#This makes it worse this makes it so much worse sometimes I forget they do genuinely care about each other

[emwallas176]

Sometimes I think Smallville was writing Lex and Clark as enemies masquerading as friends rather than what they should’ve been which is friends who forget to be enemies.

If you’ve ever had a falling out with an old friend, you know that there’s an ache that’s left behind. No matter what happened between you two, you can’t quite forget the happier moments and there’s a not small part of you that wishes you could go back, that wishes that you could have that person you knew back.

I would have loved to see a dynamic between Clark and Lex where sometimes they forget they’re supposed to be enemies. Like sometimes they catch themselves smiling at the other without meaning to. Or they save the other’s life even if they’re mad at them, not because it’s the right thing to do, but because their body still recognizes the other person as one of their best friends and it’s an instinct to protect them at this point. It’s all out of instinct and still knowing the other person even if they’re now technically estranged. And sometimes it’s hard to see the person they used to know. They’re on different sides now and there’s so much history between them it feels like a chasm. But sometimes it’s not hard at all. Sometimes it feels like them against the world again (whether it’s a big bad that they both have to fight back against or it’s a problem that unfortunately only their proclaimed nemesis can fix). They keep getting pulled back together no matter how hard they fight it. No matter how much it hurts to stay in each other’s orbit. This is their true destiny. The words friends and enemies were always too limiting a definition. Like yes they’re doomed, they’re toxic, they make each other worse, yada, yada… but they’d also both rather die than ever fully quit on the person that used to be their best friend.

[vinylfoxbooks]

February 7 - Cauldron  February 8 - Breath/Breathe @into-the-jeggyverse | wc: 1,193

“I had plans tonight,” Regulus grumbles, scrubbing at the table, “But then you had to go on and do your thing, talking to my stupid brother instead of paying attention to what you were doing and you fucking blew up the potion.” 

James, as much as they’ve been trying to tune out Regulus’ anger, doesn’t have much of a choice. It’s the only other thing that they can hear other than the horrid sound of the harsh scrubber rubbing against the rough side of the cauldron they’re leaning into, practically folded in half at the waist to scrub the grime off the bottom of it. But they’re already feeling guilty enough about it, and this is just making it worse. 

“I’m sorry,” they mutter, low. They’re not even sure Regulus can hear it, but with the way that their faint voice echoes in the cauldron, there’s a possibility. 

They know that he’s heard it when he suddenly stops his angered ranting, and there’s silence other than the abhorrent sounds of cleaning and scrubbing. They take in a deep breath and push their torse out of the cauldron. They don’t turn to look at him, instead just walking to the bucket and cleaning off their scraper sponge, “I wasn’t trying to blow it up. I was-” they shake their head, “I know that you put me on reading and stirring because it’s the ‘only thing that I can do right’ but I can’t even do reading right. That’s why I liked to be paired up with Remus because he can read and instruct me in a way that’s clear to me, but their new relationship has Sirius hogging him as a potions partner.” They swallow thickly, walking back to the cauldron but not climbing inside of it quite yet. Instead they take to scrubbing at the lip of it. 

They’re quiet for a moment, “It’s just that… sometimes when I’m reading the words get all wiggly and run together and suddenly they stop making any sense and it hurts my eyes and my head. So I’ll usually ask Remus to read for me. That’s-” they finally chance a glance up at Regulus, he’s looking back at them, “that’s what happened. And you were busy chopping the leaves just right and I knew that you would just get after me for asking for clarification so I turned to Remus. But Remus was distracted keeping Sirius from blowing up their own potions and-” they take a deep breath, realising that they had been forgetting to take in full breaths, “I don’t- I don’t know what happened but I’m sorry and I really didn’t mean for this to happen.” 

“Potter,” Regulus says, his own voice now quiet and much softer than it was before. Yet it’s intentional, “Breathe.” He puts his own rag down on the table and takes a couple steps towards them, “I get it, you don’t have to try and over-explain yourself. I-” he swallows, James can’t take their eyes off of him now that he’s speaking directly to him and not just grumbling to himself. He takes another step closer, “I’m so- I should’ve asked for what you wanted to do instead of just putting you into a role. I don’t- I clearly didn’t understand how you best operate and so all of this was partially my fault.”

James shakes their head, taking that for the apology that it is, “It’s fine. I should’ve said something about it earlier. Or pushes that I be partnered with Remus because I know that it’s better. I can handle SIius’ pouting for a couple hours.” 

“Don’t pretend like I’m not at fault for this.” Regulus shakes his head, “I didn’t give you a voice or listen to you and I made myself unapproachable. Then I’ev just been shitting on you…” he looks around at the classroom, “We’re close to being done, you can leave early and I’ll finish up and cover for you if Slughorn comes back.” 

James looks at him alarmed, “No, I’m not leaving. You don’t have to do that for me. Like you said, we’re almost done and you said that you had plans. Maybe if we finish up faster than you can still get to them.” And with that, they’re turning back around and once again leaning over the cauldron. It’s one of the last ones that they need to do and they know that their back is going to kill them for this. 

Regulus is quiet for a while, not moving, before he finally goes back to the table he was cleaning and resumes his work. He huffs, “You’re far too nice for your own good, do you know?” 

James laughs weakly, “A lot of people say that, but I’m not really. I’m nice to people that I care about or want to like me, but I’m- I can be a dick to people who I don’t want around me, which is actually a lot of people.”

“If you say so,” Regulus says, James isn’t shocked, not a lot of people believe them unless they actually see it, “But you’re too nice after everything I’ve said and done to you.” 

They shrug with one shoulder, even if Regulus can’t see it, “You grew up in a bad home and you only know how to be mean to protect yourself. Believe it or not, Sirius treated us really shitty for the first several months of us living together before we finally got it in his head that we weren’t going to take his bullshit and that we didn’t deserve being treated like that. I figure you’re the same way and I’ve gone through it once, I can do it again. I also know that I’ve been quick with you before so we’re even.” Then they mutter, low enough that they hope Regulus can’t hear it, “Besides, I like it when you’re mean to me.” 

“What was that last part?” 

“Nothing.” James shakes their head. 

Neither of them talk for the rest of the detention period. But when James is telling Regulus that if he hurries he might still be able to get to his plans, that it’s not too late, Regulus shakes his head and says that he’s going to walk James up to the Gryffindor Tower as sort of a ‘make up’. James insists that they don’t need one, but Regulus insists. 

So they head up to the Gryffindor Tower and Regulus manages to grind out an apology to James when they get to the Fat Lady’s portrait. Then he turns on his heels and storms away before they can really process what’s just happened. James stands in the corridor for a moment before finally turning and getting let in, not without a pointed look from the Fat Lady. 

The others are waiting in the common room for James, and Sirius immediately stands up, “How was it? I hope Reggie wasn’t too hard on you.” 

Remus nods, “I’m sorry that I couldn’t be your partner this time.” 

“Mhm, I’ll never hog him again.” 

James laughs softly, thinking back on the past hour, “It’s- it was n’t that bad guys, I promise.”

[rederiswrites]

[read it on AO3]

It had been a week since they’d found D’Meta’s Crossing. A terrible, helpless week, in which they’d turned up no new leads, no next steps. No way to fight back against the vastness of this cruelty and destruction. A horrible emptiness and fatigue had crept into Arden’s every waking moment.

“I don’t know, Varric,” he said. “I just don’t–how can something so cruel exist? Why would any thinking creature do this?”

There was a moment of silence as Varric shifted in his cot, trying to sit up more. Arden got up quickly, arranging the pillows behind him, until Varric settled back with a nod of thanks.

“You know, I like to pretend I have a knack for words, but that’s one I can’t explain. People do a lot of evil. Sometimes they’re just so tangled up in their own hurts, they think they’re just protecting themselves. But this? I think this is something different.” Varric stopped, scratching his chin where the stubble was getting thick. “Solas said they were Blighted. Well, that’s like Corypheus. Like Meredith, at the end, given what we know about red lyrium. I think they were always cruel people. But the Blight made everything so much worse. And if that’s true–Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain, they’ve been Blighted for thousands of years.”

On the floor next to Varric's cot, Arden put his head in his hands, pressing his palms against his eyes. He leaned into his hands hard, trying to gain an inch to think. Maker, why couldn’t he just think?

“I feel so…bad!” he finally burst out. “Varric, why do I feel so bad? What’s wrong with me? I can’t sleep, and I can’t wake up. I ache! And there’s this…this burning in my chest, and it just won’t go away. It’s like I could swallow it down but I can’t.” For a second, he felt himself shake, as if he were about to cry, but as always these past days, no tears came. “Am I Blighted? How would I know?”

“No,” said Varric. “No, I don’t think that’s it. Rook, you ever lost someone? Someone close?”

Arden looked up, confused. “I mean, my grandmother.”

“The one that called you ‘boy’ and liked to tell you they should’ve left you on the battlefield as a baby?” Arden nodded. “Yeah, not sure I’d call that someone really close, then,” Varric said dryly.

“Why? What’s that got to do with it?” Arden asked.

Varric sighed. “Because I think what you’re feeling is grief.”

The two of them sat in silence, the shadows of the room wrapping around them. Arden stared at Varric, but Varric was looking into the invisible distance, seeing who knew what.

“Grief?” It didn’t make sense. 

“Grief,” said Varric, “is a terrible thing. It eats everything around it. It drains you, body and soul. You feel it in your heart.”

Arden sat with that, eyes closed, and at last he felt the bloom of tears against his eyelids. He took a shaky breath.

“D’Meta’s Crossing. All those people. Children. There were children, in the–” he couldn’t say it, and couldn’t erase it. In the pulsing, tangled masses, amidst the boils and sickened roots. In the piles of dead, heaped up by the uncaring hands of people who had once loved them. “All dead. And how many more, Varric? How many dying right now, and I’m just sitting here, and I can’t even pull it together.”

“Yeah, that’s the grief. I’m sorry, Rook.”

“How…how do you manage? How do you live with it?” There were tears on Arden’s cheeks now, but it was no relief. “It’s crushing me!”

“I know. I know, kid. I’m sorry. It–” he broke off, closing his eyes for a minute. “It gets lighter, bit by bit. You go for stretches where you forget. Sometimes you wake up in the morning and it’s not the first thing you think about. But it’ll hit you again, out of nowhere. You just…get used to it.”

“It feels impossible.”

“Yeah, but people do it every day. And it’ll teach you something, too.”

“What’s that?” Arden asked.

“To value what you have, while you have it. To make sure you love things while they’re here.” Varric sighed again. “Especially if you didn’t do that before it was too late.”

It hurt so much. Arden took breath after breath, but every time it felt like he wouldn’t be able to take the next one.

“Nothing can ever be the way it was,” Arden choked out. The burning in his chest was so strong; it was agonizing. “Can we even stop them? Can we save anything? Varric–” and he said the name like a plea; please, please tell me it’ll be okay, but it can’t. It can’t be okay. “Varric, this is my fault.”

“Hey! Hey, look at me.” Arden obeyed, looking up at Varric, vision warped by the tears. “We’ve been over this. If this is anyone’s fault, it’s mine. Well, mine and Solas’. You did what I asked you to.”

“What difference does intention make if it destroys so much!?” Arden was nearly shouting, now. “What I’ve let out–it’s worse than anything Solas was doing! At least he meant there to be a world left when he was done! This–this is going to destroy everything!”

“Okay, you want to talk about fault?” Varric snapped. “Let’s talk about fault, because we’ve been over all this before but I know you’re forgetting. Who was it that found that knife in the Deep Roads, back when it was red lyrium? Me. Who was there when we freed Corypheus? Me. Sure, I thought what I was doing was good then, too. How many people have died? Nobody can count. We’re still fighting the red lyrium. Maybe we always will be. I’m too old to pretend about this, Rook. Almost every damned time something went straight to the Void in the last twenty years, I was right there in the middle. So do you hate me?”

“No!” 

“What about Solas? His ritual. His dagger. His war, that we’ve gotten sucked into thousands of years later. Do you hate him?”

“I don’t…I don’t think so? I mean, we’ve seen what he was fighting. I don’t even know what to think, any more.” Arden swiped a sleeve across his nose, trying to stop sniveling like a child. “I don’t know, any more.”

“We didn’t create all this cruelty, Rook. We just…tripped over it, I guess you could say. Tore the wound open. And maybe I should hate myself. And maybe some days I do. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. A lot of really big mistakes.” Varric stopped, taking a deep breath. “Maybe that’s why I don’t want to give up on Solas, who knows.”

“Varric, no–” Arden ached. Varric almost never opened up like this, and it was terrible to see.

“But you aren’t one of those mistakes, kid. You’re one of the best decisions I ever made.” Varric nodded to himself. “And I know that you’ll find a way through this.”

“How?”

“For now? One step at a time. Just figure out the next step, Rook. It’ll get easier once you’re moving.”

[astoldbysteph]

i feel like people aren't gonna like what i am gonna say but after numerous talks with rp friends, i think it's important to at least yap a little about this.

i know this you don't owe anyone anything girlypop coochie queef purrrrrrr 💅 attitude is seen as the standard to follow not only in rp spaces but pretty much anywhere (especially online) and idk guys, i think this is doing more damage than good. rping is a hobby, yes, but it's a hobby that involves us collaborating with people in order to have fun and sometimes i feel like there's some inherent selfishness and carelessness that along with a severe lack of communication, is slowly eroding the rpc as a whole.

every day i hear a new anecdote about admins failing to take their group off the ground because of flakey members. or people retreating into their shells and not being able to fully enjoy writing with others due to people ghosting them after three hours. i feel like every single person that does the 1x1/indie thing has a story where they plot someone, make a discord server or set up an established thread, and then they never hear from their writing partner ever again. and this ain't cool, guys.

stuff happens! we all got lives and responsibilities like work and school and family life that sometimes prevent us from being as active as we would've like. or some days we just don't feel like writing for whatever reason and that's valid. this ain't a job, but it is a collaborative hobby so i am sorry to tell y'all this, but we do owe at least a lil bit of common courtesy to people who take the time to collab with us.

chats with friends and fellow rpers have me feeling like the rpc as a whole, in my opinion, has a communication problem. group people don't talk to their admins or don't like plotting with other members. 1x1/indie people are used to dropping stuff unannounced and talk even less between each other. roleplayers in general avoid making the first move and prefer letting the other party do the work. like dang y'all, not to be a hag on main but back in my day!!!! there was more of a willingness to talk to others. now everyone is more 'secluded' which i think stems from bad past experiences so we kinda end up stuck in a cycle that messes with everything as a whole.

idk where i am going this but i keep seeing people posting stuff talking about this or sharing similar sentiments or stuff happens to me and i end up making my brain work overtime to try and figure out what happened and what i can do on a personal level to change things and help others stop feeling discouraged and have a better time writing and chilling with people

and also before i forget because my wife reminded me!! it's ok to drop stuff or plots or people and its ok to take ur time to reply. we all got stuff to do or we are tired or sad or obsessively rewatching degrassi or just dont feel like writing and that's so valid. all sane people get it and would be understanding if you hit them up like hey! idt i have muse for this or sorry i took forever! but people don't even do that nowadays and it leads to people quitting, feeling discouraged, OR WORSE, adopting the same mindset. talk to ppl!! rpers are super nice and if you run into a weirdo i will beat them up for u

[vaguely-concerned]

Origins is of course the DA game most closely in conversation with and playing around with Tolkien (right down to the walking talking poetree haha) -- and even more so than most works in the larger western fantasy tradition derived from Tolkien's work that DA:O also hails from and owes a lot of its Stuff to, what makes the game so great to me is that it's doing so very deliberately, and is subverting and deconstructing those tropes and entrenched ideas in some very interesting ways without at all denigrating what it's commenting on. (it doesn't have the almost disdainful undertones of the vein of fantasy that seeks to make the world more 'realistic' ala the more tedious reactions to G.R.R.Martin's work, for example, despite having the darker fantasy bent to it.) among other elements it adopts, what I find the most fascinating is the choice to use the same literary device/conceit Tolkien did in ostensibly only having in-universe biased sources and works to deliver the world through (which I feel is an underappreciated thing about his approach but is part of what makes his world so enduringly compelling and real-feeling -- the feeling of real scholarship devoted/applied to a made-up world. the grounding effect of a good diegetic footnote about source criticism, truly).

many things to be said there, and I'm glad each following game has taken on different perspectives and lenses and traditions to view the world of Thedas through because if you stick with that one too closely for too long I fear we could teeter precariously close to Pratchett's famous and bitingly accurate accusation of most modern fantasy of that era just being about rearranging the furniture in Tolkien's attic lol. and while you could accuse DA2 (my perfect wife who has never done anything wrong in her life to be clear) of many things, that's not one of them, they are pulling on some completely different strings for that one and both the game and DA overall is better for it, to my mind. as so many things in this series: worth staying with and exploring for an installment even if it might get stale if all of it was like this! people are understandably sad about the elements from previous games that they liked which were lost along the way, but that capacity for reinvention is to my mind a huge strength of dragon age as a whole.

(I think Veilguard is coming in as a close second in Tolkien conversation-ness if only in outlining/revealing the worldbuilding that indeed may have been planned since DA:O around the animosity that SHOULD by all rights exist between dwarves and elves in this universe (as per Tolkienesque tradition standards). but doesn't really because you see: politics and the many pitfalls of conservation of knowledge over the ages. our ancestral enmity got semi-intentionally lost between the floorboards of history and you know what. maybe for the best. the humans are already up to so much shit you gotta keep your eyes on them at all times you can't be brawling with each other in the deep roads while they're still around getting up to their nonsense or they'll just pile up even more of it)

[mcybree]

I was expecting emotional manipulation I wasn’t expecting this to be genuine I’m actually devastated this is somehow the worst thing that could have ever happened to me

[lizard12323]

I hate the fact that the only reason I care about my life and self is cause of about two people..

Just, feels sad

[moe-broey]

Would I be proving my therapist (who has been voicing some concerns about my depression maybe getting worse but like I feel like it's fine) right by cancelling my appointment tomorrow cause I just don't wanna. Like all I have to report is that I'm tired and I wanna rest and I just don't really feel like it y'know

[llycaons]

Even better, Jiang Cheng gets accepted to his first choice, and it isn’t the same as Wei Ying’s. Wei Ying didn’t know how tense he had been, until the results were announced. How worry and guilt had prevented him from imagining any kind of future, before Wei Ying could know for sure that Jiang Cheng’s future was also settled.

this modern AU fic is completely not about jc and wwx at all but STILL this little section where wwx worries abt jc like this...oof

[faaun]

any postgrad tips?

i am an undergrad w no qualifiactions x ♡

[mako-island-moon-pool]

You want to know how bad my memory is?

I was writing last night and I just straight up forgot that Sanji exists. I have been watching this show since 2012, he was my fave Strawhat outside of Luffy pre-TS, and I FORGOT HE EXISTED.

I was like 'hm yes well the ones who would understand are Nami and Robin... W- wasn't there one more I was thinking of a moment ago? Wasn't there another one who'd Get It?????'

'it's not Chopper. Definitely not Usopp. And it's not Zoro. That's all the remaining Strawhats at this point in the story. So... Why am I convinced I'm forgetting someone? Let's go through the arcs in my head agai- OH MY GOD, I FORGOT SANJI'

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[orcelito]

currently wondering whether collecting my blades for a group pic would be bad for my tenuous mental health atm

[fruitmouse]

was the only first shift part-timer at my job to not quit like 2 weeks in and my manager said he “knew i was a stayer from the moment [he] met [me]” which is like. just manager talk but i’ve been thinking abt it a lot for some reason

[nightmarist]

so its possible to get an invitation to Raphael's Boudoir and thus play with Haarlep. Some people never leave, but that means some people DO leave. whoever goes to the House is going to see Haarlep and know theyre a younger version of Raphael And that Raph fucks them.

like, on one hand i feel like weirder and worse absolutely happens In The Literal Hells. but it also it feels like a set up for a humiliation fetish

therefore, my proposed headcanon: haarlep tells us raphael is bad in bed, regardless if its true or not, for said humiliation fetish

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

This one goes out to all the bitches who love some good Safehouse Era Horror. It's me, I'm bitches. I want Jon and Martin to be fucked up and eldritch but I want them to be fucked up and eldritch and loved

(Notes under the cut because I can't help myself. Heads up, I do go into some detail of how Jon gets injured so I can explain my thought process for how I designed his scars. All canon-typical and fairly clinical in tone.)

Here's how I picture Safehouse Jon!

He doesn't need glasses anymore by this point, so he should just be wearing empty frames, but I drew this before I settled on my glasses headcanons. This drawing looks better with the reflection anyways.

He hasn't gotten a haircut since before his promotion to Head Archivist. He doesn't love the weight of it on his neck, but he also uses it to fidget, and he really doesn't want to go through the whole process of cutting it. He's disliked haircuts since he was a kid (People: Bad. Small talk: Bad. Touching: Bad. Loud sounds: Bad. People talking all at once: Bad) and since his time with the Circus he's only grown more reluctant to go and get it done.

At this length his hair is naturally pretty curly but he is. Not taking care of it. I actually put a lot of effort into trying to make it look brittle and tangled (I have a lot of experience lol, my hair is quite thick and I've always hated taking care of it. Yes I am also projecting my feelings about going to a hairdressers onto him why do you ask.)

The various scars were a bit of a strange task, but anyone who has seen my takes on The Bad Kids knows I'm not averse to selective realism in my fiction. Easiest one was the neck, I always pictured Daisy making a vertical cut based on "through the voice box". The larynx is longer than it is wide, so I think Daisy would go for the method that dealt damage across the largest total surface area. Yes I am aware that I'm speaking the same way Martin does when he explains his corkscrew.

The worm scars were easy because I barely drew any. There are a few marks on his cheek, but they're just surface bites. I picture most of his encounter with Prentiss showing on his legs, particularly on the right side, with enough damage there that he starts using a cane after the incident to keep weight off his right leg. More research to be done on this particular detail.

Finally the burn on his hand from Jude. This was the weirdest one to figure out just because of the nature of the injury. How do you quantify the damage done to an epidermis by a living manifestation of sometimes-boiling wax that can heat and cool at will? I settled on it being a second-degree burn that healed supernaturally fast, containing the damage to the space Jude had direct contact with. He'd probably have some mobility issues there as well. I know there are ways to help with mobility and pain after a severe burn, but I don't know how much of it Jon would actually. Do. Like I said, definitely further research to be done on these last two.

Hey so I'm gonna ask you to stop and consider the horror of the watcher. The helplessness. The guilt. The inherent terror of being a spectator, a participant by proximity but not by action. The horror of not being able to look away, of being a bystander. Jon forgets to blink sometimes. But wouldn't it be so much worse if there were no eyelids at all? That's how I interpret the description of The Archivist being "All Eyes" :D

I love a good Many-Eyed Jon, so I whipped up my own interpretation here. I think the more he Becomes the more he starts to resemble the thing from the dreams. He has a lot more control of it in S5, but it still creeps up on him and he has to consciously go back to a human shape.