#If you feel like you've seen this post before it's because I made one similar to it while the fic was still being posted

[denwritesandcries]

Lose on losing Dogs – S.S

Pairing: shauna shipman x fem!reader

Summary: There she is. The first person you met when you moved into the neighborhood. Your first friend, your first crush, your first kiss and your first heartbreak. Your first grief is very much alive and looking at you in the eye now.

or, shauna comes back.

Word count: 1,2k.

Content: post-crash, angst, reunion, reader and shauna had something going on, hurt/barely any comfort, the consequences of the accident, traumatized teenagers.

Note: They’re both broken and traumatized your honor.

English is not my first language.

Thirteen months. Four hundred and fifty-five days.

It's been 13 months, 2 weeks and 7 hours since you've last seen Shauna. Since you've seen any Yellowjacket, actually. Since the crash.

Now you're standing outside her room, staring at the door silently like an idiot after showing up at her parents' house wearing pajama bottoms and looking just as much of a mess as they do. Damn.

Her mother looked at you with so much relief when she saw you on her porch that she just rushed you inside immediately, looking like she might cry at any moment because “you’re the first person to come see her who isn’t one of those tv parasites.” And well, you didn't say anything. What could you say? Last time you saw her was at her daughter's funeral.

Shauna is back, you think.

You've finished school, graduated. Left town. Started college. You got your own life now and still there wasn't a single day where you haven't thought about her. Remembering her. Mourning her.

And now she's back. Alive.

It still doesn't feel real, even though it is. You just have to open the door so you can see it for yourself. Why can't you open the door?

“Mom,” comes her voice from inside the room, probably having sensed your footsteps prowling the hallway, “I told you to leave me alone.”

The sound is so strange and yet so familiar that it makes you choke on air, feeling your eyes sting from the tears you've been holding back since climbing the stairs. Without wasting another minute, you step forward and open the door, not realizing what you're doing until your sweaty hand turns the handle.

The first thing you notice is that the room is cold, the curtains are closed, one of the dressers is visibly dusty as if no one has been there for a long time. A room inhabited by a ghost. The last thing you notice is the bundle of blankets in the middle of the bed, with a mess of brown hair scattered around the edge, and a barely touched plate of food on the desk.

Clearing your throat, you take a deep breath. “Shauna,” you call.

You see the exact moment she registers your voice and freezes, even though you can't see her face.

She remains still and curled up and you shift your weight from one foot to the other, nervous and embarrassed. Maybe she doesn't want to see you. What made you think that you of all people would be the one she wanted to come visit her after coming back from the dead and a freaking accident? You can still remember the screams and hurtful words directed at you the last time you two saw each other. Maybe it would have been better if you hadn't come.

“Shauna,” you try again, sounding as desperately as you feel, “It’s me. I came to see you– To see how you are.”

'Liar', replies a voice – very similar to Shauna's on that fateful night, the night before the crash – 'if you really wanted to see me or know how I was doing, you would have come the day the plane landed, like everyone else did.’

I was in another city, you think. Shauna spent weeks in the hospital. Nobody let me see her. They didn't let me see any of them. I came as soon as I heard that she had been discharged and returned home.

‘And yet you woke up and spent hours walking in circles around your childhood bedroom, car keys in your hand. You almost left.’

You startle when the pile of blankets suddenly moves again, revealing the shape hidden beneath them and then you're finally face to face. Shauna Shipman. Your Shauna. The first person you met when you moved into the neighborhood. Your first friend, your first crush, your first kiss and your first heartbreak. Your first grief is very much alive and looking at you in the eye right now.

She faces you in a way that is impossible to avoid. God, she seems so thin, hair wildly messed up, big, deep brown eyes with dark circles beneath them, pupils so glassy it hurts to look at it, and Shauna looks lost, kneeling in the middle of the bed, like it's impossible to believe that you could be there.

Shauna calls your name, sounding so incredulous and so incredibly sad that being two feet away from her seems absurd and you cross the room in a blink, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching out to pull her against you, before thinking better and deciding to grab her hands instead. She shudders.

“You came,” Shauna says. Her voice sounds hoarse and worn, you imagine she hasn't used it much at home or in the hospital. “I didn’t think you would come.”

You can feel scars on her hands as your fingers move to rub circles over the skin, and a brief glance makes you aware of old, yellowed bruises on her wrists.

“I did,” your voice breaks. “Of course I did.”

She seems completely different from that girl you were in love with and dumped you so long ago. The aloof, almost cold girl you argued with when you caught her fucking Jeff in a car when you were walking home from a stupid high school party. This sure doesn't look like the girl who screamed “What, do you think we're girlfriend and boyfriend or somethin'? I've never said we were exclusive” when you tearfully told her you loved her the night before the whole disaster happened.

But her eyes are the same. Intense, painful, hazy. And still difficult to decipher completely. That's what makes you hug her back when her lips tremble and she launches herself against you in a thrust that throws you back a little. She melts and sinks into your touch like she wants to be a part of you, just like she used to do before.

“It was horrible,” she groans against your neck.

Shauna cries. She cries badly. She cries ugly and loud, tears wetting your neck and shirt incessantly, as if she has desperately needed it for a long time. She clings to your shoulders as if you were her lifeline. She's sniffling and whimpering like a child.

You hold her silently, having no idea what to say, running your hand gently down her back to calm her and trying to ignore the fact that you can feel her spine and ribs through the old sleep shirt she wears.

You also have no idea how many hours have passed before her crying subsides to silent sniffles, but when you look out the window you can tell that it's already night outside, even with the curtains closed. It doesn't matter, you would hold her forever if Shauna asked, especially if she continued trembling like that.

The room is completely dark and silent when she finally speaks again.

“Jackie's dead.” She mumbles, voice completely defeated, zoned out as if she weren't really here.

“Oh, Shauna,” you mumble back, feeling your own tears spill as well. “I know. Everyone is dead.”

Everyone is dead, but she is still here.

You squeeze her as tight as you can in your arms, as if you can stop her from disappearing again. Shauna whimpers against you and sniffles harder, her nails on your shoulders scratch and draw some blood, the sound of her crying filling the room again even with her face hidden in your chest. You kiss her forehead and she keeps crying, but she's still here so everything is fine.

At least enough to not give up completely.

[istoleyoursk1n]

How do you think the companions would react to a Tav that's shorter then them but physically capable of carrying them around be it over the shoulder or princess style carry?

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would they react to a short Tav who could carry them easily?

(I’ve made brief mentions of this type of scenario in a previous post so you may check that out as well.)

.

.

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“My, my, if you would've done this for me sooner, I’d be swooning much more quickly than you realize, you know that darling? Now be a dear and carry me over there!”

He would have been the one teasing you/urging you to try and lift him up in the assumption that you simply cannot. He was merely messing with you at the time.

Though, he didn't think you’d actually do it.

He would be startled by your offer/assurance that you would be able to lift him up without so much as a struggle which he then laughed at, not believing a word you say but allowing you to try anyways.

He was just about to say another snarky remark the moment your hands were on him but the words quickly fell flat on his lips the moment you managed to carry him in your arms.

You've never seen him so wide-eyed and confused than this very moment.

His mind would be too muddled on whether he should continue to be snarky or at least show how surprised he actually is about the whole situation.

Probably ends up being both snarky and impressed because his mind was too much of a mess at that very moment.

Besides, there's a strange sense of security he feels when he has your arms wrapped around him like some sort of shield.

Regardless, he now demands you to carry him like a princess for however long you can as he’d prefer not to walk throughout the entirety of your tiring journey.

: ̗̀➛ WYLL

“Are you- am I- are you carrying me?! By the hells, am I not as heavy as I thought I was? Or are you that ridiculously strong? Ha! Though, I can’t say I’m against this at all!”

Was a bit apprehensive when you offered to carry him, he was afraid that he might crush your poor arms with his own weight.

Definitely needed you to reassure him three times before he finally agreed. It's not that he wasn't confident in your abilities (sort of), he just wanted to make sure you didn't hurt yourself.

Was quite shocked when you did manage to lift him so easily, so much so that an awkward little laugh escaped from his lips.

This was certainly a situation he never thought he’d find himself in.

Even so, that awkward little laugh soon turns into a genuine one, his grin is one of the many things that drive you to carry him for as long as he wants.

He can't stop laughing at the absurdity of the moment but he has no qualms, in fact, he's having a blast!

Now you’re both off being absolute goofballs with Wyll playfully referring to you as his own ‘knight in shining armor’. The scene alone would be sweetly sickening to anyone who caught a glimpse of it.

While he’d never ask for you to carry him again (he’s far too worried about exhausting you), he’d always be willing to find himself lifted in your arms once again if not but a temporary relief from the hard journey ahead.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

“Well. I never quite envisioned myself being in this particular predicament… there seems to be a handful of lovely little experiences that I have yet to indulge in, this included. Now, how do you suppose I’d get down?”

Similar to Wyll, he was a tad bit apprehensive when you first proposed such a thing to him. He wasn't quite confident that you had the ability to carry him nor did he really think he wanted to be.

It would take a tad bit more convincing to get him to be on board with it.

He keeps reminding you of the worst-case scenario where you’d find yourself with broken arms and him with a broken back. Truly something he isn't looking forward to.

He probably closed his eyes the moment you lifted him off the ground, half expecting to fall to the ground right then and there.

His limps were all over the place, grasping at what he could to the point where it landed him in an awkward position. It was fairly obvious that he hadn't been carried like this before.

He was pleasantly surprised when he found himself up in the air in your arms. At first, he thought that this may have been the work of some sort of strength elixir but he had faith in you.

It doesn't take long for him to become a flustered disaster who doesn't quite realize what to do or say. He’s in your arms and he’s far too close, he’s being far too awkward about this and it’s rather amusing to watch.

He’s simply holding on as tightly as possible, asking again and again if you are certain that this isn't something you struggling with. I mean, is he truly this light?

If he wasn't smitten with you before then he sure as hell is now. It would take him a while to come around to ask to be carried again but when he does so, he does it with the biggest puppy eyes you've ever seen.

: ̗̀➛ KARLACH

“No fucking way! I’m up in the air?! Me?! You can lift me?! Bloody hell you're a strong one, soldier. Never thought big ol’ Karlach could be so easily swept off her feet. Gotta repay you for that one!”

She believed that there was no way in hell you’d be able to carry her. She would have crushed you the moment you tried.

Even so, she agreed, it doesn't hurt to try after all. Besides, she's a tad bit curious about herself. However, she does constantly remind you of how heavy she is and to let go if it's something you truly can't do.

She would have backed out last minute to save you if it weren't for the fact that she suddenly felt her feet lift from the ground below.

She would be surprised that your little form somehow has the power to lift her, she’d think it's the coolest thing ever! She's practically laughing her ass off from having you carry her around.

This is the most fun she’s had in a while and she hopes for it to last for as long as your body could handle. Both of your combined laughter would be enough to startle the entirety of the camp.

Right after she’d be more than happy to carry you as well! Consider it a favor after doing the same thing to her. You’ll be having free piggyback rides for days to come! In exchange of free carries from you of course.

She’ll never not laugh every time you pick her up. She's felt so strong and impenetrable most of her life until you came over swooping her off the ground like it was nothing. It makes her fiery heart soar.

: ̗̀➛ SHADOWHEART

“My hero, and just when I thought I’d have to use a quick healing spell or two. I suppose I don't mind playing myself as the ‘damsel in distress’ if that means I get to end up in your arms.”

She wasn't quite on board with the whole idea of you picking her up just yet. She was confident that you’d drop her and you’d end up falling alongside her.

Though eventually, she did come around to it, not that it took too much convincing. She was a Cleric so if both of you ended up hurt somehow, she’d be there to heal both of you.

She was very careful with choosing how she’d like to hold you just before you lifted her up. She tried to get into the most comfortable position possible that would cater to both you and her.

She was delightfully surprised when you did manage to lift her up in your arms, a warm smile plastering itself across her face from witnessing such a shocking act of strength from you.

If this isn't the perfect moment for her to tease you then you are greatly mistaken because she would be teasing you relentlessly for as long as you keep her in your grasp.

Even so, it's all in good fun. She finds herself loving how feather-light she seems in your hold, reassured that you wouldn't drop her despite her previous apprehensions.

She’d never doubt your abilities again in this case, and she’d be more than willing to be held within your strong embrace once more.

: ̗̀➛ LAE’ZEL

“Chk. The fact that your arms remain intact is a surprise. Still. I am capable of walking on my own if carrying me like this was your plan. Your strength is noted but I’d rather set onwards with my head held high and my feet on the ground.”

Her immediate answer was no.

She’d think of it to be a rather stupid idea, she didn't even believe that there would be a slight chance of you carrying her properly.

It would take a lot of convincing for her to ever allow you to carry her with her consent. Doing so without it would result in her punching you right in the face. Ingrained reflexes I suppose.

She’d be annoyed but she’d reluctantly agree when the moment comes around. However, she would make a blatant reminder that if you were to be crushed, it was over your own stupidity.

She instantly tensed the moment you lifted her off the ground, her eyes went wide, and she couldn't believe that she was somehow being lifted by you.

She also generally hasn't been lifted before and she doesn't completely realize how she should be feeling about it. It's strange, and it definitely takes her a while to relax.

Eventually, she’d finally sprinkle some form of praise onto you, seeming rather impressed by your bold display of strength. She might even find it somewhat attractive that you could so easily lift her up.

It would take a while to get used to but I doubt she’d be against it anymore. Your strength is truly a perk of yours that should never go overlooked and she thankfully realizes this now.

: ̗̀➛ HALSIN

“Oh! Well isn't this quite the shocker? Not only do you have a strong heart but it appears that you have strong arms too, haha! And just when I thought I’d undergone everything life had to offer.”

He thought you were joking with him at first. There was no way you’d be able to carry him, he's never seen anyone successfully do so either.

Perhaps he’d let you try if not for his own amusement/pity, but he pretty much was certain that you’d hardly have the strength to lift him an inch off the ground.

Of course, this wasn't to undermine you, but he knew all too well that a man of his stature couldn't possibly be carried like some sort of fairytale Princess.

Safe to say that he was utterly baffled the moment you began to lift him. In all his years alive he has never once encountered someone who was able to carry him with the use of their raw brute strength.

The first thing that came to his mind was worry, he wasn't sure how long you’d be able to hold him or if this was too much. He understands how heavy he is and he’d be absolutely devastated if he were to accidentally crush you.

As fun and ridiculous as this all was, Halsin would be too concerned about somehow crushing you down with his weight so you wouldn't be carrying him for long.

After a few shared laughs, he’d be the one to politely request to be let down. Softly asking if you are okay and hoping that carrying him wasn't too tiring.

Nevertheless, he’s enamored by your display of strength and the new experience truly did make his heart skip a beat. Now there's yet another peculiar thing about you he’d add to his reasons for adoring you.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

[a-spes]

A D E A D L Y W I S H - One-shot.

Words count - 5,5k.

Tags & Warnings - Wanda Maximoff x Reader, mentions of forms self-harm (burning, scratching), description of suicide (drowning), deaths (background characters), a lot of angst/hurt with a bit of comfort at the end, kinda a happy ending.

Summary - It comes a day when you are so desesperate that you threw a coin in the lake, wishing for a better life. At first, you thought it was stupid, but was it? If you've learned anything, it is to never take ancient magic lightly.

N/A - It is my first time writing for Wanda Maximoff, I really hope you'll appreciate it! don't hesitate to let me know and interact with the post ♥ ♥

MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST

"Are you sure that you want to hear that story again?" she asked, smiling soflty at the girl, but she already knows the answer because, every night, you were demanding the same story.

And tonight was no different. 

She chuckled as you nodded frantically, excited by the idea of hearing that legend again. Yet, she is almost sure you know this story by heart now, with the amount of time she read it to you, she would be surprised if you didn't. 

Your mom doesn't appreciate it, you know it because she frowns every time she has to read it to you, always making comments that you are trying to ignore, pleading her to stick to the story that is told in the book.

"This story takes place a loong time ago. When grandpa and grandpa weren't even born, when the world was nothing like the one we know today. Some say that this legend is so ancient that it was told even before Humans discovered fire."

"It was a time when magic was known by people, it could be seen everywhere, it was truly amazing!" 

"But very few were the chosen ones, the ones that were gifted with such a talent by nature, because not everyone could bear the weight of it. The nature choose the strongest human that were born, but it wasn't all about physical strenght, they also needed a great mind to be able to deal with the responsabilities that come with great powers." 

"The rest of the story was twisted by the centuries, so we can't be sure of anything as there are several versions, but here is the one that runs in the family, the one that my own mother used to tell me when I was around your age." 

"A long time ago, a girl was born that was gifted by nature. Her name was forgotten, but we now remember as the Scarlet Witch. Some say that she is called that way because of the color of her magic, stained by the blood of her numerous victims. It's said that she took so many lives that it would be impossible for a human being to count all of them."  

"But she hasn't always been the Monster described by the legends. There was a time when she was just like any average little girl, when she was similar to you," she said, taking the opportunity to steal a laugh by booping your nose. "The only difference was the magic within her. She was bright, handling this gift to perfection." 

"Yet, for some people perfection isn't enough, and the little girl - that was now a teenager - was one of them. She decided that she wanted more than what the society would allow, that she wanted to fully embrace the power she was gifted. Those rules she learned as a child, the Witches Code, and all these ceremonies only fed her desire for power as they made her feel trapped. She knew she could do great things, way more important than helping the villagers with their trivial problems."

"She wanted to believe that her destiny had more important things in store for her than what they wanted her to believe. She was certain that her name would be remembered for a long time to come, and she definitely won't let a few random men, frihtened by the talent she had been given, prevent her from fulfilling her destiny. If this powers were given to her, it was for a reason."  

"But nature isn't excempt from mistakes." 

"She was prepared to do anything to achieve her goals. She has taken hold of the weakest minds, convincing them to bring her the powers of the other witches in exhange of a favor. She tricked those who were seeking for her help into believing she would grant their wishes." 

"Yet, she never lied and always fulfilled her promises, just not the way they were expecting her to. The Scarlet Witch was wise, she knew how to twist the words so they could mean exactly what she wanted them to. She played with the words and the despair of the Humans, all ended up begging for their deaths, filled with feelings of guilt and regrets they couldn't live with." 

"Soon enough, she was the only living witch, also being the only one whose name and story lived throught the centuries." 

"What happened next?" you asked, following your mother's silence. She never liked this part of the story, the one that tells the downfall of the Scarlet Witch, she used to say it wasn't appropriate for a young girl like you to hear about the atrocities the enraged villagers inflicted on the witch. 

You used to sneak up in the living room when she was asleep, just so you could get the book and leaf through its pages to take a look at the illustrations she never let you see. If those were already horrible to look at, you don't even want to imagine how bad the reality could've been, probably worse than what's depicted in your child book. 

If they couldn't attack her directly, because of how powerful she was, they could still take her most precious possession: her family. So you saw how they burned her home and family, how they took everything from her because of their anger, seeking to inflict a punishment equal to the harm she had caused them. After all, it was just fair that they took from her the same thing she had taken from them. 

"It wasn't long before it became a quest of blood and revenge," you could read on the pages. 

It only made it worse and, this time, the village didn't survive her wrath, the last picture in your book being a representation of the village, completely destoyed and empty of any presence except for a female figure. She was depicted from behind and seemed to observe this spectacle. She has red hair that flutters in the wind and a red aura that matches the colour of the dress around her: the colour of blood and death. 

"After that day, she wasn't seen anymore," your mom would continue to read after skipping the few disturbing pages of the book, "some say that she died, but this is unlikely, she gathered so much power that she could easily defeat the human condition."

"She propably cut herself from the Human world, waiting for the day she could be needed again, when she could get another revenge over the ones that took everything from her because eradicating them wasn't enough for the witch - and it'll never be, nothing could ever make it up for the loss of the ones she loved. The legends say that she retired in what is now called the Ancient Forest, which would explain why the wildlife, even the flora, is so hostile to humans."

"However, even if she hasn't been seen for decades now, her story is still told by every parent to their kids, the mere mention of her name being enough to instill fear in people's minds."

"This story is a lesson for everyone, both those who use magic and those who ask for its help: there is always a price to pay," she added before falling silent. The story finishes here, you never got to know what the Scarlet Witch became, it's left to your imagination. 

• ✧ •  ✧  • ✧ • ✧  • ✧ • 

Everyone knows better than wandering near the Ancient Forest. This place is the scene of many strange events and legends that give nightmares to the children, but you've never believed in these. 

The past decades, only two kinds of people have ventured into the forest: the most courageous soldiers the village has ever known and the stupidest ones. If you certainly don't belong to the first category, you don't feel like you are part of the second, so maybe there is a third type of person that is going here: the ones in despair. 

They are the ones that have nothing to lose, the ones that see they're last hope in that forest, the ones that think that, maybe, if none of the humans that ever went to the forest came back, it's because they found a better life, wherever they are now. 

And it is exaclty what you are. Not a brave soul, not a silly mind, just a desesperate human. 

In the end, it doesn't matter what category you belong to, because once you've stepped into the forest, you are just as everyone who did it before. She doesn't care about your motivations or story, she reserves the same fate for everyone who dares to enter her domain. 

No one knows what exactly happened to those who went here, no one was ever able to come back to tell their story, but many rumours are whispered among the inhabitants. Some think that they are dead, it is the easiest explanation because it doesn't involve searching for those who have lost their way in the forest - which no one wants to do. So very few are the ones who maintain the hope that they are still alive and will, one day, be able to find their path back to the village. 

It never happened and the ones that got lost were never seen again, dead or alive.

For decades, it was assumed that this rule couldn't be broken. The centuries had failed to attenuate the witch's rage and each generation of villagers has learned to stay away from it, passing on this use to their children - and so on. Thus, when you walked into the forest for the first time, by the age of ten, no one would've expected you to emerge from it a few hours later as if nothing happened, not expecting a little girl to be the one to break the curse.

You were the only exception to a rule that everyone thought immutable. 

By the time, you've lost count of how many times you've visited the Ancient Forest. It slowly became your realm, where you go whenever you want to be alone for a while, knowing that no one would dare to drag you out of here. You weren't ten years old anymore, nor the kid you were the first time you stepped in the forest, oblivious of its dangers and distracted by the flowers she was picking up that just got the luck to get out of here safe. 

No, now, when you enter the Ancient Forest, you know exactly where to go. 

It may be strange to some that you never got lost. Even in the darkness of the night, when all the trees were looking the same and you couldn't even see the stars because of their leaves, when you would get off the beaten tracks with no idea of where you were going, you have always found yourself exactly where you needed and never struggled to find your way back to the village.

There was something, like a voice in your head, that was whispering to your heart the right moment to turn or, on the contrary, when you shouldn't go somewhere, filling your soul with fears, but always to guide your steps through this hostile environment. Even if you've never been attacked by any wild beast, you know there are many because you saw them in the past - but they never tried to get close to you, they seem to be afraid of something. 

This forest was your realm more than theirs. 

This simple thought was enough to fill your heart with pride, giving you the feeling that you eventually found your place. You've not felt that way since your childhood, desesperatly looking forward to the day you would eventually stop feeling like a stranger in your own village. 

Nature chooses you, after all these years. 

They say that you're carrying her mark and that is why you can go in the forest as you want, but it's just another story they made up to explain the things they can't understand in any other way. You believe that the mark they are talking about is nothing more than a birthmark and that, given the circumstances, their minds created stories around it - you are almost sure the mention of a mark on witches' skin was only a thing after they saw yours. 

You are convinced they made it similar to the one on the back of your neck on purpose, describing exactly the circle they saw on your skin. It looks like a sun, except for the rays that are crossing the circle instead of being on the outside. In the legends, the mark is scarlet as a symbol for the devil living inside the witches' hearts, but yours isn't. 

How convenient was it that there were no witches left to verify this fact?

The rumors were quick to spread among the inhabitants and, soon enough, you became the Beast. No one wanted to interact with you anymore, they barely dared to glance at you, scared that an action as simple as this one could lead to a horrible fate for them and their family. They hoped you would go away on your own, that you would understand that you weren't desired here, but to go where? You had no family, the closest town was miles away, a journey of several weeks, maybe months, that you couldn't start alone.

You've tried to get rid of the mark, but you just couldn't. It was on your skin, a part of you that you couldn't part with despite your desesperate attempts. At first, you hid it and tried to cover the symbol with your hair and clothes but, when it wasn't enough anymore for you to forget it was here, you tried to scratch and to burn it, but it didn't make any difference - except for the pain you experienced at the back of your neck. 

Maybe if it wasn't here, they would forgive you for your sins. 

Even if they decided to not throw you away because you were a child and had a few of the elders by your side, they still made you pay for what they believed to be your mistakes or to prevent the ones they were sure you would do when you grow up. They believed that you would follow the steps of the one who marks you’re carrying, destined to become like the Scarlet Witch. 

So you decided to run away where no one would come to harass you, the only place where you know they wouldn't dare to go because they weren't courageous enough to defy this forest and the monsters living in its legends. 

This time, you found yourself on rocks, overlooking a lake by a few meters. You've never seen this part of the forest before and it was probably the most beautiful place you were allowed to be in your life. It was late, so the only light was coming from the moon, dimmed by the clouds that were covering the sky. Further down, you could observe how the water is brushing against the shore in small waves caused by a light wind, the same that keeps bringing your hair in front of your eyes.

The landscape had something sinister, but yet you found it comfortable, wishing you could stay here forever. 

For a second, some darkest thoughts infiltrate your mind, whispering to you that peace was only a few steps away. As you are standing at the edge of the rocks, you can't help but imagine what would happen if you jumped. You imagine your body colliding brutally with the cold surface of the water, stealing your last breath. You could almost fill how the water would fill your lungs until it has replaced the air inside, making your struggle vain. 

You wouldn't really try to get out of here anyway. Even if the lake is calm tonight, you would drown into some of your own thoughts. The way you are trying to get to the surface is all an act, your arms and legs moving just so you could trick yourself, saying that you did everything you could when it was a lie. You wouldn't try at all, being relieved the moment your eyes would close.

But when you open them, you aren't greeted by pitch black, but the same landscape as when you closed them. Before you could listen to the voices in your head, you decide to take a few steps back from the edge - this night wouldn't be the one of your death. 

You are not sure where the confidence is from, but you are certain that your time has not yet come. 

As you slip your hand into your pocket, your fingertips touch something cold. It is a small object that is rolling between your fingers and you were sure it was never here in the first place. When you get it out, you can't help but frown as you're observing the penny because it doesn't look like the ones you are used to see. This one has a strange crown engraved on the first side and, on the other, a symbol you are unfortunately familiar with.

It is the mark, the same as the one at the back of your neck.

You don't really know what to think about it, brushing the symbol with your thumb while you're losing yourself in your thoughts. You are not afraid by this discovery, it is something closer to curiousity that you're feeling. 

Eventually, you remember some details about the Scarlet Witch's story. As you are playing with the penny, you think about how people used to ask the witch to grant their wishes by tossing a coin in a lake or a fountain. You wrap your hand around the object, hesitating for a moment. 

"I wish..," you whispered, taking a few seconds to think about what you really want, "... that I could find my place in this world, if I have any. I wish they would stop treating me like I am not one of them. I am tired of being alone and... so weak," you eventually said. 

At this point, your voice wasn't just a murmur anymore, you yelled the last words, hoping someone would hear your distress but, once you're done, you are just greeted by the deep silence of the forest and your loneliness. You laugh as you realize how stupid it was, tossing the coin as far as you can, using all the rage you are feeling at the time. It hits the surface of the water, disturbing it for a moment before it becomes calm again. The minutes pass and it's as if nothing had happened. 

You are laughing as you are thinking about how stupid you've been to expect anything to happen, like a child who still believes that tales are real. Soon, your laughter turns into tears which run down your cheeks, they are carrying your pain and despair, the one of not having a better life. 

As you are easily finding your way back to your house, you could feel the stares of the villagers on your back. Your journey is accompanied by their murmurs and you don't need to hear their words to guess what they are whispering to each other, sometimes being ignorant is the best. Every time you step out of the forest, you could read the disapointement mixted with the fear on their faces. 

You now understand why your mother didn't like that story, it was twisted and unfair, and you stopped liking it when it became too close to your reality. 

Tonight, you can't sleep properly. For seemingly endless hours, you toss and turn, your eyes closing only so your mind could trap you in horrifying nightmares. So, when a voice whispers a few words in your ear, you are unable to say if it's a part of reality or just another trick of your mind, the line between the two being too blurred. On the corner of the room, you catch the movement in the shadows. It was so furtive that you weren't sure you actually saw it until the shape detaches itself from the gloom. 

At the end of your bed, a montionless figure is observing you. You can't see their face, but you can make out its outline thanks to the moonlight filtering through the open window. This being is envelopped in a red glow that is even more intense around their eyes and hands, where it seems to be concentrated. You don't dare to move, petrified by the power that emanates from your guest, not needing to see their face or to know their name to feel this overwhelming aura that lets you know you'd better be careful around them. 

Yet, strangely, you don't feel worried, no fear grips your heart, no questions trouble your mind, it's almost as if this lad'ys presence makes sense, that you've been waiting for her all your life and the universe has eventually decided to put her in your path. 

"I could help you, if you'd let me," she whispered, unclasping her fingers to hold on one of her hands, expecting you to take it. 

"You could?" you asked, and she just nodded, which resulted in a sad laugh from you,  "and how's that?" you added, your words sounding drier than it did in your mind, for a second, you regret it, scared it would make her angry.

"I can't tell you that," she murmured after a few seconds of silence, "you just need to trust me, but would you? How hard do you want your wish to be granted?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. She didn't take her eyes off you for a moment since you started talking. 

You hesitate, but not for long because you are eventually nodding. You have the feeling that you can't lie to the woman anyway, you are sure that she can read in your body and mind your lies and you want your wish to be granted more than anything else. You decided to trust her the day you threw that coin in the lake, sharing your secrets with her, begging for her help. 

And, if for a second you thought about refusing the hand she was holding to you, you don't. It is impossible to deny the woman when your soul is drawn to her, your body almost moving on its own to shake her hand. At this time, you already know that there is no turning back, that you sealed an unspoken deal of which you don't know the conditions but that will have a great influence on your life. 

Your destiny was sealed the moment your fingers entwined with hers, the moment you pronounced the name that was on the tip of your lips the whole time: hers.

"Scarlet Witch...," you whispered, and she smiled. It was strangely soft, it contastred with the atmosphere of the room. If she was impressive, she did not appeared as mischevious.

That is when you find yourself surrounded by a white glow similar to the witch's. You have the feeling that the pressure she is exerting on your hand became stronger, her fingernails digging into your skin, almost leaving marks, only to prevent you from pulling away from her grasp. Your heart is racing and you are struggling to breathe as anxiety is taking over you - but it is too late to have regrets because you are already feeling your consciousness slipping away. 

"I know it can be scary, but I promise it'll be okay, love," she mumured as you were struggling to keep control over your mind. She slowly raised her hand to stroke your hair behind your ear, the same way a mother would with her child, "don't try to fight it, let it go...," she added, convincing you to do so.

There is an unknown force trying to get in control of your soul, and you don't have the strenght to drive it out. It only lasted a few seconds before a sharp pain twists your head, spreading in the rest of your body and getting you on your knees. The white aura around you turns the same colour as the witch’s and the scarlet glow darkens your vision. 

For one night, she accepted to share her magic with you, to lend you her strenght. 

When you slowly get your mind back, it takes you a few seconds before being aware of your surroundings again. The first sense to come back to you is touch; as you could feel the heat that is licking your face, but it is only when you hear some muffled screams that you open your eyes, brutally brought back to reality. 

Everything is burning. 

You were standing in the middle of the main street of your village but you couldn’t recognize anything. You protect your face with one of your sleeves, the smoke-laden air starting to make you cough and sting your eyes. In the chaos, you could barely see anything. 

The worst was probably the silence that came next, when no one could scream anymore, when the beginnings and excuses turned into unintelligible sentences before shutting up completely. The last prayers were said, but they were useless: no one is left alive, except you, as a spectator of this scene.

Not as a spectator, but as the culprit. 

You are suddenly running through the village, praying to all the gods you have never believed in so that it is not too late and there is at least one person you could save. You don’t even think about it twice, your legs moving on their own to the first house that is still standing, pushing you inside despite the fire to seek for any form of life.

But there is nothing left. 

Inside, you can’t find a soul or a piece of furniture, just destruction. You barely have time to glance around anyway because you are pulled out of the building by a firm grip on your arm. For a second, you are relieved at the thought of another soul still being alive, but it is short-lived as you realize it is the Scarlet Witch. 

"What were you thinking?" she yelled while dragging you out of the burning house so strongly that you are almost tripping on your own feet. "I certainly didn't do all of that for nothing,” she added, glaring at you and you knew you made a mistake. 

Contrary to what you may think, your death is the last thing she wants. She waited so many years to be awakened by one of her peers, she won’t let you go that easily. When she eventually lets you go, it is accompanied by a heavy sigh that carries every of her thoughts; how can one be so dumb? She definitely wasn’t expecting you to run in the fire while she was making sure everything was going as she planned, she only left you for a minute but she now regrets it deeply. 

But if her face shows concern, yours is pure hatred as you slowly understand what happened despite the lack of memories. 

It is her fault. 

Tears start to uncontrollably run down your cheeks but you are barely feeling them, the only thing in your mind being the sick feeling that is growing inside of your chest as the realization of what happened dawns on you. There is nothing you can do except watching the consequences of your own mistakes, the result of your naivety.

“What did you do?” you yelled, suddenly turning around to face the woman, getting out of her grisp with agressivity. She raised an eyebrow, surprised by your reaction and the tone you are using, but she is not amused at all - you are on thin ice and must be careful about what you are going to say next. 

“Me?” she scoffed, as if what you just said was nothing but a joke, “I did nothing my dear, you are the one that did it all,” she added in what you could describe as a condescending voice. 

“But I-,” you immediately said, trying to protest, but she doesn’t even let you enough time to say a word before she cuts you off, not having the patience to deal with that kind of shit tonight - it was a long day. 

“Isn’t it what you wished for?” she asked back. 

“Of course not!” you yelled, crying, shaking, “that’s never what I wanted!” you added, but as you are talking you realize that it is exactly what you asked for, just not the way you wanted it to be done. 

How are you supposed to find the peace you were seeking for now? 

You are not feeling at all the relief she promised to you, only guilt and disgust, and you know that feeling is going to eat you from the inside for the rest of your life. You wanted to be better than them, that’s what you tried to do your whole life by ignoring their insults, you’ve never replied to their provocations, waiting patiently for the day you would prove them that they were wrong. 

But you just showed them how right they were all that time.

Some of them were innocent, you heard the cries of children that will never get a chance to live, the ones of the elders that gave you a bit of help, the ones of the people that smiled at you on the sly, but it is all gone now.

“Oh,” she frowned, her tone being like it was just a mistake without any importance and it gives you the urge to slap the woman, but you don’t do anything. “Then I guess you should’ve been more precise,” she added, shrugging. 

That’s a first lesson she knows you’ll remember for the rest of your life: always be careful with ancient magic, it is not some sort of game.

She knows it is not easy, but she also knows it is needed. As she sees the tears in your eyes, she feels the urge to take you in her arms to comfort you, to tell you that everything will be fine, but she can’t. 

She can’t lie. 

The future that is now yours won’t be sweet, the ones born with that mark have never meant to live a great life.

When she looks at you, she is filled with a feeling she hasn’t felt for decades: pity. When she was born in a witches’ society, you grew up in a humans’ one. As her eyes wandered around the destroyed village, she sighs, knowing she is about to do something she promised herself to never do, but she can’t leave you there.

In that instant, you seemed to be so fragile, your whole body shaking, not even having enough strength to stand up, and it reminded her of the person she was a long time ago, when she was just as young as you are. Maybe if she had someone to guide her through that she wouldn’t have ended up with the name she knew for now, maybe she could spare you the mistakes she made, the ones that condemned her to a life of errand and loneliness.

Or maybe it will only cause chaos and destruction, no one can know. 

“Come,” she eventually said, holding out her hand to you so you could take it, “it’s time to go home,” she added, her tone being gentle compared to the one she used earlier, when she dragged you away from the fire. 

“Where?” you asked back, “where?! My home is completely destroyed because of me, of you, I have nowhere to go!” you screamed, standing up just to shout at the woman, making big movements with your hands.

The witch flinched, she wasn’t expecting you to talk to her that way but she didn't say anything, trying to be understanding. She takes a few steps closer until she is close enough to wrap your hands in hers.

“That wasn't your home,” she said, “let me show what a home really is, let me guide you,” she added, she was practically begging. 

And, despite everything that happened that day, you decided to trust the woman a second time, to take her hand again, to follow her home, and you don’t need to know where it is, as long as you are far from the village. You are convinced that everything will be fine by her side, her hand in yours is making all the negative emotions disappeared for an instant. 

After all, she is the one you have waited for your whole life. 

MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST

Tag list - @onyxwolf96 @alexawynters @ichala

[galaxygirl8880]

I was inspired by a Tcf post I saw a while ago so if this post reminds you of something similar you've seen TELL ME PLEASE-

---

Cale Henituse is 13 years old, begrudgingly attending a party hosted by a Noble his father wishes to strike a business deal with, when he spots a child near where he's sat in by the bushes.

He had only just been able to shake off Eric, who wanted to make sure he behaved at this party. At the time his reputation was more "bratty child" than trash.

Sure, sitting on the floor wasn't really noble-like but honestly, Cale really could care less.

Momentarily, he got the kid's attention. They made eye contact for a split second, red puffy eyes more apparent to the redhead, and then the kid began furiously rubbing their face.

Cale stood up and began walking towards the child. (He still didn't like seeing people cry. Behind the "Trash" persona he put up, Cale was still there. For how much longer?)

The boy, who he believed might be Viscount Dacre's child, looked up sharply and seemed startled to see him there.

Cale scoffed and sat down, the kid flinched.

"Well? Sit." The older of the two sat down on the grass and patted the spot next to him.

Hesitantly, the pink haired child sat next to him.

For some reason, the kid wanted to start crying again. His face scrunched up as he did his best to stop the tears.

Suddenly, a handkerchief was thrusted in front of his face. An offering.

Picking it up and blowing his nose, he placed the handkerchief on his lap and said in a small voice-

"My father said we're not to cry.."

Cale tsked, memories of his own father telling him to avoid the Viscount, how rumors of the man's rude personality constantly surrounded him.

"That is because your father is incapable of human emotions, you are 9. Cry if you feel like it."

And its like a dam was broken. The kid's shoulders began to shake and suddenly Cale had an armful of a sad child weeping in his arms.

Shocked, Cale slowly wrapped his arms around the kid and began to rub his back slowly.

After the kid finished crying, Cale grabbed the abandoned handkerchief and wiped the child's face.

"Put cold water on your eyes to lessen the puffiness, now scram. I can hear them calling you."

"R-right! Thank you Hyung!"

Leaving a stunned Cale behind, the much happier pink haired child hurried along to find the voices of his (most likely) parents.

"...Huh."

Still a bit dazed, Cale stood up and dusted himself off, lost in thought, and began to walk towards a random direction.

---

This happens a few more times. Cale soon finds out Noble families aren't as perfect as people think, well he knew that before.. but to see it firsthand? It only solidifies his opinion.

They all end up practically forming a club.

When rumors of Cale being trash really start to set off, they want to defend him. Because really? Their Hyung hitting someone for being too loud? That makes literally. No. Sense.

But some of the older kids eventually piece it together. It's an act.

They know how kind Cale is, and a few playdates in, organized by their parents, realize how protective he is over his siblings.

Cale may not be the most affectionate towards them but causing a scene and diverting all attention on him after people begin to talk about his stepmother?

That's not a coincidence.

-

You'd be surprised by how easy it is to spread rumors as a child about someone you spend frequent time with.

With approval from Cale and a little lie, about something Cale allegedly did, to their parents?

It's ridiculously easy.

---------

One time Alberu walked out into the garden to socialize because he noticed a bunch of the kids heading towards there, and witnessed a majority basically swarming around Cale.

Later he saw them walking through the hall trailing after Cale like little ducklings.

---

Lol

Did it get a little scrambled at the end? Yeah. But I still like it

[glitteringcrab]

Mental restraints of the puppeteered

[or: Frying his backups (part 2)]

Okay so this theory has been sitting in my head for a long while and I had the feeling it might be accurate but I could not find a way to tie it up with the rest of the plot my headcanons...

Until now, when something changed (namely, the possibility that Rick Prime has been puppeteering other Ricks).

So.

1. Let's observe this scene:

I think we can all agree that Evil Rick was having lunch alone (there are a lot of bittersweet fanarts where Eyepatch Morty seeks comfort from post-surgery Evil Rick in some way or another, but if this one scene is typical of their post-surgery interactions, it appears this hypothetical comfort-seeking was not a thing. They did not even eat together). He broke the plate, either accidentally or on purpose. He picked one of the shards up. The rest is history.

So what I'm seeing is that he was not puppeteered 24/24.

In the incredible, gut-wrenching fanfiction "Ghost in the machine" which you should all totally read (in fact, drop this rambling post and go read it now!! Go go go go!!!!! Like, shooo!!! Come back after you've read it, if you still feel like it. Because there will be SPOILERS in the following 2 paragraphs!!!!) Evil Rick was constantly following orders, 24/24. Even when Eyepatch Morty did not puppeteer him directly, he still had orders to follow, like "bring me this object" or "stand there and wait", and the wiggle room for Evil Rick to resist was minimal. Said resisting mostly took the form of twitching (ergo momentarily disrupting whatever he was ordered to do) at crucial moments, maybe kinda like a computer lagging at the worst possible time. Like I said, absolutely incredible fic, go read iiiiiiiiiiit!!!

But now that Unmorticken has aired and we saw more of their interactions, if we think about the above scene, I think we can reach the conclusion that that's not how it worked. Evil Rick may have received an order to eat, as well as orders to keep the place neat and tidy (and therefore he began picking up the shards) but actually jamming the shard at his eye is not a matter of twitching nor just barely managing to change the trajectory of a movement at the last possible second. It's a fully deliberate action, from start to finish. He had the agency to do it.

So I think we can reach the conclusion that Evil Rick was technically free to... be himself when not puppeteered.

With some restrictions in place, of course:

I am just spitballing here, but I'm thinking of what kind of other actions Eyepatch Morty may have forbidden Evil Rick to do, such as:

Cannot damage any equipment (duh, otherwise he'd be throwing a massive tantrum, destroying everything Evil Morty is working on)

Cannot attack Eyepatch Morty (duh, otherwise the kid would never get a moment's rest lol)

Cannot escape

Cannot call for help

...and probably a bunch more, such as "cannot speak" because of Evil Rick's lack of words when Evil Morty came to him during his failed suicide attempt... Plus the fact that he has a scar on his mouth, which a couple of amazing fanart and fanfiction made me wonder if Evil Rick said something during his surgery that Evil Morty very much could not stand hearing so he shut him up with a scalpel or whatever he was holding... before shutting him up for good.

What a nightmare, huh?

And that's when he was allowed to be himself. The rest of the time he'd be forced to watch himself kill Ricks, and kidnap and torture a thousand versions of his grandson.

2. Now, if the theory that Evil Morty was once himself puppetered it true...

...wouldn't he also have a similar list of prohibitions restraining his actions? Such as:

Cannot harm Puppetmaster Rick

Cannot escape

Cannot operate a portal gun (we've never seen Evil Morty operate a portal gun made by a Rick, he made his own. Is that a coincidence? Of course, both are "portal guns" so maybe that's a stretch, unless he calls his own portal weapon something else, like the dinosaurs called their own "portal pistol" lol. Or maybe using a portal gun to escape counts as "escaping" and therefore a separate order is not needed)

Cannot reveal to anyone what Puppetmaster Rick has been doing to him (maybe. Is that one even necessary? Would anyone even help him if he did reveal it?)

3. Like I said, I'm just spitballing here, but I think the above stand to reason. I mean they just seem like reasonable precautions. If this assessment is accurate, we can reach the following conclusions:

a) If Evil Rick's puppeteering experience was a nightmare, Evil Morty's was a living hell considering what Puppetmaster Rick was doing to him, especially if he was not allowed to leave the house and ask for help.

b) The fact that Evil Morty managed to free himself while operating under such massive handicups is another testament to his incredible intelligence and resilience.

c) It may be another reason he showed no empathy to other Mortys in his attempt to escape. They've had it easy, they had their chances to leave the Citadel or kill their Ricks, they had a million other ways and opportunities to escape and either never bothered or blew them. Now it's his turn.

4. Okay, now... what do you think happens to all these mental restraints once Evil Morty severed his connection to Puppetmaster Rick by tearing his receiver off???

One scenario is that they all became void. They were cancelled. Evil Morty was free to be himself, however he wanted. This could very much be true, and in that case my rambling ends here, I have nothing more to say.

Another scenario is all the old restrictions were still in place and effective, and he would just receive no new orders nor be directly puppeteered anymore. (I suppose this would make it into a good metaphor about abused people being conditioned to act in certain ways and it being very hard to rebel against them. E.g. imagine Evil Morty being unable to confess to other people about what happened to him because he'd expect pain and failure and no support, similar to actual abuse victims learning to expect accusations and failure and no support) Assuming the second scenario is true, then let's head off to the next points:

5. Depending on the exact extent of Evil Morty's mental restraints, it may be that using Evil Rick as a puppet was not only a clever way to get the upper hand, but that he had literally no other choice. E.g. imagine if he actually was physically incapable of operating a portal gun. He would literally need to hold it via Evil Rick's puppeteered hand. The whole thing would be Eyepatch Morty taking all his mental restraints and turning each and every one of them to his advantage in a convoluted, ingenious way.

6. Judging by Evil Rick's halted suicide attempt, it seems that while he knew that removing the receiver would kill him (I mean... you don't normally die by poking your eye out, so it has to be tearing your receiver off that will kill you, and he knew that) the puppeteered have no knowledge of the restrictions placed on them until they stumble upon them. (That, or Evil Rick knew he was not allowed to commit suicide but was desperate enough to try nonetheless.)

Therefore it's theoretically possible there are still some restrictions employed that Evil Morty is unaware of, which are waiting to spring up on him if the right (wrong) conditions are met.

Personally I think that's unlikely because I'm sure he has studied his own implant extensively since he became president and had access to adequate equipment, but:

7. Even if he studied it, this doesn't mean he was able to alter it nor undo it. From what we've seen it appears that unauthorized removal of part of the puppeteering implant equates with a death sentence. And while Puppetmaster Rick thought it unlikely his scrawny, stupid Morty would ever be able to put together a plan to break free or have the guts to mutilate himself, if the puppeteering equipment was originally, I dunno, a prototype designed by Rick Prime and was intended to be used against Ricks, then it's entirely possible that it is designed to kill the victim both for trying to remove the implant itself and for altering the accompanying code. It's the absolute prison, and despite whatever fast-acting healing equipment Evil Morty successfully used to remove his receiver in the past, it might be that it barely worked and he might not be too keen on trying his luck again.

8. So let's continue this thought experiment and assume that, if not all, at least the core mental restraints of the mind control implant are still very much effective inside Evil Morty's brain.

...Including the "cannot harm Puppetmaster Rick" one.

Now, I don't want to reduce the very important plot point of Evil Morty's mental restraints into semantics of "attack vs hurt vs harm vs kill", but... I'm going to go ahead and assume there are limits, definitions, to these mental restraints, otherwise Evil Morty would never been able to even look at Puppetmaster Rick wrong if there was the tiniest chance of it eventually leading to Puppetmaster Rick getting harmed. So I'm going to assume that the restraint is about something blatant.

Like... shooting Puppetmaster Rick, running him over with a car, poisoning his food, strangling him are all no-go, but aggressively poking him with your finger or not warning him about his impending doom might be okay.

My guess is that restraining Puppetmaster Rick is also okay, because as long as that the "no harm" order is still in action, Puppetmaster Rick would just immediately puppeteer Evil Morty into stopping or freeing him. The puppeteered cannot really get very far with this, especially when they're a child with no equipment of their own... Or that is what Puppetmaster Rick would think.

9. Anyway, before season 7 we don't see Evil Morty directly kill (or try to kill) another Rick. (It's not his fault the Ricks walked into various deathtraps, occasionally when he even specifically told them not to lol) This observation tipped me off to the possibility that some restrictions might still be in place... Of course, I cannot think on why there'd be a restriction against Evil Morty killing random Ricks, so it might simply be that in his attempts to bypass the restrictions against Puppetmaster Rick Evil Morty has learnt to think outside the box and later fully employed this skill to minimize the risk to himself.

And in season 7, he has no difficulty in killing Nice Rick, nor to shoot and attack Rick Prime during the Prime Fight.

10. BUT THEN WHAT'S THIS ABOUT:

I couldn't stop thinking about this phrase!!! It just doesn't make any sense!! WHY DID RICK PRIME ACT LIKE EYEPATCH MORTY WAS INCAPABLE OF KILLING HIM?!

So I kept thinking on what sort of mental restraints might still be active inside Evil Morty's brain.

Like, what? Is it something like him "not being allowed to kill a Rick who isn't currently posing a threat", so he could shoot Rick Prime in the beginning but not now that he's restrained? (But he shot Nice Rick again with no problem inside the box, when he was down and weaponless and dying...) This didn't really make any sense, like... why??? So I dropped this theory and forgot about it...

... until the theory that Rick Prime has been mind controlling other Ricks came up. By more than one fan!!!! (and we followed different lines of thought to reach it!!!)

SO LET'S PUT EVERYTHING TOGETHER:

(1) Evil Morty absolutely does still have some mental restraints in his brain and has been carefully operating around them this whole time, trying not to trigger them.

(2) One of those mental restraints effectively prevents him from killing Puppetmaster Rick. This would provide an additional explanation about why Eyepatch Morty didn't kill Puppetmaster Rick the moment he realized said Rick was freed by Rick C-137 resetting all portal travelers. Like, I can think of other explanations:

Puppetmaster Rick being terrified of the Citadel and having no idea that it no longer exists and worrying that they'll come get him to throw him in the Machine of Unspeakable Doom again, therefore laying as low as possible, either hiding himself so effectively that even Evil Morty can't find him, or protecting his home base to withstand an attack from the Citadel itself, making it extremely difficult for Evil Morty to defeat him.

Evil Morty being either extremely scared or extremely repulsed by him, simply never wanting to deal with him ever again, and thinking it highly unlikely Puppetmaster Rick would ever be able to successfully track him down as long as Morty took certain precautions...

...But it's also very likely that Evil Morty is physically unable to do it. Like, I doubt Evil Morty is morally above neutrino-bombing an entire planet just to get this one Rick, but maybe he can't do it. Maybe he is not allowed to fire such a weapon.

(3) In fact, the only things Evil Morty can do is hide himself in the fringe between worlds, employ a number of sophisticated shields, and surgically add the mind-cotrol-implant-overriding fingerguns on himself. An attack with these might at worst cause pain for Puppetmaster Rick, but as we've seen the fingerguns don't actually physically harm nor kill their target, they just... override the target's nervous system. So he can use those against Puppetmaster Rick.

(4) Fast forward to the Prime Fight, where Evil Morty uses a gun to try to kill Rick Prime--and why not? Of course he can do it. He also attacks Rick Prime with his bare hands and hijacks one of Prime's Dianebots to pummel him into a pancake. All good.

(5) Eventually, Eyepatch Morty's temporary allies go down, all the weapons and physical attacks he has tried got him no results, there are no more Dianebots for him to hijack and he's about to get shot:

Desperate, he tries one last thing: the finger-gun, which would only work if Rick Prime also has a mind-control-implant in his forehead.

(6) Bingo!!! It works.

(7) ...But this means that Rick Prime is also defined by a "Puppetmaster Rick status". Whatever mental restraint Evil Morty struggled to operate around is updated to extend to Rick Prime.

While the remains of the mind-control implant inside Evil Morty's head did not receive any new orders (as he no longer has a receiver), the old orders are still in place, and the updated knowledge concerning Rick Prime's status as a "Rick who puppeteers others" (or "admin" if you like) firmly slots him inside the "cannot harm" box.

(8) Whatever. Evil Morty is annoyed, but he knows how to work around this. He's unconcerned.

We have no confirmation of this, but it's likely Puppetmaster Rick had a special room and special equipment and used it update or oversee Evil Morty's implant (I mean... we've come up with similar imagery for Evil Morty and Evil Rick). Evil Morty therefore knows Rick Prime should also have something similar, and knows just what to do. He immediately drags him to the control room, where indeed the relevant equipment is waiting for him.

What I find funny is that Evil Morty probably didn't stick himself inside the wall panels to get all those cables out, but puppeteered Rick Prime to do it in his stead.

And this explains why part of the room was wrecked: Evil Morty was unfamiliar with Prime's strength and implants, and as we've seen, when controlling an unfamiliar body with implants, accidents might happen:

Evil Morty then puppeteered Rick Prime into sitting on his chair (aaaaand I assume deactivated his time-healing ability) before holding him still.

(9) Rick Prime woke up, saw/felt the fingergun and cables on his forehead, noticed he was unable to move, saw Evil Morty, remembered Evil Morty shooting him with something... and probably also immediately began employing his own implants and defense systems to get feedback on Evil Morty's fingergun and on how it could be overridden.

Doesn't this line make a lot more sense now???

He really is getting the picture. And in fact he may be getting a much bigger picture than Evil Morty might like; he may be stealthily scanning Evil Morty's brain through some other implant of his; see it full of cables, recognize the similarities to his own handiwork. He might understand that Evil Morty has puppeteered others, might understand that Evil Morty was once puppeteered himself. He might get a feedback on Evil Morty's list of mental restraints.

And he immediately begins stealthily mounting attacks against the fingerguns, which retaliate each and every time, turning red and hurting him. He keeps trying nonetheless, while simultaneously trying to distract Evil Morty by sweet talking to him (which is nothing but a testament about how clever he is and his ability to multitask) but his fate is sealed; maybe he'd be able to override the fingerguns given enough time... But he doesn't have enough time, and Evil Morty has prepared himself for this exact moment moment. His fingerguns are not easy to be overridden.

(10) So Evil Morty successfully fries each and every one of Prime's puppeteered victims (which do not have "Puppetmaster Rick status") and Prime says this:

DOESN'T THIS LINE MAKE A LOT MORE SENSE NOW?

He got feedback on Evil Morty's brain control implant. He knows that from the moment the fingerguns worked Eyepatch Morty could literally not harm him anymore.

(11) Not that this matters, because Eyepatch Morty knows just what to do...

...bring someone who can finish the job:

DOESN'T THE ABOVE LINE ALSO MAKE SENSE NOW?

Evil Morty is not the one harming him!!! I mean if you wanna look at semantics he didn't even tell Rick C-137 to kill him, he said a joke, a pun.

And he has the added bonus of coming out of this looking like a team player (I mean... as much as he ever could) and gaining an enslaved, morally obligated Rick to himself lol (turning his mental restraints to his advantage)

(12) AND TALK ABOUT POETIC JUSTICE. RICK PRIME IS BEING PUPPETEERED TO SIT STILL IN HIS OWN CHAIR AND GET PUMMELED TO DEATH when he's the one who had been tricking and enslaving countless Ricks to be puppeteered by him forever.

He's literally forced to sit still there and live through it, unable to even lift a finger to protect himself. Poetic. Justice.

(13) Evil Morty had been very careful up to now to hide the fact that he has puppeteered others, but there is no way Rick C-137 didn't understand that Evil Morty is familiar with the puppeteering technology after this encounter (I mean... Rick C-137 knew not to remove the fingerguns, he knew to remove the cables, he knew what this whole thing was).

Which on one hand, doesn't mean he gets to reach any plot-relevant conclusions (at least, not yet) because he knows Evil Morty scans Ricks' brains and steals their technology. On the other hand... we don't know how much more he needs to put 2 and 2 together and reach the same conclusions that Rick Prime did.

(14) And now for my last point.

If all the above is true...

...and depending on the semantics of the mental restraints...

...I would not be surprised if it turns out that Evil Morty using the Omega Device against Ricks is nothing but a GIGANTIC BLUFF.

Like this is literally the worst he can do: improve its design, build it, threaten to use it. (Depending on whether he intends to do a demonstration on e.g. Churry he may not even ever bother to build it.)

Because he literally cannot fire such a weapon against Ricks as long as Puppetmaster Rick is alive. (edit: I'm gonna correct myself and change this to: he cannot use such a weapon against Ricks directly but he still can trick or force someone else to fire it in his stead)

Of course, he would still be able to fire it against Ricks' family, which is probably more effective as a deterrent considering Ricks' suicidal tendencies, but you get the idea.

(...On a different matter, Rick Prime wins plenty of extra cruelty points for vengefully trying to turn Rick C-137 against Evil Morty by warning him about a weapon he knows the kid literally cannot use (edit: cannot use in a moment's notice, in case a furious Rick C-137 pops up in his doorstep))

Again, this may not be true. We don't know if firing such a weapon by throwing another Rick in the Omega Device (and therefore killing eeeevery Rick) counts as Eyepatch Morty directly killing Puppetmaster Rick or not, but I fail to see how it's different from dropping a neutrino bomb on Puppetmaster Rick's head.

(15) Or maybe I'm wrong and I'm only trying to connect dots that don't exist. I honestly cannot think of another explanation for Rick Prime's lines to Evil Morty in Unmortiricken but this doesn't mean there isn't one.

And I do think Evil Morty being deathly scared of Puppetmaster Rick is adequate explanation for not wanting to even try to kill him, and plot-wise and character-wise I think it's a lot more interesting than semantics.

But then again, it's possible for both of these things to be true... Because even with Rick C-137 suddenly becoming his slave, Evil Morty very much did not jump at the opportunity to kill Puppetmaster Rick. He chose to remain hidden. He doesn't want to deal with him.

[ochrearia]

This will update in time, but for now all I have

I don't have the courage to post this myself so this will probably be scheduled for some horrendous time at night. I also don't have the courage to point out who is who because I'm scared maybe they won't like how they sound, though maybe if I go into detail too hard it might be possible to tell. Lol. This isn't everyone yet. I still need some more time to see who everyone is, blah blah blah, bunch of stupid abstract brain stuff, but. Playlist of my friends I've made here... yeah

Wounds- doesn't count because that's me. Decided to put it there because why not. I don't need to talk about myself let's be real no one cares about that

Norduris. Funny, somehow right away this was you. I love when that happens, when a song just reacts so strongly with the whole person in my head I'm searching for. Everything I've seen of you screams this song and it's. Beautiful to me. Always is but it doesn't get tiring. So much of you seems like it was locked away and buried in worry. Wistful thinking and hoping for the future. There is so much good in you. I think I'll stick around for as long as I can to help you see that. Kind and comforting. Creative and inspired just about every time I've seen you, I think. But I think you worry too much. There's fear and anger in there and I think, maybe, I wish there didn't have to be. Well, not the unjustified ones at least. But it all pools together for a strength that I think fits you. Still hopeful and still going. I like that about people... That might be a recurring theme for everyone really. But it's still you, too. Such slow waltzing shades of gray, like fog and the cover of rain. Pastel yellow like the sun, deep, deep green accompanying the rest. There you are, Noah.

Lost. You know the song titles don't really mean anything before you might ask. I never take it into account. Just the way it sounds. I also think you worry far too much but then again you've gone through for too much. But you are creative, and fun, and uplifting. Think you have a little bit of a habit of subduing yourself in fear of something I never quite know. But you are patient, so patient and I value that a lot. Especially when it's given to me. Nervous at times, needing permission before letting yourself shine. Wisdom about you that sometimes I really need to hear. You really know how to rile someone up in a playful way and I don't think enough people play into such things anymore. Wonderful to see really. Like a slow stream in a still air, deep, deep gray and neon blue. Streaks of white too, liminal in a way that reminds me of a barren tundra with nothing to be seen in any direction. Nothing but you. Hey there, Gold <3

daydream. Augh, I feel like my brain is stalling over how to put everything I have seen into words. Something about you just feels so positive, an upbeat air to you even if you're not feeling okay. You're still there, and I see you. Confident a lot of the time, and it's well warranted I believe. Other times not so much. Kind and caring like everyone I know here is, and a childlike excitement every time we talk that I do adore. God you know so well how to make other people excited with you. And you care, so much, I know everyone does but there's something about it with you that's just... electric, is the word I think. There's different styles of care but that one is yours. Funny. I think you make me feel safe in all the fucked up ways my own mind will talk to me. Maybe it's because I think we have a lot of similarities. It's always been positive with you, even when it isn't because you make caring about you easy. You know how the light of the sun shimmers on a body of water? That's kind of how you move, a sweet caramel brown and autumn orange, little drops of red about your air. So wonderful to meet you, Karl.

demise. Again, I swear the titles do not come into play with this. I suppose there's only so much I can repeat about someone being kind, caring, and fun before it starts feeling less special. I promise that never happens, no matter how many people I know like that in my life. Especially when your style of caring is just so... calming. And determined. Offering so much to people you care about even if maybe they haven't earned it yet. That doesn't seem to matter to you. You're giving it anyways. You're a giver, I suppose. You do a lot of creating and it's stunning. and you offer so much to others because you want to. Able to make people feel safe and like they matter. Love the mischief you get up to a lot too. Dedicated to so many things. Greens of jade and pastel grass, white all between them like a snow flurry. A bit of silvery undertones. I'm glad that I get to know you Shed.

Night Beacon. I held off for a few days more before considering you because I wanted to be accurate. There is something to be said about being quiet, in a sense that is positive and not whatever I say when talking about myself. A good kind of quiet, maybe mellow is the word I am looking for. I like when my friends are passionate and you are no exception. A certain type of calmness that I can't quite explain. I think there is a kindness in your ability to just exist and that may not make, sense, but it's the best I can say. You tough through a lot of things you might not want to do but there's a strength in that. And of course, you are creative. I make friends with creatives a lot. I think maybe you are the kind of person I would pick first to surround myself with. Chill overall that can swap into a more serious frame of mind whenever needed, knowing how to navigate around vibes and situations while being kind. And still someone who is enthusiastic about things you like in a way that isn't overwhelming. It's nice. Might put you on a loop more often than I should, lol. Peach and bright orange, with yellow mixed in with it. Along with a pretty desaturated beige, the best I can put it. Literally like the air of the world during a sunset. You should be proud of that Isaac.

[erithel]

I'm surprised you don't include Klance moments in that "fav moments" ask. 😆

Okay, first of all, thanks so much for your blog. Because of you, I start shipping Klance (and I love them). So....

- When did you start shipping Klance (what moment that made you ship them)?

- Can I ask your top favorite fics that you've written (feel free how much that you want to list)? Why they're special to you? Is there a specific inspiration when you wrote them?

- What are your top 5 fav Klance fics ever?

Sorry if you already answered the above questions before (newbie Klance shipper here, just starting last year).

That's fair lol

I'd say I picked my favorite moments based on ones that were truly satisfying, and while I thoroughly enjoyed many klance moments, since they never really paid off, they always left me a bit unsatisfied, so that's why I left them off the list.

To answer your questions:

I think I started shipping klance through stumbling across fanart before even watching the show. There was so much out there when I found it, and it all looked really interesting, and I realized "I want to know more about these two." So I kiiiindof went into the show with a super low-key ship. But if I could pinpoint it, it was probably the "I cradled you in my arms" line that made me go "oh I'm gonna be looking forward to all of their interactions from now on to see where this goes."

I had to check my ao3 to see if I'd even written 5 fics (I have). #1: "Broken Things" This one is special to me for the same reason I was inspired to write it: It was a very tough subject that I was so tired of seeing handled poorly in media. It became even more special when I started receiving comments from people who let me know they had been through similar things and they felt I handled the subject well. #2: "Gone" (a comic, but it still counts) I'm still counting this one even though the experience of posting it turned out to be one that almost made me want to quit before completing the comic. This was also a subject that I had seen handled very poorly, and I wrote it at a time when I had a new understanding of grief, and what it can do to a person. It was very important to me that Lance's side of things was taken seriously, and understood, and unfortunately it really wasn't. But that's kindof why I want to write stories in the first place - to get those thoughts out into the world so they might exist in someone's subconscious, even if they are not fully realized at the time. #3: "Stand Here on the Edge With Me" I started writing this because Chasing Stars was becoming too dark for me to write. I usually stick with angst and love it, but I was writing a really angsty scene where Keith was pining super hard while having their conversation on the lion at sunset and I just thought "wait a minute. What if he's totally fine for once?" and then this fic just kindof materialized. It also has one of my favorite last lines I've written, so that's something to look forward to. ;) #4: "Chasing Stars and Memories" I've always liked stories about traveling to different worlds, and the idea of Klance meeting themselves was always a fun idea to think about. But then I realized that I had never read a fic where only one of them was gender-swapped, and that made it so much more interesting for me, because the angst options just exploded with that one little change. This one's special to me because again, it deals with heavy themes and large emotions and I just adore writing those, and I hope I do them justice and convey the gravity of them. #5: "What If You're Someone I Just Want Around?" I'd always wanted to write a 5-and-1 fic, and I actually wrote this entire one around the third part ("Scared"). It was still pretty early on that I wrote that and I felt like I basically nailed Keith's and Lance's "voices" in that one based on their actual canon selves, so that was a nice little accomplishment at the time!

Basically, my inspiration comes from a lot of emotions, and also because there are specific subjects we see in movies/TV/books that I feel could be handled way better.

I've probably answered the top 5 fics before tbh. I don't know if I have a top 5, but here are 5 I love:

There Nestled Against His Pulse

You're Always Welcome Here

New

In This Moment, You Mean Everything

Terminal Velocity

(Some of these contain NSFW content btw)

There are, of course, many other fics I love, and as always I will recommend anything written by Iybms, Wittyy_Name, or Autumn_Ignited. Sadly, I haven't had the chance to read anything super recently, as I've been trying to read more published books (for pitching reasons), and have been a little disappointed so far unfortunately.

[hermitw]

I'm going to be as vague as possible here, with only implied csa, heavier content warning for all the linked posts.

A while ago I was thinking about how Mai and Sukuna seemed quite similar. Secretly very hurt people who put on this edgelord show and pretend not to care or feel.

Since reading these posts about Mai, it got me thinking even more like. The triggers that caused sukuna and Mai to act in ways that made them unloveable characters.

Like when Nobara said "trouble sleeping? You've got open pores", I think that hit a nerve because Mai probably had insomnia and recurring nightmares. Her family would have scapegoated the victim (which is really common irl - somehow it's more shameful to acknowledge a predator in the family than it is to defend them).

And Sukuna with Mimiko - that always drove me insane. It made me resent sukuna for a long time, but gradually I grew this fixation to understand him. Anyway, I'd said before that it was feeling manipulated and told what to do that triggered Sukuna - but I don't think that's it.

Mimiko was terrified of him. They both were. But God, when else have we seen someone's head explode like that? Haruta got one slice. Nanako got cubed. Even the fingie curse that was afraid of Sukuna and attacked him instead of joining forces - that thing got five slices (and he intended for three).

Whatever reactions people had to Sukuna when he lived as a human (and in his current life), whether he was deified or demonized or enslaved, he was seen as a threat to restrain, he was an object of fear. I think the twins' fear of Sukuna hit a nerve.

The fingie curse wasn't trying to use Sukuna - it directly attacked him. But to be feared and told what to do, I think that mix really hit some unresolved trauma.

Edit to add:

another idea I forgot to include is that Sukuna would have known the twins were asking sukuna to kill kenjaku. I think part of him really, really wants to, but due to a pact or something he can't, and that also made him feel helpless. (tbh I don't totally understand this - kenjaku seems to have a covercive relationship with the reincarnated sorcerers. Not only are they taking over someone else's body without being invited to - but they seem rly uncomfortable with him. And it's like they try to get past that... But at the end of the Shibuya arc, Kenjaku said that the pacts he made w those sorcerers were voided when he changed bodies. I assume that, even someone who makes pacts often (like Sukuna) doesn't know that they become nullified when kenjaku changes bodies (how could they know? No one else does that). Or maybe they are only canceled on Kenjaku's end, but the other sorcerers might still face consequences (which I find less believable, as their old bodies are also gone, though maybe eating themselves was also a way to retain that bond).

If you want a deeper read w even more context (especially on sukuna), here's a link. (this post got me thinking so much, half of my drafts are in reaction to it probably)

[meanbossart]

A long over-due ask compilation (Art & Music)

It's vaguely based on a short story from the book "The Consumer" by Michael Gira, specifically "The Boss". I think it came up in conversation with a friend or something when I was picking a new username, so that's how we arrived at it - this was almost a decade ago so, my memory on it is a little hazy!

{MORE UNDER THE CUT]

HAHA thank you so much!!! Glad you enjoy what I do 😎🍻

I BELIEVE this little guide I put together over here might be helpful to you, also! I touched on pretty much everything you brought up.

As for reference material when it comes to facial expressions, I have a mirror next to my desk which I glance at often and make weird faces at LOL and for consistency, it's really a matter of learning to dissect and remember facial structure. It's just something you end up developing an eye for when you've done it for long enough! Naturally, if we're talking about drawing existing characters, it's always helpful to just look at some pictures of their mugs and take a minute to define what features about them make their faces recognizable - I touch on this at the link above as well!

I do plan on making a "drowstarion" (love that, by the way LOL) playlist eventually, life's just been kicking my ass and I hardly have the time 😭and when I do, I just wanna draw.

Otherwise I don't have any other playlists floating around at the moment, BUT the one my boyfriend made for his Vellioth comic can be found here, and it might scratch a similar itch!

Thank you! I believe this was in reference to this post. Something like that takes me about... An hour??? If we're talking just the colors, at least. Though that's a really rough estimate because I take a lot of breaks, so my sense of time when I work ends up pretty skewed. Even if the application of the colors themselves took less than 20 minutes I probably spent 2 hours just staring at it LOL.

My friend, I have no idea. I'm in a constant battle between "I want to draw more realistically" and "I want to simplify my art so I can draw more/faster". What you see is the result of that ongoing brain-tug-of-war.

Also, just the way I assume everyone else develops theirs - they see stuff they like and emulate it until their art is Frankensteinish enough to be it's own unique thing!

I'm far from a Type O Negative buff, BUT I'm happy to share some of my favorites with you! They're quite scattered across a couple of their albums so I'm not sure I have a favorite, but I would say October Rust is a good starting point.

In no particular order, these are my most listened tracks of theirs: -Love You to Death -Black N.01 -Haunted -She Burned Me Down -Can't Lose You -I Don't Wanna Be Me -Be My Druidess -September Sun -Tripping A Blind Man

Alas, I was one of those people who was already drawing in kindergarten 😅 though I would say I only started taking it seriously when I was around 15-16 years old. As someone who has tried their hand at several other hobbies since reaching adulthood, I get what you're saying that it can kinda feel like... You missed the wagon? I've felt that way about all kind of things lol

That said, I've seen adults managing to develop their art skills extremely fast and effectively before. Understanding where and how you need to improve, and how to follow lessons/guides best is something that is vastly improved by maturity and knowing how to best hone your time, attention, and resources - and those are skills we completely lack as children. So, I sincerely believe that as long as you commit yourself, you can definitely get to a point that you're happy with in a couple of years if not less.

JUST DO IT BUDDY we are all just people looking through a screen and you won't ever see, talk, or meet 99% of the folks who ever clap eyes on what you post. Whenever you start getting nervous about sharing something, take a minute to ask yourself why you're nervous, and if none of the reasons have any genuine substance besides being afraid of what people "might think", just go ahead and post it. You're no mind-reader after all, and if you are, I doubt you can hear what a guy from Argentina or wherever is thinking about the art you made.

Point is, nobody online can touch you 🤷and if someone doesn't like what you do, they can simply choose to not interact with it, and if they do you can block and move on. There are zero reasons for you to feel "bad" about putting up a doodle when our experiences on the web are so easily curated nowadays.

[iamgodsoopsie]

Astarion Headcanons (that you probably won't like) Pt. 2:

Part 1 link

Part 3 link

More Astarion headcanons! (that are mostly me projecting but with an Astarion flavored twist.)

BG3 does an excellent job at depicting SA trauma and the beginning of the healing process/journey. Many of the headcanons I've seen floating around (intentionally or unintentionally) gloss over the uglier side of healing from (prolonged) trauma. I'm not judging anyone for magically healing him, he's fictional after all, but I'd like to make some more ...realistic... headcanons.

Disclaimer: Everyone's healing process looks different, but they tend share commonalities. These headcanons are based on my own experiences. Not everyone who is healing from their trauma will experience what I have or have experienced it like I have.

[Please don't message me with explicit details about your trauma. I am at the point in my healing journey where I can share my experiences, and commiserate with other's similar experiences, but I am unable to support others in a more personal manner at this time. I wish you the best of luck in your healing process/ journey.]

Spoiler warning

Mental illness, SA, & DV Trigger Warnings: I cannot stress these enough this post is much more descriptive and potentially triggering than part one was.

These headcanons are based on an Astarion who is still a spawn and romantically involved with a Tav who honestly loves him and isn't abusive or manipulative. Also Cazador is dead and Astarion got to stab him. They also assume that he himself does not turn into Cazador 2.0 or Wish.com Cazador.

I hope you're ready for abrupt mood swings.

--- One minute he's codependent and can't make a decision on his own because he's overwhelmed, the next he's hyper-independent and will take offense at any suggestion you make.

----- Astarion is aware that staying in either of the two extremes is unhealthy and would eventually lead him to acting like Cazador.

^ This ties into point two: You need walk the fine line between patient and understanding while he processes "200 years of Shit. PURE SHIT!". And at the same time you need to be firm in your own boundaries with how you allow him to treat you.

--- He's gone 200 years without autonomy and has no memory of what life was like before Cazador turned him. He has no frame of reference other than romance novels and watching couples interact with each other from afar.

-----TBH the best thing for him is to stay in regular contact with Halsin. The man has the same flavor as trauma as Astarion while also having strong boundaries and open honest/ healthy communication in his relationships. He can unjudgementally help Astarion navigate the pitfalls of his healing journey through first hand experience.

Plus Ultra Catholic levels of guilt.

--- Guilt for what he did while he was a spawn. Guilt for how he started his relationship with you (even after you've told him you forgive him multiple times). Guilt for how he lashes out at the one person who has shown him unconditional love (you). Guilt because he feels like he's dragging you down into his darkness and tainting you. Guilt because he fears he's pulling you down to bring himself up. Guilt for feeling guilty because it doesn't absolve him of his sins and makes healing harder.

Self-esteem issues

--- He was SA'd for 200 years, he was forced into prostitution, he was tortured in every conceivable way, he was made to do reprehensible things and learned to find "joy" in them because he would've lost all of himself and his humanity otherwise.

------ His inner saboteur (who sounds like Cazador and himself simultaneously- adding to his self hate) tells him that he is disgusting, wrong, filthy, a burden, unlovable, undeserving of happiness, a monster.

------- Like everything else these thoughts will become less frequent and easier for him to handle as time goes on. All you can do is love him while he self-flagellates and hates himself. One day he'll see himself as you see him.

^ Tying into all the points above, especially the one right before this one. You're going to feel useless. Most of the time all you can do is demonstrate your love for him and sit there with him while he is bombarded with years of repressed feelings forcing their way out.

--- In the beginning your attempts to help him will frequently seem to have the opposite of their intended effect.

----- It's important that you be honest with him about how you're doing mentally. It does him no favors if you set yourself on fire to keep him warm.

------- You'll be angry on his behalf and can't exact revenge.

--------- That being said you are helping him so much more than you think you are. I cannot express in words how much just being there while Astarion slogs through the painful process of healing will help him.

^ ALL of these will get less intense and easier to deal with in time. He will heal and move on from his horrid past. But, it will involve a lot of trial and error. He will have periods of exponential growth followed by a hard backslide in progress. But he will get there.

I wouldn't say that loving Astarion is hard, but it does involve conscious effort on both his and your parts.

[bluestarjay]

After being on Tumblr for I think nearly a year, and making a fuck ton of posts and gaining mild popularity on certain posts and gaining a whopping 21 followers, I've never made a Hinata Harem post. So yall are finally lucky enough to hear my takes on it ❤️❤️❤️

So first of all, I kinda love the hinata harem thing bc it's actually so funny, but strangely, in a way, it's realistic. Not very well written most of the time, but realistic as a concept.

Bc like he gets along with basically the entire cast, and he sometimes compliments characters who are not used to being complimented, and that character may blush of embarrassment, and then the fandom takes that as shipping material, like with Goshihina. And it makes sense! Imagine you're rarely complimented, and you strive for validation from your peers, especially upperclassmen, and then suddenly, the cutest boy you've ever seen compliments you like you're the only person on the planet. And so then you purposely try as hard as you possibly can to make said boy continue to compliment you. Take this, then multiply it by 100, because I think that's how the harem trope, in Hinata's case, works.

This isn't meant to be in the way that he can be shipped with every single character because truly, he can't. Shipping Hinata with 3rd years, in a typical high school setting, is, at least imo (and not bc of the age gap itself), weird bc of the maturity difference. You shouldn't date a senior as a freshman bc you're on two separate maturity levels. And regarding all of the many 3rd years (tendou, daichi, suga, bokuto, etc), it's really the same exact thing just platonically. Bokuto is literally Hinata's older brother!! He adopted him as a student *and* sibling, bc he felt the same things everybody does, just in a *different* way.

The hinata harem, to me, is the display of hinata's character in reference to every other character, yk? To me, these select few people are actually in love with him, and these people have a "crush," which is more so a platonic feeling, and these people find a true, deep *friendship* with him, one that they've probably never experienced before, and therefore may look like a crush or love to an outside viewer. And, in these different relationships between hinata and other characters, they all love him. They all feel a loving connection with him, like how people would think in a harem, but it's not quite so because all of the people who love hinata love him in different ways.

Now, with how this harem is portrayed in fanfiction actually scares me bc half the people there are much older and mature than him (gen question why do ppl ship him with 3rd years /in high school/, like, I love Brazil Oihina sooooo much but hs Oihina is 😧😧😧) , and tbh it just gets out of control.

And alot of times I see Hinata reciprocate?? With multiple people?? Which is fine to an extent, imo like I love poly ships, I've seen a lot of really cute ones and some more interesting ones, and it's totally normal to have a crush on a few people at once but istg some people make him a goddamn player,,,

I recently read a harem-ish fic, which was much more similar to how I personally find it to be like, it was essentially people having a crush on hinata, or realizing it, and it was cute, but at the same time, Hinata asked one of them on a date, cuddled with like two other guys (which, normalize cuddling platonically but in the context of the fic it wasn't suuuuper platonic but wasn't suuuuuper romantic either iykwim), and the part of that that kinda icked me was just that he was getting on with so many people at once (the fic took place in the span of like a week, and there were like 5 people i think??). And a lot of other fics that are post time skip are just Hinata hooking up with the entire cast at some point???

Idk tbh but I do really like fics where everybody LOVES hinata, but only a few people are IN love with him. Just the balance of like ~5 people having a crush on him, half of the rest of them have adopted him in one way or another, and the other half have just found their new bff.

Btw I think that second to last paragraph is worded a bit poorly I just don't really know else to describe the fic so sorry if it offends anyone I'm free to edit it n if anyone wants more ship related stuff I got you (ALSO GIVE ME GOOD "HAREM" FIC RECS AS LONG AS THEYRE SFW AND COMPLETED!!) 💪💪💪

[teaandinanity]

7KPP Week, Day 1: Background (remix)

Fair warning to my followers, it is that time again and I'm gonna be posting Nonsense for the next week (if the executives function and I manage to be productive) or at least a few days of it (if the executives are typically dysfunctional).

Putting this under a cut because just the blather is Long and then the ficlet for Baby Weaver Valya is Longer.

Day 1's prompts were

What is your character's background and why did you pick it? How do they feel about it? If you've talked about this before, you can instead consider the following: Have you considered using an existing MC for one of the secret backgrounds? Is there another background you think might be interesting for your MC? Elements of another background you could incorporate into them for an AU?

Calanthia is a Widow because I wanted a Katyia's Legacy MC and found Widow easiest to min/max. Valeriya came into existence because I did Lyon’s date on Calanthia just to see what it was like and immediately said ‘oh no’ because it is My Exact Jam. Then I went ‘… does he still say you’re a good person if you are Entirely Morally Neutral’ and then the answer was YES and I got brainworms SO bad. Valya hates pretty much everything about being a Widow because everything about her backstory is worse than Calanthia’s. Anthy’s parents are bumbling idiots with no financial or political acumen but she and her siblings figured out how to manage them by the time she was like 13. Valya’s parents are genuinely bad people made infinitely worse by unhappiness with their circumstances and are cruel to each other and their children and the next-oldest of her siblings actively hates her and tries to ruin her life on a regular basis. Anthy’s marriage was of course mercenary but it was also mutually beneficial and she and her husband were friends. Valya’s marriage was a nightmare; she was justifiably terrified going in, she was way too young, she went through with it mostly because she knew she’d outlive him even if she had to get blood on her hands to make sure of it and because otherwise her mother (who hated her a lot for being ‘the reason’ she had to marry her husband and therefore also ‘the reason’ her life has sucked so much since) would have seen her married to less advantage and to someone she really would have been shackled to for the rest of her inevitably-much-shortened life. Anthy is older and well-adjusted. Valya is still in her teens, traumatized, and just DESPERATELY wants to be safe. The main thing they have in common is that they fall in love and go ‘oh no.’

I’ve considered making Valeriya a Weaver, and I really want to try that once the secret backgrounds are in the game! It’s interesting to consider how DIFFERENT her life would have been if her mother had NOT married her father and just gone off to the countryside and then sent her oops baby away to be raised by her sister in Arland. Valya would be so much more well-adjusted under those circumstances, so she’s probably much happier and way less tentative with Lyon.

Probably also less careful in general, and more apt to meddle, so I imagine there’s at least one extra assassination attempt. The rest of her life probably looks very similar, though; after her marriage, even a very traumatized Valya grows into her new life and eventually feels very happy and safe.

I’ve also considered making Anthy a Weaver because I think it would be fun to do Jasper’s romance on a Weaver. I have considered making her a Historian for the same reason and because that would make the ‘you don’t have to act. I will.’ line hit like a TRAIN. We'll see how I feel about all of that once the secret BGs are in; the one I'm sure of is that I'll be trying Weaver Valya.

With that initial meta babbling out of the way:

On to the Fic!

She isn’t in the least Arlish and she is made to know it very young. She doesn’t mind, though; she looks like her aunt, and her uncle looks at both of them like they’re marvelous.

The fifth time she is allowed to attend a dinner party with her guardians, the first time she is permitted to separate from both of them to play with a few of the other children present, one of the other guests says something unkind. Valeriya hardly notices; the lady isn’t very important, and her opinion is so much hot air. But the other children freeze, and look at her, and she realizes she has to respond. Valeriya raises her chin the way she has seen her aunt do and says,

“I see why you’ve come over to play with the children, Lady T--- - you certainly still need a governess to teach you manners.”

It’s not the graceful set-down her aunt might have managed, but she’s nine. And the adults close enough to overhear all seem to feel, nonetheless, that she’s won the bout, especially when the lady flushes and flounders and can’t seem to come up with a rejoinder.

When they leave, her aunt slips her a few dried cranberries, clearly a reward, and her uncle puts a warm hand on the crown of her head with an approving smile.

“Well done, little Valiant.”

Her aunt laughs and asks why he’s never given her an Arlish nickname drawing him into a bantering conversation that means Valeriya doesn't have to respond. Instead, she considers the name. It’s a nice gift. She likes it.

Courage isn’t a virtue often ascribed to Arlish girls, but then--

She’s not Arlish.

--

Aunt Eleonora has been away for a week visiting friends. That’s what she said when she left, at least – that she was going to visit two of her friends. It may or may not be true; it’s entirely possible that she is instead averting an international incident, or perhaps even causing one, but if it’s either of those, she didn’t see fit to mention it to Valeriya prior to her departure, and Valeriya didn’t notice any of the usual signs and appurtenances of an aunt intending to involve herself in something exciting.

Regardless, factually, Aunt Eleonora is presently from home. In her absence, Uncle Earnest is the one who receives the post.

He isn’t the type to open anything addressed specifically to his wife. He’s good like that. Eleonora genuinely loves him because he’s good like that. Also because he doesn’t ask too many questions if someone turns up dead somewhere she’s recently been, even if it’s someone he knows her to have been profoundly annoyed with. Valeriya honestly cannot tell if he deliberately cultivates a certain ignorance or if it has simply never occurred to him – a good man, in the pure and simple manner of a friendly dog – that his wife may occasionally moonlight in murder.

It likely helps that Aunt Eleonora is scarcely taller or broader than Valeriya, who at fourteen is far from finished growing, and has wide, innocent eyes that she can use to great effect. Aunt Eleonora isn’t what people imagine when they picture a murderer. It’s not as if she does the thing with her own hands, but she’s certainly culpable for at least two deaths, and that’s just the ones Valeriya knows about.

Valeriya feels that she probably ought to disapprove of that. Probably.

In principle, certainly, she disapproves of murder.

Duke Adam absolutely deserved it, though; she spoke to the maid who was serving them while they visited and she’d have swung a poker at the back of his head herself if she’d thought a twelve-year-old girl could muster sufficient force to do the thing in a sufficiently decided fashion to effect the desired result. Whoever her aunt arranged to deliver the blow had significantly more arm strength than Valya can ever personally aspire to. Might’ve been one of the stable boys, but in this case, Valeriya elected to cultivate her own willful ignorance so that dropped hints would elicit only the truest blank incomprehension.

Aunt Eleonora approved; it doesn’t do to cause problems for the people willing to do your dirty work.

Cold-blooded murder generally ought to be avoided. Of course it ought. Occasionally, however, someone thinks power will insulate them from the consequences of being a horrible person. Aunt Eleonora does not think that ought to be the case.

Valeriya can't bring herself to disagree, and so she cannot disapprove of her aunt's inclination, in such instances, to be a surgical implement that excises such cancer from the body of their adoptive nation.

Valeriya once overheard one of her aunt’s friends imply it was the Revairan in them, and of course their birth nation has acquired a certain reputation for bloody hands and ruthlessness. It’s a silly conclusion, though.

She’s overheard enough conversations in the halls of power, sheltering in her aunt’s shadow. She knows how cheaply Arlish nobles hold the lives of a hundred, even a thousand, peasants. They pretend to be appalled by the bloody purges in their neighbor, but dressing suffering and sacrifice up in courtly manners and talk of duty doesn’t reduce the resultant suffering. Pretty words don’t make their own victims any less dead.

Valeriya has been informed she is not allowed at court again until she’s better at keeping her face as still as her tongue. She’s good at being quiet. She’s less-skilled, apparently, in keeping her judgmental disapprobation from showing when people are being overtly terrible right in front of her at dinner.

In any case, for reasons benign or otherwise, her aunt is from home, and thus it is Uncle Earnest who receives the post.

Valeriya saw the envelope; the direction was only to this house, not to her aunt specifically. It came from Revaire.

Likely more bad news; the news from Revaire is never really good. The most recent round of purges seems to be over, but the current regime won their throne with blood and have shed significantly more to maintain it. The internal unrest has made them uneasy neighbors, although Valya personally thinks that the turmoil makes them unlikely to actually have the strength to threaten other nations, particularly Arland; with the marriage alliances currently in place, anyone attacking Arland is liable to find themselves facing the combined armies of three nations on the field.

Her aunt has been upset by much of what they’ve heard, although not upset enough to set up reprisals against anyone. Valya sympathizes somewhat, but she doesn’t know anyone in Revaire, not the way her aunt does. Aunt Eleonora grew up there, and does not entirely despise her family. Valeriya wasn’t even born in the ancestral home of their family, and was fetched across the border with a wetnurse before she was two weeks old.

The conviction that it is bad news is borne out by the way her uncle acts when he comes back out of his study. He spends much of lunch very overtly not staring at her, and much of the afternoon passing by the doorway while their governess oversees their history lesson – or rather, while Valeriya is engaged in the process of a takeover, because she’s better-read on Katyia and the first Summit than Miss Henrietta, and she loves this subject, and Merit is asking questions which Henrietta is not equipped to answer without consulting reference materials but which Valeriya knows by heart.

He finally does address her, when Henrietta has taken Merit off to help her dress for dinner – an indignity she, at ten, has not yet escaped, but which Valeriya, at the advanced age of fourteen, has been long-since liberated from.

(Merit likes people helping her dress. Valeriya personally prefers to see to her own affairs. Aunt Eleonora says Merit is well-adapted to life in Arland, but she says it with a certain tone that carefully contains no disappointment; there’s a reason she takes Valeriya with her on some of her visits but almost always leaves Merit at home, and it’s not solely down to their respective ages.)

“Valya, dear,” Uncle Earnest says, sad-eyed as a hound dog, soft-voiced. Yes, assuredly bad news. She finds herself more curious than trepidatious, but holds herself very still and looks up at him. Not so far, though, not anymore.

“I’m so sorry,” he tells her gently. “Your mother is dead.”

For half a heartbeat, all she feels is confused.

She doesn’t have a mother. She has an aunt and an uncle and two cousins. But she takes her cue from her uncle’s expression even before she's really managed to make herself understand the information: She ought to be upset. She pushes her face into something more appropriate than blank incomprehension, wide eyes and raised brows, a soft mouth, and her uncle – a good man to his bones – reaches for her shoulder, offering contact, and then folding her into a comforting hug that she receives with real gratitude when she leans into it.

It lets her hide her face and think.

She has never met her mother. Well, she must have, after a fashion, but not really. Not as a person rather than a squalling larvae full of needs rather than thoughts. Now, she supposes, she never will.

Should that upset her?

She feels very little about the matter. A stranger is dead. Many strangers die every day; she is only moderately bothered about it, in general.

In this case…

Maybe it's awful, but she thinks she may be a little relieved. She can never be made to leave this life, which is comfortable and familiar, and be taken away to a strange place simply because the people there have a claim on her by being her nearest blood kin.

She will have to be careful not to let that show.

--

Aunt Eleonora tries, the year she turns sixteen, to talk to her about boys. About trouble girls can get into, liking boys.

Valeriya realizes, repulsed,

“Is this because Baron Cammus’s son was being stupid at me?”

It’s safe, here, to be so gracelessly blunt; they’re alone in Aunt Eleonora’s private parlor, and she’s allowed to be both honest and overt here, the way she never allows herself in public anymore. She doesn’t bother to hide her absolute revulsion, and Aunt Eleonora laughs.

There’s a note of relief in it.

“Ah, I should have known better. You won’t make your mother’s mistake.”

Her mother sent her away because she’s a bastard. She was lucky that she had family who could easily take her in to raise her up to the same station in life as her kin, rather than dumping her at an orphanage. She’s not ignorant enough not to have some idea what might have happened to her, if she hadn’t been lucky.

“I won’t,” she swears.

--

“I want to go to the Summit,” she tells her aunt.

Eleonora looks at her consideringly.

“You’re a touch young for it,” she muses, “but Arland does prefer to send girls who are young and pretty. In theory at least, Arlish girls who attend are supposed to know they’ve a duty to marry for the benefit of their nation, and it’s easier to persuade them of that if they’re too young to have formed any real opinions on the matter.”

Valeriya keeps her face perfectly still but for the slightest quirk of one brow, and her aunt inclines her head.

“I do think you might do well. Prove it to me, dear.”

She could ensure Valya got a spot on the delegation, but winning her own place is a test of her abilities. A test to see if she truly would do well with the opportunity. She feels a spark of satisfaction; she’d expected as much, and she does like to be correct. She presents the letter – penned by the queen’s secretary, but signed and sealed by her highness’s own hand – and her aunt smiles, bright and broad and ferocious.

--

Her aunt is happy to be seeing her off; she has a few errands for her niece to attend to on Vail Isle, and instructions on the precise wording she should use greeting Wellin’s chaperone, and encouragement to stretch her wings. Her uncle is actually crying a bit.

Well; he’s Arlish. He might actually think she means to make a miserable marriage for herself. It’s what nearly every other girl Arland has ever sent to the Summit does, including their paragon of a princess just seven years past.

He hugs her, and she hugs him back.

“Make us proud, Little Valiant.”

It’s still not at all a girlish Arlish virtue, but it is one she wants to embody. With the political situation so tenuous, with the way she intends to get involved, she will need to be brave.

"I will," she promises.

[denaliwrites]

I'm So Hot I'd Fuck Myself

Peter Vincent x Fem!Reader

Part 1: I'm Starvin', Darlin', Let Me Put My Lips to Somethin'

Summary: (18+) Peter can't resist you once you put on your Halloween costume.

Soundtrack: I'm So Hot by Chrissy Chlapecka

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Filthy, filthy smut.

See, the thing was, you had seen that "what if Peter Vincent was a woman" fanart, too. He wasn't as slick as he thought he was, buying you that sexy female version of his Fright Night costume. You knew exactly where the fuck he was going with it before he ever said "I can't wait to fuck you in this."

You just didn't particularly mind.

And why would you, when he fucked you so good?

"Go get changed," Peter said the moment you stepped foot back in the penthouse, his voice unusually commanding. You could hear the thick trickle of desperation tightening his throat, and when you threw your eyes down, you could see that his jeans were getting tighter.

Oh, he'd been thinking about this the whole way back. The realization hit home and your core at the same time and it sent a nice little jolt of electric pleasure down your spine.

Without a word, you made your way to the master bathroom to get changed.

"And put my wig on!" Peter called after you.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, Peter was waiting for you on the bed, disrobed but for... well, a robe. His black silk one. You watched him from the doorway, and he watched you from the bed.

"God, you look... well, like me," he finally said, voice husky. Even without your eyes dancing downward you could tell he was probably the hardest he'd ever been. "You're so fucking hot, darling."

You smiled as you made your way to the bed. He watched as you wasted no time in crawling onto it, onto him, easily coming to straddle his slinky hips. Once you were settled, his hands trailed from your knees on a journey upwards, ending with a grip on the flesh just below where your thighs met your ass.

With his hands guiding you, your hips rolled, and the two of you moaned together as the friction sent a wave of pleasure through you both.

Peter was panting as you did it again with little encouragement. For your efforts, his thumbs curled around the fronts of your thighs, teasing at the edges of your lingerie. Another grind of your hips earned you his thumbs seeking your folds, delicately stroking your slit as you whimpered above him.

"Oh, that's it, doll," he purred, sinking a thumb in and homing in on your clit. He was gentle as he circled the nub, building your pleasure slowly. "God, you're gorgeous. You look so beautiful like this."

You whimpered in response, giving your hips a flick that netted you a moan from Peter. Looking down at him you smirked, doing it again to similar effect. "I'd look better with your cock inside me," you teased lightly.

"Oh, I know you would," he agreed with a growl emanating from somewhere deep in his throat. "But you've got a ways to go before you're ready for that."

His thumb danced around your clit again, and as it did he finally brought the other one forth, using it to tease at your entrance. You moaned, your walls flexing on nothing as your pleasure grew.

"That's it, darling," he praised you gently, as your hips desperately bucked into his ministrations. "Cum for me, darling."

It took little more encouragement than that for you to reach your peak. You let out a soft cry as you went rigid, walls contracting and feeling the rush of fluid Peter was no doubt waiting for.

He brought you down gently, easing you into that post-orgasm haze. You knew it wouldn't last long because he was about to fuck your brains out and make you cum again. But he was being kind by giving you a break. You appreciated it.

You let out a whimper as his hands withdrew from you. Foggily, you registered that he was sitting up, that his arms were wrapping around you and holding you close.

"Oh, you really are in a state, aren't you?" he asked in a deep chuckle, his lips grazing over your neck. You simply whined in response.

With his hands occupied, you took it upon yourself to reach down and brush your panties to the side so that Peter could enter you, and you took it upon yourself to find his cock, to guide it to your entrance.

You felt his moan as much as you heard it. Grinning, you lightly ran your fingers along his length.

"You're such a tease," he growled, thrusting up and missing the mark. It didn't matter, though, it still made you gasp. "I want my fucking cock inside you."

You didn't need him to say anymore, you were already on it even as he was speaking. Right as the last word left his lips, you finally guided him home, and you both moaned as he was enveloped in your depths.

"Oh, God, Peter," you panted, nails biting into his shoulder. "Fucking finally."

"Oi, shut up, bitch! You could've done that straight away!"

Despite his words, you could see in his eyes he was quite delighted to be fucking you, that spark of admiration and affection unmissable no matter how hard he tried to pretend it wasn't there.

"Big words for a man who decided to fuck me in the best position for me to get up and walk away whenever I want," you teased, lifting your hips off of his, leaving only his head inside you.

His grip on you tightened, keeping you locked like that. "You wouldn't."

"Peter, let me go."

It wasn't a real command -- you both knew it. Both knew you'd never. It was a test, and you were satisfied the moment his arms dropped away from you, allowing you freedom should you choose to take it.

But your freedom was in him, in the way he loved you and fucked you. So instead of leaving, you lowered yourself onto his cock, relishing in the absolute adoration in his eyes.

Wordlessly, his arms came back to wind around you, holding you firm and safe.

His mouth found your clavicle, lightly nipping the flesh there before he trailed downward, light kisses peppered over your skin until he reached the swell of your breasts.

"Oh, isn't this beautiful," he sighed as one of his hands shifted to cup the breast. "I could drown myself in these." He laid a few more kisses to them before his hand worked your costume and bra down so that they were exposed in full.

His tongue swiped over your nipple, sending a shock right through to your core. Your walls contracted, and he grinned. "Oh, should I do that again?" he asked tauntingly.

"Please," you begged breathlessly, your hold on his shoulders tightening. "Please, do it again."

He acquiesced, his mouth easily returning to the bud like his life depended on it. You all but wailed as pleasure flooded you.

"Oh, God, Peter."

"Don't you dare cum yet, you little slut," he growled into your breast.

"I-I won't," you only just managed to whimper.

But you were excruciatingly close. You weren't sure how much longer you could last, and you needed him to hurry the fuck up.

He thrust up into you a few more times, and you noticed with delight that he was rushing, erratic.

"I'm so close, Peter," you told him, your walls squeezing his cock as if to prove your point.

He didn't answer you, too lost in chasing his own orgasm. You didn't mind. Each thrust brought you closer, each swipe of his tongue or pull of his teeth sent more warm pleasure down into the pool building in the pit of your stomach. And you could feel that well starting to overflow.

"O-oh, fuck, Peter," you moaned, as his final thrust sent you over the edge. Your cunt tightened around his twitching length, the warmth he was releasing into you only heightening your orgasm. You let out twin cries in release, your grips on each other crushing you to each other.

And then, it was over.

He was the first to give, his arms dropping away from you as he collapsed back down into the plush duvet, panting breaths filling the otherwise silent air.

You managed to stay upright a little longer, turning to look out at the sparkling lights of the Vegas strip, gasping pants rattling through your chest.

"Fuck," Peter said.

"Yeah," you replied.

And then you let yourself collapse on top of him, all but melting into his chest. His arms, tired as they were, came up to pull you closer. At this rate, the two of you could probably meld together.

"Fuck, I'm hot. I'd fuck myself."

"Again?" you asked in a breathy chuckle, shifting your head to look up at him.

"Well," he started, conceding with a light shrug, "give me about half an hour."

[eddiezpaghetti]

Your perspective on Byler is super interesting, thank you for these posts! I agree that Byler isn't queerbaiting, but what if it's still an accident in the sense that they intended to tell a story of unrequited love from Will's pov (like Steve/Nancy, or Dustin/Max in season 2), and this is what those shots of Will between Mike and El are for, and didn't realize that Mike could be seen by a part of the audience as queer and possibly loving Will back?

Okay, for the most part, I'd just be reiterating the post I already made. So let's narrow this down to something more specific. Why is it not like Steve and Nancy or Max and Dustin?

Let's look at Max and Dustin first. I'll make a post about Steve and Nancy later because this wound up being longer than I meant for it to be.

What first comes to mind with Max and Dustin is the moment it really ended. When Dustin saw Lucas and Max together in the junkyard. If Dustin and Max were similar to Mike and Will, parallel to them, then the moment Dustin saw Lucas and Max together in the junkyard would be the same beat in their stories to the moment Mike and El reunited in the desert.

However, take a look at how they're shot.

This, versus

This.

And, just as important...

This scene.

AND this scene.

As I said in my first post, the reunion scene is shot that way--with Will making direct fucking contact with the camera--because he's supposed to be the one you're paying attention to in that scene. Not El and Mike.

Likewise, you're supposed to be paying attention to Dustin's feelings in the shot where he's watching Lucas and Max, but you'll notice some key differences.

One, Lucas and Max arriving together is shot as significant, as the focus, before it shifts to Dustin's reaction, instead of Dustin's reaction being shoved INTO their arrival. There's an over-the-shoulder shot to show that he (and Steve) have noticed Lucas and Max arriving, but the focus is still on Lucas and Max, reiterating what the audience already knew, that they're blatantly going to be The Couple, as was made pretty clear by their previous scenes, which brings me to the next point.

Their previous scenes. Their previous scenes. Lucas and Max had previous scenes leading up to that moment in the junkyard. THOSE--Lucas filling Max in, showing up at her house, convincing her to sneak out so that he can prove that everything he's been telling her is true and winning her trust, and Max giving him at least that much benefit of the doubt--were the real equivalent to El and Mike reuniting in the desert (isolated from Will). You want the audience to care about a couple? This is what you do. You give them private moments. And I was truly remiss in my first post not to point out that...Jonathan and Argyle were also there. So was fucking Brenner. Why didn't we see them? Why was the scene shot in such a way that you briefly forgot their existence but Will Byers was staring into your soul? You know why.

Getting back on topic, the final piece of the puzzle here is the scene that followed Dustin accepting that Max liked Lucas and not him. Once more, Lucas and Max have a private, tender scene. Emphasis on private. Once more, we get them alone. They talk, get everything they have to say out in the open, and only once the conversation comes to a lull does the story move on.

You know what the equivalent scene would be for Mike and El? Well, you've got one of two options, and neither is great for them.

First, you have Mike in that scene where he makes the glasses and he starts to say something to El but immediately gets interrupted by Argyle throwing pizza on the table, ker-splat.

And second, you have the infamous "I love you" scene. Which they are emphatically not alone in. Famously, Will starts that conversation in the first place, and his face is hovering over Mike's shoulder the whole damn time. (Again, this could have been shot in ways that made us forget he existed for a little while, and the show decided not to do that.) But, I really must impress the importance of this...

EL. AND MIKE. WERE NOT. EVEN. IN. THE SAME SCENE. AT ALL.

They weren't even in the same place! Not consciously, at least! Sometimes the camera would show El on the counter and it'd be, like, the tip of her nose and a little bit of her brow, but that does not count. That's like showing the phone in a phone call. Her body is basically an inanimate object that only allows verbal communication at this point. Then who was phone? EL WAS PHONE.

Okay, outdated memes aside, my point is that this is not how romantic scenes work. There are things missing, things wrong, and things very present in places where they should be absent. And the creators clearly know this because those are the rules they've laid out before and the path they've followed since. Mike and El never had any private, intimate, romantic scenes in season 4, despite having them earlier in the show. This is carving out the trajectory of their relationship moving forward. It is a vector, it has direction and force, and it is going straight toward the bitter end.

So I guess this is mostly about why El and Mike aren't happening than why Will and Mike are. Which is only part of the equation, true enough. To play devil's advocate here, maybe it's possible that the result is that El goes on to be happily single because there's so much more to life than stupid boys, Mike lets go, and Will pines for the rest of his days. Sure, whatever. Possibility, I guess.

One thing, though.

You wanna know who did have private, intimate scenes before and after the desert reunion?

Ya bois Michael Wheeler and William Byers, that's who.

Edit: I meant to say one more thing that I'm just realizing I forgot to mention. Dustin's face while he was watching Max and Lucas was clearly visible while Will's is not. We can see HIM, but not his FACE. This is like placing a wrapped box in the middle of the kitchen table and saying "Do Not Open Until Xmas". We're gonna unwrap that later.

[beautifulpersonpeach]

hi Bp,

I want to know why the encore situation with jimin was made a big deal ?

Because i know jimin is a good singer..maybe due to his in ear problem he might not be able to sing well..but all his live performances of face were so good ...but people totally ignored it and just attack him for encore singing and made a big deal of it

Do u think it might have affected jimin ?

***

Hi @minimun,

This is what I wrote in response to the hate Jimin was getting after SMF Pt 2 was released. Please read it.

The reaction k-pop stans had to Jimin's encore stage can be explained by the reasons I gave in that post.

To quote a relevant section:

"...so long as a project comes from a BTS member, the default inclination of most k-pop stans is to hate it. Nearly all the hate you’re seeing for Jimin’s Set Me Free Pt 2 was nearly guaranteed to begin with, the autotune just made it easy as the excuse. I mean, there’s a whole subset of k-pop fandoms who believe he can’t sing despite years of proof to the contrary. Since 2018 (precisely after BTS was awarded the Cultural Order of Merit award), the best case scenario from k-pop stans towards music released by BTS, is for them to ignore it. If you’re expecting any other reaction from k-pop stans besides avoidance or hate, you’re hoping for too much. Personally, I don’t think it’s a big deal, but I do think you need to calibrate your expectations to the reality of the environment you’re in. It’s one reason ARMYs are so fervent in their support of BTS."

If k-pop stans see that a comeback/debut from a BTS member is going to be massively successful, as Jimin's FACE was, they immediately go looking for anything to take away from that success. Fans of SM groups have also been on a campaign since the 2016 daesang loss of EXO to BTS, to assert that BTS is inferior to SM groups in terms of vocals, and so therefore BTS does not deserve their status as the biggest group in k-pop. They often target Jimin, Tae and Jin in these claims and constantly look for any chance to prove "Jimin can't sing". Even Jungkook sometimes gets attacked. After 2018 when BTS and Jimin were further differentiated from much of k-pop by the government, the wider k-pop fandom has joined SM stans to take every opportunity to make the group's status seem less legitimate and one reason they often cite is that BTS is less talented than other groups in vocals and they use Jimin as the scapegoat.

If you've ever doubted anything I've been saying about how k-pop fandom actually feels about BTS, that feeding frenzy from antis, k-pop stans, akgaes, the blatant schadenfreude on display over the clips of Jimin's encore stage, should disabuse you of every doubt atp. It's not like he's the only person who's had faulty in-ears during an encore and as a result was trying to find his key, he's not even the only person who has had a bad encore stage. Even Twice's Momo who made a similar gaffe during her encore for The Scientist, she didn't get as much of a backlash as Jimin did. It doesn't matter whether he can sing or not. They don't care about whether he can actually sing or else they would've seen all the several examples of Jimin singing comfortably and skillfully. The only thing k-pop stans are interested in, is humbling him. Jimin's unusual tone in k-pop makes him an easy target for many k-pop stans who read "different" as "bad".

As I've said before, Jimin is my favourite vocalist in BTS. He's an excellent vocalist in my opinion and I'm very proud of how he's improved since debut.

One thing about BTS that's true for them than it is for any group I've seen, is that they actually sing live more times than not.

It's more impressive for me that their vocals are still in good condition despite 10 years of going as hard as they've gone in their live renditions. It's impressive for Jimin especially given his high range and how he's only expanded and strengthened it over the years.

I don't think the encore stage 'affected' Jimin the way some people imply. He's his own harshest critic for better or worse, and I suspect there's nothing a kpoppie or stan could've written that Jimin didn't briefly consider himself. Of course all the chaos around it was embarrassing, that's expected, but also he's been through worse and if there's any legitimate criticism, the person who will get to the heart of the matter quickest is Jimin.

Jimin is already something of a beast of an idol, but after that encore stage and everything that happened during FACE, he's reflected on what he needs to do to become even better than he is...

...and I'm genuinely terrified for the future of k-pop because Jimin is about to become even more untouchable. I'm not even trying to gas him up or lean into my bias. With all the years I've watched him, Jimin isn't someone you want to bet against, ever, and a lot of people are going to be in for a rude awakening when he's ready to show what he's worked on. Ignore k-pop stans. They exist only to serve as background noise and spectate as Jimin continues to build on his artistry, continues to gain the respect of industry professionals, and thrive.

Stream Set Me Free Pt 2 for clear skin and a healthy bank account.

[greatestwizardofthisage]

assigning each of the bad kids a taylor swift era because i am feeling deprived of tswift content now that she's on break from the eras tour

Kristen: Fearless. I can't even explain why, but to me that album is just so sunny and in my mind it fits Kristen perfectly. I think maybe it's because Fearless was one of the first album I ever really loved, then when I was older the rerecording is what got me back into tswift and I can totally see Kristen going through a similar journey with it where maybe she loves it as a kid but then stops listening to it as she distances herself from her childhood/family, only to fall in love with it again later on. Also I feel like the country vibes fit her well. (She would also LOVE betty but she would pretend it's a lesbian anthem)

Gorgug: Ok this feels controversial but he's a Lover stan. I just fully belive that to his core Gorgug is a lover not a hater and he would un ironically love Lover. Like to me that album is all about having gone through some bad shit and choosing to only carry forward the best of it? And that fits with my perception of Gorgug. ALSO the end of afterglow 'I want to be defined by the things that I love, not the things that I hate, or the things that haunt me in the middle of the night' just feels very Gorgug coded to me dont ask me why. However if you've seen any of my other posts about music and the bad kids you know that I wholeheartedly believe Gorgug loves all music so I think he'd be hard pressed to choose a favourite album.

Riz: Midnights. And not just because this kid never sleeps. Bassically I really couldn't decide which album he would listen to because none of them really fit, but then I started thinking about specific lyrics and I think Midnights has the most that he could relate to. I mean 'no one wanted to play with me as a little kid so I've been scheming like a criminal ever since' is about him. You can't change my mind. I do think though that Riz is definitely more invested in all the easter eggs and firguring out which album is coming next over actually listening to her music. Like he would for sure be among the first to figure out all her clues.

Fabian: 1989 and Folklore. I fully to the bottom of my heart belive that until his sophmore year Fabian would exclusivly be listening to pop music, sea shanties, and weird elven music. So obviously he would love the greatest pop album ever made. He wouldn't listen to Folklore until post sophmore character development. Also he would For Sure learn the choreography for the dance in the background of Dress on the Rep tour and recreat it perfectly using his sheet.

Fig: Speak Now. I mean do I even need to explain this? It's the perfect album for Fig. It's the kind of thing she would have loved when she was in her Preppy Cheerleader phase, but it has just enough of that pop punk influence that I feel like she could still appreciate it when she's older. I feel like she would definitly take issue with some of the misogynistic lyrics used in some of the songs, and would be all for the lyric change in Better Than Revenge. Also as I've mentioned many times before, Fig would love Paramore, and would LOVE Castles Crumbling. Like you're going to sit here and tell me that lines like 'They used to cheer when they saw my face, Now I fear I have fallen from grace' + 'Their faith was strong, but I pushed it too far, I held that grudge 'til it tore me apart' + 'Ones I loved tried to help, so I ran them off, And here I sit alone, behind walls of regret' + 'People look at me like I'm a monster, Now they're screaming at the palace front gates, used to chant my name, Now they're screaming that they hate me, Never wanted you to hate me' weren't written by Figueroth Faeth? I also just think songs like Never Grow Up and Long Live would perfectly fit with her not so secret sentimental streak.

Adaine: Evermore and Folklore. I think theres just a sort of elegence to these albums that really reminds me of Adaine. I also think theres so much vulnerability in them and a lot of the songs touch on feelings of not being good enough for others (mirrorball, tolerate it, this is me trying, right where you left me) that I think she could relate to not from a romantic relationship standpoint but from all the expectations placed on her by her parents. I also think that although these are probably the most low key of tswifts albums, they have some good angry songs (no body no crime, illicit affairs, mad woman) that she would definitly love. But yeah this is mostly based on aesthetics. Evermore and Folklore were albums written with a quill and Adaine is the kind of girl to appreciate this.