#and I feel I should always open my perspective to consider uses

[quixoticmirror]

what's your opinion on ai?

Hi, so it depends. The general consensus is that I’m in disagreement with it unless in exceptional cases (I’ve heard of CAI/similar programs pulling people from the bridge of suicide through anecdotes) or AI being used to help dyslexic coders for correcting coding syntax. I feel like I shouldn’t talk down on people and will respect it if people find AI actually helps them.

Ultimately though, the current state of AI is quite illegal (it scrapes material from unwilling individuals), but AI will continue to propagate, so it needs to be regulated. I am not going to discuss the environmental ramifications of AI though, because a lot of technology is inherently terrible for the environment (look @ cobalt mining / chips mining). I also don’t believe AI will fully replace humans because it’s stupid as shit right now.

I hate AI art, and I actually hold this stance after working with a PHD artist (she did animation PHD) and even she supported basic AI art because it helped save her time. I felt her opinion of it is more valid than mine, but I still don’t like AI art and prefer it not be used.

Is this helpful (?) or do I need to elaborate /gen Q. I think this explains my stance well. Thank you for asking! 💗🥹it’s 100% ok to disagree with me as well .

[thetriumphantpanda]

new perspective | joel miller

Summary | the summed wedged between finishing your undergraduate degree and starting on your graduate programme just got a lot better when Joel Miller turns out to feel exactly the same about you as you do to him.

Pairing | dbf!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.7k

Warnings | Explicit Smut. dbf!Joel makes his return on my blog, mentions of food and alcohol, Joel being competent and fixing stuff, the classic dbf trop of a cookout, sex while your parents are around, oral sex (f), masturbation (m), unprotected PiV, talk of contraception, dirty talk, praise kink, THE RETURN OF MIRROR SEX BY THETRIUMPHANTPANDA, no outbreak au, no use of Y/N.

Authors Note | I missed dad's best friend Joel so I wrote him :) I hope you like him. This is a standalone but I won't rule out adding more in this universe if y'all like it. I have to shoutout @hellishjoel for talking me through how to make a moodboard so beautifully, thank you honey! If you like this, consider reblogging/commenting/leaving asks for me - it really helps!

Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs for my writing updates. 

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The incessant dripping of the kitchen tap is driving you insane. You’d come back to Texas for the summer to relax. Hoping to leave behind shoddy workmanship that your landlord refused to fix because he would do it when you moved out, ready for the next lot of college kids to come in. If your dad had mentioned the dripping kitchen tap, the creaky floorboards on the stairs and the issue with water pressure that meant showering took longer than necessary, maybe you’d have stayed where you were.

“Someone’s comin’ to take a look at that later,” He’d said on his way out to work that morning, head tilting towards the kitchen, “Should be here after lunch.”

You’d waved him off, barely looking up from the book you were reading, legs outstretched on the couch with your notepad and pen resting on the arm. Wasn’t much of a summer when you were going straight from your undergraduate degree into a graduate programme.

As the day moved on, the heat got worse. Glasses of ice water turning lukewarm before you had a chance to cool down. The patio door open, hoping for a breeze every now and then, but finding no reprieve. The ice pop doesn’t even help that much, melting too quickly before you had a chance to enjoy it.

It’s pushing 2pm when there’s a knock at the door. Reading material and notepad pushed onto the floor, trash TV on in the background as you try not to sweat to death. It takes you a minute to register the noise, so long that whoever it is here to look at the tap knocks again.

You pull open the door, wincing when the heat of the sun being let in sinks across your skin. The change in light means it’s a few seconds before your eyes adjust to who it is standing in front of you. Joel Miller.

It’s been a while since you’ve seen him. He’s been busy, according to your dad, building his business with Tommy. Lots of out of town trips now Sarah is grown and away to college for her first year - schedules not quite lining up for you to see him when you come home, but God are you glad you have the chance now. He’s older now, obviously, greying a little. His hair has grown too, curls flopping onto his forehead and around his ears. He looks broader now than he did - the physical labour obviously working in his favour - you can see the arms of his t-shirt straining around the muscles there, but as you let your eyes trail down a little, you’re pleased to see that he clearly still enjoys his barbecue and beer.

“Y’gonna let me in, sweetheart?” He asks and that Southern drawl hasn’t changed either, low and slow, tickling just the right parts of your brain as they always had.

You’d thought whatever it was that you felt for him was just some silly schoolgirl crush, but the longer he hung around, the older he got, the more you realised he wasn’t something you’d grow out of liking. Not even the fair amount of fooling around at college had helped - boys that had no idea what they were doing, who couldn’t take instruction to save their lives. Whenever they’d leave, you’d lie there, sheets pulled up under you chin, and think, Joel Miller would never leave me like that - wet, wanting and unsatisfied.

“Sorry,” You mumble, taking a side step to let him in, “Here to fix the tap, right?”

“That’s right,” He replies, walking in and straight to the kitchen - he spends more of his time here than you do now, “Nice t’see you back for a while.”

You close the door, stopping off to lean over the couch and grab your half-empty water glass before following behind him to the kitchen.

“Weird to be back, honestly,” You muse, pulling a fresh glass out of the cupboard, “Didn’t think this place would ever change much, but it feels different.”

“Probably you that’s changed,” He talks as he opens the toolbox he’s bought with him, “Got a different perspective on things now you live in the big city.”

“You’re probably right,” You agree, filling the glasses with ice and water, sipping from one and putting the other near to where Joel is working, “And the fact no-one else left I suppose - did you know Becca from my year at school has had two kids since I’ve been away?”

Joel let’s out a low whistle as he uses some tool to tighten something on the tap, sighing when it doesn’t stop the leaking, “Two kids at your age?” He asks, “I could barely deal with Sarah, I don’t know how folks do it.”

“Yeah, me neither,” You shrug, leaning against the kitchen counter, “I can barely keep myself alive.”

He turns his head, his brown eyes roving you up and down, is he…? Is he checking you out? He lets out a little cough and reaches for his water, taking two deep drinks of it before he turns back to the job at hand, sinking to his knees on the floor to open the cupboard under the sink. He’s got his head inside it when he speaks again.

“I don’t know,” He muses, “You look pretty alive to me.”

“Thanks,” you chuckle, “Best compliment I’ve ever received.”

You can hear him laugh a little from under the sink, the noise punctuated with the sounds of him gently hammering at something.

“Can you pass me the screwdriver down?” He asks, an arm extending out towards you as you rifle through his toolbox, setting the tool in his hand when you find it.

It doesn’t take him much longer to fix whatever was wrong, the dripping from the faucet stopping, giving you the sweet relief of silence, save for him groaning as he stands from his knees.

“Maybe time to retire, old man?” You offer with a smirk as he shoves the tools back into the box.

“Careful,” He warns, but his voice is light and you know he’s teasing, “I’m in the prime of my life.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I’m all done,” He says a few moments later once he’s cleaned up, “Tell your dad I’ll be back sometime in the week to look at the shower.”

You follow him back to the door, like a lost puppy on his heel, wanting to spend as much time as possible in his company before he leaves.

“Thanks for coming,” You say when he opens the door, “The dripping was driving me wild.”

“No problem sweetheart, my pleasure,” He smiles, “Anythin’ else you let your dad know he can call me, okay?” You nod in response, about to close the door, “It’s real good to see you again.”

“You too, Joel.”

It’s been just over a week since Joel had fixed the tap. He’d been back and forth to tinker with the other issues throughout the house, talking to you here and there, but tonight is the first time he’ll be here without the pretence of needing to fix something. It’s always the same in Southern households in the summer - each household in a group of friends taking turns to host some form of dinner for everyone else, eating together in the name of community.

There’s a table full of food - your mother had made enough side dishes to feed the five thousand, potato salad, fresh bread and enough green salad that you’d all be eating it for days afterwards. The fridge stocked full of beer and wine and the crowning glory of a cheesecake you’d slaved over for hours yesterday.

Joel is here, along with Tommy, and your neighbours on both sides too. Your mom and dad had invited friends from work, but just like you’d expected, none of your friends from before you left were able to make it - prior commitments of children, husbands and work.

It’s a low-key affair, a table full of grilled meat and sides and plenty of alcohol, but it’s the alcohol that’s made this difficult for you. With Joel sitting right next you, smelling of cologne and entirely unaware that you’re creaming in your panties about wanting him to fuck you.

You’d not been subtle today either - picking the shortest dress you own, bending over to pick something up in front of him, laughing at his jokes and pressing against him at the table whenever he says something interesting or funny - you want him to know that you want him, you want him to know that he’s all you’ve been able to think about since he showed up on the porch last week.

And you think he does. When you rest a hand on his knee under the table after a particularly funny story about his apprentice and a drill on the worksite, he gives you a pointed look, but doesn’t brush your hand away, and when you announce to the table that you need to use the bathroom and cool down a little, you’re halfway up the stairs when you hear his footsteps following you - almost hunting you into the bathroom and closing the door.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doin’, sugar.”

Got him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joel.” You smirk, turning around to lean against the sink as the bathroom door closes with a snick.

“Though you were a smart city girl now,” He muses, leaning his back against the door - you don’t miss his hand turning the lock, “You know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.”

“Maybe you should explain it to me,” You say, looking up at him through your lashes, “I’d hate for us to have crossed wires.”

He shakes his head, but you can see the twitch of his mouth upwards, “Firstly, this little number,” His hand waves at your dress, barely short enough to cover your ass, “And the way you’ve been bendin’ over all night right when I happen to be lookin’, sittin’ right next to me, the way you’re puttin’ your hands on my leg whenever you laugh?” You shrug in response, “Definitely not the sweet girl I remember before you left.”

“Things change,” You offer, “New perspectives and all that.”

“And those new perspectives make you wanna fuck this old man?” He asks, eyebrow raised.

“Is that such a crime?”

“College boys ain’t doin’ it for you?”

“No.” You reply simply, trying to keep your grin from blooming as he starts stepping towards you until you can feel the heat from his body.

He’s looming over you, hands on either side of your body, caging you between his body and the sink. You look up, find his face close to yours and waste no time in pressing up onto your tiptoes to kiss him.

It’s soft. Softer than you’d imagined from him - his mouth moving slowly against your lips as he presses his body flush to yours. You open your mouth against his a little, let your tongue trail over his bottom lip, hands reaching up to grip onto his t-shirt as his tongue meets yours.

You think you could stay like that forever, tasting him, but he pulls away, hands gripping your hips through the material of your dress to turn you around. There’s a brief moment where he presses himself against you, letting you feel the hardening of his cock against your ass, but then he’s gone, dropped to his knees behind you, tearing your panties down your legs to pool at your ankles.

Joel brings his palms to the naked skin of your ass, squeezing before he pulls gently, spreading you open with a low whistle from his mouth.

“Don’t tell me you’re this wet from teasing me, sugar.” He says, leaning forward to press his mouth to the top of your spine.

You’re about to respond when you feel one of his hands drop and then brush against the slick folds of your cunt, all you can do is watch yourself in the mirror as you tip your head forward and wait for what’s coming.

You feel him run his fingers back down before one of them dips lower, dangerously close to your fluttering hole that’s begging to be filled - and he knows it.

“She’s desperate, huh?” He coos behind you, “Practically beggin’ for someone to fill her up, ain’t she?”

“Please, Joel?” You breathe out, looking at yourself in the mirror, “I need it.”

“What do you need?” He asks with a tender squeeze of his other palm to your ass, “Huh? You tell me sugar and I’ll give it to you.”

“Your m-mouth,” You stutter out, “Or your f-fingers, anything Joel, please.”

“Like this?” He asks, and you’re about to ask what he means when you feel the warmth of his tongue lapping at you.

He’s tasting you, lapping at your core where you’re seeping slick just for him, his fingers trailing up, finding that bud of nerves, gently circling as he drinks from you.

“Ohhhhhh,” You sigh out in relief, taking yourself in when you look at your reflection, hair a little mused, skin slick with sweat already, “Just like that.”

You can feel his tongue pressing inside a little as his finger finds a rhythm of short gentle swipes across your clit - he’s got your knees wobbling already, making you flatten your palms on the marble sink to keep yourself upright.

“You gotta be quiet, okay?” He says, pulling his mouth off you to speak, dragging his fingers from your clit, “You make too much noise, I’ll have to stop.”

You hum in agreement, waiting to see what his next move is, which is to sink of of his thick fingers right inside your cunt and to lean forward underneath you enough so his tongue is moving against your clit. You have to bite down on your bottom lip to stop yourself from crying out - if there’s one thing college boys don’t do, it’s this.

You’re not sure how long he stays down there, lapping at your clit and slowly moving that finger inside you, but you know you’d have stayed there all night if you could, teetering just on the edge until he felt like finishing you off.

There’s a whine that leaves your mouth when his lips leave you - the finger that was inside you also gone, but he swaps them again - soaked fingers rubbing at your clit whilst he literally sucks the wet from your cunt, like a man who has gone without water for months. The hand that he’s hand pressed to your ass cheek is gone too - you can hear him fumbling with his belt and the movement of material somewhere along the line too, then, he’s groaning into your cunt.

You turn your head a little, but you can’t see him well enough to confirm what you think he’s doing - lapping at your cunt and circling your clit whilst he’s fisting his own cock.

“Are y-you-” You choke out, trying to keep your moans quiet as you feel the coil tightening in your tummy, “Are you touching yourself?”

Joel’s fingers continues its movement across your clit but his mouth leaves you, “Course I am,” He confesses, “Couldn’t help myself, sugar.”

“Just-” You trail off, a small, quiet moan slipping through the cracks of your resolve, “Put it inside me Joel.”

“Not yet,” He says, “Gotta make you cum first.”

“M’close,” You breathe out, pushing your hips back a little to get him to go back to what he was doing before, “Please Joel, I wanna cum.”

“Go on then, baby,” He coos, tongue back to licking at your wet hole, “You can let go.”

You feel your cunt pull tight and your knees buckle and your teeth bite down onto your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood as his fingers expertly push you over the edge. You can feel your walls clenching around nothing, begging for him to slip himself inside you so you have something to clench around as the hot furl of pleasure drifts like electric across your skin.

“Good girl,” You can hear him murmuring behind you, “So good bein’ so quiet like that.”

You’ve barely got time to recover before he’s standing up and pressing into you from behind, his lips wet and hot across the skin of your shoulder, a trail of wet being left from the drag of his beard where your slick has gathered.

“I don’t have anything on me,” He breathes into your ear, teeth nipping at your earlobe, “You got anything?”

You shake your head, “I’m clean though, I promise,” You speak softly, feeling him press his cock through your folds, “And I’m on the pill.”

He’s dragging his cock back through your folds, letting the head of it nudge slightly at your entrance, “You let anyone else fuck you bare before?” His hot breath asks into your ear.

“N-no,” You confess, “Only you.”

You can feel him press himself forward a little bit, feeding the tip of his cock into your cunt. There’s no doubt he’s big, bigger than you’re used to, but there’s no ache, not even when he pressed his hips further forward until you can feel his skin against yours and he’s buried fully inside you.

“Jesus,” He chokes out, “Fuckin’ Christ you feel good.”

Joel brings a hand up to rest against your throat, but it’s only to guide your eyeline to the mirror in front of you. He’s crowding behind you, hot and heavy against your back as he slowly starts to move, dragging his cock from your cunt and back in, chuckling against the skin of your cheek when you smile and giggle as the tip of him nudges at the very depths of you.

“You look good like this.” He whispers.

“We look good like this.” You counter, struggling to breathe a little as he picks the pace up, hips hitting into the meat of your ass on every thrust.

“We do,” He smiles, dragging himself off you a little to rest his hand on the back of your neck instead, “You like watching yourself get fucked, baby?”

You can’t speak anymore, the angle of his cock brushing against something inside of you which has you struggling to keep yourself quiet, so you just nod your head and let him press you further down into the counter, holding you still with his firm hand on your neck as he really starts to fuck you now.

You’re glad you can hear the music from the garden from here - means your dad has it turned up loud enough that no-one would be able to hear the squelch of your pussy on every thrust or the sound of your skin slapping together as Joel speeds up. It feels too good, you feel too full and you can feel that tightening coil again, feel the clenching of your cunt around his cock.

Looking into the mirror, you can see he’s in a similar state to you, his eyes angled down to watch his cock disappear into the heat of your cunt each time, sweat gathering along his brow. He sounds good too - small grunts on every thrust and a suck of breath whenever you constrict around him.

“One more, baby,” He urges, “Want to feel you cum on my cock, okay?”

He shifts his position a little so he’s fucking up into you - head of his cock pounding against that spot inside you that only you’d been able to find until now. It makes your legs shake and you have to bite down on your fist when he makes you cum again to stop yourself from crying out - tears springing at the corner of your eyes, threatening to spill as he talks you through it, tells you how pretty you look and how good you’re being for him.

“M’gonna cum baby,” He warns from behind you, “Where d’ya want it?”

You have no sense in your head anymore, he’s fucked it from you thoroughly, so you say the first thing that comes to mind - beg him to cum inside you, to fill you up. It’s safe, of course it would be, but you’re glad that somewhere in the haze of it all, he’s got more sense than you, pulling himself out of your cunt at just the last second, resting it against your ass as he spills across the skin of your lower back with a growl of your name on his mouth.

There’s silence as the two of you suck in breath to your lungs, letting your senses come back to you. Joel is quiet as he steps back and pulls his jeans back up to dress himself. He uses some tissue to clean you up, inspecting the hem of your dress for any stains he might have left before he’s dragging your panties back up your legs.

You have a try and fixing your hair, wetting your fingers from the sink to try and tame the flyaways, wondering if he’s going to walk away and leave you, but he doesn’t, he just stands behind you and waits for you to finish.

“I hope that was okay?” He offers sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck when you’re done.

“I asked for it,” You smile at him, “It was fine Joel.”

“Only fine?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

You chuckle and slap him playfully on his arm, “Best I've ever had,” You offer, “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” He chuckles, moving to unlock the bathroom door before he turns back to you, “We don’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

You make a sign of a cross above your heart, “Not a soul.”

[tarotwithavi]

What do you need to know right now?

How to choose a pile?

Close your eyes and take a deep breath and ask the angels to show you the right pile for you and open your eyes. The first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.

Masterlist

Paid services

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT 🫶🏻💗

Pile 1

Is there something you should not be eating? I see that you use food as an escape or whenever you are sad, you eat something specific; this can be bad for your health, especially if it's popcorn, chocolate, or some kind of processed food. Try to eat mindfully and healthily. Pay attention to what you're consuming. If you want to, you can decorate your room with fairy lights because I see that it will help you a lot. Do not sit in complete darkness. Think of being alone as an opportunity to expand and grow. Don't be upset; you can utilize your time by doing things that will help you in the future. Your time is really precious, and you should not waste it.

Pile 2

Do not rush into conclusions and give your decisions some time. You are being told to wait until winter comes because there is something you are planning to do now, but it will be better to do it in winter. All your hard work is going to pay off, and you need to prepare yourself for the upcoming abundance. For that, you will need to release any mental blocks that you may have and know that you are capable of doing anything you want. There is a new beginning in something; some of you may be starting college this year. Your next chapter is going to be really beautiful. You are going to make a lot of connections and befriend people who actually want the best for you.

Pile 3

Be very honest and clear about what you want to attract in your life. Be really careful of what you wish for because some of you are not really considering what you want. You are being told to step forward without looking back. Let your past go, learn lessons from it, and use it as motivation rather than something to get upset over. Let yourself shine; do not dim your light for others because others want to get their light from you. Do not feel guilty for getting attention. You are meant to do great things in life. Why are you afraid of transformations? In my perspective, transformation is one of the most beautiful things. Yes, the process can be painful, but the result is always beautiful. Write down your wishes on a piece of paper and things you are grateful for on another piece of paper and read them out loud.

Pile 4

You need to go outside and have fun; you won't be a teenager forever. You need to see your current situation with crystal-clear clarity. Realize you're actually living the life you once dreamt of. Sometimes it's actually you who is holding yourself back from getting all the things that you want, and you need to recognize your unhealthy habits that are not helping you. Some of you may resonate with pile 2 or 3 too. You are being told to work on your intuition. Trust yourself, your emotions, and your instincts. Stop ignoring your feelings and start working on them.

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 9

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings: some slightly confrontational conversations wc: 1.7k

Chapter Selection

Ding!

I groaned softly, looking over at my phone. 2 unread messages; Jason's daily ‘good morning 😌’ had just come in, but there was also one from Damian. I clicked on Damian's name, blinking groggily, and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. There was no text, just an attachment; a photo of a page from his sketchbook where he'd drawn a portrait of himself and his friend Jon.

I smiled softly, examining his drawing. It took my sleep-addled mind a moment to realize that what I originally took as a swirly background design was in fact writing. ‘Nice line work! But I'd like to see you branch out a bit’.

Damian: Attachment 4:03am Me: You're a very talented artist! … But, did your teacher write on your work??? 🤨 8:30am Damian: He did. 8:40am Me: … Wtf?????????? That's not cool!  8:41am Damian: It's just a sketchbook … I was considering giving it to Jon, but I can always remake it. The perspective is a bit off anyway. 8:45am Me: …. Oh. Hell. No. 8:46am

I jumped up, calling Jason, and got dressed. Jay answered after the third ring.

“You’re up very early, did I wake you?” He sounded a bit sleepy, and I could picture the little smile on his face.

“Yes, but that's not important right now. Do you know which school Damian goes to?”

“Um … yeah? Why?”

“... I promised him anything he talked to me about would stay between us. But I do need to go to his school. Do you think you can take me there?”

“... I guess? … Just … promise me that everything’s ok?”

“Everything’s fine, I just need to get there.”

“Alright, give me fifteen minutes. I'll be on my bike; wear long pants and closed toed shoes - boots if you've got ’em. … And maybe we can get breakfast after?”

I giggled and nodded; “sounds perfect! You're amazing, Jay!”

He stuttered a bit, mumbling a shy; “I … not really … I … I'll see you soon…” before he hung up.

Damian: What? 8:55am Me: That's just really not ok! What's your teacher's name? 8:56am

I threw on jeans and ran downstairs as Jay arrived on his bike. He held out a helmet for me, smiling softly. “Hey Doll~ … anything you can tell me about why we're going to the school?”

“... Not really. I just need to talk to one of Damian's teachers.”

Jason nodded, opening the bag on the side of his bike and offering me a red leather jacket. “Alright, well, this isn't how I had planned to give you this, but … anyway, here, put this on.”

I blinked a bit, taking it. “... Thank you? … It's really not that cold though…” I put it on anyway, figuring he wouldn't take no for an answer. It fit me perfectly, and had a soft lining on the inside. In the pocket I found a pair of black leather gloves, which I slid on as well.

“It's not for the cold - it's to protect you. If you're gonna be my backpack, you're gonna have proper layers on, in case we get in an accident. … Not that I think we will, I'm an excellent driver, but still. I'm not risking it. Not with you…”

I could feel my heart filling with warmth as I realized why he'd brought the bike today. This wasn’t just a riding jacket, it was my riding jacket. The helmet he gave me was my helmet. He'd gotten these things so we could go riding together... “Ohh, ok~ … What do you mean your backpack?”

He gestured to the seat behind him. “When you’ve got a cute girl riding with you they're called your backpack.”

I giggled softly, climbing on, and wrapped my arms around his waist, just like Red Hood had shown me all those months ago. “I see. Arms here, right?”

He nodded, gently stroking the back of my hand. “Perfect. There's a bluetooth headset in our helmets, so if you need anything just tell me.”

I nodded, leaning against his back, and we took off. Jason was so warm in my arms, and I'd never held him like this before. We'd hugged of course, and cuddled a bit, but this felt different somehow. Maybe because my hands were usually on his back, not his chest or stomach. I quickly started having to consciously remind myself not to fondle his abs, no matter how incredible they felt through his shirt…

All too quickly, we came to a stop in front of a private school. Once our helmets were off, I kissed his cheek. “I'll be right back!”

He blushed a bit and nodded, taking my helmet. “Just don't get kicked out.”

Ding!

Damian: What are you doing? 9:15am Damian: … It's Mr. Jackson. 9:16am Damian: Why aren't you responding??? 9:45am Me: Sorry, was on Jason's bike. Don't worry about what I'm doing. … Shouldn't you be in class? 9:46am

I approached the front office, tucking my gloves into my pocket while I waited for the secretary to get off the phone. When she looked over at me I offered her a warm smile; “hi. I'm here to speak to the principal.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No ma'am, but I do need to speak to them.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked me over, getting up and going into the back office. An older man followed her back out and offered me his hand as he introduced himself.

“How can I help you, Miss …?”

I introduced myself. “I'm here on behalf of one of your students. It seems a Mr. Jackson was grading his students' sketches and thought it was appropriate to write his critiques directly on them.”

He blinked, an unamused expression on his face; “I see … are you the mother of a student here … young lady?”

“No, just one of their trusted adults.”

“... I see. Well, I'm afraid we cannot have non-parental figures at school during the day. You'll have to leave now. School policy, you understand.”

I smirked, observing him for a moment. He reminded me of my high school principal; an old, rude man who had no respect for those he viewed as under him. “... Oh, I see. I thought you'd rather speak with me about this matter, but it's fine. I'm sure Bruce will handle it.”

The bell rang as I turned on my heel, heading for the door. Before I got to the main entrance, I heard the man following after me; “excuse me? Young lady, are you saying you're here on behalf of-”

“What are you doing here?” I jumped slightly, turning to face Damian who had seemingly materialized behind me. I put on a pleasant smile.

“Ah, hello Damian. I'm so sorry darling; I tried to handle this matter just between us, but it seems your principal,” I turned to him, putting on my best bored and slightly disdainful expression, “what was it again? … Right, Mr. Cole. Well, Mr. Cole won't speak with me, so I suppose I'll be calling your father instead.”

The principal paled, stuttering out; “the- there's no reason to bother Mr. Wayne at work. I'm sure he's very busy. Why don't we head back into my office and we can discuss this?”

“Oh!” I pretended to be surprised; “well, if you're sure. I would hate for you to break school policy.”

He shook his head, practically pulling me along. “I insist, please.”

Damian followed us, frowning a bit; the principal looked like he was about to argue, but thought better of it. Once his door was closed and we were all seated, he cleared his throat. “Now, … what seems to be the problem with Mr. Johnson?”

“Jackson. The art teacher.” I frowned a bit, sitting back a little. I turned to Damian, smiling gently; “would you like to tell him, Damian, or …?”

He shook his head once, a guarded expression on his face, and I nodded before turning back to the principal. “Mr. Jackson wrote a critique on one of Damian's pieces, and-”

“Art teachers have to critique the students, Miss. I'm sure it wasn't meant to be harsh, but-”

I held my hand up, hoping my expression was as stern as I wanted it to be; “The issue, sir, is not the fact of the critique. The issue is that he wrote it on the piece. Writing on top of any artist's work is just wrong, even, perhaps most especially, when those artists are your students. Your students work hard on their art, and what they do with it after submitting it for their assignment is their business. But they cannot do anything with their art after class if your teachers are writing on their work.”

The man shrunk in his seat as I spoke, looking between me and Damian. “... I … I see. Yes, that is … not ideal. Of course. … I will speak with Mr. Jackson.”

I nodded. “I'm glad to hear that. Well, I think that was everything. For now. Unless Damian would like to add anything?”

The boy shook his head again, getting up, and we left the principal in his office. Damian walked me to the main entrance and out the door before he spoke again; “... You didn't have to do that…”

“Of course I did. What your teacher did broke all the rules of common courtesy. And if he's doing it to you, he's doing it to the others too.”

Jason raised an eyebrow as we approached, nodding to Damian. “He's not coming with, right? I can't take both of you.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “It's not even lunch yet, Todd.” He looked up at me, a curious expression in his eyes; “... You hold your own admirably.”

I chuckled softly. “Well thank you. Let me know if there's any fallout, I'm happy to do an encore performance if they try anything. And I hope you'll send me a picture of the completed piece, when you remake it. It was beautiful.”

His lips curled up ever so slightly and he nodded before heading back into the building. Jason stared at us, offering me my helmet. “... Did he just smile?”

“Yes, the boy knows how to smile, Jay.” I chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of his helmet above his cheek before slipping my helmet on. Once my gloves were on and I was in my seat, I wrapped my arms around his waist. “So, how about that breakfast?”

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open):

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violets @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules

[eveningspringbreeze]

A First Step, Towards Friendship

Season: Spring (ES!! second year)

Characters: Kohaku, Hiiro, Madara

Hiiro and Kohaku: Nom nom….

Hiiro: Ah, I accidentally got some on the table. Could you get a wipe, Kohaku-san?

Kohaku: ‘Course, here ya go. Ya gotta open yer mouth big an’ wide so that ya don't spill crumbs. 

Hiiro: Thank you, I’ll take note of that! 

Kohaku: (...He looks ‘bout as normal a boy as they come when he’s eatin’ breakfast, huh)

(The Hiiro-han I saw durin’ Matrix astonished me so much that I can’t help but incessantly worry away just from bein’ near him) 

(He disciplines in a way that dredges up memories of my sisters… or particularly, the way he made us prepare for all kinds o’ things) 

(He dived headfirst into playin’ villain just so Crazy:B could secure the first win)

(There sure were lotsa things happenin’ in the Amagi village, but by far my biggest shocker would be…) 

Hiiro: Umu. Today’s bread was baked wonderfully. It was so delicious. Maybe I should get seconds? 

Kohaku: (whispering) With that face, he follows every rule to an absolute. He forces everyone to follow them with him, an’ any opposition turns him into a terrifyin’ lad)

(Like say, were there to be a rule that determined that all breakfasts shall be bread, what would Hiiro-han do?) 

(Would he even go as far as to tell me, who’s currently eatin’ rice, to have bread instead?) 

Phew. I got so caught up with these stupid ideas that simply eatin’ breakfast took far too long. 

???: I’m hooooome!!!! ☆ I’m so thirsty after running! 

Kohaku: Mm… no doubt, that’s Madara-han’s voice. G’mornin’. 

Madara: Ohh, if it isn’t Kohaku-san! Goooood morniiiiing! ☆

Kohaku: Yer always so damn loud. 

Anyhow, there’s somethin’ I wanted to ask… 

Would ya rather have rice or bread for breakfast? 

Madara: …Hmm? That’s quite the unexpected question. 

Have you been wondering about what food I like? I’m so happy to hear that ♪

Kohaku: Ah, no, this ain’t the type o’ question that should be thrillin’ ya. Not like I’ll die without yer answer anyhow. 

Madara: Now now, don't be shy and say it with your chest! "I'm dyin' to make breakfast for Madara-han", right? ♪

Kohaku: Who’s sayin’ what? And the same goes to you. Rather than "accidentally" pullin’ it outta me, can'tcha just ask directly? Y'know, "Why is Kohaku-san asking me something like this, hmm?"

Anyhow, I’ll explain… I was eatin’ with Hiiro-han just now. 

So we were in the Matrix project, where this an’ that happened… Now, I’ve got this slightly odd relationship with Hiiro-han. 

Madara: Mmhm. I see, I get the situation now. 

Oh, to think that Kohaku-san would consult me for relationship advice ♪

Mama’s delighted! Moved beyond words! So happy, in fact, that I feel inclined to ruffle Kohaku-san’s head ☆

Kohaku: Uwaah!? Stop! 

Actually, what’s with this weirdass attitude? Are ya makin’ fun of me, ya jerk? 

Madara: Hahaha, who’s to say? 

Anyway. Personally, I’d say that becoming friends with Hiiro-san could alleviate much of your worries, Kohaku-san. 

Kohaku: Friends? 

Madara: Yep. For example… if Hiiro-san were to invite you to a meal, you wouldn’t turn him down, right? 

Kohaku: Well, I ‘spose so. We were eatin’ together earlier too. 

Madara: Then, let’s extend it from within the Starmony dorms to ES as a whole. What would you do if he asked you to go shopping with him? Turn him down? 

Kohaku: Maybe if I had other plans… ‘sides that, I don’t see a reason to not go. 

Madara: Yep. So basically, you two are already on pretty decent terms. 

But what would you consider Hiiro-san to be to you? 

Is he an acquaintance from a different unit? Or perhaps someone close to a good friend of yours? …Try taking a step back to reevaluate. 

Kohaku: That’s true. Who knows whether or not Rabu-han an’ I have the same thoughts on this person. 

Madara: I’m also assuming that, since whatever happened during Matrix, your thoughts on him have complicated since. 

You two may be on relatively good terms, but with your perspective, it seems you can’t quite put a good name to your relationship. 

And that’s exactly why if you were able to get to a point where you could start calling him a “friend”, you could reforge your relationship with him entirely. 

Kohaku: Woah… I’d never expected you to give such sound advice. 

Madara: ….That’s odd. I’m supposed to be your older senpai with plenty of life experience under my belt, no?

Kohaku: My bad. I just didn’t expect the friendless Madara-han to be the one advisin’ me on makin’ friends. 

Madara: Hrm… what was that about me making fun of you earlier? 

Kohaku: Ahaha! ‘Course, I think I can do this with yer idea. Thank ya kindly ♪

Now, I’ll call Hiiro-han right away—

Hiiro: This… is a store selling idol merchandise, yes? 

Did you want to come to this store with me, Kohaku-san? 

Kohaku: It must’ve been a doozy to be called an’ brought here so suddenly, sorry ‘bout that. 

I was just glad to have gotten in touch with ya… but the only spot I can think for bringin’ “friends” is this idol goods store. (2)

Hiiro: “Friends”? 

Kohaku: Mmhm. I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout wantin’ to be such with ya, Hiiro-han. 

I thought of talkin’ it out with fists too, since I reckon that a playfight could bring us closer. 

Hiiro: With fists? Playfight? 

Kohaku: Ah, I’m just talkin’ to myself. Don’t worry ‘bout that. 

…So far, I believe you and I’ve been toddlin’ along on just “being on decent terms”. 

What do you think ‘bout callin’ each other “friends” from now on? 

We’ve even worked together as one unit before, so how ‘bout we continue workin' together? 

I’d never really tried to make friends before, so I may slip an’ say weird things from time to time. If that’s okay with you…. how about it? 

Hiiro: ….Umu! I’d love to, Kohaku-san! 

Kohaku: Really? 

Hiiro: Of course ♪ You’re a close friend of Aira’s, so I assumed that the two of us were already friends. 

But now that I think about it, I never did walk up to you and go, “let’s be friends!”, did I? 

From now on, as newfound friends… I’ll be in your care, Kohaku-san ♪

Kohaku: Ahaha, shakin’ hands as proof of our friendship, huh. What a nice feelin’ ♪

I planned on the two of us just goin’ shopping as friends, but I’d like ta hear more ‘bout ya, Hiiro-han. 

Do you have any other friends, like Hinata-han? What hobbies do you have, and what do ya usually talk about? Can ya tell me?

Hiiro: Of course! Let’s shop and chat away! 

Kohaku: Thanks, Hiiro-han. As friends, from now on… I’ll be in yer care ♪

—--------------------

Translation Notes

Callback to Aira's FS1 4* story, "Novices in Friendship", where Aira brings Kohaku to presumably the exact same merch store. 

Thank you for reading! This is not proofread at the moment, but this was such a cute story that I had to translate it!! ^^ 

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Can u not tag malleus or other characters when u hate on them pls it makes me sad

Hello, and thank you for reaching out about this! I do apologize for your discomfort 💦

I believe that this ask comes as a result of this post, as that’s the most recent post I can think of which might match the description of “hating on Malleus”. You’ll note that there is now a Malleus Draconica critical tag, which you can block if you choose to. This way, you won’t come across it while browsing my blog.

I’ve also gone ahead and retroactively tagged other related posts (although they’re mostly posts from the past year or two). There are similar tags for other characters, such as #Vil Schoenheit critical and the like. These tags are put on posts in which I discuss why I don’t like a particular character. I hope you can use these tags and the blocking feature to best curate your own experience on this blog.

The reason why I elected to make a new tag rather than exclude my posts altogether from the main tags is because I don’t think that it’s conducive to shut away “negativity” about a character when Twst is a game that actively promotes characters of a dubious nature. It encourages us to embrace both the good and the bad aspects of its large cast of colorful characters—so I don’t think there’s anything wrong with pointing out their flaws or why someone might not like X or Y for them. This can make some people uncomfortable, certainly. However, I don’t think that’s a reason to prevent sharing of this critique with others who might gain new insight from it. I say this as someone who has gained insight myself by reading about characters I dislike, and someone who has been told that their works have entirely changed people’s minds about certain characters. It goes both ways.

Even if someone dislikes a character I happen to like, I find it helpful to read conflicting opinions to gain a fuller perspective. I want to give others that opportunity as well. I realize that not everyone may share this sentiment though, which is why there’s always the option to block what you don’t wish to see. (Prioritize your own comfort!!) I think people should be able to choose not to look at content that upsets them, but I don’t think it makes sense for this content to be hidden from others who may be interested in seeing “the other side”, if that makes sense!

I also believe that fandom—especially as of late—seems to conflate critique with hate, to the point where the slightest criticism of a character or content is labelled as “hate”. This can lead to a dangerous area where anything that isn’t immediate and glowing praise is deemed “bad”. That’s not an area I want this fandom to hit, as it would inevitably limit our ideas (although this also applies to all other fandoms).

In reality, “hate” and “critique” are NOT synonyms of each other. Hate is hostile and exists purely to shame or to tear down the content in question. It doesn’t consider the other side or care to ask questions. Critique is judgment or opinion of that content, and it is usually meant to help improve the content. It has us ask “why?” and “how?” To put it simply, hate is “you’ll never be better” and critique is “you can do better”.

In this instance, perhaps the previous anon’s statements (“[…] now I'm a hater. Like wtf. He’s so incompetent.”) are hate. (Even so, they’re entitled to feel the way that they do, even if the way the opinion was expressed was over-the-top.) I do think I was emotional in my response, but I don’t think I expressed myself in a hateful manner overall. I opened with what is arguably a defense of his behavior and then went on to point out a legitimate character flaw Malleus has and how not everyone reading those vignettes would perceive that flaw in a gracious manner. It’s not blind hatred; it’s valid critique and it comes from a place of wanting to see him improve as a person. I try to not character bash because no one (myself included) feels good seeing others hating on their favorites. Malleus has flaws, and so do all the other characters. Those flaws should be acknowledged, and it’s up to the individual to determine whether those flaws result in liking or disliking that particular character.

I’m not saying that everyone should agree with my stance on the Malleus Dorm Uniform vignettes or how I feel about Malleus in general. What I am saying is that not all negative statements made about a character should automatically be categorized as “hate”. I worry that if we stretch the definition of the word too loose, it could become a situation where any and all critique is silenced 💦 What happens when no critique is allowed? Everyone begins to think the same way or has to be fearful of expressing an opinion, and fandom becomes so much less fun for everyone involved… And, worse still, the canon content itself can feel confident resting on its laurels and not actually put forth the effort to “be better” (since there’s no negative feedback coming from the fandom).

Again, I encourage you to curate your online experience!! Do whatever makes you the most comfortable. If you don’t like seeing something, there is zero shame in blocking it or taking whatever steps necessary to disengage. Lastly, please take care to not to overgeneralize what counts as “hate”!

Thank you for your time 🙇‍♀️ I know I probably rambled for way longer than necessary cnsbjwvuwgejbe

[myrtlebranch1019]

Why Davrin is my favourite companion in DA:TV.

With characters like Neve and Emmrich in the game—both of whom are well-written and fall under my favorite character archetypes—it was surprising to find Davrin climbing into the number one spot on my list. For starters, I’ve never been particularly invested in the Grey Warden storyline outside of Origins and my Hero of Ferelden. I don’t typically gravitate toward Grey Warden romances either. All things considered, I would’ve expected Davrin to rank lower for me, certainly not first. But I always try to keep an open mind about characters, even if I’m not initially drawn to their subplots. Surprisingly, not only did Davrin become my favorite, but the Grey Wardens turned out to be the only faction whose writing I genuinely enjoyed.

Why Davrin stood out to me

Let’s start with what made me connect with Davrin specifically, because at the end of the day, preference is deeply subjective, and relatability is often a key factor. Nonetheless, I do feel Davrin's writing doesn’t get enough credit for how realistic his arc is. Everything we learn about his past points to him being the classic "small-town misfit" (in his case, a Dalish clan misfit) who wanted to break free of his bubble. Growing up, I had a similar mindset. I believed there had to be more to life than seeing the same faces, hearing the same perspectives, and following the same predetermined path.

In one conversation, Davrin mentions how his clan felt rejected by his decision to leave. That resonated with me, but what struck me more was the subtlety in how this rejection was portrayed. In my experience, the person who leaves often carries the weight of perceived rejection far longer than the community they leave behind, which typically moves on. This nuance was reflected in Davrin’s journey—how that sense of rejection motivated him to pursue his path without looking back. It’s a mix of choice and pride, and it’s telling that he only becomes eager to reconnect with his clan near the end of the game, after he’s accomplished what he wanted.

Then there’s the moment of failure that every person faces when they leave behind everything they know—when the unknown turns out to be far more brutal than anticipated. Davrin doesn’t shy away from this, admitting that he “got his ass kicked” and went broke. That particular conversation during his first personal quest hit close to home for me. As a Dalish elf, Davrin likely faced additional obstacles, such as the pervasive discrimination elves endure in this universe. His banter with Bellara (easily missed but incredibly insightful) sheds light on those early days of hardship: how he came to appreciate the things he’d once taken for granted, how he desperately sought purpose to make all his struggles worthwhile.

What I appreciated most was how realistic and difficult his journey felt. He didn’t simply leave his clan and immediately flourish; he had to mold himself into who he wanted to be, enduring setbacks and moments of doubt along the way. Leaving wasn’t painted as an objectively good or bad decision—it was a necessary step for his self-discovery. It also wasn’t framed as a critique of Dalish culture, which I found refreshing given BioWare’s frequent criticism of the Dalish. Davrin wasn’t used as a narrative tool to disparage their way of life; instead, his story highlights that he didn’t fit in and needed to explore a different path. Which is why he is the perfect character to decide the future of the Griffons, whether they will follow tradition or the road less travelled. (By the way, I felt the moment lost its impact when the final decision was left to Rook. I firmly believe that Davrin should have been the one to make the ultimate choice, with the outcome influenced by prior conversations.)

Additionally, while the stoic warrior archetype isn’t typically my cup of tea. (For example, while Blackwall is a complex and well-written character, I never really connected with him). With Davrin, I enjoyed that the stoicism is tempered by his snarky sense of humor, boldness, fiery passion and a softer, nurturing side that emerges in his relationship with Assan. Beneath these layers, there are moments in the game when his dialogue hints at deeper fears and vulnerabilities. His line about Wardens having an “expiration date” stood out to me, overall, the post-Weisshaupt conversation is a fascinating moment that deserves more attention. While the game resolves it quickly, there’s something poignant about how Davrin’s overwhelming need to belong and have a purpose makes him the quintessential "army dreamer." This aspect of his character—the drive to prove himself and tie his self-worth to a cause and subsequently an accomplishment is subtle and easy to miss beneath the more heroic motivation to protect others, but it’s still there.

For the Adventurous Misfits

I could write much more about Davrin (and probably will in future posts), but ultimately, he’s my favorite because he represents the adventurous misfits. He’s for the ones who leave their safety bubble only to get brutally punched in the face by life. For those who tie their self-worth to their achievements and set impossible standards for themselves. Anyone who tries to avoid caring, because they’re only capable of caring too much. And lastly, for those who despite everything, refuse to give up. Davrin’s journey is one of self-discovery, resilience, and growth, and it's a story that feels both deeply personal and universally relatable.

[desperate-gay]

can i request you write a leah fic based on the song constellations by jade lemac

Constellations

Leah Williamson x fem!reader

SMUT 18+

summary: you thought you can change someones perspective of love. i guess not

Leah Williamson has a reputation for sleeping around. People use more harsh terms to describe her, but that feels wrong since you know her. Well, you don’t know her; you play alongside her for the England national team and Arsenal. Once in a while, you both have a conversation, but nothing too deep.

Although, recently, the blonde has been approaching you more and more. Whether it was on the pitch during training, in the locker room, or even at team get-togethers.

You’d think she’d want to get to know more about you before flirting with you constantly, but hey, she’s got that reputation for a reason. She sees what she wants, and she goes for what she wants, and most of the time, she gets what she wants.

Now, of course, you find Leah attractive; anyone with eyes should. That doesn’t mean you’re just going to bend over for her. You never liked the idea of having one-night stands with one of your teammates and going back to training the next day like nothing happened. You also never liked the idea of sleeping around with anyone. It’s exhausting to invite someone into your bed just so they can fuck you and leave the same night.

You have always wanted a meaningful, loving relationship. Sure, you had your fair share in the past, but those obviously all ended up in the dump. None of which made you feel exhilarated. And the fact that the player on the team now wants to get into your pants is quite annoying.

Keira and Lucy always warn Leah to stay away from you. You’re the sunshine of the group that never fails to make someone smile. They didn’t want her to take that spark away from you. Alessia and Ella always glare at the defender’s attempts to flirt with you. You three are considered the gigglers of the lionesses. You guys are usually never seen without one another unless you are with your favorite person in the whole world, Esme Morgan.

If you aren’t with Tooney or Lessi, you are most definitely with the smiley gal. The two of you have the brightest smiles and most infectious laughs ever. Both are the kindest beings anyone could meet on this earth, plus, to mention, you two basically grew up together.

So when Esme found out what was happening, her usual chippy personality turned bitter. She knows Leah’s intentions, and she doesn’t want that anywhere near you. People may call her particularly protective over you, but she just doesn’t want to see you hurt is all.

When you noticed her attitude switch whenever the flirtatious blonde approached you, you assured her there was nothing to worry about.

—

Practice has just ended, so everyone is getting changed in the locker room. You are pulling your shirt over your head when you hear someone approaching you.

“You looked quite fit out there, darling.”

You whip around and see the one person who has enough confidence to say something like that with no hesitation.

“Thank you.” You say, looking down bashfully, never really knowing how to take compliments. The taller girl notices the red that starts to appear at the tip of your ears and smirks to herself.

She places her right hand on your hip before leaning in close to your ear. “You always look fit, my dear.” She whispers before moving your body to the side to walk past you. Your eyes follow her path with your mouth slightly open.

Ella, Alessia, Lucy, and Esme all watch the interaction happen with clenched jaws and piercing eyes. Keira doesn’t have the heart to be angry at her best friend, but she does sigh and look down to continue packing her kit. Leah can feel multiple eyes trailing her, but she doesn’t let it bother her. Overall, it’s your choice what happens between you two, not theirs.

Once you’re done with changing, Esme offers you a ride home so she can hang out and steal your ice cream. You, of course, accept her offer, wanting to spend more time with your best friend. When you get into her car, you plug in your phone to the aux cord and play your guy’s playlist in the background.

“Besides stealing all of my food, what do you plan on doing when we get to my home?”

She hums as a sign she’s trying to think of an answer. “I’m not sure yet; I haven’t gotten that far.” You scoff at her teasing smile and quickly return it.

As you pull into the parking space in front of your loft, you notice a man standing on concrete with a bouquet of multiple different flowers, looking confused. You and Esme step out of the car, and you make your way towards the stranger.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you need help with anything?” The young man gives a clumsy smile and nods his head.

“You don’t by chance know a ughh, Y/n Y/l/n around here, do you?”

"Umm, that, ironically, would be me.” Your face scrunches up in confusion, while Esme’s does the same. The man gently hands you the flowers, saying someone sent them to you.

“You just have to sign here, please, to let the company know you’ve received your flowers in perfect condition.” He exaggerates as you fake solute, asking the blonde next to you to hold the flowers. You sign the paper and say a quick goodbye before moving up a few steps to your front door to unlock it.

“Who in the world sent flowers to you?” She teases, taking her shoes off and handing you the flowers. You place your nose right over the flowers to smell them.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” All you do is shrug your shoulders before moving around to look for a vase. You set the flowers in the center of the table and go to join Esme on the sofa. She grabs the remote and puts on Modern Family. You look over and notice a sour expression on her face. Reaching over, you poke her cheek to make her look over at you. “What’s up, Ez?”

“I bet I know who sent the flowers.” She grumbles with her arms crossed, still looking at the television. After thinking about it briefly, you finally understand who she’s referring to. She wouldn’t have that familiar scowl for just anybody.

“Hey, even if it was her, there’s no need to worry about anything. She sleeps around, and that’s something I don’t like, remember?” She turns her head towards you and has a semi-sad expression.

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt. I see the way you blush around her.” Her voice is soft, along with her facial features. You reach over and grab her hand to squeeze it.

“I know you don’t, and I love that about you. Yes, I find Leah attractive, but she doesn’t want anything serious, and I’m not putting myself in that situation.” Esme nods in understanding, and you both turn your attention back to the show in comfortable silence.

—

“Did you see the gift I sent you?”

You’re on the pitch stretching before training starts when Leah comes over to you. You sigh and stand up to turn towards her. "Yes, I did; they were beautiful, but I’m still trying to figure out why I got them.”

“Because a beautiful girl deserves beautiful things.” She smiles without breaking eye contact. You playfully roll your eyes at her and bend down to touch your toes.

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

It’s silent for a minute before the taller girl blurts, “Go on a date with me tonight.”

You quickly straighten your posture and give her all your attention. Your eyebrows furrowed at the demand. “Pardon?”

“Let me take you out tonight. I know just the place.” She notices your hesitation, so she places a hand on your waist. “C’mon, dinner and maybe some sex?”

You scoff at her forward statement and start to walk away. “No.”

“Fine, just sex.” She follows after you. No one is near you two, so no one can hear what’s happening. You stop and turn around.

“How about just dinner?”

“Ehhhh.”

“Then no.”

You move to continue to walk away before her hand reaches out to grip your wrist. “Okay, okay. Just dinner.”

—

It turns out you and Leah only live about two blocks from one another, so when it’s time to pick you up, she decides to walk over. The place she has made reservations for is right across the street from your place. Leah let you know beforehand that the place you’ll be eating at isn’t too fancy, so just dress casually.

You’re finishing up the last minor touches on your makeup when you hear a knock at your door. Quickly, you grab your purse, phone, and keys and rush to open the door. Leah looks over, smiling, and offers you her hand to take once you lock the door. She’s wearing a white dress shirt along with tan baggy jeans, while you wear black leggings with a light blue tank top.

The date overall goes great. When you get seated, Leah being the gentlewoman she is, pulls out your seat for you and pushes you in. You both get to know each other better and laugh at the random stories you tell each other.

Your arm is hooked on Leah’s as you both laugh and walk towards your home. You stop right before you reach your stairs and look at her with a smile. “I had a lot of fun tonight, thank you.” The keys dangle in your hand, and then Leah reaches and steals them for you.

“Let me help you with your flowers.” She smiles smugly, keeping the keys behind her shoulder.

“No, we just met tonight.”

“We have known each other for years. We play for the same teams.” Your faces are close together as you giggle.

“We might play together, but that doesn’t mean we know each other. Tonight was our first step in actually getting to know one another.”

“C’mon.” She leans even closer, trying to tempt you. Your eyes wander at her face before you pull back slightly.

“You can’t come up.” You say with all the willpower you have left. She sure knows how to get a girl to swoon. “You have to woo me first.”

You dramatically flip your hair, making the taller girl laugh at your antics. Her laughter dies down, and she places her hand on the small of your back to pull you closer. “I can definitely woo you if you let me up.”

You laugh again and press your hands to her chest. “I don’t want this to be a one-night thing.” You whisper while looking her in the eyes. Pecking her cheek, you take quick action to grab your keys and run up the stairs. Once you unlock your door, you turn your attention to the starstruck girl. “Goodnight, Leah.”

—

Surprisingly, Leah asks you on a second date the day after. Esme doesn’t like the sound of it, but she can’t control what you do, so she just accepts it.

Once again, Leah picks you up from your house, and you both walk to the unknown destination of your date. She said it’s about a 20-minute walk before getting you. On arrival, you see a bright neon sign saying arcade.

“You didn’t.” You excitedly say and smile at the blonde.

“Are you ready to get your butt beat?”

Through the date, you both challenge each other in multiple games like air hockey, racing games, etc. So when it comes down to your tiebreaker, Leah challenges you in one last game of basketball. You both put the tokens in and press the button to play against each other and once the buzzer tells you to go, you both start making shots left and right. Leah looks over and grabs one of your basketballs to palm it and hold it in the air.

“Hey! That’s cheating!” You look at the score and see she has a few more points than you. The taller girl smirks as you try to reach for the ball that's in her hand. With her other free hand, she pushes against your back to pull you closer to her, and she leans down, pressing her lips against yours. You’re shocked at the quick action, but you stop trying for the ball that’s above your head and wrap your arms around her neck.

You pull away when the whistle signals the game is done. Both of your guy’s eyes remain on the other’s lips, still a little hazed from the kiss.

“I win.” She whispers, making you wonder if she's talking about the game or you.

—

The next date is a simple stroll downtown, visiting all the little stores. Your hands stay interlocked while walking up and down the streets.

In one of the buildings you go into, you see a photo booth and beg Leah to go with you. After a few seconds of you pleading, she finally says yes and lets you drag her to the curtain-covered box. The first photo you take is just one of you guys smiling at the camera. The second one is both of you sticking your tongues out and crossing your eyes. The third is a little blurry because of the two of you laughing and moving to hunch over. Then the fourth and final photo contains both of you gazing at each other with loving looks in your eyes. Soon after the last photo is taken, you both lean in for a feverish kiss.

You grab the photo strip from the outside of the booth and smile at the photos. You start to complain that there’s only one strip, but she insists you take it, knowing you want it the most.

After an hour or two more of exploring the town, she walks you up your stairs to your front door. Your hands softly grab the back of her neck and pull her in for a sweet kiss. When you pull away, she chases after your lips with a whine, causing you to giggle. You place one final peck on her lips and whisper, “Goodnight, Leah.”

—

Looking in the mirror, you put on your earrings and step back to look at your dress. It’s a scarlet red dress that hugs your body just right. The back of it cuts low to the lower part of your back, and the front shows the perfect amount of cleavage. The necklace that hangs from your neck fits perfectly with it. Smoothing out the fabric, you hear the familiar rhythm of the knock on your door.

Leah stands there in all her glory in a gray, sleeveless pantsuit. The outfit shows off her toned arms and collarbones perfectly. You let out a breath you don’t know you’re holding, and take her awaiting hand. She presses a kiss to your fingertips and says, “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

You blush at the name and also compliment her back. She walks you towards an unfamiliar car and opens the passenger door for you.

“I figured we should drive this time. I’m sure it won’t be comfortable walking in those shoes.” She points at your short heels. It makes you realize that for all of your dates, you always walked to your destination. You smile at her consideration for your comfort and get in the car. While she drives, she places her hand on your knee and rubs her thumb up and down.

When she pulls up to the fancy restaurant, she rushes to your side of the car and opens the door for you, holding her other hand out for you to grab to help you get out. Walking in, you hear soft orchestral music playing through the building, along with people’s conversations merging and the echoing of silverware clinking together. It wasn’t loud; it was quite relaxing. Leah and you approach the podium with a girl standing behind it with a smile on her face. Leah’s hand stays at the small of your back to guide you and also just to feel you.

“Hello, what can I help you with tonight?” The host asks in a sweet tone.

“Hi, I made a reservation.”

“Sure! Under what name would that be?” The girl taps on the touch screen in front of her to check for the name.

“Leah Williamson.” The blonde nods softly at the host.

“Great! Now if you’d like to follow me, I’ll show you to your seats.” Leah smiles and keeps her hand on your back as you follow the girl. She pulls out your chair for you, just like she did on your first date. “The waiter will be here to take your orders shortly.” The host smiles at the two of you and makes her way back to the front.

You both ordered your desired dishes along with some dessert to share. You’re both laughing when a random girl comes over and places her hand on Leah’s shoulder, making you frown at the action. The blonde turns over and sees a semi-familiar face.

“Hey Leah, I haven’t seen you since that crazy night at the club.” The random girl continues to rub one of her hands up and down Leah’s shoulder as if you weren’t there. Leah just politely smiles and greets her. The girl tries to continue a conversation when you pick up two of your empty dishes and hand them to her.

“Thank you so much; the food was amazing.” Leah turns her head at you with a smile as the random girl gives you a strange look, but walks away with the dishes anyway. You grab your glass of wine and slowly sip it while staring at the walking figure, but you’re interrupted by the laughter coming from across the table.

“What was that?” She chuckles, and you give her a knowing look. She shakes her head with a soft smile displayed on her lips.

—

Once Leah pulls up to the sidewalk of your home, she walks you up to your door and pulls you in for a kiss. It’s not very long, but she backs away and places a kiss on your knuckles. The blonde moves down one stair and turns to walk away, but gets stopped by your hand continuing to grip hers. Her eyes meet yours as you nod your head towards the house.

“Why don’t you come in for a drink? Their wine wasn’t all that good.” Leah nods her head and smiles while you drag her inside.

You both were already tipsy from the restaurant, so adding more alcohol to your systems is like adding fuel to a fire. Hands are roaming each other’s bodies whenever you can, and you both feel just as fuzzy-headed. Music plays on your surround system around the house while both of you find comfortable positions across from each other on the couch, and Leah leans over and brushes a string of hair behind your ear.

“You look absolutely stunnin’ right now. Cheeks all rosy, hair a little messy. So beautiful.” She whispers toward the end because she’s too busy leaning in. Her lips lightly brush against yours, allowing you to pull away if needed. You maneuver yourself forward, pressing your lips together with more force, which makes the blonde smile slightly. Hands fall to your waist and start to pull you in even closer.

“You’re really good at that.” You breathlessly whisper, keeping your hands on her shoulders as she keeps hers on your hips. Your eyes flutter close when the defender moves her nose to touch yours, teasing her lips at the side of your mouth.

“I know I am.” That cocky personality comes back stronger than ever, so before you can scold her, she slams her lips back on yours and glides her tongue into your mouth, causing you to gasp, which allows her to push her tongue even further. She bites down on your bottom lip and pulls it, tugging it toward her before letting it go with a pop. You kiss down her jawline, eventually even further to her neck. Her hands find a place on your ass and guide you to start rocking your hips a little, encouraging you to keep sucking at her sweet spot.

She abruptly stands up with her hands remaining in their initial place, holding you up with her with your legs wrapped around her waist. “Where’s your bedroom?” She asks, breath ghosting of your face.

“Down the hall, last door on the right.”

You attach your lips back to hers as she blindly makes her way to your bedroom, trying not to crash into anything. Once she steps foot into the room, her foot kicks your door closed, and she pins you against it. The music can still be heard from the speakers, making the mood even hotter. The taste of wine can still be found in both of your mouths as you make out against the wooden door.

“How are you so good-looking all the time?” Leah mutters, moving over to your bed and placing you on the soft sheets.

“How are you so good-looking all the time?” You counter back, sitting up so you're face-to-face with the other girl. Her finger slips under one of the straps of your dress, slowly pulling it down while peppering kisses down your shoulder. She repeats the action on the opposite side and drags your dress down your body, still trailing kisses along with it. Once it’s off, she throws it somewhere on the floor and takes quick action to unclip your strapless bra. “It’s unfair that you’re still dressed and I’m not.”

“Well, you’re the one who’s about to get fucked into this mattress.” She rasps, plunging her lips to your neck to start sucking and biting at the flesh. Your hips buck into hers when she finds the perfect spot and nibbles on it. Her hands make work of your breasts, making you jump at the cold feeling of her rings on your warmed-up skin.

Finally, her fingers make it to the waistband of your pants, and she pulls them down as her lips kiss right above the fabric as it’s getting dragged away. Your breath hitches in anticipation as she flings the fabric to meet your dress on the floor.

“Let me take this off, at least.” Your fingers fiddle with the buttons on her top and begin to undo them. Her eyes gaze at yours as you look up at her.

“You look so good under me, baby.” Her voice lowers almost to the point where you can’t hear her. She shrugs off her top and steps out of her pants, so she is only in her underwear. The palms of her hands meet the inner of your thighs, spreading them so she can get a better look. “You’re soaking wet. Did I do this to you?”

You nod your head with a whine, wanting the blonde to do something to relieve your needs.

“Words, doll.”

“Yes, yes, you did this to me, and I need you to do something about it. Please.”

She chuckles at your desperation and kisses your stomach, then your thighs, and finally the place you need her the most. Her tongue draws a line up your slit before sucking on your clit. Your hips buck subconsciously, but Leah puts an end to it when her hands reach your waist and force you down onto the bed. You bite your lip so you don’t make a sound. This makes the blonde stop and raise her head.

“Don’t bite your lip. I want to hear exactly how I make you feel.” She states seductively, returning to her position, lapping up your arousal, and sucking on your bud. The sound of your moans bouncing off the walls, along with music from the living room, sparks the girl up more. Your hand digs into her hair, and your hips start to rock against her face when she moves faster, allowing the buildup in the pit of your stomach to get bigger. Your moans become more frequent and a little louder, showing Leah that you’re close. She pulls away for a split second to whisper, “Cum for me, doll.”

Your back arches further and further off the bed the closer you get; eventually, the coil snaps, making your body shutter and muscles tense, allowing your body to return to its first resting position. Leah’s tongue slowly continues to place soft licks, helping you get all the way through your orgasm. Your hand makes its way to her cheek and urges her to move up by you. Her chin glistens in your arousal, and she drags her thumb over it to wipe it off, then places her thumb in her mouth.

“You taste so sweet.” Your arms wrap around her neck to pull her down and kiss her. As her tongue makes its way into your mouth, you can taste the mixture of alcohol and you.

Right away, her fingertips drag down your stomach and then down to your heat. Testing the waters, she rubs her fingers over your clit which causes your legs to twitch since you’re still a little sensitive.

“Are you going to continue being my good girl?”

“Yes.”

Her smirk widens at your obedience, and as a reward, her fingers dip into your dripping hole, making you gasp at the sensation. Without warning, she plunges two digits into you, chuckling at your whimpers and moans. Her lips make their way back to yours, swallowing all of your little noises.

After a minute or two, her fingers brush against your g-spot and her lips start sucking on your pulse point, leaving a hickey. Your moans grow louder at the repeating strokes that hit your spot perfectly. Compared to your orgasm, this one feels way more intense.

“I can feel you tighten around my fingers, darling. You’re already gonna cum again?”

This time you can’t respond; you’re too breathless, and the whines spilling out of your mouth constantly don’t give you any time to answer her. Your vision becomes spotty, and you feel wetness covering the insides of your thighs. Your orgasm crashes over you but lasts longer than anyone you’ve ever had.

Without your knowledge, Leah pulls away and looks at you with her jaw hanging open. When you finally come down from your high, you meet her gaze with a questioning look. A smug smile takes over her features, which makes you even more confused.

“You soaked the sheets and my arm, doll.”

Your eyes trail down, and you see a big wet patch on the mattress and the blonde's arm soaked. Feeling embarrassed, you cover your face with your hands and fall back against the pillows with a groan. Leah wipes her arm against the sheet you will definitely be washing later.

Leah lays beside you and grabs your wrists to move them from your face. She leans over and pecks your forehead, your chin, both of your cheeks, your nose, and then finally, your lips. Her eyes light up when she sees you smile at her gesture. You’re both lying together for a few minutes before Leah stands up and grabs her shirt.

“What are you doing?” You sit up with your arms holding you.

“Uhh, I’ve got a couple of errands to run in the morning, so I’ve gotta get home.” Her fingers work at one of the buttons of her shirt, and she keeps her head down.

You sigh before saying, “I know you have a reputation for sleeping around, and I know it’s a mess, but you don’t need to hide. You can let me in. So you can either get into bed at the count of three or you can walk out that door and never talk to me again.”

Her fingers stop buttoning up her shirt, and she finally looks at you.

“Three.”

Still in the same spot.

“Two.”

Only moves one step forward.

“One.” You pull your comforter down, patting the spot she was previously in. She quickly takes her top off and lays down next to you. You turn to your side so Leah can wrap her arms around you. Her nose nuzzles into your neck, and she hears you mumble, “I knew you had a soft side.”

The taller girl realizes she enjoys having a body next to her, especially one she’s grown to really like, but then it hits her. She’s never done this. This isn’t who she is. Multiple thoughts race through her head while you sleep soundly right next to her. She slowly removes her arms, making sure you don’t stir, which, luckily for her, you don’t. Quickly, she stands up, gets dressed, and rushes out the door.

—

The sun peeks through the curtains, waking you up. You smile and turn around, only to be met with empty sheets. Sitting up, you look on the ground and see all of Leah’s clothes missing.

The feeling of embarrassment floods your veins as you pull your blanket up to cover your chest. You feel stupid that you actually believed Leah would fall for you. You feel used, as if she just took you on those dates just to have sex with you. And you feel ashamed. Ashamed, you didn’t listen to any of the warnings thrown your way by your best friends.

Tears begin to trail down your cheeks before you even realize it. I guess you’re just not lovable for the Leah Williamson.

[kurishiri]

epilogue . . . happy birthday, alfons! ˗ˏˋ🪞´ˎ˗

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties for characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— please note that the entire story is told from alfons’ perspective. i also do recommend reading his past records with elbie for full enjoyment, but it’s not required!

— cw: mentions of death.

The chirping of the birds drew me out of my slumber.

And, if I listened closely... I could hear the gentle and even breathing of someone sleeping close by.

It felt warm and soft in my arms, and there was a nice scent too.

(...Surely, it must be a cat.)

(After all, there is simply no way... I could embrace a person like this and sleep until morning.)

That was my thought in my semi conscious state.

Kate: Mn...

But, upon hearing a voice that very clearly couldn’t belong to that of a cat, I opened my eyes.

When I did, there in my arms, Kate slept peacefully.

(...That’s right. Only you are a special case.)

No matter how much I tried to lure her into a sweet illusion that treated her kindly, she would simply not let the real me before her escape. Truly, a pitiable, but ever the endearing person.

She was the only one by my side, even after time had passed like a dream.

(To feel so safe in my arms like this... she knows no caution, I see.)

Kate was always the first to get up out of the two of us, so to me, the sight of her deeply sleeping face was quite precious.

(Yesterday, thank you for celebrating my birthday so much.)

(But...)

(The ‘wonderful birthday plans’ you had painted in your mind... if you knew that I would have rather it all crumbled to dust...)

(...you would surely be saddened.)

Since the moment I had allowed Kate in my heart, who had followed me nearly to the point of desperation...

...even though I had the resolve, there were times when I still wanted to distance myself from her as well.

(...And yesterday was one of those times.)

In order to find a way for me to escape the tragic fate I’d been dealt by my Curse, Kate had been trying hard to find leads,

which had ultimately resulted in a vain attempt...

Kate: This time may have come up empty... but I still haven’t given up!

Though she gave a firm smile, I could also see weariness seep through that she couldn’t completely conceal.

...And, when I saw that, I thought to myself, ‘If only you could fall out of love with me.’

(But alas, such was apparently not a possibility for Kate.)

(...That’s why, I wanted to make her plans for my birthday fail.)

As dictated by my inescapable fate, once I died, Kate would forget I ever existed.

When that time came, if we only made happy memories now, that part which had been filled with happiness would perhaps leave a hole in her chest, just like that.

(But, if there were some memories she’d rather not remember in the mix... even if she did forget me, she wouldn’t suffer over it.)

Sadness, anger, pain... if it were memories buried in such negative emotions, not remembering should actually be less painful.

Even if it was just a single memory, it would be alright if I could mix in something like failures on my birthday that could make her think that, even if she forgot this, she wouldn’t mind.

(So, that’s why I made love to her so much the night before my birthday so she would wake up late,)

(and took her to a place I knew was rumored to have bad food when the restaurant she reserved was closed.)

(But...)

When I saw her face scrunch up when she ate the food, I instantly regretted having done something so foolish.

And as if to atone for that, I ate all of the unsavory food on my plate, and seeing the bad luck persist through the day,

blunders followed Kate, even beyond my control.

As they piled up one after another, Kate felt more and more down, and I couldn’t bear to watch that.

So then...

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: No matter if the present comes out as you have planned, or something has gone awry…

A: Your goal to make this a birthday that stays in my memory is going quite swimmingly, I’d say? You have my congratulations.

—— End flashback ——

Trying to weave words in my own way, I encouraged Kate so she wouldn’t feel so down.

(Of course, not a single word I said back then to Kate was a lie.)

(...In the end, she ended up leaving a mark in my memory, as she had hoped.)

(And, as for me, who wished to make this birthday end in shambles, it did not go as I had hoped.)

Alfons: ...To the very end, I can’t win against you.

Murmuring this as I planted a kiss, I quietly left the room.

(...Now then, I should make breakfast for her, once in a while.)

Out of gratitude for giving me a most fun birthday, and out of guilt for wishing that her plans would fail,

I decided to take care of Kate this morning.

And on the way, I ran into someone I didn’t expect——Elbert.

Elbert: Let’s play a game of Dead or Alive.

That was the game I occasionally initiated with Elbert, a death game with two players, but where only one would emerge victorious.

Alfons: ...Well, I’ll be, this is quite abrupt, no? And on top of that, you are the one initiating the game... color me surprised.

Elbert: It was your birthday yesterday, Al. So, you can think of it as a special game.

In both of Elbert’s hands were two glasses. Its contents were perhaps wine.

Elbert: It is a game between just the two of us. And there is one incorrect answer.

His smile resembled that of a beautiful angel — or perhaps that of a impish demon,

as Elbert held the glasses my way.

Elbert: Would you like the glass on the right, or the left?

I didn’t know if something would happen in this game that Elbert had prepared.

(In regards to outward appearances, they both look completely the same. Perhaps he mixed something colorless in one of them...?)

(Let’s see... to see which one is the incorrect answer, and which is the correct one...)

Elbert: If you do not choose, I will go first.

Alfons: ...Come again now?

As I was thinking, Elbert took the glass in his right hand, and without waiting for an answer, downed the entire glass.

Elbert: ...It’s good.

Alfons: To see such an unruffled expression on your face, it would be safe to assume the glass you chose was the correct glass, no?

Elbert: I was the one who made the preparations for the game, so I am aware which is correct and not.

Alfons: ...You chose first while knowing the correct and incorrect answers... would I not be pulling the short end of the stick?

Elbert: You seemed quite hesitant to choose, so that is why. ...Next is your turn, Al.

(...Goodness gracious, just what is going through his mind right now?)

The only glass that remained was the ‘incorrect’ glass.

(That said, I am almost entirely certain he wouldn’t mix in a lethal poison...)

(...but seeing as there’s no way for me to tell, I can only drink what’s in the glass.)

For the briefest of moments, I hesitated taking the glass, but then I subsequently took it, downing its contents.

Alfons: ...

Elbert: Well?

Alfons: I see that it’s some quite delicious grape juice. The kind that Kate would like, I reckon.

Elbert: There is some in the kitchen as well, so you should take some to bring to Kate.

Alfons: I am feeling fine and dandy, though... was the one you drank perhaps the incorrect glass?

Elbert: No.

Alfons: So that is to say that both glasses were correct...

A: ...the ‘Dead’ part of the game is nowhere to be found. All we played was a game of Alive or Alive then, no?

Even now, I didn’t know what Elbert wanted out of this game.

Elbert: ...No, someone did die.

E: I watched you die, just before you took the glass in your hand.

(‘Just before I took the glass’...?)

Just as I was about to ask just what he was saying, it was then I realized.

(Ahh...)

(...I see how it is now.)

I had indeed hesitated when I took the glass that I had thought was incorrect.

And that hesitation was unmistakable proof of a craving for life that had not been within me before.

(The me who thought ‘it didn’t matter when I died’... has indeed died.)

Alfons: ...If I had died and reincarnated, I do so wonder what I would become.

Elbert: Who knows? But... I am sure it would not be anything strange.

E: As long as Kate is by your side, that is.

When I prepared breakfast and returned to my room, Kate was in the middle of getting dressed.

Kate: Ah... good morning, Alfons.

Alfons: Good morning. Would you care for some breakfast?

Kate: Very! I’m really hungry!

Alfons: Indeed, we did many things last night that warranted a workout. So that would come as no surprise.

As I was setting the food on the table, I turned to see Kate’s cheeks as red as an apple.

(She must be thinking about last night, I reckon. ...How honest and endearing of her, to be sure.)

Alfons: If you would like to immerse yourself in last night’s memories again, I would highly suggest looking at your body in the mirror. For you see, I left a plethora of marks—

Kate: Don’t make me remember all those naughty things we did first thing in the morning...!

With the redness of her cheeks persisting, Kate glared at me.

Such an expression resembled that of a cat, and that was adorable in its own right, but it was hardly my intention to spoil her mood.

Alfons: My apologies, it seems I went a step too far in teasing.

A: Would you cheer up for me? See, I have gone out and made breakfast.

Kate: ...! I’m all better now.

Just like that, her expression brightened, and Kate jovially took a seat. I, too, took a seat across from her.

(The me who ‘woke up every morning alone,’ and the me who ‘felt it was alright to die at any time’... they had all been killed by Kate.)

(And reborn in their places was the me who ‘embraced a precious Kate as I slept,’ and the me ‘who didn’t wish to die before her.’)

(I can’t help but wonder just what parts of me will die, and which parts will be born next?)

It was the day after my birthday, the morning sun filtering in the room.

This would surely end up carved in my heart, and hers, as a happy memory.

And finally, when the time came, those memories would perhaps end up hurting her.

In all honesty, flipping the table over here and now, and hurting Kate in the worst way possible

would, in the long term, be for her benefit.

(But... even so.)

Right now, I wanted to taste the flavor of happiness together with her to my heart’s content... and engrave it in me for eternity.

← main story fin. letter →

full masterlist 🪞🍰 ╱ ko-fi ☕

END NOTES: friends, I think I may just have a thing for the star-crossed love but trying to make it work trope… the way Al was really soft here when he’s normally a more guarded character, I feel proud that he is able to be try and be more vulnerable 🥹🫶

and the way Al understands Elbie so well, too! I adore their unorthodox friendship a lot. (and though it’s not mentioned in this story, I think the fact that Al chose the date he met Elbie of all days as his birthday… I think it speaks to how they may be meant for each other in some sense.)

happy birthday, Al! may this year be full of happy memories for you as well 🪞

[novlr]

This may seem like a weird question, but any tips for writing an alcoholic character?

She's the queen of a rather unstable kingdom in a Graeco-Roman inspired fantasy setting and uses wine to cope with stress caused by the political circus and personal things, and her husband and daughter often criticise her unhealthy drinking habits:

Using topics like alcoholism for a character can present a relatable–and flawed–person for readers to sympathize with, if not connect with. Yet do be cautious when writing on the topic. Alcoholism, as well as other topics on addiction and/or harmful habits, can grow very sensitive very quickly. How far you dive into this topic should depend on how relevant it is to your story and character(s).

It’s also important to consider how you address the topic as well. For example, there’s a major difference between a writer showcasing alcoholism with an open-minded and empathetic perspective versus a writer who is close-minded and reveals shallow portrayals of an alcoholic simply being “bad.” Yes, while these addictions cause harm to all involved (and by no means should be “downplayed”), remember that alcoholism is a mental health disorder. There is so much more at play than just craving alcohol and being affected by the intoxication. And that’s what we will touch on in this post.

For the sake of providing a potential content warning for this post, know that I will cover alcoholism and how it affects emotional and physical reactions. We will discuss internal thoughts, as well as external actions, from both the alcoholic character and the surrounding characters for the sake of learning how to write them in narrative.

Also, as a minor disclaimer, I will note that I am not a psychological professional on the topic. However, I am someone from a family affected by generations of alcoholism and will use some personal experiences for the purpose of discussing how to write about alcoholism, from habits I’ve seen from family members to how I and others have reacted to it.

With all that out of the way, let’s get started!

Internal thoughts

If you’ve ever chatted with me about writing or read other posts of mine in the Novlr Reading Room, you know I love diving into the “why” behind everything. Why someone writes and why a character has this motive are just a few examples. And when it comes to addictions, like alcoholism, you want to get into the why behind that as well.

Because it’s not only the alcohol that creates the addiction, right? There still has to be a reason why the person starts the habit and why they want the outcome that results from the habit. This is how a habit turns into an addiction.

Based on the question prompting this post, there’s already a hint of that “why.” The character is stressed by the politics in her setting. So you want to ask why this person is turning to alcoholism and/or what they want out of it. 

For example, control and escapism are big desires that can drive someone to drinking. In most cases, those reasons are why people prefer alcohol as the depressant to lean on after a bad day. That lighter feeling of escapism, at the very least, is enough to keep wanting to drink more, so someone always feels that way. It’s a way for them not to feel stressed or unhappy.

On top of that, destructive habits like alcoholism will usually display and exaggerate an insecurity the person has. This is the case with one of my family members. They grew up in a toxic household that demanded they go to school for a high-paying job. The short story: that didn’t work, and their sister went through with the high-paying job instead. This (among many other things in their life) ultimately created a setting for them to feel and/or not be seen as “worthy enough” by their family.

Now, psychologically, there’s a lot more about my family member to potentially unearth here, but even this one piece of backstory is already a wealth of inspiration for writing a character turning to alcoholism. It touches on personal events in their life and/or their personal flaws. And we’ll stick to that one piece for the purpose of this post.

Let’s say you have a character that went through the same scenario as my family member. Someone who doesn’t feel worthy around their friends and family will want that remedied, and that commonly leads to attention-seeking, people-pleasing, and/or the desire for control.

And there are flavors to this. Maybe someone is deemed “unworthy” because they’re too immature. And what’s seemingly more “mature” in society than drinking? Then, when they want to prove they can handle it, they keep drinking and ignore the inebriation. Because now it’s a competition with themself to impress others. And now, they have the potential start of an addiction. But they don’t see it that way. They simply see it as a means for control over what bothers them and see an opportunity to fix that issue.

See how that worked?

So if the character, like the queen in the question of this post, has the stress of ruling and turns to alcohol, there’s plenty of character interiority in there to dive into regarding seeking control and/or escapism, at the very least. 

Again, ask why. Why is alcoholism the answer to meet the character’s needs, and why do those needs exist in the first place for your character? And after all that, we can dive into how the consequences of alcoholism become external actions based on those internal “whys.”

External actions

So, we’ve answered the “why” behind alcoholism for a character and how it makes them feel. Now we can discuss how the interiority and insecurities show on the outside as external actions.

I mentioned my family member with their insecurity of feeling unworthy, and that being one reason for turning to alcohol for control and impressing others. If there’s one thing that people who seek attention, control, and are people-pleasing want, it’s to be right. It’s to be the go-to person. It’s to be the best person in the room.

Turning to alcohol can help someone feel more confident, daring, and/or adamant about being seen as that person. But on the outside, that’s not what we see at all, especially when they drink to the point of inebriation. What my family member thinks of has having a civil debate with others or making a point important to them is actually explosive behavior to those experiencing it.

When someone’s senses are dulled from intoxication, and said intoxication amplifies the desire to be seen as worthy and in control, the person drinking will end up doing almost anything to get what they want. This, at least, is my experience. And that ends up becoming aggression for some, even leading to violence. Especially if someone never grew up with a proper outlet or learned how to properly express themselves.

This is why I started this post by discussing the internal thoughts of a character. Their self-esteem was already low before drinking. And drinking to fix that self-esteem now becomes a method of defense. More often than not, that leaves everyon else, reacting in return. Which leads to our next topic:

The internal thoughts of family and friends

As you may know, it’s not just the alcoholic themself affected by the habit of drinking. It affects those around them too.

If you’re around someone who exhibits explosive behavior, is prone to yelling, and displays unpredictable behavior, what would your reaction be?

A person in this situation, especially a child, is often left with the desire to get away from the perceived threat and protect themself. There may be other reactions, like wanting to end the threat (i.e. standing up for themself), but that is dependent on an individual’s personality and their way of facing threats. As someone who experienced this, I can confirm the need for safety. Seeing an unpredictable, threatening person mostly leads to feelings of fear and helplessness, and thus, a need to hide and feel safe again.

Ultimately, when it comes to your characters around alcoholism, ask yourself how they would respond emotionally via their core personalities against a threatening situation like this. Is it wrong for them to be right out of principle? Is it not worth confronting because trying to fix the problem is hopeless? Or is there too much fear behind what happens, and the character must heed their flight instincts?

Thus, those emotions lead to how the characters around the alcoholic will react externally.

The external actions of family and friends

Based on the emotional examples above, there are several ways a character can react externally around an alcoholic. Some people will confront them, regardless of their explosive behavior, and some will quietly hide and wait for it all to pass by. And some will be afraid enough of the situation to leave and never return to that person’s side.

It all depends on the character, their age or situation, their core values as a person, and their relationship with the alcoholic.

But, all in all, friends and family react one of three ways: address it (to the point of intervention), accept it and/or ignore it, or detach completely. And, from there, it can be a snowball effect of action, reaction, and consequences between the characters.

So, if you have an alcoholic character ruling a country, and you’re uncertain how those around them would react, start with their core personalities and how they would emotionally respond to threats (internal thoughts), and how those thoughts would lead to certain reactions to that character (external reactions). And don’t be afraid to dive deep into a character’s interiority and development here to get as detailed as you can! 

How far do you want to go with this?

As you can see, writing a destructive addiction like alcoholism boils down to why the character resorts to the addiction, how that addiction affects them based on their core beliefs and personality, and how that transformation affects people around them internally and externally.

Once again, keep in mind how relevant this is to your story and character. If alcoholism is one of the primary topics you want to address with an adult novel, then you can go as far into this topic as deemed necessary.

However, if alcoholism is more involved with a side character in a young adult or middle-grade story (i.e. the main character’s parent that don’t show up in every chapter), and it isn’t a major part of the plot or story, then I would caution against touching this subject on a deep level. You can still have a teenage character yearn for parental love because of how alcoholism affects that character’s internal thoughts and emotions and how the alcoholic parent is never around. But if the external plot focuses on something else —like using magic to save the world—that is what takes precedence.

And there you have it! This is mostly a surface-level dive into the topic with examples of personal experiences. I reiterate that I am not a psychological professional in the industry, so if you are looking to dive further into the topic, then I recommend more research involving articles from experts in studies/facilities regarding alcoholism (or other addictions), as well as testimonials for further experiences from others. I’ve popped some resources that have helped me below:

Resources

Cleveland Clinic: Alcohol Use Disorder

Mayo Clinic: Alcohol Use Disorder

NIAAA: Alcohol Facts and Statistics

SAMHSA: Children Living with Parents Who Have a Substance Use Disorder (A Study)

answered by Lindsay Sfara

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #54 – The Design of Everyday Things by Don Norman

I try to read a piece of somewhat respectable nonfiction every month or so, which means I’m always vaguely on the lookout for titles that seem interesting and which aren’t either inspiration porn or just some random New Yorker’s collection of personal essays. I first heard of Design in an editorial in a local paper, which described it as a ‘seminal read’ – the basic conceit and title both seemed interesting so I through it on the list and, however many months later, finally got around to read with it. It was interesting, but altogether a more dense and technical read than I was at all prepared for when I picked it up.

The book is about what it says on the tin – looking at the processes and practices of industrial design and how it can be best applied to create useful, pleasurable tools. It is very much written for an assumed audience of at least interested amateurs or casual practitioners, with lots of specific practical tips and guidelines for the working designer to apply to their own projects. For the same reason it isn’t at all shy about the jargon or business-school models and charts.

Design, from the book’s perspective, covers an extremely broad field – everything from the physical structure of a tool to the systems and procedures that should be followed for its safe operation to the aesthetics and layout that give the most enjoyable and frictionless user experience handling it. The book considers its principles equally applicable to designing physical products and bureaucratic systems, and is mostly even convincing as it says so. That said, it absolutely assume that whatever is being designed is being designed by a large, multi-team project with budgets and stakeholders, and designed for sale on the private market, both of which do shape the advice given quite clearly (the entire final part of the book is about ‘designing in the real world’ and about these exact conditions).

The prose is written with the precise tone and cadence of an above-average but not great professor giving a long, rambling lecture that illustrates every single point with a tangential personal anecdote – though my mind may only jump to that comparison because that’s basically what this is in book form. It is not, being honest, ever exactly gripping or a page-turner; this was probably the book whose reading felt most like homework of any I’ve opened so far these year. Something not at all helped by the fact that the field of industrial design does the same thing as every other slice of academia and redefines a bunch of very common nouns to be very precise and occasionally very counterintuitive terms of art (though in fairness the book could have been much worse about this).

That aside, I did find the jargon mostly helpful, in terms of clarifying and separating out concepts. The distinction between capabilities (what a given device can be used for) and signifiers (the implicit or explicit ways a device presents itself to be used) is useful and pretty easy to keep in my head, for example.

The initial chapters of the book are primarily about the theory and best practices of designing specific, physical things – for example, how it represents a shameful failure for a door to ever require a sign or instructions on how it should be opened. This was probably the roughest part for me to get through, just because I felt like I should be taking quizzes or filling out worksheets to make sure I remembered everything correctly as I went – the sections get dense. It was fascinating reading to bludgeon through though, if only as a collection of the most practical insights yet provided by the study of human psychology. None of the best practices and recommendations given – never require the user to input more than a few commands without feedback or guidance, map the layout of controls to correspond to the physical ordering of the things they control, mechanical commands should feel like they have some sort of intuitive relationship to their effect, that sort of thing – exactly blew my mind, but it was helpful to see them laid out. Also interesting how much a lot of them contrast so strongly with the minimalist, ‘clean’ aesthetic which actually governs the design of so much these days.

The sections on mistakes and accidents were probably the most interesting and compelling in their own right. Maybe because I found the examples more intuitive, or maybe just because industrial accidents and airline disasters are more attention-grabbing examples than confusing and inefficient light switch layouts. In any case, the typology of mistakes versus errors (basically: whether you are trying to do the wrong thing, or trying to do the right thing and just failing in execution) and their subcategories seem genuinely quite useful, as do the various meditations on how to make both types less common.

This is also the section that has stuck with me in the most detail, if probably just because it seems like it might have some direct relevance to day-to-day life. Most especially the idea that focusing on how to assign fault or blame is the most useless possible thing to do when trying to investigate an accident – it only makes everyone motivated to hide any involvement they might have had, and lets you stop thinking about it as soon as you decide who is responsible without ever digging into the actual causes of the mistake. ‘Human error’ is, in Norman’s view, a mirage – if people are making dangerous or expensive mistakes at any appreciable rate, then that is axiomatically a failure of the systems which should be supporting and guiding them.

The fact that airline disasters are drastically overrepresented in the case studies used because the investigative infrastructure for them is uncommonly (almost bizarrely, really) well-designed and diligently maintained in the US is also just a fun bit of a trivia.

The third part of the book is about the actual process of designing something in a large organization. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this is mostly about bureaucratic politics and navigating frictions between, say, the design and marketing teams – the offered distinction that design is about making things that are useful and good whereas marketing’s input on the process is ensuring it is something that people will be willing to buy is pithy and memorable, if perhaps one that people on the marketing team might not be entirely happy with. This, along with terms like ‘the double-diamond design process’ and the oft-repeated saying that ‘the day a project starts it’s behind schedule and under budget’, and the gratuitous use of Japanese, all left me with the uncanny feeling of walking into an MBA seminar.

This is in fact an extremely famous and successful book – I know, because this is a heavily revised second edition, and the new material never missed a chance to say so. Having come out in 2013, the updated material – overwhelmingly about software UX, the internet, and smartphone design, because of course it is – is already somewhat charmingly outdated. The additions did include a long and very interesting section on changing standards, standardization, and when it is or isn’t worth the massive disruption involved (including a fascinating if probably not entirely trustworthy digression into the history of the QWERTY keyboard), so on the whole I’m happy I got this edition rather than the original from the ‘80s.

Overall, not a book I’m likely to open again anytime soon unless I end up making a dramatic change of careers, but interesting enough that I don’t regret reading it.

[six-eyed-samurai]

I was finally able to think of a request lol :D

I was wondering if i could get a Gyutaro x reader (female or gender neutral, whichever works best for you :3) who is in a depressive episode and just really burnt out, like barely getting out of bed, not really taking care of themselves unless specifically made to, and how he would react to that considering he’s used to them being pretty outgoing and happy and always doing things.

i’m just needing the comfort right now and who better to do it then probably one of the most protective demons in the series.

have a nice day/night :3

SUMMARY: Gyutaro isn't the best at understanding emotions but he'll try...even if he fails. A/N: I got what you feel, my sueto poteo begurl! Sorry this took so long, I was busy and Tumblr deleted my first draft T_T WARNINGS: Cannibalism because demons, fem reader, depression My inbox is still open if you would like to request for the event!

Humans are weird.

Of course that was only from Gyutaro’s perspective, seeing as he was a demon and didn't feel the same way humans did about problems or emotions. It made it a little hard to understand why people would get so worked up over problems because as a demon you could solve all of them (they didn't have much honestly) by killing or have everyone cower in fear of you.

Then again as a human, he had solved most of his problems that way as well, so it can be confirmed that Gyutaro was not very good at understanding emotions.

But you were a demon and that was weirder.

For one you were quite upbeat all the time, always smiling brightly no matted what. For another everyone loved you, although it might be because the dumbasses had no idea as to what you truly are.

Third was that while demons didn't need sleep you'd been doing a lot of it lately. That was weird even for you, someone not strong enough to be a demon of importance but not so weak as to be one of those filthy humans.

Come to think of it you weren't just sleeping a lot. He'd barely seen you around but Gyutaro had assumed that was because he had been out a lot of nights hunting, until he realized watching through Daki’s mind that you barely left your room and rarely did anything anymore. If you did it was only because the mistress was bugging you or you were specifically requested. And when you spoke it was a dull monotone of absolute obedience.

You used to be such a pretty little bird! A canary that delighted everyone, especially himself, with your lilting voice and sweet words. Then you became some peculiar nocturnal creature and Gyutaro found that he did not quite like all ugly, dirty things in the dust after all.

But it'd be a lie to say Gyutaro had noticed the change in your behaviour the last few days. No, it had been Daki, something he was ashamed to admit. She had remarked upon your disappearance and had just about thrown him out of the room when he said he didn't notice anything, huffing that you probably were going to think he no longer wanted you.

Idiot, Gyutaro cursed himself, and suddenly was reminded of the first night at the beginning when crush became confession.

“You're mine,” he'd hissed, and tucked away in his protective hold you had laughed lightly and agreed if he'd be yours in exchange.

You were his and Gyutaro took care of his most precious things. VERY good care of his things.

***

It's been a while since he entered your room.

Gyutaro hunkered down beside you, curious and confused. Your blankets were strewn all over the place and your head was buried under a mound of pillows; it was obvious that you hadn't moved in hours. A skeletal hand hovered above your shoulder, unsure if he should awaken you…or if you are even sleeping. You looked rather unhappy even relaxed.

“Gyutaro.” Your eyes cracked open, his name a statement rather than a question, but there was some surprise in your tone nevertheless.

Gyutaro did not like the look of you, for you looked dead but not in complexion - rather the dimness of the life spark that he had enjoyed watching snuffed out when he killed. He grunted in reply, eyeing you suspiciously. “I haven't seen you in a while.”

“I suppose you haven't.” Your shoulders sagged. “I'm sorry, I'm kind of tired tonight. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Tired?” Gyutaro recoiled sharply, hurt and a little mad. “You…don't want to see me?”

“No. I just meant tomorrow.” You struggled to muster a smile but he snarled at no one in particular, nails gouging into the wooden floor, before he was gone in a flash.

Clearly something must be bothering you, Gyutaro reasoned to himself as he made his way back to Daki’s room. Something that must be affecting your energy and mood. You couldn't possibly be fed up with him, were you?

No, you promised!

There must be something else, something else the cause of your problems. Whatever it was Gyutaro would get rid of it, preferably painfully, but first he would have to watch you keenly.

It wasn't spying, not technically, when he was only trying to look out for you and after a few days Gyutaro finally came up with an answer. For whatever reason you hadn't left the house to hunt and so you must be starved of a good meal, he concluded. People loved you, thinking you were just an ordinary human, so perhaps the mistress was adding more to your workload or you couldn’t say no to accompanying one of the girls during the night. Easy, he could remedy that! Especially when he found the two guys who had disrespected you oh so badly not too long ago.

He lugged the two corpses back to your room, getting through the window quite effortlessly. You were awake this time, he was happy to find, and picking at the knots in your hair in front of your vanity, your brush lying forgotten on the ground.

You frowned, though. Not what he was expecting. “What…is that?”

“For you….to eat.” Gyutaro scrunched up his eyebrows, baffled when you made no move towards it. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Your shoulders sagged again. Uncertainly your hand reached out and patted his hair briefly before withdrawing. “…I already ate, Gyutaro, and it’s not hunger that’s bothering me.”

“…it’s me, isn’t it? Do - have you found someone else?” Gyutaro began to panic and rage. “I’ll kill him! Who is he? Is he handsome? NEEEH! I’ll do better, I swear, I’m sorry I’m so ugly-”

“No! Not like that!” Your hands shot out again to assure him, but it only lasted a few moments. “I’m just…tired. I’ll be alright in a few days but I don’t really have the energy to see people right now.”

“You…don’t want to see me?”

“No, that’s not what I-”

Gyutaro’s nails gouged into his cheeks this time as he disappeared out of your room, disappointed.

***

Daki didn’t want the humans either.

“EW! BROTHER, WHY WOULD YOU BRING BACK SUCH UGLY PEOPLE! I’M NOT GOING TO EAT THEM! THEY’RE JUST GONNA TAKE UP SPACE IN MY OBI AS WELL!” Daki would’ve kicked them away from her if her dress hadn’t hampered her movements. Gyutaro growled under his breath but began to eat them himself. “Why don’t you give them to (y/n) ? She usually eats ugly things like these.”

“Shut up already!”

“Hey, I saw you coming out of her room just now, did you-”

“I SAID SHUT UP!”

“Someone’s touchy,” Daki sighed, rolling her eyes. “Did she reject them?”

Rejected me, more like, Gyutaro grumbled to himself. He looked up from his meal, considering things. Daki was a girl and your friend (sort of), perhaps she’d know what was wrong with you. “She’s been weird lately. Doesn’t eat much and shit. Why?”

“You gotta finish your story first!”

“I dunno alright! She just spends her time either in bed or asleep, doesn’t do anything unless you ask her, doesn’t even wanna see or talk to me since a few days ago!” Gyutaro threw a bone across the room in frustration. “It’s like she’s kinda unhappy. Did something happen?”

“Kinda unhappy? Now that I think of it she got assigned to the new oiran a few days ago and she treats the girls worse than I do honestly.” Daki suddenly sat up straighter. She’d finish doing her lipstick and now she looked ready to chuck it at her brother. “Did you not notice? Oh my god, you’re so dense! She’s unhappy and you didn’t do a thing about it!”

“WHAT?!”

She did throw it at him. “Go comfort your precious girl in her depressive episode, you stupid dumbass! Honestly, I’m a demon and even I understand emotions better than you.”

***

It seemed like no matter how nice you try to be some girl’s always laughing at you behind her fan and due to the shortage of girls in the house (you suspected to be caused by Daki, but you had your fair share as well) the mistress had been pressuring you to work harder for the new oiran and nothing was to her satisfaction.

Every minor accident magnified tenfold and every day it felt like you were on the verge of tears or…actually, absolute numbness. You didn’t want to care anymore, so despite not needing it anymore you started spending more of your time asleep than awake, eating the minimum to live. Why did you live anyway? Probably because you were too afraid of what happened after.

And you still wanted to hang around to be with Gyutaro…even if he hurt you with his apparent indifference to your current situation.

Everybody was indifferent, in fact. The truth was nobody cared. Nobody was going to come into your room and ask if you were alright, for everyone was too caught up in their problems.

Well, except for whoever’s hand it was that suddenly grabbed you.

Your eyes shot open at once and you grabbed on tightly to the familiar person now carrying your oddly gently, bridal-style, out of your bedroom via the window and climbing upwards agilely. A very familiar someone with a skeletal body frame, an untidy mop of green hair and grey, spotted skin.

“Gyutaro?!” Your voice should’ve been hoarse from the lack of use and water but instead the yelp came out louder and clearer than intended. “What are you doing?!”

He didn’t answer, only set you down on top of the rooftop carefully and settled down next to you awkwardly, scratching away at his neck and arm. Gyutaro nodded upwards. “Just watch.”

And the sky exploded into millions of colors.

“…a fireworks show?” It’s been a while since you’ve smiled, but the way your mouth hung open and widened at the same time couldn’t be helped as you gazed at the vibrant sparks shooting up. Your hand, out of habit, inched closer to his and intertwined fingers. You were startled when he yanked you against him, almost in a cuddling position, but pleased.

“Daki told me. Thought I’d take you to see it since you won’t leave your room otherwise.” Gyutaro seemed to be steeling himself for something, scratching harder. “…you can tell me if you have problems, y’know? I won’t get it but Daki’s a girl and I’ll…try.”

It’s been a while since you actually broke down, let a few tears fall and have someone tuck you closer to hold and comfort while you poured your heart out like a flood after the dam breaks down. It felt good. Gyutaro listened and he was good at it, not punctuating it with blunt “I could go kill thems” or turning away stiffly saying he didn’t understand you and your emotions like he used to, like you thought he would. Occasionally he’d squeeze your hand tight when one particularly loud and beautiful firework went off.

It was…he really knew how to make things better, huh?

“Thanks…” You pressed your head into the bony crook of his neck. “For this. Feel free to kidnap me anytime for a fireworks show, I guess.”

“I’ll take you to a better one next time. And I didn’t kidnap you!”

Ah, that laugh. How he missed hearing it, even over the boom of the sparklers.

The pretty little bird was back and quite surprisingly Gyutaro discovered he could still feel after all: relief and…affection for you.

[scoobydoodean]

Made a similar post before but... I think people in their minds actually revise 2.03 Bloodlust to be this episode where Sam is on this "Monsters can be good" train before he ever gets kidnapped by Lenore and he then is burdened with the task of convincing poor stupid idiot Dean who isn't as open-minded and rational as he is to think for just one second and then at the end of the episode, pats him on the head and tells him not to feel guilty about it when he finally becomes enlightened like Sam has always been but that is not how that episode goes.

Sam's immediate reaction to the alleged existence of good vampires is not any different from Dean's. He immediately rejects the idea that the vampires aren't hurting anyone, and throughout his entire conversation with Lenore, refuses to believe her until she goes, "Fine. I'll let you go to prove it to you" which rocks his whole ass world.

Face of man having his whole worldview toppled sideways and having to figure out how to adapt:

So yeah after this Sam and Dean get into a 2 minute fight about it which turns into a completely different conversation because Sam decides for the third time in three episodes to try and pretend he's Dean's therapist then (badly) psychoanalyze him about how Gordon is a substitute for their dad and it (shocker) doesn't go well. But then Gordon steals the car and the moment Sam and Dean walk into the room where Gordon is torturing Lenore, Dean's feelings about the entire thing happening in front of him are "This is bad. This is very bad."

The SECOND he enters the room Dean picks a side, and it isn't Gordon's.

Just like Lenore "proved" her goodness to Sam by letting him go, she "proves" her goodness to Dean by resisting the temptation to consume Sam's blood... but Dean started defending Lenore and trying to get Gordon to back off the moment he entered the room.

Dean is also much more thoughtful about where this leaves him and Sam in terms of their past hunts while Sam doesn't consider the past at all?

Istg people rewrite this scene in their minds to be Sam approaching the whole thing from the perspective of someone who was already "enlightened"... but he wasn't. He was equally shocked by the revelation of good vampires possibly existing in this episode. He just doesn't bother to also consider the implications as far as any previous case they've ever been on. He doesn't feel any guilt about it he just lets it go with a shrug and Dean doesn't.

Add to this that in 1.12, Sam was the one with the hardline stance that they couldn't kill humans—ones who would get away with their crimes because they committed them by supernatural means—and that doing so would make them "just as bad" as the things they hunt. The only difference between a human using a reaper to murder people for clout, and a monster murdering people, is the physical characteristics of the monster versus the human. Dean sees a human using a reaper to murder people for clout and says, "they're a monster in my book". He argues they should take care of it because of the human's actions—otherwise there will be no repercussions for the human involved, while Sam draws a hard line that they can't kill a human simply because they're human and for no other reason. This is also crunchy in terms of how it might relate to Sam's eventual feelings about his inner nature making him evil, versus Dean's actions-based analysis.

Sam has a lot of compassion for Max in 1.14, but it's gone by 2.05 when his reaction to Andy is to immediately assume he's a murderer while Dean rightfully thinks there's something else possibly going on... and that's two episodes after 2.03 Bloodlust.

[evil-marco]

welcome to my blog. here i bitch about stupid people. come one, come all.

short overview: hey i'm marco. im a person with dissociative identity disorder. i use any pronouns, and i'm an adult. if you don't like me, block me! it's not my job to be internet friendly. it's your job to police your internet consumption. peace and love. (i know this sounds sarcastic but i'm being /srs. if you do not like the content tumblr is showing you, curate it. there's no use getting offended over it, or upset. either listen & learn or move on. i genuinely don't care which.)

as mentioned before, i'm marco (or, if you want, apple (not orange (which is a surprise considering the theme i chose))). i have DID. alters will reveal themselves if they want to. as an overview, i have 7-8. i dont believe in emoji signoffs—i have a name and i will use it.

always feel free to send asks about DID or system shit. i love correcting misinformation—if you need help finding good resources, i'm majoring in english and would love to help you find credible ones. i am also down to debate syscourse at any point. don't straight up call me a slur though you will just get clowned on.

i am like your friendly neighborhood spiderman except i'm not friendly or spiderman and instead just really don't like people faking dissociative disorders. that's about it.

no DNI because that's cringe & not how real life works, but if you believe in the following and feel strongly about it, you might want to block me. i also feel strongly about it and i guarantee you i'm more stubborn:

₊　endo systems. tulpa systems. any system that is not disordered. any of that "mixed origins" bullshit. i think you guys should get back into kinning.

₊　people who think you can be a completely binary man and a lesbian. [insert loud incorrect buzzer here]

₊　similarly, people who think you can be a completely binary woman and be mlm [insert equally loud incorrect buzzer here]

₊　those people who take shipping too seriously. do not tell me to kms because i don't ship your favs.

₊　systems who think systems should get special treatment for the sake of special treatment. you do not need pluralkit in every server ever. shut up

₊　people who refuse to debate your beliefs. you are stagnant. one day the world will move on without you and you will be the reason why.

₊　if you're being nsfw in my notifs i'll block you. idc about your blog (so feel free to interact/like/reblog with a sfw caption) but if i have to see it i will avoid it! much love to the nsfw bloggers but not my cup of tea

₊　generally just have common sense and we'll get along!

inbox / askbox are open ! i love education & debates, and will absolutely explain my perspective most things.

[solar-wing]

Please, stop using ai in your writing 🥺👉👈

so here's the thing...and for context sake for me, I'm gonna assume you're the person who asked me before if I use AI in my writing.

Once again:

note where I said what I use it for! Proofreading my drafts, structuring my outlines, and helping me find words and phrases. for example...

or...

Trust and believe me, I have my fair use of looking up synonyms and phrases online outside of AI. Just look at my bookmarks.

Now, I want to take this moment to address something about my use of AI in my writing. For me, AI has become a tool that has helped me in my productivity. It removes some of the mundane and time-consuming aspects of the writing process, allowing me to channel more of my creative energy into crafting better stories.

I fully understand that everyone has their own perspective on this topic. Some choose to use AI, while others avoid it entirely, and I respect both positions. I also recognize the moral and ethical concerns some have about AI. However, the way I use it does not harm others or have a negative impact outside my platform. If I ever saw clear, concrete evidence that using AI was genuinely detrimental to authors as a whole, I'd 100% reconsider my use of it. But so far, I’ve mostly encountered personal opinions and feelings on the matter. While those feelings are valid, they remain just that—personal.

(EDIT:)

(Something to also consider, I have an Apple Laptop, a MacBook, and with their new features releases this year, specifically the Apple Intelligence, AI is quite literally built into my phone and laptop. So, again, if’s a tool that is available for me to use and it actually helps me, and it’s not harming others with my use or its use in general, then I will take advantage of it.)

What I take issue with is when those opinions are pushed onto me, especially when I haven’t asked for them and they’re delivered anonymously.

Now, let me be clear: I’m open to discussing this topic further if anyone has additional information they believe I should consider, but I prefer those conversations happen in private, not through my public inbox. My DMs are open for that kind of dialogue, and I promise those conversations will remain 100% confidential.

That said, this is the last time I will address this topic publicly. I’m always willing to hear feedback, but when it comes to questions about the tools and resources I use to create my work, I draw the line. I want this platform to remain a space for creativity, joy, and connection—not debates over personal tools.

To be clear, my inbox—especially the anonymous feature—is intended for discussions about stories, characters, requests, and similar topics. It is not the place for critiques of how I choose to create. I don’t want to feel forced into disabling it because of misplaced discussions.

If you’d like to share your thoughts or feedback with me privately, my DMs are open. Otherwise, I ask that we keep the focus on the stories and characters we all enjoy. At the end of the day, writing is something I’ve loved doing for as long as I can remember, and AI is just one of many tools I use to make that process more efficient. It’s not something I rely on, but it does help me, and it’s not something I feel the need to constantly justify. If AI disappeared tomorrow, I would still create stories—because that’s what I’ve always done, and that’s what I will continue to do.

Thank you for understanding, and let’s keep this space positive and fun for everyone.

Thank youuuu💛

[otori0]

Ho, Bam and consequences | ToG rant

SPOILERS AHEAD !!!

Disclaimer - I'm reading the manhwa at the same pace I watch the anime so I won't miss anything, and I'm enjoying both equally, I think there's value in both of them. Both will be referenced on this post. Also I haven't finished S1 yet so of course I'm open to changing my mind later on. I might also write a full analysis later on (probably on Ho because as you can see I'm very invested in his writing...such a shame he had little screentime). Additionally, this was written on discord so it's not as fleshed out and coherent as my usual posts.

I loved episode 9 of the anime to death. I loved it, but it feels to me like Ho's death had more weight narratively than for the characters. Especially, I expected his exchange with Bam and Rachel to affect them a lot more than it did, at least so far. Ho's death is important to the narrative because it showcases the gap between the powerful and the powerless, the chosen and the failures, in a more extreme way than the previous dropouts had. Ho's immediate response to his (very naive) plan failing is to kill himself, which hints that he might have thought about it beforehand- Ho saw his plan as his last chance to regain some self-esteem, pride and to show himself that he isn't wrong (and of course, to pass the test). This episode also strengthens Endorsis' despair to survive and aim higher, Khun's arrogance, and in general gives us a more empathetic view of how it feels to climb the tower for a Regular. I think Ho should have lived a bit longer and actually faced his plan failing (might actually write a fic about this), but it's something that would have happened sooner or later to someone, and a pivotal moment that involve two of the most important characters Bam and Rachel and also forces them to interact. At least, that's how it feels, that it should have been pivotal.

It undeniably is, but I can't help but feel that it should have affected specifically Bam more, especially the things Ho says to him. Him saying that the friend list is just lip-service and never meant anything to him should make Bam question the rest of his friends. It's one of the first times, if not the first, that Bam is directly confronted with someone lying to him like that, spitting on his good intentions, and showing him the darker side of people and the tower. Ho directly blaming him (''It's your fault for showing off your power'') should make Bam doubt himself and his power. Ho telling Bam that he's a monster, that he's going to become the same as the one who attacked his family? village? (i don't think we know the details), and that Bam is sure to grow up that way should make Bam reflect on himself, or feel shocked. But here is the thing- through his death and afterwards, Bam doesn't seem all that affected by Ho himself. Instead, the small bits we get of how it reflects on him are much more self-centered.

In the manhwa (and I'll never forgive them for skipping this line), when Ho kills himself Bam says ''Why must everyone always try to run away?!''. This line, this one says a lot. Bam seeing suicide (something he surely has or should have little knowledge of, all he knows is that Ho is dead by his own volition) as running away, something he has never considered of doing but he knows that other people do... He might see Rachel's avoidance as running away too. He might like Khun and Rak because they're two pretty straightforward and ambitious people. ((Or at least, that's how they look from his perspective- We however know that Khun is all but straightforward in his ways and he actually struggles with changing)) Endorsi is the same way. It gives us insight on how Bam sees other people, although so far he always tries to see the good in them. But it also just seems rooted in pure frustration, and I don't believe Bam is blaming Ho here. Once Ho's dead and they do his funeral, it seems like Bam immediately forgets and focuses on the most important thing: Rachel. In a sense, Rachel being injured is the perfect excuse for Bam to again shift all his attention to her. But the thing is- this isn't an inconsistency. I don't know how much SIU has planned this beforehand, but this makes perfect sense, which makes it frustrating. Bam really has mainly only thought about Rachel. Sure, he likes his friends, he cares about them, but he's lacking a basic empathy that people seem to miss, and once Bam actually loses Rachel, he's going to find that he's an empty person because he couldn't see the bigger picture. He's only seeing her and his own goal. His altruism is selfish from the very first episode, and that actually makes it interesting, but it's also sad because it kind of confirms Ho's fears. Ho is forgotten and meaningless and a failure. Up to now, the other dropouts also received this treatment from the cast, so it's not surprising, but it's still upsetting (not to mention, the only person who actually seemed affected by it left...which i completely understand).

We don't see much of Rachel's point of view, so I'm unsure on how she approached this whole matter mentally speaking, but we can tell that she either: 1. Didn't care if Ho actually killed her (most likely option), or 2. Was confident enough to think that she wouldn't die in that situation (can also be likely because there's many reasons why Ho's plan could have failed anyways without Bam being there). She might also be used to experiencing that sort of thing/her negative outlook might influence this.

((Adding to Bam's lack of empathy, there's the fact that he didn't hesitate to fight a Ranker after Ho threatened that he'd kill Rachel if Bam didn't. I won't go as far as saying that Bam would have tried to kill Quant, but I don't think he would have minded it if that meant Rachel survived. I wonder how much does Bam know and internalize about life and death.))

Some other small details that stood out to me that I might include if I write a Ho analysis: It's interesting that Ho brings up God a few times. I wonder how does God work in a universe like ToG's. Him assuming that God must have taken something from Bam in exchange of his powers is also interesting (''What did God take from him in exchange for that talent? I lost everything and all I got was enough power to do some parlor tricks.'') and it makes me wonder if he'll be proven right on this too...

It's upsetting because, in real life, you could argue with someone with this mindset that people's talents aren't given by god, that instead they're a lot of times the result of a lot of hard work. But in the ToG universe specifically, it does work that way, people are chosen and more than once one's hard work doesn't mean anything. So it's really interesting that we could see a character with this mindset.

All in all I really enjoyed that episode, I'm really curious to see if and how will this situation affect them in the future (the lack of effect is also an effect on itself, which was the main point of my rant), and to see how the cast develops. I'm very intrigued so far by the writing, it's very interesting, and I feel like every scene or line tells a lot about each character giving them a lot of personality.

Forever sad that Ho doesn't have more lore or scenes, but I can change that......