your voice had a hopeful tilt to it. “Can you do that? Please?”

“Aww, sweetheart, how could I say no when you ask so nicely?” she purred.

You could feel heat in your cheeks. You’re honestly surprised you still have enough blood for such a silly reaction to her words.

She chuckled, and moved so she could slip both her hands between your lower back and the ground. She lifted you up as she leaned down, until you could feel her breath on the sting of the cuts.

You weren’t sure what you expected her to do. Maybe whisper some sort of weird Latin chant and then the cuts would just disappear? But you would have never predicted what she actually did.

Rumi opened her mouth…wide. Out came a tongue between the glinting teeth.

Her tongue was long, and flexible, the end almost triangle-shaped with the way it tapered to a point. It dripped saliva onto your stomach, and you flinched.

You let out a shrill noise of surprise as Rumi uses her strange tongue to lick at your wounds.

Her spit almost seemed to leak into your cuts, causing them to close and disappear before your eyes as she lapped across them. Soon, the pain has disappeared from your abdomen, replaced by the wet, warm feeling of the demon’s tongue. She continued to lick long after the cuts were gone, removing every spot of blood from the soft skin of your stomach.

You felt flushed and tingly. You would have liked to attribute that to whatever strange demon magic was in Rumi’s spit, but you couldn’t quite lie to yourself that much. You’re ashamed to admit it, but the feeling of Rumi’s tongue on you is almost…erotic. The wetness on your abdomen was emulated by the slowly growing wetness in your underwear.

You couldn’t help but squeak in embarrassment at the realization. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on how you look at it) Rumi pulled away, tongue retracting back into her mouth like a snake.

“Feel better?” she asked.

“Yes,” you said, before losing yourself to another coughing fit. Your stomach was as good as new, no remnants of the strange carved symbol remaining, but your throat was still raw.

Rumi made a disapproving noise. “Well, it seems like you’re not all fixed up, hon. Something happened to your throat, right? Let me help.” She shifted her arms under you until she was holding you in a seated position, bringing your head closer to hers.

You felt as if your face was radiating heat. She was no less beautiful up close. It was hard to have such a lovely face right by yours, especially after said lovely face was just licking your bare skin.

Rumi removed one hand from your back, to press a single calloused finger against your bottom lip. “Open up, sweetheart.”

You should have protested, but the pet name in Rumi’s soft, low voice made your head feel fuzzy. You opened your jaw.

Your mouth was soon filled with the demon’s tongue. Your eyes closed on instinct, feeling her lips press to yours in a facsimile of a kiss. You had never had a kiss like this, however; her tongue slithered down your throat, filling it and your mouth up to the brim. You would have choked on it, but the soothing feeling of her saliva healing your injured throat made you relax enough for it to slip past your gag reflex.

It almost felt like you were being throat-fucked by Rumi’s tongue; at the mere whisper of that thought, you let out a moan around the slick appendage inside you.

To your disappointment, she immediately pulled back. Once you realized what you had done, you felt like you were going to faint. You reopened your eyes, almost dreading to see Rumi’s expression.

Your breath caught when you finally saw her. She had an almost…endeared expression on her face. It would have been sweet, if not for the sultry darkness of her eyes.

“Aww, honey, you like my tongue?” Her voice was hoarse, and you shuddered, face nearly radiating heat.

She laughed at your flustered expression. “It’s okay, don’t be embarrassed. It’s cute.”

You let out a low whine, less of arousal and more out of sheer mortification.

Runi’s smile sharpened. “You know, I can do lots of other things with my tongue, if you’d like. After all, I am at your bidding.”

While the first sentence made you feel like you had been lit on fire, the second one doused your flames a little. “I don’t want you to do something because I’m making you do it…if you don’t want to do anything, you don’t have to. No matter how I feel.” You felt a little sick at the thought that you could force her to do something like that if she didn’t want to.

“You’re so sweet, honey,” Rumi said, chuckling. “But I promise I want to just as much as you do.” Her voice dropped lower at the last part, almost to a growl, and you shuddered in her arms.

“Okay,” you whispered.

-

Rumi, as her figure suggested, was ridiculously strong.

She ripped your pants and underwear off like it was tissue paper. She hoisted her arms under you, maneuvering you like a ragdoll until you were in her preferred position. Your legs were hooked over her shoulders, your hands gripping her horns in a weak attempt to stabilize yourself as she lifted you until your pussy was level with her mouth.

You could feel Rumi’s smirk against your sensitive inner thigh. You couldn’t make yourself look down, lest you have to acknowledge your position and the way your cunt was dripping.

“Sweetheart.” A quick flick of her tongue against your clit, making you gasp. “Look at me while I eat you out.”

You reluctantly made eye contact with her. “That’s it baby,” she cooed.

You watched as her tongue slipped out of her mouth once more, the thin tip reaching out to lightly caress your clit. Even though the touches were almost nonexistent, each sent a flow of heat up your spine.

Your legs squeezed rhythmically around Rumi’s head every time her tongue teased at your nub. Your arousal kept building, filling your whole body with sticky heat, yet it wasn’t enough to push you towards any type of climax.

You didn’t notice you had begun to whimper, softly, but Rumi did. She finally took pity on you and started to lap at your cunt in earnest.

The first lick went all the way from your hole to your clit, dragging the broad part of her tongue through your wetness. She let out a rumbling moan once she got a proper taste of you, and abandoned her teasing completely.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as she licked and sucked at your pussy without mercy. Rumi was too caught up in eating you out to chastise you for this. Anyway, closed eyes only made the sounds louder; the obscene slurping noises from combination of your slick and her spit, and both of your moans, yours echoing and hers muffled against you.

You let out a shriek as her skilled tongue wormed its way into your dripping hole. You were so wet from your arousal and her saliva that she had no trouble working the appendage deep inside of you, deeper than you thought possible. She pulled you closer to her face, until her lips were pressed against the soft folds of your sex, and you thought you could come right then.

But this wasn’t the height of your arousal. Not yet.

She then started to move her tongue inside of you.

It felt like Rumi was desperate to taste all of you, the way her tongue squirmed inside your pussy. Every sensitive spot was rubbed against the rough parts of her tongue, and then soothed by the slicker parts. She was basically fucking you on her face at that point, powerful arms bringing your body away from her just to pull you back and impale you on her tongue. Every time your cunt met her face again, she would grind the bridge of her nose against your clit, sending another spark of pleasure up your spine.

Your body felt almost unreal. No longer did you have control over yourself; instead, Rumi did. You were like her little doll, a pretty little thing she could pick up and play with effortlessly.

The pleasure was so intense that you struggled to simply open your eyes without slipping back into mindless bliss. You wanted to see her, though, and so you forced them open, squinted and teary as they were.

Bringing your gaze down to her, you could see her eyes were black with arousal as they peered back up at you. Her entire face was soaked, slick and dripping from your cunt’s juices. She looked utterly bebauched.

The view made you come on the spot.

If you weren’t a doll before, you were now; your entire body went numb from your orgasm. It was like a never-ending series of delicious shocks travelling through your nervous system. Rumi hadn’t halted her movements, even as you soaked her face even more with your come. Your pleasure stretched out longer than you thought possible before your nerves started to turn painful. She stopped once your whines started becoming less come-drunk and more overwhelmed.

Almost lovingly, she laid your dazed form back down onto the ground, still cradling your head. It took you a few moments before you were even aware of your surroundings again.

In that time, Rumi had moved to straddle your head, hovering above your face on her knees. One hand was stroking your cheek softly, while the other held up the delicate chains that hung from her waist, revealing her own glistening cunt to you.

“You were so good for me, baby,” she said, voice husky. “D’you wanna return the favor?”

There was no world in which you wouldn’t want more of her.

“Yes please,” you murmured, opening your mouth.

[ebonysplendor]

There's Something Wrong With Sunny Day Jack (Demo) Review🌤️

TL;DR: Sunny days, keeping the clouds awaaaaaay~! ... Okay, but like what if our cloud is the "sunny day", and it won't go away? Do we even want it to at this point...?

Game Link: https://snaccpop-studios.itch.io/sunny-day-jack

Game Link (classic): https://snaccpop-studios.itch.io/sdj-classic

Notable Features: Gender Neutral language, Self-Insert, Yandere LI, Voice Acting, Create a cup of froyo ... yo Spiciness: 5.5/5 -- Let me tell you! It's a whole scene going down in this thing, okay?! FULLY delivered. The literal only thing that would've made this any spicier is if you saw it. You kinda do, but it's just out of frame. LI Red Flags: 3/5 -- Manipulation, possessive, lowkey obsessive, implied violence and possession, but like, I'm pretty sure I can fix him, so whatever, ya know?

Wanna know more? Lmao naaah. Not if you aren't at least 18, and I mean that. There is a WHOLE spicy scene in here. This one's for the adulty adults. Anyways, if you don't care about my yapping and/or you're in the 18+ club, let's get into it!

Okay, okay, okay, I know, yeah, I know, but listen...I'm only getting around to making the review now.

Okay, okay, okay, wait, stop, listen. I know that this game is damn near two years old, but I didn't start getting into reading visual novels until last year, and I didn't start taking the plunge to make reviews until this year so... :P

ANYWAYS! I do have news that you may not know yet! When I was looking for exactly how old this game is, I stumbled upon a little news~

As of me typing this (which was on the 28 August at about 9:30pm, but who knows when I'll actually post this review lmao), the game was updated an hour ago. I'm talking this shit is fresh out of the box! So, naturally, I went scouring for a download button...but then it occurred to me that that message said that it was for the $12+ tier of their patreon supporters. Not gonna lie, the spicy scene in that damn game has got a girl tempted, okay? But the way my bills are set up...

Okay, anyways, getting back on track because I've started yappin'. I'm going to go ahead and jump into this thing because, let me tell you, if you're like me, and you're late to this game, you've gotta hear about it! Granted, the download to the version that I'm talking about isn't available anymore (at least for the public/non $12 patrons), but the classic version is! I don't know how different it is though ^^;

Admittedly, because this game is almost two years old and because there's not a download link available currently, I might spoil it just a little so that you're not left too much in the dark about the game, especially since, again, the download link isn't available. That being said, it may still be spoiler friendly because habit lol.

But you get it by this point. Let's stop talking and start summarizing. Let's get into it!

So boom.

Basically, we're being...haunted?, we guess?...by this very attractive, but frankly super cheesy, children's TV show host. How'd it happened? We aren't really sure. We just remembered that we got some weird tape and was like "Huh...okay", watched it, and boom, here he is. Speaking of "he" and "here he is", here he is!

Everyone, this is the bae, Sunny Day Jack, but he doesn't mind being called just "Jack", so refer to him as such.

Jack has kind've been rocking with us for a few months at this point, and admittedly, it was very poor but really great timing. The reason why that is the case is because we had experienced something pretty tragic, and we were having a really hard time getting over it, but honestly? Jack's child-like explanation of working through problems and explaining emotions actually came in clutch, because we were lowkey able to get this far because of him. That being said...our relationship with him is getting a little blurred -- more than a little.

Ya see, things kind've...escalated between us, and we honestly aren't sure if we're glad that we got called into work or if we're pissed about it. Like, the undertones have been there for a while, but it was only today that those undertones became more pronounced and obvious. I mean, the man had his tongue-- ANYWAYS!

So, we go into work where our asshole manager ditches us because apparently the things that he has to do is way more important than us having a day off from babysitting and picking up the slack of our lazy ass co-workers. The only upside to this is that the day is likely to be slow because of the rain and that we're alone, meaning that we can openly talk to Jack.

Oh, now that I think about it, I forgot something super crucial -- we can see and hear Jack. More specifically, we can touch him, feel him, smell him, fuck him, the works, but, for whatever reason, others can't do the same. I guess it's like...medium privileges or being a ghost's host perks or something? Anyways, I'm getting off track. Gonna stop it there before I start spouting some stupid shit.

We kind've flashback to what happened right before our boss called, and whoo boi, does that steamy feeling come back full force. It's weird, because it's like Jack can read our mind about how we felt so comfortable and so safe and so protected and, frankly, so curious about him and what all went down in that moment. Jack basically reassures us that the feelings that we have are okay, and what would be best described as "love". Oh...oh, haha, uh...

"Nah, dawg, it's not love."

"Well...do you love me?"

AYO? I beg your finest pardon, sir!? Like, he's just gonna come out the woodwork with that shit?!

Regardless, he's still reassuring us that, "It's okay if you see me as bae" and we're just "We're roommates, dude, and seeing someone as bae is way more complicated than you're making it sound!" He pretty much just laughs it off and is like "Well, either way, I'll be here. Always. I'm not going anywhere. Ever. I'll be anything and everything that you need". Oof, that is...a bold ass claim, and one that we're not so entirely sure we should trust...but damn does it feel good to hear those words and have some support...anyways.

Our work day continues, we run into this awkwardly cute guy (I'll explain more later), our whore of an ex-boyfriend called and ruined our fucking mood, Jack lays down some more heavy words of reassurance, and the day goes onto the next.

Unfortunately, we land ourselves back at work, but fortunately without the "un-", we are alone and can freely talk to Jack again. Like mentioned, the guy is a ghost, but he's so very real, just not to others, which can be super disorienting sometimes; this is one of those sometimes. Jack wanted us to make him a yogurt and...oof, his reaction was...

...less than thrilled. Disgusted, even. Horrified.

Now, this doesn't sound like a huge detail or issue, but he actually got a bit scary here because, what is this shit that he's spouting about us "not being that type of person anymore" and "being better than that, now"? Like, when I say that this man -- clown? ghost? -- had a full shift in personality, and it was just...fear in his eyes, desperation in his voice? Like, he looked and sounded absolutely haunted and terrified of something. Like, this was beyond the horror in a cup that we apparently made him experience; it only triggered it.

Thankfully, although awkward, he easily moves past this saying that the combination of flavors just threw him off, and a customer walks in to provide a diversion for an extra layer of safety.

Oh! It's that awkward but polite cutie from the other day!

When we see him, or rather when we hear the door, we say our awkward ass, lame ass greeting, and it's kind've an opener for him to start some super brief small talk. He eventually takes the plunge and shoots his shot. Now, personally, I think the guy is damned adorbs, but at the same time, it's just...it's too soon. That mixed with this whole thing we've got going on with Jack...

We're pretty conflicted on how to answer, un-- Wait, huh? What did...?

Did-- Wait, Jack wants us to tell him that we have a boyfriend? And what does he mean that "it doesn't even have to be a lie"? ... He said the thing again, too. That thing about being whatever he wants us to be.

This is so anxiety inducing, too, because it's like, first off, we weren't expecting to hear him talking to us, and second, we can't acknowledge him in any shape, way, or form. Jack is quite literally looming right behind us, whispering in our ear, and we cannot so much as look his way without the guy in front of us thinking that we've completely lost our shit. Even still, our feelings for Jack have been complicated lately. Should we even take that plunge? Something about doing that doesn't seem right, though...

...We tell the guy that we don't have a boyfriend. Before he gets his hopes up too much, though, we tell him that we aren't really looking for anything right now, either. The guy leaves. The store is quiet, and we're left with alone with Jack with that awkwardness from earlier back in the air at full force; he's the first one to speak.

He apologizes and starts asking if he's pushed anything onto us that we didn't want. Before we can really answer though, he apologizes again. He explains that he thought that he was speaking in terms of what we wanted, but he keeps going back and forth like he's trying to find the right words but also figure out where he misunderstood; better yet, and more accurately, he's trying to figure out why he misunderstood in the first place. The poor guy is honestly so pitiful at this point, and we try to stop him from rambling and reach out for him... but our hand falls right through him.

Obviously, we start panicking, and Jack explains to us that he doesn't want to do anything that we don't want him to do nor feel comfortable with, and if it's him that we don't feel comfortable with and it's him that we don't want...this is what happens.

Okay, now, we're past the point of panicking; we're on the verge of tears because had we known us saying "No, I don't have a boyfriend" meant that Jack would start questioning if we actually wanted him around and fading away, we would've never said it. True to his optimistic nature, Jack reassures us that he's not "fading away" or "disappearing", and we're just like "Dude, piss off with that. Now, is not the time" because it's like, bro, this isn't a joke or us not wanting to get up for work; this is serious.

Jack chills with the reassurance and explains that he understands that we're serious, but that this isn't an issue that he can fix himself. Jack basically said that our words -- better yet our acceptance or denial of him -- are very weighted and that the only way to fix what's going on right then and there is to reaffirm that we accept him being there and truly meaning it, and that's only because he doesn't want to do anything that we don't want or need from him.

Even still, do we really trust him fully enough to do this? He's not the kind of guy to hurt us, is he? I mean, it's Sunny Day Jack. Then again, we also thought the same about---

"Hey."

"Yeah, Jack?"

"I know it's scary, I honestly do, but you can trust me. All I want is to be with you, protect you, and make you happy; that's what I'm here for."

All of that sounds so nice, too nice, but...

Can we trust him so easily...?

We really shouldn't...

But that horrible, heartbreaking moment...

That pain that Jack somehow made bearable, took away even...

That companionship he gave us in the place of loneliness...

His comfort...

His gaze...

What's wrong with feeling good? Why doubt him, and why feel like this unique and irreplicable connection is a bad thing? It's like Jack said: these feelings are okay; it's normal. There's nothing wrong with this.

...Right?

Y'all. You all. Guys. Gays. Theys. People. Friends. MY friends. SQUAD. (all right, enough...)

Hot and bothered, bothered and hot. Like, please allow me like 3 - 5 sentences of degeneracy. Between Jack and Ren (iykyk) ... Ren still laid down the pipe better but Jack?? Jack was a damned close second. Like, did you see the way that man was looking in our eyes and holding us? Then he's so big and masculine looking and ahhhhh~! That is BAE right there!

Anyways, getting back on track, when I had to go back and get those screenshots, what should've taken me like 5 - 10 minutes took me like 30+ minutes because I had to relive these moments. I had to relive this story! Like I mentioned earlier, the game is damn near two years old, but it reads like new, you feel me? The story, the implications, the art style, the scenes, the drama -- ahhh! I LIVE. I ASCEND. Like, when these developers hit the mark, they hit the damned mark with such precision!

I'm pretty sure that it's been mentioned at this point, but do you know what I loved the most about this visual novel (degeneracy aside, of course lol)? The subtle but oddly specific ass details that you're sure to miss or gloss over if you're not paying attention. I'm talking those details that you probably wouldn't catch until you've already read it once, seen how things have panned out, and then read through it again. Like, how it described us feeling cold whenever we thought about Jack leaving or fading away from us, or how the air would feel like syrup or cotton candy whenever he spoke to us, or how we'd get all warm in the most literal sense whenever Jack was near, or feel full, or completed, or -- the list honestly goes on. Like, there's a lot of allusion to being slowly corrupted/possessed by Jack, because this guy is a ghost, remember? Yeah, I had lowkey forgot, too.

Those specifically subtle details really made the story come together, and once I caught onto what was going on, I was just like, bro, the signs were there! I'd have to say that my absolute favorite "subtle" sign was when Jack always seemed to know exactly what we were thinking, almost like he was able to read our thoughts, but as soon as we started to "reject" him, all of a sudden he wasn't exactly sure what we thought. He went from responding to our thoughts to questioning what we may have been thinking about. Like, what? Go the eff off SnaccPop!

I love this visual novel, I love this visual novel, I love this visual novel, I love this frickin visual novel. I could ramble and geek way more but I'm gonna start wrapping it up before I start yappin' too, too much. Just allow me a few more sentences, a paragraph or two, please.

I. Cannot. Wait! For the full and official release! I am so excited to see how the team is going to mold this story and how things are going to pan out. I'm excited to see how and if we're able to get away from Jack because, at this point, he has a damned strong hold on us, but I'm speculating that our horror movie fanatic and director friend is going to come in clutch for this one.

If it was not obvious (and honestly, if you were somehow later to this game than I was) 100/10 would recommend, and I am recommending. It is so good, and I really hope that I'm not over hyping it, because the foundation that has been built for this story is so damned solid. Like I mentioned way earlier, unfortunately, you can't play the (free) updated demo anymore, but you can still play the classic one; I just don't know how different it is compared to the new version. Either way, I'll give you the link to both just in case (Update | OG). If you're able, definitely give them that monetary support and play the updated version. Hell, tell ME how it is because...I really don't want to put off my bills but, at this point, Jack has me in a fucking chokehold all over again. What's an extra, unplanned $12 at this point? Also, if able, visit the game's page and give SnaccPop that ever so encouraging but thirsty "NEED. MOAR. I mean, you take your time because perfection can't be rushed, and I know you all are people with a life and other responsibilities and such, BUT I NEED. MOAR. IT'S SO GOOD. STAND AND DELIEVER. ...please UwU I beg OTL"

Meh, that was highkey three paragraphs, but I'm not gonna split it so it can still be the two paragraphs that I requested. Lol sorry for pushing it there, but I'm done now! Promise. No more yappin'. The yap has been concluded, and I'm gonna go ahead and head out.

Big preesh for getting this far, and please, remember to drink water, don't be dumb, and hope to see you around~!

Something's Wrong with Sunny Day Jack (Updated; download not available to public)

Something's Wrong with Sunny Day Jack (Classic; download available)

[ghostingkai]

I'm bored of Twitter and don't really post there much, so idk maybe I'll start using this blog more. I just want to talk about the spoilers so far for ch145--

OBLIGATORY: None of these details are confirmed until the actual chapter comes out, I'm basing a lot of my opinions on conversations from people who have already seen the chapter. What I've seen so far:

-There's a mirror world, though whether it's actually happening is unclear, it could simply be an illusion or a creation by Mikuni

-Touma is wearing a wedding ring?! AND DRIVING A FAMILY CAR? Has a son named Touma Mahiru?!?! WHAT?

-Touma and Tsurugi apparently don't know each other in this mirror world, it's unclear if Tsurugi is even around at all

-Someone mentioned something about "Shirota Mahiru" being unable to do magic, unlike "Touma Mahiru." I would love to see mirror world Mahiru as a training magician, that would be fascinating

-It honestly sounds like Touma has a happy and normal family life, which is just... what the hell is happening in this series anymore, I love it

-Some people have speculated that Misono is supposed to be born 'later' in the mirror world. Not sure if this is just their assumptions, or if that's really what Mikuni's plan is -- to create a world where Misono is never born to Mikado, so that Mikuni can father him later in life (even typing that has me dying lmao)

-Someone else mentioned Mikuni giving a mirror as his contract item (I'm assuming he was giving it to the Count, but that part wasn't mentioned)

"In the mirror world, where 'Shirota Mahiru' is actually 'Touma Mahiru'..."

Umm, excuse me, WHAT? WHAT IS THIS? So, assuming this works the way it sounds like it works -- Mikuni has either awakened the Count and managed to recreate an alternate timeline, or he's using some type of magic/illusion to show everyone what would happen in his ideal world. Either way, I'm referring to it as "Mikuni's mirror world" and I'm not gonna think about it too much farther than that until I've read the chapter myself >u>

First of all -- the idea of Touma being in a marriage with Akira is absolutely wild. Actually, thinking about Touma being happy is wild in itself lol. It sounds like he's part of an actual family unit, which I'm dying to see, but at the same time, it also sounds like he never actually met Tsurugi in the mirror world.

My initial assumption was that the mirror world was Mikuni's creation, and that the reason Touma ends up with Akira there is because Mikuni is, in his own way, trying to "correct" the lies that eventually brought everything to its current state.

But thinking about it more, I suppose it's also possible that if Mikuni truly is responsible for creating a world where Touma has a family, his reasoning could have simply been to deter Touma from pursuing his goal of resurrecting the Count himself.

It was mentioned in an earlier chapter that Mikuni and Lily involved Mahiru in everything because they were hoping that Touma would be unwilling to harm or kill his son in order to get to Kuro. When they realized they were wrong (VERY wrong lmao,) it's possible Mikuni thought that the world's "second round" would go much smoother if Touma didn't feel the need to resurrect the Count -- or if he had a closer bond with Mahiru. No one posting spoilers has mentioned if Mahiru even contracted with Kuro in this mirror world, so it's hard to say at this point.

I don't know... this is all just word of mouth at this point, but I am DYING to see this chapter. Did Tsurugi just not exist in this world? Or is he still there, walking around, with no bond to Touma whatsoever?

I don't know what's wrong with Mikuni anymore, and I'm done trying to figure it out, but omg it sounds like he's really fucking things up, and I'm here for it lol.