#and I need to write a second part but I made something coherent

[theliteraryarchitect]

A Word of Advice About Critique Groups, Beta Readers, and Other Peer-Based Feedback on Your Writing

In my time as a professional editor, I've had many writers come to me with stories they've been trying to improve based on suggestions from critique groups, beta readers, or other non-professional feedback sources (friends, family, etc.). The writers are often frustrated because they don't agree with the feedback, they can't make sense of the comments they've gotten, or they've tried their best to implement the suggestions but now they've made a big mess of things and don't know where to go from here.

If this happens to you, you're not alone. Here's the deal.

Readers and beginning writers are great at sniffing out problems, but they can be terrible at recommending solutions. For that reason, critique groups can be a disastrous place for beginning writers to get advice.

Here's a good metaphor. Imagine you don’t know the first thing about cars. Someone tells you, “There’s oil leaking onto the driveway. You should cover the car with a giant garbage bag.” Alarmed, you oblige, only to be told the next day that “now the car smells like burning plastic and I can’t see out the windows.”

A mechanic would’ve listened to the critic’s complaint and come up with their own solution to the leaking oil, ignoring the amateur’s ridiculous idea, because they know how to fix cars and can use their skills to investigate symptoms and find the correct solution.

Critique groups actually aren’t bad places for experienced writers, because they can listen to the criticism, interpret it, and come up with their own remedies to the problems readers are complaining about. Beginning writers, on the other hand, can end up digging themselves into a deeper hole.

There's a great Neil Gaiman quote about this very conundrum:

Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.

So what to do?

First, try to investigate the reader's complaint and come up with your own solution, instead of taking their solution to the problem. Sometimes, in the end, the reader's solution was exactly right, which is lovely, but don't count on it. Do your own detective work.

Second, take everything you hear with a huge grain of salt, and run the numbers. Are 9 out of 10 readers complaining about your rushed ending? It's probably worth investigating. Does nobody have an issue with your abrasive antagonist except your cozy mystery-loving uncle? Then you might not need to worry about it.

Third, give everything you hear a gut check. Does the criticism, while painful, ring true? Or does it seem really off-base to you? Let the feedback sit for a week or so while you chill out. You might find you're less sensitive and open to what's been said after a little more time has passed.

Lastly, consider getting professional feedback on your writing. Part of my job as an editor is to listen to previous feedback the writer has gotten, figure out whether the readers were tracking the scent of legitimate problems, and offer the writer more coherent solutions. Of course, some professional editors aren't very good at this, just like some non-professional readers are amazing at it, so hiring someone isn't a guarantee. But editors usually have more experience taking a look under the hood and giving writers sound mechanical advice about their work, rather than spouting ideas off the top of their head that only add to the writer's confusion.

Hope this helps!

[sunghoonbite]

pairings: heeseung/jay/jake x reader

warnings/content: nsfw, first time sex, valentine’s day! mutual pining, foreplay, i kinda edged u all on this one i’m sorry if u need a part 2 i understand

minors dni, before reading

hi happy valentine’s day!! it’s just these 3 bc i didn’t have the time to write for sunoo tonight, but i totally can add him at some point if you guys want it. hope u enjoy :o

you wore lace lingerie to heeseung’s dorm to tease him, his t-shirt that he gave you some weeks ago thrown overtop of it, your legs hidden by comfy sweatpants.

you had gone out earlier today for valentine’s day, to the mall and out to eat. but you wanted more than that. you called him up and let him know you’d be over to spend the night, and of course he immediately accepted your invitation.

heeseung wanted more too. when you drove to the restaurant, your sephora bags from the mall sitting on the floor of his car, you sat in the passenger seat, silently looking out the window. he’d look over at you once he got to a stoplight, and his eyes trailed down to your thighs every time. the weather was nice and you wore a skirt for him.

silently, he cursed himself. why did he want to touch you so badly? you sat innocently next to him, legs crossed, but the only thought on his mind was the sounds you’d make as you made a mess over his car. would you whine his name? grab his hand as he fucked your cunt?

when you got to his dorm, he looked you up and down, infatuated, although you were dressed messily in his shirt. you leaned in once inside and your lips met.

“take my top off,” you whispered against his mouth, and his hands trailed up your back. you felt his lips curl upwards.

he obliged, shirt falling to his carpeted floor, and he blinked at the lace bralette that just barely covered your chest up.

“can you fuck me, heeseung?”

once your words spilled out of your mouth, he had you pressed into his bed within seconds.

jay took you out to eat on valentine’s day. you had spent the night before, not unusual for the two of you, and while drifting off to sleep you mumbled some barely coherent words about what restaurant you wanted to be taken to. so, gladly, he surprised you the next evening. “surprise” being a loose term, since he quite literally will do whatever you ask. taking you out to eat is a minuscule task.

you got ready in his bathroom, and stepped out in a silk, short black dress. his eyes wandered instantly, your curves evident as the fabric hugged your body, but he looked away after getting a good glance. jay was typically short with his compliments, not at all meaning that he disliked your appearance whatsoever, but he felt almost intimidated by your beauty, and feared if he spoke too much about what you looked like or wore that it would become uncomfortable.

so, he uttered softly, “you look good.”

when you got to the restaurant, though, he wasn’t able to look away, despite his efforts. you were seated across from him, and you were both yet to order. your eyes scanned the menu, unaware of his scanning your body, and you pressed your lips together as you thought about what to order. you looked up at him, ready to ask his opinion, and he was already staring at you.

“is something wrong?” you questioned.

“you look amazing,” he stated your name after his sentence.

you beamed, face beginning to flush, and you looked up as you brushed his comment off.

“thank you!” you smiled, fully aware jay’s words are always genuine.

he spoke your name again, pausing afterwards. you looked at him.

“how about we go in the car?” his voice was low.

you waited a moment, trying to understand his request, but tilted your head slightly once he didn’t elaborate.

“why? what’s wrong?”

quietly, he leaned in and replied, “i want to fuck you in the parking lot.”

his words were unusually bold for him. your mouth opened as you looked around, searching for if someone heard him.

“would that be okay?” he asked, before you had the possibility to answer, “it’s okay if you want to wait for another time.”

you took your purse that rested on the table, and began to sit up out of your chair.

“i want to,” you said quietly, “fuck me in the parking lot.”

so he did.

you and jake stayed in for the holiday. you both planned this ahead, so he surprised you. he bought you chocolates and flowers, and placed them in gift box of your favorite things. you spent the day together, captivated with one another’s presence.

now, though, it was getting late, and you sat together on his couch. you started the third movie of the night, snacks from earlier scattered over the table in front of you. his arm was around your waist, and your head rested on his shoulder to accompany your body that was curled up on his side. you were close, so close.

for some reason, your body started to heat up. his touch against you was nice, but you wanted more from him. you wanted jake on your skin. you wanted him to touch you more. lower. deeper.

you shifted, hoping to release some tension as you tried to inch closer to him. it wasn’t possible, you were already nearly connected to him, your clothes the only thing separating you. it was agonizing, you wanted to feel him.

you lifted your head up to get a better look at his face that was fixated on the screen. when he felt the warmth leave his shoulder, he turned to you. you kissed him once he did, his mouth meeting yours.

once the kiss broke, you moved closer, sitting on his lap now, straddling his thigh.

“what’re you doing baby?” he asked, mouth curled up into what you made out to be a sheepish grin.

you leaned in to kiss his neck.

“i need you,” you mumbled against his skin.

his hands wandered down and held onto your waist firmly.

“yeah? need me how?”

you lifted your head up once again and a sigh escaped your lips, you turned your head to the side.

“jake, i want you to fuck me,” you said, cursing yourself mentally for letting yourself say it so boldly, so desperately.

“all of a sudden?” he asked, but not complaining, completing his sentence with a small laugh.

“it’s okay if you don’t want to,” you added.

“no, no,” he replied, “i want to.”

as he said that, he lifted your top above your head to start undressing you. he pressed his palms against your waist and laid you down on the couch gently.

“fuck,” he muttered under his breath at the sight of you, “you’re gonna look so pretty on my dick.”

you did, if you could call your mascara running pretty.

[dracowars]

Hello!! I just found your blog and I love your writing style 💖💖

I was wondering if I could request headcanons for the Harry Potter boys (or just George Weasley!!) about forgetting their crushes birthday? Totally okay if not!!

george weasley forgetting your birthday

pairing: george x reader

a/n: headcanons are so much fun, but i never have enough different ideas for more characters so i stuck to george only with this one 👉🏻👈🏻

warnings: cursing

universe: harry potter

George knew he fucked up, totally and utterly screwed up

He already had a feeling that he forgot something important

But the moment he entered the Great Hall, he was doomed

There you were, laughing and talking with your friends

They hugged you and handed you small wrapped gifts with even smaller bows on top

And he knew then: he forgot your birthday

Out of all the things he could have forgotten, he forgot this ?!

And the worst part: he already had the perfect idea for your gift

But now he doesn't have anything and just stands there like an idiot, completely frozen

It's a wonder no one has noticed or bumped into him yet

George's fight or flight instincts are kicking in and he comes to the conclusion that he needs to get out of there to think of a last minute gift idea

But too late, your eyes locked with his in that exact moment

Oh, how he would love to dissolve into thin air right now

Or to apparate out of here, but Hermione's voice tells him "You cannot apparate inside Hogwarts!"

Yeah, that becomes evidently clear this second

You smile at him from the distance, sending him a gentle wave

George decides that it is time for the fight mode to be activated and he puts on his best poker face before casually strolling towards you

When he reaches you, his heart beats against his chest, something that only you are able to do to him

For a moment it is very awkward

George is too stunned by your beauty that he can't even formulate a coherent sentence

Your hair is adorned by a cute bow, in the colors of your house, and your hair is made into a beautiful hairstlye, your stunning eyes looking up at him

Finally, he manages to congratulate you and you hug each other tightly

Before you can sit down again, however, he grabs your hand and leads you a bit further away from the table and - specifically - your friends

"Do you want to go out with me?"

George would very much like to slap himself the moment those words leave his mouth

And apparently, you are just as stunned as he is

"O-On a date, I mean."

Good save, he thinks to himself

Only now does he notice how his heart is going crazy inside his chest and his hands are getting sweaty

But the smile you answer him with makes him forget everything

The loud voices around you? Gone

"What?"

You giggle, squeezing his hands a bit tighter

"I said that I would very much like to go out with you. On a date."

You are teasing him, he knows that

And he absolutely loves it

He can't stop a big smile from spreading on his face now and he notices a slight blush on your cheeks as well

Only after you left to go back to your friends does he realize the meaning behind your words

George actually has a date with you

Now he needs to make sure it is the best date the whole Wizarding World has ever witnessed to make up for the lack of an actual gift

What he doesn't know, however, is that you immediately saw through him and knew that he forgot

But he couldn't have given you a better gift

[ravensofskyhold]

Ruoska 2nd verse analysis

Aka why there's a reference to a 20+ year-old sports scandal in this song that on the surface is about BDSM.

(Fuck you Kä for making me write a 1500+ word analysis on a reference in one verse of a song and also for forcing me to learn more about Lahti 2001 than I've ever wanted. /j)

Okay, I was already having thoughts about the second verse of Ruoska, which has lots of references to the doping controversy of FIS Nordic World Ski Championships held in Lahti in 2001 aka the biggest sports doping scandal in Finland. The MV gave new context for that part and made the use of the whole reference make a lot more sense to me, enough to develop those thoughts into a semi-coherent analysis (I'm not kidding about this being semi-coherent, I've spent most of the day writing this. You've been warned.).

This analysis does require me to talk about The Lahti 2001 doping scandal a lot. I’ve decided to focus on what I remember from the aftermath of it, especially the Finnish public opinion and reaction, as it is the most relevant part of it for this analysis. So if you’re not familiar with the topic, I recommend reading a short summary of the facts which can be found here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FIS_Nordic_World_Ski_Championships_2001#Doping_controversy

In the MV, there’s this about 20s pause between the first chorus and the second verse, where the song just stops and people looking at their phones form a circle at the edges of the spotlight (where Käärijä and Erika are) and hate comments aimed at both of them are shown on screen.

After the pause, we get the second verse:

“Lunta on tullut tupaan niin paljon et tarvii sukset / Gotten so much snow in the house that I need skis

On luokkaa Kari-Pekka n��ä ahdistukset / At level with Kari-Pekka with these anxieties

Et taloyhtiössä on kosteudenmittaukset/ That the housing cooperative takes humidity measurements

Kun rappukäytävän portailla on hemon virtaukset/ When there's massive tides* on the stairs in the stairway”

[link/credits to the translation]

*added context to this line that gets lost in translation is that the substance flowing down the stairs in the stairway is called “hemo” in the original lyrics. Now, I’ve interpreted it to be either blood/hemoglobin or Hemohes (which is the brand(?) name of the banned blood plasma expander substance that people were caught using in the Lahti 2001 doping scandal. Either way, this detail is relevant enough for this analysis.

-----

The idiom "tulla lunta tupaan" (to get snow in the house/living room) means to get misfortune, but I think I've seen it also used to mean getting (excessive) adversity/criticism for something (wrong) you've done (from the public, usually).

There certainly is something fucked up and rather telling that from what I’ve seen, many of Finnish fans old enough to remember Lahti 2001 (me included) needed only to hear "skis" and "Kari-Pekka" to get the doping scandal reference. After all, this is a rather subtle (as in, only Kari-Pekka Kyrö’s, one of the head coaches of the ski team, first name is mentioned in the song!) reference to a scandal that happened over 20 years ago. But it also tells you how big of a deal that doping scandal was for Finns, especially since it happened in cross-country skiing aka one of our pride and joy sports, and how much (perceived) shame was involved on national level.

And oh boy, did that sense of national shame get projected back to the public opinion about the people involved in the scandal. The scandal did have massive and long-lasting repercussions on the careers and the reputations of the people involved in Finland, way beyond the official disqualifications and suspensions. These people went from being celebrated athletes and ski team members that everyone was proud of to being mostly, or even only, remembered for being caught using doping. Their past (and future) achievements suddenly didn’t either matter anymore or, thanks to the doping scandal, were regarded with suspicion.

There’s also a layer added to this by the media’s role and involvement in all this that I’m not going to get into here. Only thing from the media side I’m going to point out is that big part of kicking off this incident was the investigation and subsequent article by Helsingin Sanomat crime journalist that revealed damning evidence of the systematic use of doping substances in the Finnish ski team.

The point is, yes they did wrong, and yes they did deserve the (official) consequences to their careers and a hit in their public images, but everything else? The figurative lashing (pun intended) they got from the media and the public? The media and the public refusing to forget and move on from that incident years after the fact and in the process probably not letting them move on from it properly, either? Being remembered only for your mistakes? That was excessive, way out of proportion to what the crime in question was.

Bringing this back to the song, the MV, and the artists:

This reference, especially with the MV context just made me think of the topic of public opinion of celebs and how quickly it can turn against you, even if you’re currently seen as a “hero” of sorts, like Finland’s ski team was in 2001 or Käärijä is now.

It also made me think of how Finns often tend to be jealous of other people's success (the good ol’ belief that there’s a finite amount of luck/happiness in the world and so other people having luck/success is to blame if you don’t have it is still deeply ingrained in us even if we don’t realize it). Like, there are always people who hate someone more successful or famous than them simply because they are successful/famous.

Also, there's often a sense of schadenfreude involved from certain parts of the public when someone famous does something bad/wrong. Something that (in public perception) "justifies" the negative turn in the public opinion on that person, regardless of how bad/wrong the thing actually was and if the reaction is actually proportionate to it. And especially in famous people’s case, there are always people who are just waiting for them to misstep, to fall, just so they can go “see? I knew they were a bad person all along, that’s why I disliked them!”. Or hell, we’ve even seen people who are constantly waiting for the moment a famous person does something that can be twisted into a controversy, or even hounding them to do something or react to something in a way that paints them in a negative light.

Now, I don't think the hate comments seen in the MV are comparable to what happened after the doping scandal (nor that are they meant to be that), and I don’t claim to know what kinds of hate Käärijä and Erika get usually but I doubt that’s comparable either. But there are some noticeable, if much smaller scale, similarities to some controversies they’ve been a part of and the media/public reaction to those. Which does make the doping scandal an effective reference to use to get the point of (often excessive) negative reactions/comments to everything you do across.

So, when the hate comment pause happened in the MV and the second verse started, it felt like the missing puzzle pieces fitting into their places, and being able to see what the second verse is trying to say. Or my interpretation of it, anyway.

The first line is rather straightforward, mentioning getting enough "snow" (aka adversity/criticism/hate, not misfortune like I thought before) into their lives ("house" in the song) that they need equipment/tools ("skis") to help them wade through it, just to keep living their lives.

The line mentioning Kari-Pekka, and anxiety at the same level as his, is interesting. Because on the one hand, he did take the blame for the doping scandal and was, according to his own words, “the most hated man in Finland” at the time. On the other hand, he did get a lot of publicity and was offered a job as a crisis consultant to teach people how to lie believably, because he appeared so calm, collected, and confident in the media during the scandal. So, while on the surface this line is about having a lot of anxiety due to the hate they’re getting, well, the dude whose anxiety levels they’re likening their own to doesn’t seem (to appear) anxious at all despite shouldering most of the blame and hate for such a big scandal, does he? Hell, he got job opportunities thanks to how not-anxious he appeared in that situation.

And the following lines, I've interpreted to be about other people having to acknowledge the damage from those hate comments seeping into their own lives as well because, depending on what "hemo" is interpreted as, either the cause of that hate (hemohes) or a rather visible representation of the pain caused by the hate (blood) is flooding the stairway now. The pain or the cause of the hate others have let into their living spaces/lives is out in the public space now. And going by the next line “Ja mä tahdon jäädä siitä kiipeliin (kiipeliin)/ And I want to get in trouble for it (in trouble)” it’s happening they intentionally let it out into the public in the first place, because they want to get in trouble for it?

There’s something fascinating about that. About acknowledging that they’re getting hate anyway, so they might as well intentionally and publicly do things that people are going to send them hate for. But also acknowledging the hate they’re getting and making other people acknowledge it as well, refusing to keep it hidden and letting it rot only their own lives.

And then continuing that yeah, we’re getting whipped/hated on for everything we do, but

[distinctlywhumpthing]

idk about you but i would literally sell my firstborn for a future/more-recovered-aiden-chapter 👀

~ 🍯

Once upon a time, the scene of Aiden waking up in the back of Leo's van full of painting tools, thinking for a second he was seeing in monochrome would not leave me alone. Three years ago today, I posted the first part of Unintentional to start telling that story <3

As a postiversary present to everyone from the beginning (seriously, this ask is from 2022), here's a timeline jump. (Don't tell Leo, he's a real stickler for order.) Thanks for sticking with me and the boys <3

More Than This

Masterlist

Snap. 

Aiden huffs, twisting and grinding the broken pencil tip through the last stroke even as it threatens to tear through the paper under his force. 

He should be able to do this. It’s all he ever does now. Practice speaking, practice reading, practice writing. Follow the plans for eating, for exercising, for sleeping. He shouldn’t complain, he finally knows what to be. There was a time he’d have let a routine like this support him like it was his spine. He was given a role to play but all he does is just that: pretend. He hasn’t made progress in weeks. The only thing he knows is how precisely he is failing. 

Across the room, Leo stops typing. “Why don’t you take a break? You’ve been at it for a while.” 

He doesn’t need to look to know that Leo will have that concerned crease between his brows, mouth turned down at the corners as he tries to assess what the problem is this time. Aiden is nothing but problems. 

“I’m fine,” he mutters but of course Leo is coming over. Would have no matter what he’d said. 

Leo fills a glass at the sink and turns to lean against the counter across the island as he sips it. Aiden doesn’t want to see whatever look Leo is giving him that will just crumble his resolve. The triangles and circles on the page blur in and out of focus as he blinks back tears. Tears from the strain of making his damaged, useless brain process not-even-fucking-letters for the last few hours. Nothing else.

When Leo finishes his water, he fills a glass for Aiden, slides it in front of him. “I’ll do some work with you then.” 

“No.” He definitely can’t look at Leo now. 

Leo takes a measured pause.

The apology is on the tip of Aiden’s tongue but he keeps his jaw locked. Harder to stave off are the physical reactions. His body wants to shrink away, to flinch and hide and beg and be hurt and held. He tightens his fist around the pencil, pulling it into his lap to hide that he’s shaking. 

“I know you want to make progress but it’s okay to take breaks.” Leo makes his voice gentle, tiptoeing through the minefield between them. "It’s not going to send you back, you’ve been working hard.”

“Nnnno. I…mmm—” He shakes his head as if he could shake off the rising frustration coming up to tighten around his temples, his throat, his chest. He’s been trying to avoid the stuttered conjunction between every word, always made worse by times like this. Harrison guaranteed he would never get out of a painful situation too quickly. 

Leo steps up to the other side of the island, leaning onto his elbows to lower himself into Aiden’s line of sight. “C’mon…”

He shakes his head, can’t trust himself to speak coherently. He’s being stubborn and stupid. Harrison would have threatened him by now if he hadn’t already backhanded him. He never dreamed of pulling something like this back with Archer or the Songs.

  “Alright, hon.” Leo gave him one last long-suffering smile and turned back to the sink. 

Aiden swallowed a sob, furiously blinking away hot tears prickling his eyes. Leo was never going to push him more than a little. Lead him to whatever line he’d drawn or found, offer to help him step over it, but be the first to abandon the idea if it was too much. 

“Why?”

Leo shut off the tap. “Pardon?” He dries his hands on the bright salmon-pink tea towel threaded through the pull for the dishwasher. Delia says I shouldn’t be so allergic to real colors, he explained when Aiden pulled it out from the perfectly folded stack of muted earth-toned cotton in the cabinet.  

“Why?” Aiden repeats, voice strained by the tightening in his chest. “I…don’t…mmm—” He squeezes his eyes shut, pushes past the stupid mumbling. “Why?”

“Why what, hon?” Frustratingly calm and earnest, so eager to help in whatever he can. 

Aiden wants to scream. It’s not fair, it isn’t Leo’s fault, but whatever has been sparked rages inside him beyond his control. “Why…do…mmm…mmm—” He mashes his lips together, forcing his lungs to fill with air. He will not start crying. 

Leo tilts his head to the side. “Why do I…help?” Aiden shakes his head, huffing out a breath that is perilously close to a sob. “Why do I…care?” 

It puts a rock right in the middle of his throat. He lifts his chin a fraction. 

Defiant despite having literally no ground to stand on, Harrison used to taunt when Aiden was strung up on his table. 

“Because I do. I do care about you…” 

Aiden’s heart skitters in his chest. He looks away, all the wind gone from his sails because he’s as easily swayed as a feather. No. He won’t be weak, pathetic, and needy. He’s angry right now. Frustrated and bitter. 

“There’s no one reason—”

“I…don’t—mmm—mmm—” He clenches his teeth together until they creak in the back of his jaw, blinking away more of the hot tears that refuse to fucking stop pooling in his eyes. 

Leo stands there calmly, crease between his brows confirming that he doesn’t like what he’s seeing. He’s worried. Always so worried and concerned and caring. 

Because he cares. 

Aiden stands, pushing away from the island and Leo. “I-I-I-I—” God, he wants to break something when it's like this. A wall he is just banging his head against, all the while becoming less coherent.

“Breathe,” Leo says, slowly rounding the end of the island toward him. “It will come. Just—”

“No. I…mmm…don’t…w-w-mmm—Fuck!” He slams his fist down on the counter. 

Leo doesn’t even flinch. 

Why should he? Of course he wouldn’t flinch. 

Aiden moves away from him, starts pacing back and forth. He wishes he could run, pound his feet into pavement until it dulls whatever is going on inside his head. 

“Aiden—“

“Not…mmm’my name.”

Leo’s expression falters. 

It’s a low blow. Aiden knows it, they both know it. All it does is deepen the disparity between them. Making him all the more desperate as Leo regains his composure. 

“If you want a different name—if you want me to stop calling you that, all you have to do is tell me.”

How can Leo be even calmer than before?

A sob escapes Aiden’s throat before he can swallow it. He turns away, circling the island to put it between them again. He doesn’t want Leo trying to comfort him. He doesn’t want it and he doesn’t deserve it. 

“I don’t want you to keep the name just because at the time you thought it was my place to give it. That’s not how I saw it then and that’s certainly not how I see things now.” 

Shame is oil on the fire, it only burns hotter. “Doesn’t…mmm’matter…”

“It does to me. I’ve never seen you as a Companion or treated you like one. I don’t expect anything, you know that.” 

“Fuck…you.” He surprises himself but pushes on anyway. Even steps forward so they’re closer, eye-to-eye, bold with the slab of stone between them. “That…doesn’t—doesn’t mmm’make a…difference. Doesn’t mmm’make..mmm’me…different—”

“Wait, that’s not what I’m saying—” 

“You—”

“I didn’t mean—”

He raises his voice to speak over Leo. “I’m’mmm…that’s…what-what…I am…” 

Leo waits to make sure he’s finished this time. The stretching silence makes his shouting seem ridiculous and Aiden burns under the unearned patience, the undeserved consideration. 

“I know,” Leo finally says.

“If you…don’t…mmm’w-w-want…this…why?”

Leo’s face falls and Aiden almost goes with it. He backs away from the gaping hole in his resolve. One misstep and he’ll be at the bottom of it, down on his knees. Putting a chink in Leo’s composure is no kind of feat. It only makes him feel that much closer to coming apart entirely. 

“Please,” Leo moves around the island, trying to get onto the same side as Aiden again. “It’s not that black and white—”

“Mmm…yes…it-is.” 

“But—”

“You-you…mmm…hate…it—” He points at Leo. Anyone else would have broken his accusatory finger. “You…hate…this…mmm’what…I am’mmm—” He backs away shaking his head. 

“Wait, no. Aiden, that’s not what I meant. You misunderstood—”

“No!” He wants to hit the ceiling. Better yet, put his whole body through a wall and get the fuck away from here. From these feelings. Leo wouldn’t follow if he went up to his room. Not even if he slammed the door and started breaking things. But he can’t. He’s only acting brave enough to set this fire, he could never leave the blaze unattended. Just like he’s only acting like he’s recovering into a real person.

It’s all just acting. None of it is real. 

Why?

He’s trapped and boiling, glaring at the charcoal-grey cabinets. He once put his fist through another one. A honeyed pine varnish with dark grain, an arched frame around the flimsy middle panel of each one. Hardly took any force to slam through it but he put his whole weight behind his fist anyway. 

Of course, Leo’s damn cabinets are solid wood. 

He cries out, turning away from Leo to slide down the cabinet he hasn’t so much as dented, cradling his hand against his chest. No point holding anything back now. He’s sobbing by the time he hits the floor, curling up tightly. 

When Leo comes over, Aiden’s reaction slips out before he can catch it. He shrinks back, sobs turning to whimpers. “Please…mmm’sorry, mmm’sorry…mmm’good—” He can almost see himself from above, staring up at Leo with those distrustful, unblinking eyes. Lips still moving through the shapes of pleas he’s crying too hard to vocalize. 

He hates that less-than-person. How little it controls and how much power it still holds. His shameless meltdown only puts him back exactly where he belongs. He’ll never be anything different. 

“I know, I know. You are good.” Leo kneels carefully, holding his hand out, palm up, between them.  “You don’t have to be sorry, it’s all good.” 

Aiden shakes his head, gulping in air between sobs, knuckles throbbing. “I didn’t—didn’t mmm’mean…” He didn’t know if the apology was for trying to ruin Leo’s kitchen or for exploding or for falling back on old habits. 

“I know, it’s okay. We’re good. Come on, let me give you a hand?” 

He swallows and tries to take a deep breath. Tries to compose himself, tries to get his mind to stop spinning through replaying and catastrophizing. He just wants—He needs—

“I—I used…t’be mmm’more than…this,” he blurts. 

Leo stops waiting for Aiden to take his hand and slides in next to him against the cabinets instead. They sit in silence long enough that Aiden starts to wonder if Leo even heard him but Leo finally says, “I know.”

Aiden bites his lip, afraid to look at Leo but he can’t look too closely at his hand or he’ll draw unwarranted concern. 

“You don’t have to defend yourself to me,” Leo says after another long pause. “I care about you. I’m here for all of it and I’m not going anywhere. I think maybe you know that or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. 

“It's okay, hon. We're figuring things out as we go."  

Leo always means what he says so Aiden looks up, it’s for a different kind of reassurance. Leo gives him his half-smile, reaching out to squeeze the back of his neck. Goosebumps run down Aidne’s spine and he drops his head onto his knees, hiding his face. Leo wraps an arm around his back. 

Aiden has long since stopped preparing himself for Leo to pull away before he’s ready by the time Leo says, “So, how about that break?” 

He lifts his head from Leo’s shoulder, trying to gauge what he means.

Leo pulls him to his feet. “Come on, let’s go for a drive.” 

And his heart falls.

Masterlist

@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess

@meetmeinhellcroutons @briars7 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump

@painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings

@peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @guachipongo @creetchure @leyswhumpdump

@aseasonwithclarasblog @catawhumpus @magziemakeswhatever @espresso-depresso-system @pigeonwhumps

@batfacedliar-yetagain @whumpinthepot @dustypinetree @whump-in-progress @pirefyrelight

@whumps-and-bumps @i-eat-worlds @hellodecisionparalysis @heartfullofhoney (og asker?)

[slashers-and-rats]

slashers reacting to being their bpd gn s/o's fave person?

rat chat: i really like this prompt, because i have a lot of stuff goin’ on up in my noodle, and i also experience the fave person phenomena to a high extent. so i relate to you, and i like that.

Slashers reacting to being the gn!reader’s favourite person | sfw |

featured slashers: billy lenz, thomas hewitt, vincent sinclair

billy lenz :

billy wasn’t a stranger to obsessive tendencies. this man, at some point in his time of knowing you, watched you through holes in the ceiling and actively snuck out at night to stare at you sleeping. he knew what it was like to have someone you cherished more than anything in the world. it was a bit different, obviously, but he still related to what you were feeling.

there was a day when you had to sit down and explain it to him. it took him a bit to really chew on the words you were feeding him. he was your favourite? you wanted to always be around him? the things he did had that much impact on you? deep down, in the sicker parts of his psyche, he was elated. he wanted you to be reliant and obsessed with him, he wanted you to feel just like how he did. but, at the same time, your tone didn’t seem so chipper. he could tell it was something to tread carefully on, especially knowing that the things he did could effect you so deeply.

he was always at your disposal, so withdrawals weren’t much of a problem. the anxiety of him being away was always satiated within seconds, as he liked to stay close to you too. billy was always just a call away if you needed to be grounded and reassured he was there.

you would ask for praise from time to time, wanting to hear him say you were good and that he actually cared about you. this was a foreign concept to billy. how did you not know? he knew he didn’t say many coherent things, but even his disjointed ramblings were often worships to you. he always did what you asked tho. he’d praise you, and pepper your face in sloppy, wet kisses, and purr about how he’ll never leave you. in between his garbled noises, he’d mumble out compliments, and make sure you felt as happy as he did.

he was truly delighted to be so attached to you. the concept of bpd and having a “favourite person” might’ve been new and different, but at the end of the day, it only made him feel more comfortable with his own feelings. sometimes he felt like he was pathetic for being so clingy to you, and knowing that you, in some way or another, felt the same made him comforted.

there were some downsides. sometimes billy didn’t like being out and around people, and would coop himself up in the attic. he saw on those days how blue you’d get yourself, even without him doing anything. during those times, he’d draw you small pictures and write cat scratch notes, and slip them underneath doors as he glided through the house in complete silence. it was just reminders that he did love you, even when he needed his own space.

he just really cares about you. and is happy to know that he is so cared for as well.

thomas hewitt :

thomas has no real knowledge of mental illnesses. that’s not to say he hasn’t experienced it, he has his own issues, and his whole family is riddled with different disorders, but it’s never really been openly talked about.

that being said, when you went to him and explained it all, he picked up on the concept fairly quickly. sure, he didn’t understand all the bits and pieces being told to him, but he was really trying. he understood that you always wanted to be near him, and he could relate to that. it was something he had to get over himself, as he’d never really had a relationship like this before, and it made him over eager. he knew that his own mood could affect yours, whether he meant for it to or not. that was something he found easily maneuverable. he wasn’t the most enthusiastic guy, and you hadn’t minded before. he knew you needed lots of reassurance and praise, that you got anxious about him leaving easily. he was amazed you thought he’d be the one leaving you.

he fell into a routine quite quickly. he’d spend a little while longer in the morning cuddling you and squeezing you, his own way of saying he wanted to be with you. he kissed you lots whenever you two were alone, and always kept himself touching you somewhere. he liked making sure you knew he was there. he liked being present when he could.

tommy did have to leave during the days to go help his family with their exploits, and he always fretted over you before he left. he always lingered in his room, kissing over your face and reassuring you that he’d be back, that he’d miss you, that he couldn’t wait to be back. the second he’d get home, he’d pass right by his family (stopping at luda mae only because that was his mama) and go straight up to his room to see you again.

tommy liked bringing you trinkets and things. he liked giving you things that would remind you he’d be there. he didn’t want you to think he’d go anywhere. you were so special to him, and the idea of you being so reliant on him emotionally was new. but he liked it, somewhere inside of him. he liked knowing you were so vulnerable and open with him, and that you really were attached to him, and that he could provide you support he didn’t previously know you needed.

there were setbacks. tommy didn’t talk much, and so it was very hard for him to provide verbal reassurance. he remedied this by showing you lots of physical affection when you were both alone and away from the family. sometimes, when he was feeling particularly brave, he would utter a small “i love you”, and that always seemed to be enough to prove how much he cared about you. he didn’t talk to anyone, but you were different.

he just wanted to make you happy.

vincent sinclair :

vincent had a soft centre. on the outside, he was this large, brooding, empty eyed man, but on the inside he was filled with lavender and vanilla. he was always very understanding of your own habits and coping mechanisms, whether they made sense to him or not. as long as you sat him down and explained it to him, he made sure to be good and provide support where he could.

the idea of a favourite person resonated deep with vincent. wasn’t that how he felt about you…? whenever you were away from him, even in the other room he felt sick. he’d push his cheeks into your palms, and make you kiss him and promise him you’d never leave. it was something you both seemed to be working on. there was a mutual obsession, or a reliance on each other emotionally that you both had to navigate.

him relating made it easier for both of you, as it brought forth a conversation of what to do. the solution was simple. just do what you’ve been doing. you two spent as much time together as possible, vincent not liking when you strayed too far, scared his brother might devour you.

he didn’t talk much, but he when you were both alone and curled up, he’d speak in soft, raspy tones, whispering about how much he loved and cared about you. every time you left his workshop to go and prepare food or clean up a waxy mess spilled onto your front, you’d come back and be met with vincent fretting over you and making sure you were ok.

he didn’t show his emotions much, so it wasn’t hard for him to keep his worser feelings inside for your own good. he knew that sometimes when he let it slip that he was upset, he’d see you change, and slip into the same dreary feelings. he’d be quick to reassure you he was ok, and you’d do the same. alone, you two were almost sickeningly sweet with each other. out in the real world, outside of his studio, you two tried to stay neutral and appropriate. bo already teased vincent enough, you didn’t want to add more.

it was actually vincent that tended to have issues. he didn’t like the feeling of anxiety he got when he saw you sad. sometimes you’d be missing home, or upset that your art wasn’t going well, and he’d feel it shoot through his heart. he wanted to just take it all away and make it feel better. you always had to reassure him in those moments that there was nothing he could do, that sometimes you were just going to feel blue, and you’d let him rest his head in your lap while he calmed himself.

when you did have problems, it always came from his intense focus on his work. sometimes, without realizing it, he would ignore you for hours, and by the time he was pulled from his creative marathon, he’d see you dejected and alone in the corner. he’d always make sure to make it up to you, and have you sit on his lap while he praised you for being so good and patient. or, he’d simply have you come sit beside him while he worked, and he’d listen closely to you talk. he never really got tired of you filling the silence. either way, he’d always do something to make sure you knew you were his top priority. because you were.

over all, you two are a fairly good match.

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

I need more Ville Valo fics 😩 no one seems to do them anymore! I need another part to Love You To Death! 😍

Love You To Death (Pt. 2)

Y/N makes the painful decision to leave the romance she found in Finland behind, but fate has different plans in mind. By fate, I mean Bam and Ville.

Ville Valo X Fem!Reader, (slight Bam Margera X Ville Valo if you squint?)

(Fluff, angst)

2.5k Words

Warnings: Highly suggestive content, alcohol, manipulation, power imbalance, toxic relationships, unwelcome flirting, creepy guys,

An: Thank you so much for the request!! I had a ball writing this and I’m sure you’ll enjoy t as well :) This was the first fic I wrote after finishing finals, so I hope this is up to par with my usual work! I really wanted to explore how Bam was affected by what was going on with Ville and how Ville feels almost protective of Y/N. As a note, there’s a painting referenced in this fic that was based off of a real piece in the Philadelphia Museaum of art! Anyways, thank you so much for the request and please keep sending them in!

“You’re not actually gonna stay with him, are you?” Bam raised an eyebrow at you from where he was laying against the hotel room mattress. Continuing to fill him in on what happened that night, you cracked open your own tiny mini bar liquor with a sigh, “No, I mean- I can’t.” Bending down to pick up the steadily growing pile of bottles at his bedside, you rolled your eyes, “I mean- it’s not like I could just pack up all my shit and move to Finland!” Trying to ignore your heartbeat thrumming in your ears, you went over the same thing you had been rolling around in your mind since you left Ville’s flat no more than an hour ago.

Tomorrow, you would be flying back home to Philly, away from Finland and away from him, and as well as you knew you couldn’t stay, you didn’t want to go. But as unobservant as he usually was, Bam’s liquor-addled mind made a connection there. He respected Ville. Ville was in love with you. You were friends with Bam. It would be so easy to earn himself a little easy cred with him if he set the two of you up- you know, play Cupid. “So, you got his number?”

Too distracted with stress packing, you didn’t give Bam’s question a second thought, “Of course I did. Why do you care?” Good. He gave you some BS about how Ville is his friend, and if you hadn't gotten his number, he would say you’re stupid, “I know he’s really hot, but I get it- he’s moving a little fast. I mean, you guys just met!” The lip service continued and you were lucky you couldn’t see that smirk of his he was so not hiding. But Bam’s words hit a little closer to home than you expected and made you pause a bit. “Yeah, yeah- I hear ya…”

Bam was getting a thrill out of playing double agent- maybe more than he should. That night, far after he was sure you were out cold, guess who he was calling up? “Ville, man- I got just the idea for you to win over Y/N!” His giddiness was a contrast to Ville’s half-drunk stupor he dove into after you left, still somehow as smooth as ever, “Hmm?” Cupping his hand around the receiver in the dark, Bam went on a rambling, half coherent rant about this master plan of his, which Ville periodically hummed in agreement to. In both of their minds, it sounded pretty foolproof. And there you were, fast asleep about five feet away from where this whole trap intended for you was unfolding.

☆彡

Months later, once the initial flames of desire died down, you kept in touch with Ville in the form of constant phone calls that seemed to stretch on for eternities. Even if he didnt go on and on about this romanticized, poetic vision he had of the two of you together in the future, you couldn’t help but find his voice so pleasant to listen to. It was hypnotic, the way he detailed something as mundane as how stunning the countryside in Finland was in the springtime, how plentiful and beautiful the wildflowers are there. “Of course, they couldn’t compare to your beauty, my dear.” Ville purred his words in a way that almost made you blush and giggle.

Based on the low chuckle he let out at your reaction, you were sure he picked up on it. “There is, however, something I’d like to discuss with you, Y/N.” His voice took on a conspiratorial tone that made you listen a bit closer. “I’ll be going on tour in a few weeks- and seeing as I’ll have a day off in Philadelphia, I was wondering if you would be interested in going out together?” Holy shit. You would be seeing him face to face- like, actually in person. “Oh- of course I’d be interested! That would be amazing!” A disbelieving grin spread across your face, your heart fluttering a little at the prospect, “I can’t wait.” Ville seemed content with your enthusiasm and the way this was trending, letting out a hum of satisfaction, “Neither can I, darling.”

★彡

Bam seemed pretty eager to get your ass out of the house the night before Ville was set to arrive in town. While you were perfectly content with spending the evening fucking around with him and the rest of the guys (because that’s you usually did on a Friday night), for some reason he couldn’t let that happen. “Y’know what? I’m really not feelin’ like going out tonight.” Excuses like this were uncharacteristic of Bam, but you suspended your dislebeleif as he got up from where the two of you were watching tv on the couch, grabbing something off the kitchen table, “It’s lady’s night at 15 North! I think you should go hang out with your girlfriends, have a few drinks, here-”

Turning around to where you had been following behind him, Bam shoved a handful of twenties into your hand and grinned, trying to sound nonchalant, “It's on me!” Part of you wanted to question why the hell he did this big three sixty from how cold he was acting towards you in Finland. But another part of you, a part with a little less shame, knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when said horse was buying you and your friends drinks. Considering your options for a moment, you nodded, “You know what? I will go out!”

☆彡

That whole thing with Ville just happening to have that time off in Philly wasn't nearly as coincidental as he made it out to be, but that wasn’t the only dishonesty here. Even though they were more than capable of discussing it over the phone, Bam urged him to stop by the castle so they would have the opportunity to ‘talk about it more’. Really, the whole thing was a ploy to keep Ville in one place with him and to show off the castle in one big effort to impress him. Though he was unaffected by his childish attempts to win his favor, Ville decided not to say anything on his thinly veiled intentions or tacky choices in interior design. Bam was giving him some pretty useful information, so it wouldn’t be wise to write him off just yet.

Bam had told Ryan and the other guys the same excuse he told you, which they questioned even less. Adding to this web of lies was the fact Ville got in town a day earlier than he told you he would. You decided to stop by Bam’s to pick something up that you left there the previous night before retiring to your place, so you would only discover this fact when you stumbled through the door around the early AM’s to a figure in the darkness of the living room, lounging on the couch with a glass of something dark that he sat down on a table as you walked in. It was silent as you peered around a corner, still pretty tipsy. The light from the entryway illuminated this person’s silhouette enough for you to see a sliver of a swirling tattoo peek out from under a sleeve- one you instantly recognized. “Ville…?”

☆彡

You should’ve known; who else would look that good in the dark? Of course, you had a lot of questions for Ville, but he gave you the rundown after you nearly pounced on him, “We arrived at a hotel around an hour ago, and while Midge and Linde- and the rest of the fellows were getting settled,” Ville ran his fingers through your hair idly while you pretty much sat on his lap, ”Bam rang me to ask if I would mind staying at his place for a night or two. Who am I to say no to that?” Gently taking your chin to tilt your head up, he pressed a kiss to your cheekbone, “All the more time I get to spend with you, my love.” A hummingbird couldn’t have caught Ville at work, the way he was playing you, and judging by the way you were blushing and melting onto his lap like warm butter, his charms were working their magic on you.

“Anyways,” Glancing down at you, he quickly brushed it off as if he wasn’t just thrilled by how flustered he could make you with such a simple gesture, “I was wondering if you’d care to go out for drinks sometime?” Well, Bam had asked him if he wanted to continue their conversation tomorrow night over a few beers at Rex’s, which gave him the idea to ask you. Close enough. “Oh, I’d love to!” You giggled, laying back against his chest.

★彡

There was pretty obvious confusion in Bam’s half awake gaze the next morning when he saw first you in the kitchen making yourself some toast, then Ville at the coffee maker. Why the hell were you here? Wait, did the two of you…? “Y/N?” He thought he was having some kind of weird dream- some nightmare, but nope, this was reality. “Oh, hey Bam!” Turning around, you took a bite from your toast, “What’s up?” If the smirk on your face wasn’t telling enough, the fact that the two of you were half dressed certainly was. “You stayed here last night?” You could practically see Bam’s train of thought on his face as he looked between you and him, “Ohhhh…” Ville quietly chuckled at his reaction, not seeming to notice the traces of jealousy in his gaze.

☆彡

You were completely oblivious to the fact that there were serious art museums in Pennsylvania until Ville took you to one. Well, you knew there probably were some out there, but the thought never really crossed your mind that people actually go to these places. But there the two of you were, strolling through the Philadelphia Museum of Art. The only sounds that echoed off the tall ceilings of the exhibit hall were the clacking of rubber soles on marble and the hushed whispers among people who actually had opinions on this kind of art.

Sure, you appreciated the stuff, but Ville understood the meaning in seemingly any kind of art that you couldn’t even begin to grasp. Stopping in his tracks, he turned to gaze at a painting that caught his eye: this Christophe Guérin piece titled L'Amour Désarmé. You looked at it as well, trying to gather any meaning from what appeared to be a pretty straightforward subject: a woman holding a bow and arrow away from Cupid, who was reaching to grab it. Standing there a moment next to you, Ville spoke up in a low murmur, “Even though I feel the Metamorphoses is a bit overdone, I’ve always found paintings depicting them impactful...” He didn’t even need to see you to visualize the confused look in your face from his words, so he explained. “See, the woman, Venus, is disarming her son, Cupid- but what she doesn’t know is that she’s already been pierced by his arrow.”

Well, you gathered some of that on your own. “So, now she’s going to fall in love with someone?” Eyes no longer fixed on the painting, he turned to you as you still admired the art, completely oblivious, “Yes. In the myth, it’s a mortal: Adonis. It’s symbolic of love as an uncontrollable force-“ In awe of the way he could just think so deeply about things, the double meaning of his words went completely over your head. “One that binds people together beyond what can be grappled with or comprehended by you or I…”

☆彡

You didn’t really mind that Bam tagged along with the two of you to the bar after Ville finished the show that night, but you were starting to get an inkling that he did. Honestly, at this point, you didn’t really care. Sure, you had known him for way longer than you knew Ville, but not in a million years could he hope to compare to him in your eyes- not now. It was like Bam was some child, constantly vying for attention, and it was starting to get on your nerves. Almost as much as that guy who had been flirting with you since Ville left to use the men's.

“Y’know, I saw you from across the bar over there …Can I buy you a drink?” Looking over to Bam for any hope of getting out of this situation, the only response you got from him was the cold shoulder as he glanced away, pretending not to know you. Asshole. Glancing away, now both angry at him and the guy, you replied flatly, “I’m with someone.” Still, he kept pressing, not getting the hint in the slightest, “I didn’t ask who you were with- I wanted to buy you a drink.”

The aggression in his voice would’ve put you on edge a little if it weren’t for Ville’s return with incredible timing, sliding between you and the creep. “Hope you weren't too lonely without me, love.” Having seen everything, he still paid the guy no mind, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to your lips. Too preoccupied with your little victory, you didn’t notice that, barely out of your line of sight, this bitter look crossed Bam’s face as he took another swig of his drink.

★彡

Ville had to leave the next morning. You knew that when he showed up, he would have to leave- you would be an idiot for thinking this could end in any other way, but you didn’t want him to. There was no logic to how you felt, but yet again when did logic have anything to do with love? Bam wasn't awake, but even if he was he’d probably still be sulking in his room. He probably hated you now. But there you and Ville stood, in the living room at Castle Bam among all the dark velvet, the dim light of early day flooding in through the back window. “My heart aches for you, Y/N.” Delicate features bathed in cool blue, he took your hand in his and his words came to you, deliberate and earnest. “But you have a life to live. I have a tour to finish.” Your heart wept at his words. This whole situation with Ville- it was killing you. In three months, your life was turned upside down by a complete stranger, and you were helpless to do anything about it.

“No more of what’s keeping you here, and no more of what’s pulling me away from you. If not today then some day, my dear…You will be mine.” Lifting your hand to his lips, he pressed a kiss to your knuckle. “Only mine.”

[taranida]

It's not a lake, it's A. Wake

In the introduction post I’ve made when I’ve just created this blog, I put a few points, that I consider pretty telling of what kind of theories one might see here. One of them was “Alan is the ocean;” meaning, of course, that Alan is the Dark Place. And it has nothing to do with metaphors or tortured madness of his mind.

Alan is the ocean because Alan was connected to the Dark Place long before the whole Bright Falls ordeal happened. Sadly, it’s very hard to tell if the Dark Place existed at all before Alan or if it was retroactively written into reality; I would assume that it did exist at least as a primordial ocean: we have Ahti as a testament to the Dark Place being (a part of?) a primordial ocean and Door as a testament that it is the In-Between. Both of those entities stand out even in the Dark Place, not bothered by its shenanigans, and seem to be pretty comfortable — chilling on the streets of the Writer’s city or dancing with the mop. If anything, both of them showed that they are more disturbed by their time in our world. Ahti has a breakdown in Valhalla, and Door even left his loved ones in a questionable manner to get out. Yet, there are some hints that the Dark Place might’ve been at least shaped to what it is now by Alan. We’ll get to it.

So, how does Alan fit into the narrative of being the primordial ocean, the Dark Place, the In-Between and the Master of Many Worlds, if he (doesn’t even remember his own birthday) wasn’t born before the late 70’s? Door was a man grown in the 80’s; Ahti was kicking in the 60’s, as we learn from the Control’s Foundation; Cauldron Lake gave a headache to the natives centuries ago — all predate even Alan’s birth, let alone his ability to make a coherent story. Well, let’s explore this.

The main question here is: what is time for the Dark Place. I would say it’s just a suggestion; the Dark Place may or may not recognise this concept as something meaningful, but surely refuses to follow it as a rule. We see confirmations all over: in the first game we are shown the clock, that runs backwards, changing the events of the past and hiding the ultimate loop from us, in AWAN we have Mr. Scratch, who sends Alan back in time per the rules of the story; in the second game… what is there that doesn’t defy time, really? “Everything happens all at once and never” is as true as “tomorrow will never happen,” because the time is an idea, most likely, introduced by Alan himself not to go crazier than he already does, hence the wordplay and semantics are important.

But let’s look at what was for sure rewritten retroactively and shown us without the need to piece together hints and come to this conclusion (I am looking at Tom Zane right now and might lightly go into “who wrote whom” this time). We for sure know that the ultimate loop of the first game happens behind the screen: Alan sits to write with the last page in the typewriter, and the last page is this:

Not much text can be seen here, but there is a full version of it:

It’s a bit hard to read (hashtag FreecamForRemastered), so here’s the text:

In the cabin, two stuffed ravens stare at Wake and Alice from atop a bookshelf. Wake is surprised to find his typewriter sitting on the desk. Alice has planned the whole thing behind Wake’s back to get Wake here. Wake feels angry and betrayed. Everyone keeps pushing him to do something he is not ready to do. Wake and Alice argue about it. Suddenly, the lights in the cabin start to flicker. Unseen by Wake and Alice, Barbara Jagger stands in the shadows of the cabin. As soon as it began, the flickering stops and Jagger is gone. Alice is startled by the flickering lights. Wake is too angry to stay. He needs to cool off, to clear his head. Wake storms out of the cabin. He is certain that Alice will not follow him into the dark. When Wake gets to the car, he hears Alice. She is screaming in terror, calling his name. There is a splash of water and then silence. Alarmed, Wake picks up a flashlight from the car and rushes back to the lake. Wake is surprised to see that the cabin is dark, the lights are out. He looks for Alice. Wake scans the dark water with his lamp. He sees her form underwater, sinking into the darkness. He draws a shuddering breath and dives into the black water. Wake wakes up gasping from a nightmare. He is in the car. The car has crashed against a tree. It’s night. He is bleeding from his forehead. He has hit his head. He staggers out. He calls out Alice’s name. There is no reply.

And it already has differences from what we learn in the playthrough of the game: Alan never got to the car; Alan had a flashlight on his person; the screams were heard all the way to the cabin; Alan got into the cabin, not scanned the lake; the car didn’t crash against the tree. All those little details, they are all wrong for us. Most importantly, this manuscript is written in third person and present tense, when all of the manuscripts we can find in the first game are in first person and past tense (if the POV character is Alan, of course). It’s not a Departure we play, it’s the Departure that Alan wrote to allow Alice to escape.

This page flash is followed by the clock going backwards and the time adjusting itself to the moment when Alice is surging up from the lake. She also tells us in the second game that her stay in the Dark Place was a bit different:

“I remembered being trapped inside that lake, a dark ocean with echoes of myself, my fears, my photos. Inside a dark tide of madness. The same events and images, looping again and again. And then I saw a light. Your light. You dove in just as I swam out.”

…than in the manuscript that Alan wrote in his penultimate loop in the first game:

We can assume, he rewrote it to keep Alice’s sanity intact. She did, after all, have a nyctophobia, and just being trapped with a malevolent darkness around — for her — will be worse than looping with photos and events, even if he couldn’t completely protect her from fears and dark madness, he had to stay true to the concept of the Dark Place.

But, again, this might be reality retroactively rewritten or the memories rewritten; the clock and the cutscene of Alice being dragged into the lake are enough to know for sure: Alan can and does rewrite the past.

Alan can toy with time by writing loops into reality less subtly. In AWAN his whole winning strategy was to exhaust Mr. Scratch with loops and prevent him from killing Alan by rewinding time (might not be the first time; surely not the last). The whole plot of AWAN is the proof that time is a weapon and an effective one: loops are not designed to run in circles or start fresh every time, they can be consciously used and abused by Alan to reach his goals. He can rewind, he can start fresh, he can start from the particular point in time, keeping the allies’ memories intact, he can even pull radio-shows from other nights just to hear how his loved ones do. He can also mess everything up, and the reality together with the Dark Place will put things into place. In the “Emma Sloan” manuscript, we have the date:

In the “Lost in the Dark Place” manuscript, the time spent in the Dark Place:

On the radio, Alice agrees with the two years:

“It’s been two years. I— this sounds awful, but yes, I believe he’s dead. Otherwise he would’ve... well, you know.”

You might guess what the issue is here. Alan could not be missing for two years in 2011; he dove into the lake in September of 2010, even if it’s the very end of 2011, he’s missing for only one year and three months. Yet, this ussie was glanced over; or AWAN, contrary to my belief (and Alan’s), actually takes place in 2011, and Alan pulls the interviews from a very far future. Both possibilities prove the point: time is just a suggestion. In fact, it might be a suggestion so much, Alan is lost in it completely. 2011 and 2012 merged into one thing in his mind, and writing and the Dark Place delivered.

There is also Control’s AWE where the alert goes off far in the future; it’s just one of the things that can suggest the time being bent, I will not go into details about the others, since they are not as solid as this one.

In the second game… boy, do I really need to talk about time there? Allow me to be as short as possible: between each draft of Initiation Alan goes through the loop of Return, that resets again and again: we have loops within loops, and our reality, the world bound by the laws of time, waits patiently when Alan will finish walking around Noir-York, collecting echoes, watching Night Springs, and dancing in his musical, just to rewind to the very moment Nightingale crawls up from the waters of the lake. In one playthrough we can see Alan being shot with the bullet of light at least four times. And one playthrough where Return happens four times takes, let’s say for convenience, a week. The first playthrough is not the first big loop of Initiation-Return Alan goes through, it’s not even the first with Saga Anderson as a hero; she, too, is stuck there for multiple loops already (immunity to the story, my arse). How much time Return ignored while our world was frozen? Who knows! A lot.

Just to hammer it down, let’s also throw in the Time Breaker episode. There time was broken so much, eternity lost its meaning. It is a failed story, I want to stress it, nothing from there made its way into reality in anything more than echoes, but the very fact that Alan can write something like this is telling. He also didn’t fail because of this tremendous amount of time he chose to ignore, the time spent as a tree or hanging on the tree wasn’t an issue there.

And, as the last nail in this coffin, that you can choose to ignore: AWR might or might not be yet another set of loops of the first game: Alan did add the Coffee World and other things he needed to establish for Return, effectively rewriting the past.

All of this paints a pretty clear picture: Alan is above and outside the very concept of time; time is his tool, a point in the story, a toy.

Now, let’s forget about that for a moment and talk about Alan’s life before he encountered Barbie as the Dark Presence. His previous works matter. There are several things that point to him being able to affect reality before 2010 (however many 2010’s he looped through).

Known works of his, that are canonically confirmed being written before 2010 are: the Errand Boy story, the Alex Casey novels, the Night Springs episodes “Over the Threshold, Darkly” (the Control one), and whatever the name was before Alan adapted the episode into AWAN’s “Return,” plus a number of others, that are not specified to my knowledge (yet, we can guess some from the ones that are featured in the first game). All of them, one way or another, are connected to reality.

But before we will talk about it, I want to note one thing. The assumption that Alan is… not a “creative writer” but merely a clairvoyant stenographer of sorts, due to his inspirational visions in the second game is quite popular, yet I strongly disagree and would challenge it. In short, every writer, in one way or another, takes inspiration from reality or other fiction (that was inspired by reality), it’s a given and doesn’t make someone a mere stenographer; we have solid evidence that the events of the Alex Casey novels are different from the life of the real FBI agent Alex Casey; the visions are short plot ideas, meat on these bones must be added for it to be a proper work of art; the Dark Place does not realise any fiction that is not a genuine act of creation:

Therefore, no, Alan is not a clairvoyant stenographer, he is a creative writer. And a good one for that matter; at least I had a blast with “Errand Boy” and an excerpt from “Return to Sender.” With that out of the way, let’s return to the point.

From the works we know, the “Errand Boy,” probably, is the weakest argument, but it did contribute to the Bright Presence’s role (if not even existence), yet it was realised too close to Cauldron Lake and probably pretty deep into the loops, so I won’t go into details with it.

The Night Springs episodes, on the other hand, are somewhere in the middle. We know that all of them were written at the very beginning of Alan’s writing career:

And some of them were realised (or foreshadowed, if you chose to believe that the episodes from the first game have one or two written by Alan, as I do) in the past. Now, I know this is a touchy subject for the community, but at this point, I think, the bigger confirmation of Control being Alan’s work, can be only Remedy’s statement, which reads “Alan wrote the events of Control.” The script of “Over the Threshold, Darkly” is the start of the whole Hiss ordeal and the establishment of the Federal Bureau, which deals with the paranatural, as well as Trench’s (and, one might argue, Darling’s) fate. And if the Hiss and Trench (Darling) at the moment of the writing could be years away from the events that were described, the FBC might or might not have been momentarily turned into what we see it as.

There is also this tricky reversed part in Balance Slays the Demon, that was written for AWAN:

It will happen again, in another town, a town called Ordinary

One can choose how to interpret this line, of course, but we can be certain: the boys are doing their seer/connected-to-the-Dark-Place thing and sing about the truth, that will be. Now to the interpretations. We can take the context of the song and assume that in the Ordinary the “Balance” (Hedron/Polaris/Jesse) will slay the “Demon” (Not-Mother and her bunch). We can take “it” as “AWE” or “the overlap,” meaning the Altered World Event will happen there; an overlap, similar to the one in Night Springs, Arizona, will open. Or we can infer that, given that the song is playing in AWAN, yet another script for the Night Springs will start to come true in the past in the town of Ordinary: the setup for “Over the Threshold, Darkly,” or there might be a different one. Or all those together at once might be true.

The line also could be written off as a teaser for This House of Dreams, since it promises a future event, not stating that something already happened. But here comes this whole thing about the concept of time: we already established that the Dark Place couldn’t be bothered by it. In RCU the concept of something happening in the future for something to happen in the past is as logical as it is for us in reverse. The future influences the past as much as the past influences the future.

There is yet another moment when Alan’s works might’ve played a major role. Mr. Scratch’s involvement in the story. Was he truly in Departure, or was he introduced in the script that was later turned into AWAN’s “Return”? Or was the episode of Night Springs “Man in the Mirror” written by Alan, and that’s why we were treated with Mr. Scratch? The personality of the double in the episode surely matches the sadistic playfulness we see in AWAN.

Let’s move to the Alex Casey novels. In the dialogue between the FBI-Casey and Alan, we learn that the books have, as Casey himself put it, “echoes” of his life, as if he were watched. And then Casey says a peculiar line, reminiscent of the Hitchhiker’s:

“You think you’re God? You think you can just make up stuff? Play with people’s lives and kill them when you think it adds to the drama?”

It goes like this:

“I think you like using people, Wake. Taking their lives and twisting them into your stories. And when someone gets hurt, it’s kickass material for the next one. […] This is not your playground. And I’m not your fucking creation.”

The answer to this is even more curious, but let’s take this apart first. Casey is clearly upset (he even spills his coffee!) and trying to prove that he’s not Alan’s creation. It goes a bit against what he said about echoes: if he felt that he’s being watched, then, surely, the logical conclusion will be that Alan is a creepy stalker, and Casey needs to file for a restraining order (or not, the Alex Casey series is finished; some other legal action maybe?). But for some reason Casey flairs up about using people, getting them hurt, and then using their pain. Why is that? Did he check the dates on the publishing of the books and the events of his life that coincide with what is depicted there? Casey gives us nothing concrete, but the two last sentences heavily hint, that the fictional Casey went through things before the real Casey experienced them himself. Alan, most likely, didn’t create FBI Alex Casey per se, but he did influence his life with his writing.

The response Alan gives to Casey’s outburst is very telling:

“It doesn’t work that way. Even in the Dark Place, where the rules hardly apply, it’s very complicated to make fiction come true. I saw visions of what’s happening, what will happen, dreams. I tried to use them in my writing. I understand how dangerous it is now, even with a paralyzing amount of planning. I think I stopped writing. I think I gave up. But there’s a manuscript. Maybe I forgot not to write. The Dark Place makes you forget.”

Yeah, real cute word-salad, Alan. What I want to draw attention to is this line:

“Even in the Dark Place, where the rules hardly apply, it’s very complicated to make fiction come true.”

Even in the Dark Place… so, what about the outside of the Dark Place? More rules, but, you know, in general, it’s kinda a thing? A bit more hoops to jump through, a bit more fidgeting with the Clicker, a bit more annoyance, but you’ve been there, done that?

He does follow up with “visions,” but at this point it’s very hard to follow — what he’s talking about: the Dark Place or the real world before the Dark Place? Or both, because he’s confused and his head hurts? While I’m not going to claim that Alan is not a capable parautilitarian, who, indeed, can peek into other people’s lives and dreams or even other dimensions and could see into Casey’s future this way, it doesn’t change that, if taken at face value, he kind of admitted to being able to make fiction come true even outside of the Dark Place. Allow me to make an example, so we are all on the same page, let’s say one is playing basketball and states, “even in training, where the rules hardly apply, it’s very complicated to dunk.”

Let’s also not forget that Casey is not the only FBI agent whose life was in one way or another affected by the Dark Place and Alan: Finn, Robert Nightingale’s partner, went missing because of some “craziness in the east” at least some months before September of 2010. Did Alan write it? We don’t really know, since not much in general is known about Robert Nightingale, his partner, and his motivations; but somehow the agent was convinced that Alan is at fault for the “craziness.” We also don’t have more examples of Alan’s previous works to claim this was realised through writing. But he did somehow influence what happened with Finn and Nightingale long before Bright Falls and from outside of the Dark Place. We are not talking AW1 or AWAN level of “outside of the Dark Place,” because all the fiction (or visions) that came true in those games was created inside the Dark Place, and after Alan was already tightly connected to it…

Or was he always? Herald of Darkness, really, is such a gem. Let’s take a look at what the boys have to say about it with their “visions of what’s happening, what will happen.” We will skip through Alan’s and Door’s parts, after all, if you reading this, there is a chance you know them well enough or at least know where to find the lyrics.

On the nightmares, the Clicker and being drawn to stories:

C'mon in and listen Lost words you've been missing Of the fire you're bearing The eye of the darkness, your light […] So here is a clue Of hope to remember Visions, they come true Obeying the light switch too

It’s all about baby-Alan (according to the manuscript from the Well-Lit Room — 7 y.o.), who was still waking up in the middle of the night and couldn’t sleep, because he was horrified. The eye of the darkness — his light? Visions come true obeying the Clicker? By the way, we are talking about a kid who’s suffering from a rare congenital condition, that makes him overly sensitive to light. He is blinded by bright light and prone to migraines, as stated in the guide to the first game. Almost like those Taken that lived through the first game and then were suffering severe photosensitivity per “The Alan Wake Files.” This also heavily enforces that Alan’s line “even in the Dark Place, where the rules hardly apply, it’s very complicated to make fiction come true” can be taken literally: it is hard and complicated, with a bunch of rules, much more so than in the Dark Place, but possible in the real world: visions, they come true.

Now, allow me to digress a little, because we need to explore the Clicker very briefly. Alan described it to Alice as a source of a magic light, that can make nightmares go away; in the first game it was a source of a magic light and a key; in the second game it became an amp as well. With the source of a magic light, everything is pretty simple: Linda Wake, Alan’s mother, convinced him about that, using his father as an argument — everything of his father’s took on mythical proportions in Alan’s mind. We see this magic light thrice: when Alan clicks the night away in the Well-Lit Room:

When he summons the Bright Presence in the apartment, and when he “fills [the Dark Presence’s] heart with light”:

Yup, Alan’s first OoP, that he created is a glorified flashlight.

The Clicker as the key was established by the boys of OGoA in The Poet and the Muse:

And now to see your love set free You will need the witch's cabin key Find the lady of the light gone mad with the night That's how you reshape destiny

And Alan did use it as a key in a way: he took the Clicker out before jumping into the lake. Considering how the first game was stressing the “key” quality of the Clicker, an argument might be made, that without it in hand, Alan would just crash onto the waters below, and only the possession of the “key” allowed him to enter the Dark Place instead of expiring. In the second game, the Clicker suddenly became an amp; who exactly decided on this quality we don’t really know, I would bet on Scratch (Alan will follow any belief Scratch has, since he himself doesn’t remember the truth anyways), but Alan agrees and the boys, too. Funnily, one might say it was used as a key more in the second game than it was in the first: Scratch opened an overlap with it, letting the Dark Place to seep into our world, then it was used to close the overlap with the new ending of Return (not to mention what had happened on the shore of Cauldron Lake). Why do we need to know all this? Because, no matter if the Clicker, aside from being a glorified torch, is a key or an amp, little baby-Alan, seven years old, was either closing and opening his connection to the Dark Place, the source of his nightmares (as the AW1 episode one “Nightmare” shows), and a powerful reality-bending dimension; or through the amp quality of the Clicker could make the visions come true.

So, the boys in this part of the song spelled it for us: Alan was at least connected to the powers of the Dark Place and his light was the eye of the darkness.

Moving on. On getting famous and fame’s impact:

The story's the end-all A piece of true fiction Made meaningless in The face of creation […] Fighting the nightmares Torch and a light switch A gift or a curse A reality made of dreams

The story, as far as I understand now, is the last Alex Casey novel, I might be wrong, so we will skip it — there are other ways to look at those words. But “fighting the nightmares with a torch and a light switch” and “reality made of dreams”… well, that sounds an awful lot like Alan’s already in the story! And the torch here is a metaphor or a flashlight? Actually, both will do. The reality is already made of dreams; and it’s not only about Alan’s dreams coming true in the most cheerful and nicest meaning.

But in the last part there is much more.

He could write a new story Like Tom Zane before him And maybe they'd be happy once again

Tom Zane, as we know from This House of Dreams, wrote a story for him and Barbara to have a private island in the Dark Place, where they can live their happy-ever-after. The problem here is: we are not yet at the point in the song when Alice will be kidnapped, it’s still what could be instead of the whole ordeal with the Dark Presence. One might interpret it as “if Alan would just write a new book, they won’t be in need of a vacation in a place with a shrink,” but Tom’s name is there. And the only story, to our knowledge, that influenced the happiness of Tom’s and Barbara’s was the Last Poem, that was no mere poem, but a story that shaped the Dark Place. Which, again, points out that Alan could make fiction come true before Bright Falls by just writing away all his and marriage’s problems.

Still he's the torch bearer And it couldn't be much clearer A war needs its warrior, true and right But the darkness within him Held her hostage Had he seen her drowning Would have saved her from the darkness of the lake

Alright, here we have a very confusing part. Alan’s torchbearer and a warrior true and right, okay, that’s fair. The problem is — he’s also the darkness, that holds Alice hostage, the very darkness he’s supposed to fight against. And, by the way, “had he seen her drowning”? I’ll get back to this.

To finish with Herald of Darkness, let’s just remember that the song with this name is about Alan. He’s a Champion of Light as much as he’s the Herald of Darkness, especially now, when Mr. Scratch, the only entity that was not in its core Alan himself, is gone and cannot fill those shoes.

To summarise everything that was established: the Dark Place knows nothing about time, Alan has been connected to the Dark Place since he was born, and he is both the light and the darkness.

What do the other characters have to say about this? Mr. Door points out that all the rules Alan follows are self-imposed and that he doesn’t know who’s under his mask, before politely asking to play his part in Door’s business or stay out of his way. Ahti says about that “fearing the master is the root of wisdom,” and it’s not really clear who’s the master there, since after that Ahti comforts Alan by saying that Mr. Door is just playing his role and, if something, Alan can just shove him into a film, as it was done with Ahti himself. Here, I guess, will be a great time to remind, that the Dark Place is in Ahti’s bucket:

And that the quest to find the Master of Many Worlds, always leads to Alan. I’d say the roles are: Door is the wise one.

Dr. Darling in his research of the Dark Place concluded that it is a dreamscape and the dreamer has a voice, weirdly similar to his own.

I don’t really know where I should put Noir-Casey, since he’s Alan’s figment of imagination as Barry was in the AW1 DLCs, yet he’s a character with enough agency to be considered, so I will slap him in between. After Alan shoots him, Noir-Casey has an internal monologue, that ends with:

“I was the dark place, the source of it all, the vessel. Me and the writer, we were the same.”

In different circumstances, I wouldn’t take those words at face value, but here they mean exactly what they say: it’s not a metaphor, it’s the truth. There are many truths like that sprinkled throughout the game — so blatantly, it’s hard to take them seriously.

Finally, Alan himself has something to say about this. Well, aside from proclaiming himself the Master of Many Worlds in the end of the Final Draft.

“If time is not a straight line, then there are loops beyond loops; these loops vast complex superstructures beyond what’s happening to me now ahead of me, and I’m there as well, a version of me, something I have become some elevated, enlightened version, an archon, a demiurge, a demon of some sort playing a secret game, building something his past self, a pawn to get him there, a deus ex machina pushing me there.”

He’s not wrong, we know that there is a deus-ex-machina-Alan, that calls on the phone, and there is an elevated version of him, that told the boys of OGoA that something is coming. Alice as well said, that there is only one way out of the loop: ascension or destruction. We saw both, but ended on the ascension.

Given that the most powerful entity established as of now, Ahti, is not only in Alan’s film, but also had a breakdown because of the story, we can estimate Alan’s ability to influence both (many) worlds. ‘Tis tremendous.

With this knowledge let’s look at the games with a thought that Alan is indeed the Dark Place, the vessel, the source of it all.

Tom Zane was written by Alan or Alan assumed the role of Tom for some time, placing Alice as Barbara. “Had he seen her drowning” is not only about Alice, it’s about Barbara as well. By the information we have, before the Dark Presence, they were very similar: both (blond) sweet, nice ladies, both muses to their respective writers, both drowned (even if Alan twisted it to Alice being held as a hostage), both were written back (success differs). Given that the story is a spiral and loops could be endless with different events, this moment from the video for “War” by Poets of the Fall can easily be a hint from yet another loop:

There are supporting lines in the game, where Alice’s voice says Barbara’s words and Alan’s — Tom’s. And the photos from This House of Dreams, that states that this lady is the poet’s girlfriend that drowned.

And this lady does look more like Alice than like Barbara, as we know her from the games.

In the Herald of Darkness furthermore the line “had he seen her drowning” is curious not because of the “seen” part, clairvoyance and all, we know, but because of “drowning” (Alice is dead theory might happen™). Alice had drowned per Herald of Darkness; even the first game calls it into question, as does the board in QB:

Let me sprinkle more things, I believe, can tie this up.

The Dark Place itself is something Alan created for Alice, to save her, it’s tightly connected to her and the tragedy that happened, hence it’s wet and it’s dark. He wanted her to not only return to him, but also not be far from her comfort-nightmare-zone (because he wouldn’t believe that death is a bright and nice cheerful place; if he would even allow himself to believe it, he might’ve lost the ability to drag her back from there). The Dark Place is an ocean, a lake, a body of water because Alice drowned. It is also awfully similar to the dark room every photographer uses. It makes art “real” — develops film into physical pictures, and to make those physical pictures one must find a correct way to do so. Just like Alan loops, searching for exact steps to make the story work, what solution to use when and for how long.

The Bright Falls is Night Springs and was created by Alan to spin this tale of “Alice is held hostage by supernatural darkness” in a spooky town with questionable history and a haunted lake instead of her drowning. Was there a town before Alan started to search for the way to save his wife? Who knows! But if there was, it was surely quite different. This is the tabletop game “Night Springs”:

This is the overview of Bright Falls. Find 5 differences.

Yes, Sarah does say that there is a joke that Night Springs was inspired by Bright Falls, but not to this extent, otherwise she would surely point it out (they even stole our map!). For Alan, though, it’s only natural to use Night Springs to make a town where all those supernatural things can take place; he needed a playground, and when he needs one, as AWAN and NS DLC show, he turns to Night Springs.

And lastly, I wrote that much about the relationship between the Dark Place and time not only to hint that the story could be written starting from any date (who else won’t be surprised if in the future games we will see Alan writing the very creation of Cauldron Lake?), but also to highlight one important thing. The only character, who can manipulate time that drastically is Alan. He’s the one to create loops, he’s the one to make Mr. Scratch “send him back in time” instead of killing him, he’s the one to stall the world for Return to play out again and again, and he’s the one who dies only to be back at the safe spot in the story to adjust things. Not only his cutscenes with touching the forehead point on him dying and looping back, even the casual death during the playthrough shows him dead on the floor, not the message that this is not how the story goes. Story for Alan allows his death, and every time a player is killed, we have yet another dead Alan (F for all the Alans we lost along the way).

With all this said, we have an immortal being, that cannot be killed, can split himself into multiple other beings, can change reality in a way that anything, no matter how far into the past (or the future) it happened, will become the new truth, who shaped the primordial ocean after his wife’s tragic passing, turning it or a part of it into the Dark Place, kept dreaming the surroundings to fit his needs, and is considered the Master of Many Worlds. I think Ahti’s Sankarin Tango sums it up nicely, so I will leave you with it.

Once, he mistook an ocean for a lake, he told us in a poem In the depths of that mystery he spent his whole life Under a dark ocean, in the shadows he wanders Searching for a way back into the light to his loved one Alone, the hero continues his journey into the night That burden on his shoulders forever like a promise In this game this fool is struck down again and again Only a moment's rest in death before he's called back again Time breaks into eternity, a gunshot echoes There’s never a happy end for him This story has been told many times before The hero has a thousand faces and a hopeless path Alone, the hero continues his journey into the night That burden on his shoulders forever like a promise In this game this fool is struck down again and again Only a moment's rest in death before he's called back again

[kimakento]

so this is how it feels

synopsis: nicholas has been in love with you for quite some time now, but he struggles to reconcile with that love when it goes even far enough for him to develop hanahaki. but you’ll never know that he yearns your love back. ⌙ 2.6k

pairing(s): wang yixiang x fem!reader

genre(s): angst

warning(s): swearing, blood, passing out, low self-esteem, bit of toxicity

tags: hanahaki!au, unrequited love and more. (too lazy to write it out sorry 😞)

author’s note: this was requested by my fav @loserlvrss i actually read a hanahaki fic the other day and HAD to write one myself, this is a bit self indulgent but as always hope you enjoy !!! i js wanted to get this out quicker, might make a part 2 idk i hope this is gut-wrenching enough for you bae 🤞

a little fun fact: i read somewhere sakura cherry blossoms represent the fleeting nature of love and the fragility of it. which is what i see in nicho it just made sense to me

a few years ago, when nicholas was asked by one of his friends what his type was, he blanked out. while staring at his friend, dumbfounded, he scoffed, claiming that he didn’t care enough to have one.

love wasn’t something that he needed at the time, much less cared about. he pondered about how romantic love was supposed to feel like or what love even was, it wasn’t one of his priorities, though.

but now, if anyone ever asked nicholas what love was, he’d reply with you. the girl who occupied his every thought, his every dream, his every waking moment — maybe that was an exaggeration, but you were love to him. love was the person who made you feel feelings, nicholas couldn’t quite put it coherently but he just knew it was you.

and if you were love to him, why were you with him and talking about another man right now? nicholas despised him, he loathed that he wasn’t the reason for the goofy smile on your face, that he wasn’t the reason for your random fits of giggles, that he wasn’t—

“nicholas! are you even listening?” the train of thoughts cut off when a pout crept up on your face, emphasising your discontent. however, as time passed torturously slow, an unsual sensation in his chest began to settle, but he dismissed it. nicholas set his hazy gaze on you, watching intently while you parted your lips to speak, the same ones he so badly wanted to claim as his.

“just look at what he posted, k is definitely doing this on purpose.” you said while shoving your bright phone screen in his face, nicholas squinted his eyes to focus on the photo of yudai while the subtle tickle buried deep in his chest intensified. balling his fist, he watched as your enthusiasm became more evident as you slightly bounced on your bed, humming along to a melody, only stopping when he spoke.

“why don’t you just tell him about your feelings then?” more like ‘why couldn’t he tell you about his.’ it was rich coming from him.

“it’s not that easy, nicho,” and he thought he understood that more than anyone. “yudai—“

“can this wait? i need to use the bathroom right now.” nicholas was only a mere two seconds from just leaving, he couldn’t bear hearing that stupid name anymore. ‘yudai’ this, ‘kei’ that, he just wanted your attention on him and only him.

his steps felt heavy as he dragged his feet towards the bathroom; nicholas felt so shameful. distance from you felt like the proper solution. as he entered the bathroom and locked the door, his head fell against it in a dramatic thump. so much thoughts ran through his mind, it felt unbearable.

involuntarily, he let out a small cough into the palm of his hand.

fuck, am i sick right now? he thought.

but then—he saw it, a delicate and dainty pink petal; one that looked like one from a cherry blossom. that’s when his heart dropped. staring nervously at the out-of-place petal, it crumbled away painstakingly slowly, disappearing into flecks of dust whisked away by the air.

“what the fu—“

the vulgar sentence was cut off by another cough wracking his body, bringing a second, pale petal with it. nicholas’s eyes darted around anxiously as his breath hitched. this cannot be happening. not now. not like this, when you’re in the other room. with trembling hands, he slapped his hand over his mouth hastily. yet his ragged breaths only seemed to intensify the creeping pain in his chest, the ache refusing to dissipate.

completely oblivious, you noticed nicholas’s prolonged absence and decided to walk towards the bathroom, calling out his name while concerned.

“nicho, are you okay?”

in between half-stifled coughs he let out a meek mumble, “i…i’m fine.”

bringing your hand up to cover your face, you shook your head while tutting at his response.

“okay then..? just shout my name if you need anything!”

once he heard your retreating footsteps becoming fainter, nicholas retracted his hand from his mouth and noticed a small petal was placed fitly in his hand; he grimaced.

it was hanahaki. he was suffering because of his unrequited love for his best friend. why was it always him? bad things always had to happen to him.

a sharp pain struck him in the chest and he clenched his shirt to find relief. nearly doubling over in pain, nicholas ran over to the sink, putting one of his hands on each side while coughing violently. his grip on it was so hard that his knuckles turned white. after a few more minutes, it seemed to have subsided, but that was only the calm before a storm—a big one at that.

sheepishly, he turned the bathroom door handle and stepped outside, hearing the sound, you hurried over to him.

your hand came up to cover his forehead, feeling his body temperature before stating, “you look pale, and you’re hot. i really think you should go home.”

nicholas’ face flushed from your gentle touch, he didn’t even pay attention to the growing ache tightening.

a smile crept up on his face. ‘i know i’m hot, you don’t have to tell me.’ he wanted to say, but before the first word came out, he coughed into the palm of his hand.

another petal.

this time, a streak of blood painted the innocent, pink petal.

concern washed over you and you placed your hand over his shoulder, the petal just out of your line of sight. quickly, nicholas nodded his head before clenching his hand; just to hide it.

“what about you? you’re going to be lonely here.” he gazed down at you with drab eyes. mesmerising were your eyes, the eye contact you held with him enchanting him more with every fleeting moment—no, he wasn’t allowed to think that.

you responded with a small smile, “it’s okay, me and yudai are going out. you know, i think he likes me back. i might take my chance sooner or later—“ that name again; why is it always him? nicholas thought. that familiar pang pained him again and he clutched his other hand, gritting his teeth through the pain. it only seemed to worsen whenever you mentioned that guy—nicholas didn’t even want to think about his name.

after recognising the complicit frown on his face, you interrupted yourself and dismissed it as him being ill. “—but enough about that! you should go home.”

in defeat, he weakly nodded before grabbing his jacket and making his way out of your home. the outside world felt cold and the chilling wind whisked everything away as he kicked a nearby pebble.

opening his fist, he threw away the blood-painted petal in a rage.

nicholas hated—no, he loathed koga yudai. he hated how he had to fight for your attention, he hated that he even developed hanahaki because of his stupid, unwarranted love for his friend. most of all, he hated you for being so oblivious. but who was he kidding? wang yixiang could never hate you. even if he tried his utmost hardest.

the subtle tickle in his throat began again, almost like a never-ending story.

then he looked up, trying to distract himself by watching the clouds. it all became useless when your face appeared again in his thoughts, and he’s reminded of the strong gaze you held just minutes ago.

nicholas picked up his pace, walking through the park that you both do every week. shoving his freezing hands into his pockets, he notices a familiar face in the distance walking in the opposite direction.

koga yudai.

great, his day seemed to be getting worse. a bitter expression adorned his face as the taller man continued to walk towards him, almost passing nicholas in the process before finally recognising him and visibly brightening up.

“hey, nicholas! funny seeing you here.” his tone was light and airy, usually the type that friends would have towards each other. but they weren’t friends, they would never be friends; or at least that’s what nicholas thought.

the latter’s voice was flat and disinterested as he replied dryly, wanting to end the conversation. “yeah, nice.”

before he could walk away, yudai placed a hand on his shoulder to stop his sudden rush.

“do you know if she’s at home? i don’t know if you were told, but we’re going out right now. i really want to make a good impression.” on yudai’s face, he held an almost lovesick expression, which made nicholas feel sick.

the mention of you brought back the long forgotten pain. with a weak shake of his head, nicholas excused himself and walked away hastily.

kei was perplexed but thought nothing of it as he continued to your house, making note to ask you about it later.

the wooden bench nicholas chose to sat own was cold. his fingertips brushed against the splinted wood as his other hand covered his mouth, to attempt to silence his defeaning coughs that wracked his already-vulnerable state.

for months in a row, this continued—you’d call to talk about the ‘oh so romantic’ moments with kei or to talk about how kind he was, or to even just update nicholas about your situation with yudai. then that same pain would start again, and pink petals, sometimes painted with a streak of red, would fall out of his mouth. it only worsened when you announced that you and yudai were a thing.

he was genuinely sick of it.

his pain seemed to have become palpable in every way.

but today, was a day like no other. nicholas was hunched over, eyes widened at what lay there, tainting the white, marble sink in his bathroom.

a whole cherry blossom.

he turned the tap, indulging the clear water to run; all to tune out his thoughts. the petals of the blossom crumbled, and some were taken away by the water. with trembling hands, he threw the running water at his face, with this continued on for a couple of minutes with a few sighs of fatigue in between.

when leaving the bathroom and sitting onto his bed, he began to sink deep into thought. nicholas didn’t know how to get rid of this, the disease that plagued his soul, the one that he was terrified of bringing up out loud, much less to you. this unknownness was unfamiliar; therefore horrifying. help couldn’t be an option for him, yet he couldn’t just hope it all went away. but—

before nicholas could finish his thought, his phone vibrated from a text.

my life </3 wanted 2 ask if u wanted to go to a get-together with our class with me n k at one of their houses (u don’t have to come, i know how much u hate these.) sent 1:38pm

the last part of your text, though not important, made his heart flutter. as he reread the message he noticed the phrase ‘me and k’. armed with frustration, he was reminded of the blossom again. and with a bitter taste in his mouth, he replied back.

nicho!! ok. txt me the address. sent 1:43pm

as you squinted to read his message, your mind wandered. the crude reply sounded unlike him and so you responded. nicholas stared at the three dots that flowed on his screen, anticipating your reply.

my life </3 u good? u sound out of it ): if u’re sick u should stay home. sent 1:45pm

nicholas hated seeing you sad, he never wanted to be the cause of your unhappiness but he also didn’t want to see you with yudai. he took a deep breath to calm himself, choking himself up when he coughed.

it was another whole flower. however, there was no blood this time. his stomach churned as he doubled over and the feeling of wanting to throw up intensified. nicholas wanted nothing but to get the hanahaki disease out of him.

tapping your foot impatiently, you texted him again.

my life </3 nicho? where r u? wang yixiang. i’m concerned now. read 1:54pm

every passing minute made you more anxious, resulting in you picking at your fingers.

with trembling fingers, nicholas responded with a simple ‘i’m okay’. and you let out a sigh of relief knowing he was fine.

‘please come to the get-together’ you said, ‘it’ll be fun’ you said. yet what was fun about watching you all over kei? what was so fun about leaving your friend hanging and barely even speaking to him? what was fun about being so oblivious about his painfully obvious feelings?

while everyone cooed at the ‘cute’ couple that was you and yudai, nicholas stayed slumped in the corner with an empty glass in his hand; subtly glaring at you both with watchful eyes.

as you interlocked your fingers with kei’s, you bridged the gap between you, meeting his lips with yours.

thoughts distorted and eyes narrowed, nicholas swore he could hear his porcelain heart shatter into minuscule pieces.

there it was again, the ache in his chest, now rising up his throat.

placing his glass on the table, he sped up the steps to find the nearest bathroom. finally, one door he opened turned out to be it. and wasting no time, he hurried in and locked the door; running to the sink, he couldn’t stop the strings of coughs from his mouth. flower after flower appeared, each with more streaks of blood than the one before.

so, this was how it felt? to fall in love with you? nicholas wondered if it would’ve been different if he had confessed before everything. everyone warned him to not develop feelings, it was always going to be a bad idea. he never listened.

and these were the consequences.

the flowers were nonstop and like infinity, they continued on and on and on. each blossom pained him more, making him wince. his vision slightly darkened and his breath hitched.

then it quickened and it felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen. the room started spinning and the temperature dropped. or it didn’t, he didn’t know. nicholas’s senses were all distorted and that made his brain unable to recognise or process anything. everything felt foreign and weird. while staggering, he fell to the floor in one swift motion.

“nicholas?” he heard a voice echo.

another cough. another pretty pink cherry blossom. one as pretty as you.

“nicho?!” again, the same familiar voice. his eyes stayed open long enough to watch the door creak and you come out behind it. your face showed worry as you scrambled down, clutching his shirt.

voice cracking, you whisper-shouted, “nicholas! listen to me, come on.”

your shaking hands reached into your pocket, dialling for an ambulance.

and then you see it, a flower on the floor, laid prettily next to his motionless head. your hands tremble trying to reach out to touch it, but you’re distracted when nicholas mumbled softly.

“what’s wrong?” you asked quietly, tears threatening to fall.

a small smile appeared on his face, “i love you.”

“i know, i love you too. but this isn’t it for you, please.”

“y..you don’t get it… not in that..way.”

the last thing he remembered was seeing your eyes blinking cluelessly. it took you a couple of seconds before your eyes widened. you turned away from him, concealing your hurt expression and you heard nicholas sigh.

“nicholas, i..i’m sorry.” you managed to say while turning to face him, only to see his eyes shut peacefully.

even though he knew there was no chance of you liking him back, nicholas would still always love you and choose a life with you in it in a heartbeat.

[exonerin]

Wip Wednesday | Obikin Big Bang Finale

Upcoming Saturday, November 23rd, I'll post my Obikin Big Bang. So, this is the final Wip Wednesday for my Big Bang project.

If you're curious about the Rako Hardeen fic, I'm working on the last one or two chapters. I was tasked with organizing several things at my job, so I had very little time to write. However, the last part is in progress, and I will post it next week.

Without further ado, here it is, the very first few paragraphs:

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Mind still reeling, Anakin climbed out of his shuttle, stumbling when his foot caught behind a latch. Although the Chancellor's admission hadn't been a physical blow, the confession had messed with his sense of balance, rendering him disoriented. Anakin was reminded of a concussion he had sustained when the Clone Wars had just begun, which seemed a lifetime ago.

Stress warred with dehydration and sleep deprivation, pulling his mind in all directions during the few seconds he could string coherent thoughts together. Then, nausea would sweep over him like a nasty bout of space sickness, washing those singular moments of faux clarity away. His near-constant headache had centered behind his right eye, both eyes stinging like the putrid stench of burning circuit boards on the Invisible Hand still clung to him. His thoughts spiraled out of control, too slippery to control, while Anakin needed control. Fear held him in a cold grip, tightening around the essence of his identity until something cracked forebodingly.

What was he supposed to do?

Due to the war, few Masters were left in the temple, and even then… who would believe the news that Anakin couldn't wrap his mind around himself? His standing in the Order was rocky, the distance between him and the rest of the Order widening into a chasm Anakin couldn't cross when the Chancellor had granted him a seat on the Council as representative.

The memory of the Council's announcement made his stomach burn with humiliation.

Anakin tripped over his feet.

But it's what you wanted, Obi-Wan's voice echoed in his mind. Your friendship with Chancellor Palpatine seems to have paid off.

Anakin's stomach lurched, the memories of their argument painting a damning picture.

During their argument, Anakin had told Obi-Wan his loyalties lay with the Chancellor. The Chancellor had given him a seat on the Council -- forced the Council's hand. Back then, Anakin had been so honored and ridiculously proud that the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic trusted him. Now, however, his arrogance made bile rise in his throat.

Would the Order believe that Anakin didn't… that he wasn't… Swallowing around the rising panic and bile, Anakin ran deeper into the temple's hangars.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

[captainsophiestark]

Presentation Problems

Tristan Flynn x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Fandom: Crescent City

Summary: We all need a little distraction from work sometimes, and lucky for Flynn and Y/N, they stumbled into each other's lives at the perfect time.

Word Count: 2,479

Category: Fluff, Humor

A/N: This is functionally a prequel to Nosy Best Friends and The Best Night Ever, but it can also be read independently of that!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I muttered to myself as I tried to force my brain to comprehend the words on the page, to write something coherent related to that, but I just couldn't do it. I'd been studying in an empty classroom, working on a massive grad school presentation due tomorrow for hours, and I just couldn't make another complete thought materialize. The stupid book was mocking me, and so were my notebooks, and so was my laptop.

And I'd had it.

"ARGH!"

I flung my notebook as hard as I could, as far away from me as I could get it. A split second later, the door to the empty classroom I'd commandeered flung open, and a very tall fae male stepped inside. My notebook hurtled right at his face, but at the last moment, he managed to catch it with a free hand. He blinked at it, eyebrows furrowed, then looked up and made eye contact with me.

I stared right back, both of us trying to figure each other out for a few moments. As a human, I wasn't totally sure I didn't need to find a way to get the Hel out of here, immediately, but I was also exhausted and more frustrated than I'd been in a long time. If ever there were a time for me to throw hands with a Vanir, it was now.

"Who are you?" he barked, one hand still holding my notebook and another drifting towards the gun at his side. Looking at him for more than two seconds made it clear he was part of the Fae Aux. Just my luck.

"A student trying to get some fucking work done," I snapped before I could stop myself. "Who the Hel are you, and why are you barging into empty classrooms on my campus?"

He blinked at me for a moment, apparently surprised by my outburst, but I just crossed my arms and stared him down with a raised eyebrow. I was exhausted, and I didn't want to get back to work, but I also didn't want to stay here a moment longer than I had to. And I couldn't get anything done if I had to deal with a member of the Aux first.

"We're chasing somebody who ducked into this building to try to lose us. They're dangerous, especially to a human, so I need to get you out of here."

His hand dropped fully from his gun and he started walking towards me with purpose. I took a few steps back to put a desk between us and glared at him.

"No way! Do you know what I'm doing right now? I'm fighting for my life working on a presentation that makes up a ridiculous percentage of my grade, and it's been absolute Hel, but I am so close to being done! I am not leaving now."

He raised one eyebrow at me, then held up my notebook.

"This is close?" He sounded a little amused, and I noticed a spark in his eyes that hadn't been there when he'd first stepped through the door. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"I have more notebooks right here that I can huck at your head again, so I'd watch it with the taunting of the stressed grad student."

He let out a chuckle, a smile that he didn't try to hide breaking out on his face.

"You know it's illegal to attack a member of the Fae Aux?"

"If you bother to spend time on me when you're chasing an apparently dangerous perp and have a thousand other, better things to be doing in this city, then your whole department is a waste of time and resources."

He laughed again, that spark in his eye getting even more noticeable, not seeming the least bit bothered that I'd just called his job worthless. A loud crash from outside the classroom quickly sobered him, though. He dropped the notebook on the desk before me and raised one finger to his lips for quiet, then started moving towards the door, one hand resting on his gun again. I watched him take a deep breath, before flinging open the door on the exhale, drawing his weapon and launching into the hallway.

If I weren't so pissed at him, with the last bit of emotional capacity being taken up a sliver of fear, it actually would've been pretty hot.

Instead, I flipped my tossed notebook back open to the page I'd been working on, keeping half my attention on the door and getting ready to throw something heavier in self-defense if I needed to. It didn't take long though for my original interruption to return.

"Hey, don't throw anything at me, alright?" he called from the hallway, easing through the door a moment later. He hand his hands up in mock-surrender and he shut the door behind him with his foot.

"Why are you back in here?"

"Ouch. That's all I get?"

"For interrupting my studying? You're lucky you're not getting worse."

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile, but it quickly faded as he crossed the room to stand in front of me again. I eyed him suspiciously, still keeping half my attention on my notebook.

"The guy we're looking for wasn't in the hall. It's seriously not safe in this building until we find him, especially for a human. So you need to go."

"No way. I'm not leaving this building until I'm done with this presentation, and then I'm not coming back to this building until I have to. And I'm not letting a single thing change this plan for me. I will fight you tooth and nail if you try to drag me out of here, Aux boy, and don't make the mistake of underestimating the amount of fight I can put up."

The guy sighed, long and heavy, running a hand through his hair as he did. I crossed my arms again, and I didn't break or look away when he fixed me with a look.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

He huffed again, letting the silence drag out a little bit more, then spoke again when I still didn't budge.

"Dammit. Fine." He stepped aside and typed a few hurried texts into his phone. I watched him suspiciously, and after a few moments, he turned back to me. He plopped down in the chair at the desk across from mine, and I frowned.

"What are you doing?"

"Like I said, it's not safe in this building for you to be alone in an abandoned classroom right now. So I'm going to make sure you stay safe in here, since you won't leave, until my partners catch the guy we're looking for in the rest of the building."

I crossed my arms.

"So what, you're just gonna hover over me for the rest of the night?"

He shrugged. "Pretty much."

"No way! That's gonna be distracting as Hel, and I don't need a fae bodyguard."

"As great as your aim is with that notebook, sweetheart, this is a threat greater than half the Aux could handle. And unless you want to take time out of your studying to try to kick me out of here?"

I narrowed my eyes, mentally trying to calculate just how long that might take. He apparently could tell, because he fixed me with a grin and tried (and failed) to be subtle about flexing. I huffed and rolled my eyes, but I returned my attention to the notebook in front of me all the same.

"Alright, good," he said with a smile. "Glad we could come to an understanding. I'm Flynn, by the way."

"Flynn. I'm busy. Do me a favor and don't distract me any more than you already have."

He snorted, but I didn't look up from my notebook again.

It took me longer than I wanted to get back into focus-mode, but I kept waiting for Flynn to say something or do something that distracted me. Instead, he just sat on the other side of the table, flipping through some of the books I wasn't using but otherwise staying quiet.

It made me a little suspicious, but I decided not to question it. Thankfully, I eventually managed to get back in the zone, almost completely blocking out the fae before me. The distraction he'd unintentionally provided had been exactly the break I needed for one final push. My nose was barely an inch from my notebook and then my laptop screen as I finished putting everything together, then finally flopped back in my chair with a sigh.

"You done? Or are you about to pick up your notebook and start looking for another target?"

"You know what, I'm so happy to be done with this stupid project that I'm not even going to comment on your assumption that I'd find another target, instead of just keeping the one right in front of me."

Flynn snorted, but I just smiled at him. When he caught my eye, a small smirk slowly spread on his face too.

"So, are you ready to finally let me get you out of here? Or do you have more to do?"

I huffed, crossing my arms and leaning back in my chair.

"I should actually probably practice this presentation once or twice, since I'm supposed to be giving it tomorrow... no chance your mystery perpetrator is gonna get my classes canceled for a few days, is there?"

Flynn grinned. "Sorry sweetheart, but you're out of luck on that front. I got a text about an hour ago that my Aux partners managed to catch the guy."

I frowned, my brain trying to process that. If the bad guy he'd been after had been captured an hour ago, then why the Hel was he still here?

My face must've conveyed as much, because Flynn kicked back in his chair and crossed his arms before clearing his throat.

"You seemed like you needed some company. I wouldn't know personally, but I've heard it's easier to study sometimes when you're not just sitting in a room by yourself."

I grinned. "Wow. That's actually kind of... cute."

Flynn raised an eyebrow. "Cute?"

"Yeah. And since you've already proved your dedication to helping me with my work... any chance you'd be willing to let me practice my presentation on you?"

Flynn groaned, throwing his head back a little before fixing me with another look.

"I won't lie, I was hoping your sentence would go somewhere a little more fun."

I shook my head as I stood up, carrying my notebook and laptop with me.

"Nope. So, what do you say, Aux boy? You in?"

He huffed a dramatic sigh, but when I turned back around after setting up my presentation, he'd turned his chair to face me and was leaning back, ready to pay attention.

"Last chance to escape," I teased, giving him a little smile as I walked to the center of the room. He just grinned right back.

"I'm not going anywhere."

And for some reason, his words made my heart skip a beat. But I ignored it, instead launching into the final presentation of the project I'd been working on for way too long. I started out a little stilted, but I'd been staring at the material for so long that I hardly needed to look at my notecards, so instead I looked at Flynn. He smiled at me, nodding along and clearly showing his engagement, and slowly but surely it helped me find my rhythm. By the end of the presentation, I didn't need to rewatch the recording I'd set up to know I'd aced it.

"That was great! I normally don't give a shit about any of this crap, but you made it interesting. And... I think you actually might've managed to teach me something."

I couldn't help laughing, feeling lighter than I had all semester as I gathered up my project materials.

"I'm glad to hear it. Thank you for listening."

"Sure thing." I finished packing up, then turned to face Flynn, the two of us standing a few feet apart. "Are you sure you don't want to run through it again? I don't mind."

I smiled. "No, that's okay. I appreciate the offer, but I feel really good about this. And now that I'm done, I don't want to look at this shit ever again, except for when I have to present it tomorrow."

Flynn chuckled, his eyes scanning my face before meeting my eyes again. The corner of his mouth quirked up, and my heart stuttered in my chest again for just a second. By the look on Flynn's face, his fae senses had allowed him to notice it.

"Since you're all set for your presentation..." he started. "Maybe you could let me take you out tomorrow night. To celebrate, once you won't have any more reason to throw books at peoples' heads."

Slowly, a smile spread across my own face. Still, I tried not to let myself get too carried away. Not right away, at least.

"I didn't think fae usually took humans on dates. Especially not members of the Aux who are also fae nobility."

Flynn's eyebrows raised, the only sign he was surprised. But then that surprise turned into a smirk.

"Did you look me up, sweetheart?"

Heat rose to my face, and I quickly broke Flynn's gaze.

"I was hanging out in a room with you alone for over an hour. I saw you flipping through my notebooks, I figured I might as well get some information of my own-"

I stopped short at the feeling of Flynn's fingers just under my chin, gently stopping me in my tracks and raising my gaze to meet his. My heart sped up quickly, my eyes widening, and he immediately dropped his hand from my face.

"You don't have to say yes if you're not into it. But I like you, and I'd like to take you out tomorrow night if you're interested. Human or not, I've never been so interested in somebody, even if that somebody did begin our relationship by throwing a book at my head."

Slowly, a slight smile returned to my face as I studied Flynn with new interest. He was undeniably handsome, and based on everything I'd seen so far, he didn't show any signs of the red flags I'd seen or head from Vanir before.

"Alright. You're on. But you should know, if it goes well, I can't promise there won't be more flying books in the future."

"Good," he said, grinning and offering me a hand. I hesitated half a second, then took it with a smile. "I need somebody to keep my reflexes sharp, and it might as well be a gorgeous girl."

I laughed as the two of us headed out of the classroom together, hand in hand. We'd just met, but somehow, this just felt easy. It felt right. I hardly knew this male, but I just got a good gut feeling about what was coming next.

If only all Hel-cursed study sessions could end this way.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

[tarabyte3]

I read a fanfic about a month ago that didn't have a particularly compelling summary and had very few tags (only 2 beyond the pairing and the characters, in fact). However, I've been doing this for almost 3 decades. Unless there is something in the tags that I actively don't want to read, I will always give a fic a chance. So I read it anyway.

When I tell you I imprinted on this story.

It was beautifully written, sure, but there was something about the very specific tone and emotion that the author captured which spoke directly to my soul. I wanted to curl up in it. I wanted to consume it. Let it burrow its way under my skin. It was only ~1700 words long and, by the time I was finished, I wished I hadn't read it just so I could experience reading it for the first time all over again.

Then I saw that it was a series, and I wanted to weep. There was more! And you know what? The second part was just as good. It was set years later, but the author still captured that sense of nostalgia and yearning in the same way poetry does: what was left unsaid is just as devastating as what's there.

I also knew with all my heart that it didn't have nearly as many kudos as it deserved. I'm sure a lot of people overlooked it for the reasons I stated above, and, logically, I could understand why it didn't grab people's attention, yet still I raged against how unfair that was. That something so wonderful could sit in plain sight and people just scrolled by.

So I read it all again. And then again. I reread it and thought about it constantly, until I finally gathered my thoughts and left a gushing comment telling them exactly that.

I wasn't expecting a reply because the fic was more than 2 years old and they were writing for different fandoms now, and it didn't seem like they always responded. Which was fine. I didn't care or need one. I just cared that I let them know their work was beautiful and had been transformative for me. That it wouldn't leave my head. I wanted to say thank you for its existence.

But they did respond! And quickly! Both to say thank you and to let me know they've been thinking of writing a part 3 for the series, and my comment gave them the encouragement to get started. I have no coherent thoughts for how that made me feel.

Anyway, my point is, commenting on fics and giving feedback is important. Supporting authors is important. Giving fics a chance is important, and you're probably missing out if you refuse to engage with something based on a superficial set of stats. Further more, understanding that, just because your work doesn't get a lot of engagement, doesn't mean it's not incredible is important. Keep going. 💖

[the-river-delta]

The tragedy of the OGL and Starfinder 1e

The controversy regarding the Open Game License that Wizards of the Coast sparked in 2023 had many consequences big and small, from 5e's SRD being put into Creative Commons to the creation of the ORC license (and Pathfinder 2e's shift to it in the Remaster), but one of the more unfortunate and less-discussed casualties has been that of Starfinder 1st Edition, which as a huge fan of said game I wanna talk about in this probably overlong post.

The Starfinder Roleplaying Game - the strange science-fantasy spinoff of Pathfinder (itself a spinoff of 3rd edition Dungeons & Dragons), supposedly developed and put out by its publisher Paizo to make up for the inevitable drop in sales that Pathfinder would experience upon the announcement of its new edition.

As something developed around 2016 and launched in 2017, at a time when the much simpler DnD 5e was on a meteoric rise, the largely Pathfinder- and in turn-3.5-shaped rules chassis of SFRPG could've come off as a little clunky or even downright archaic to a lot of people (not helped by problems such as the infamously awkward starship combat rules that needed emergency errata to mathematically function, continuing to be controversial throughout the game's lifespan).

I myself have gotten into TTRPGs at around that time, but remained somewhat unaware of Starfinder for a couple years - the announcement and eventual launch of Pathfinder Second Edition is what indirectly made me pay attention to Paizo and their games beyond a failed attempt at getting into Pathfinder purely as a crunchier 5e alternative, at the time divorced from the context of anything other than the humongous, nigh-incomprehensible mountain of rules and options that was impossible to navigate without the help of a more experienced friend.

Since that fateful 2018-19 however, Starfinder gripped me more and more in concept, presentation, and even the rules - though my actual play experience to this day is embarrassingly low as either a player or GM, I've legitimately come to love the tweaks it made to the already venerable PF1 ruleset to really make itself feel like a high-octane science-fantasy adventure game, and I fell greatly in love with the game's setting; Yes, it was and is the kind of sci-fi kitchen sink that tries to accommodate everything from cyberpunk and to military SF to space opera and soft sci-fi and Pathfinder-in-space-type science fantasy, but good art direction and writing made it all feel surprisingly coherent for such a big-tent premise.

Parallel to all this, I've played and run a great deal of games far beyond the d20 sphere, and slowly discovered what kind of roleplaying games I really enjoy playing and running - but all this time, Starfinder remained in the back of my mind, and I found great joy in perusing each new supplement - for the artwork, for the lore, for the rules and player options.

As Pathfinder 2e grew in popularity, there were a lot of people who wanted its science-fantasy sibling to also adopt the PF2 ruleset, with its sleek three-action economy and all other rules tech that its proponents loved so much, and at the time at least, Paizo denied having any such plans, choosing to keep Starfinder going as-is. I myself began as one of those "Starfinder 2e would be so good" people, but my enthusiasm for PF2 eventually waned somewhat, at the same time as my appreciation for SF1's ruleset grew, so I began to push back on the idea somewhat, or at least suggest caution.

And then, the Open Game License crisis rippled across the d20 portion of the TTRPG industry (that is, most of the visible and profitable part of it) - fearing legal reprisal from Wizards of the Coast, Paizo rapidly worked to distance Pathfinder from the OGL rules and concepts it was built on, Remastering the game and moving their work onto the newly-developed Open RPG Creative license.

At first, it was not clear what the plan was for Starfinder, even more entangled in the OGL than PF2 was, given its stronger PF1 and 3.5 roots.

Then, at GenCon 2023, Paizo announced Starfinder Second Edition, with a playtest launching a year later.

Sounds great, right? This is what the people have been asking for all this time!

Then, more details were revealed - Starfinder 2e would be wholly adopting PF2's ruleset, down to being able to freely mix ancestries, classes, equipments, spells, etc. from one to the other (something that 1st edition gestured at with some early guidance at converting PF1 stuff to SF1 bits, but was largely dropped and forgotten in the long run).

Between this and some other things, that's where my worries really began.

Part of what made Starfinder so appealing to me were the things that made it stand apart at the system level - the unique skill list (featuring things like Culture, Engineering, Physical Science and Life Science, Computers, Piloting, and Mysticism as a catch-all magic skill), the Health/Stamina/Resolve Points system (which vastly alleviated the need for a dedicated healer or long periods of downtime between encounters to heal up), the different weapon and armor proficiencies (like Longarms, Advanced Melee, and Powered Armor instead of simply the same old Martial Weapons or Medium Armor), magic simply being magic instead of an arcane/divine distinction (and only going up to 6 levels instead of 9 - though apparently that was a page space concern for the original core book more than anything), and a myriad other things.

And even though SF2 would benefit from things like the PF2 proficiency tiers, three action economy, and degrees of success, it would also be saddled with the things that first edition consciously did away with - so magic now is split up into one of the four traditions (arcane, divine, occult, primal), overriding some fun 1st edition lore about how modern society no longer differentiated between those. Even the skill list has been turned to be the same as that of PF2, with the merciful additions of Computers and Piloting - but things like Religion, Performance and Crafting are a thing now.

At least we're still paying in credits instead of silver and gold pieces.

There are other changes that frustrate or perplex me (like how technomancer and mechanic, two classes that were in 1st edition since the start but are being left out of the SF2 core and saved for later - though at least aren't being cut altogether, same with starship rules... or the fact that SF2 is doubling down on being silly and having a god of memes in the core pantheon and a skill feat for Trolling People With Your Online Posts), and many of these may seem like small-potato issues (the distinction between Kinetic Armor Class and Energy Armor Class was pretty minor in practice after all), but in aggregate all of these things made SF1 properly standalone and unique in a way I fear is being sacrificed for SF2 at the altar of compatibility with its biggest fantasy sibling Pathfinder.

Paizo's messaging on the subject has also been mixed - they say the game will be properly standalone after launch, yet they're also careful about designing each SF2 class as to not step on the toes of an extant PF2 class (because you can just bring in said PF2 class into your SF2 game instead, right?), resulting in something like the Soldier (which in many ways was a fighter in space in 1st edition, even though I'd argue it was a pretty baller implementation of the idea) being vastly reconceptualized to a rather mixed reception from SF1 fans; And in general, a lot of the current marketing about SF2 feels like it's been aimed at Pathfinder 2e fans first ("you can now play using your favorites ruleset IN SPACE, or bring in cool laser guns and solarians and freaky aliens into your Pathfinder game!") and at SF1 fans second (and even then, with a kind of implicit aim towards the "man I wish Starfinder just used the 2e ruleset" crowd of Starfinder players - look I was one of them at one point, I get it).

Even the big Starfinder 2e playtest actual play at GenCon couldn't have been a fully SF2 game, as it featured the iconic PF2 investigator in the adventuring party. Sure, it was just a marketing thing to do for fun at a convention, but it's not helping SF2 escape the "it's the sci-fi expansion to PF2" perception.

Some Paizo staff have said that Starfinder 2e was already being tinkered with even before the OGL crisis hit, but that the event kicked the development on it into high gear - causing two entire rulebooks and an adventure path for SF1 to be canned (even though one of them, the Faction Guide, already had freelancer assignments submitted in and even had the cover art ready to go; another was the Extraplanar Archive, which would've delved into what the wider multiverse of SF1 was up to, a book I personally wanted for the entire run of first edition, so while it wasn't worked on a lot at the time, knowing it fell through hurts me in particular as a fan of extraplanar science-fantasy stuff!) - I get it, Paizo is a business and that was a business decision, but it didn't feel good to hear either way.

Speaking of which, the week before GenCon, Paizo dropped a really frustrating bombshell onto the community: they had updated and revised their community licenses and policies, two of which have caused some serious uproar.

For one, to continue distancing themselves from the Open Game License, the Pathfinder and Starfinder Infinite programs (which allow community members to publish paid supplements for Paizo games that utilize their intellectual property, settng and proper nouns and all) would no longer be accepting OGL-based products for either PF1 or SF1 starting in September. PFI and SFI have problems of their own with the large cut and exclusivity involved (much in the way that D&D's and WotC's Dungeon Masters' Guild program does), but it still stings.

The other, arguably even worse news, was regarding the Paizo Community Use Policy (link to an archival version in case Paizo deletes the live version altogether) which allowed community members to use Paizo IP and imagery in noncommercial products and projects - it has been suddenly replaced by the Fan Content Policy (which in addition to being a worse, more corporate sounding name, is also exactly what WotC calls their own equivalent document).

The FCP is much more restrictive about what one can use it for compared to the old CUP - crucially, it's not applicable to "game products" such as, and I quote, an adventure module, sourcebook, character builder, rules database, video game, board game, etc.

While projects with bespoke Paizo licensing agreements like Archives of Nethys and the Foundry VTT module are unaffected, projects that relied on the CUP like Hephaistos (a beloved Starfinder 1e community tool, covering everything from creating characters to managing campaigns and encounters) have been forced to either cease development altogether (which would allow them to be grandfathered into the FCP, provided they would no longer receive any changes) or go back and be scrubbed of Paizo IP (which would be both time consuming and incredibly messy for a game where the OGL-published rules and Paizo-owned lore are so intertwined).

While a number of Paizo staff have said that they'd look into revising the policy to not completely screw the community over like that, it's already done a lot to damage people's trust in the company, further compounding the already strong sense of alienation many 1e fans have been feeling over the past year since SF2 has been announced.

I've played a good deal of PF2, and am currently in the process of preparing to run some SF2 playtest games, and I'm near-certain that Starfinder 2e will on the whole end up being a whole lot more popular than 1st edition ever was, both on its own merits and certainly as PF2's sci-fi spice cabinet - but there is a non-trivial subset of the existing SF1 community that is just bummed out about this whole thing. If nothing else, I now understand how many PF1 fans felt when the game went in a different direction from what they originally came to it for (even though I'd still argue it's good some of the more bigoted stuff was left by the wayside) - except now Starfinder 1e doesn't even have the benefit of easily continuing under a community banner, with the new Starfinder Inifnite and Fan Content policies.

I don't have a great way to wrap this up - there is only so much that feedback I submit regarding the SF2 playtest will accomplish (something I still intend to do, to at least help out testing the parts that are on the table for change and improvement), and getting anyone, at Paizo or otherwise, on board with the OGL again is likewise infeasible, so I doubt anyone is willing to create yet another OGL-based spinoff and repeat the 3.5-Pathfinder cycle.

SF1 will probably remain playable, but if the fan policy continues to impede the development of digital tools that the game so strongly benefitted from, its prospects of upkeep (let alone growth) seem far more grim now than they did three weeks ago.

So while new SF2 fans are feverishly arguing if the promised SF2 ranged meta can work with PF2's cover rules or whether it was a good idea for the 2e witchwarper to be merged with the 1e precog... I'm just more than a little bummed out about this uncomfortable limbo state that SF1 has been put in, a far less graceful death than PF1 received.

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna

Usual warning. This is not a review. It's just me needing to put what I'm feeling somewhere. I just finished watching so there's absolutely no critical thinking happening here.

TL;DR: WATCH THIS SHOW!!!

Well I finally finished all of Tsukutabe and to say my heart is full feels small somehow. My heart grew. I remember when I finished the second season of Kinou Nani Tabeta, I was so overwhelmed with emotions and honestly I was not expecting to be in that place again. I called it magic and I have to echo those same feelings here. Because this show it's magic. It's a gift that makes me feel thankful that I got to experience it. I really have a hard time writing about this because I'm feeling so many things so I'll try to split it in smaller bits so maybe it sounds a bit more coherent. No promises though.

Kasuga I have to start here because she's my favourite, in case it wasn't obvious by my choice of pfp. She's so cute. I fell in love with her almost immediately. I've talked about this before but to see a character eat the way she does on screen healed something in me. The way she looks at Nomoto made me melt multiple times and her smile completely shatters this cold heart of mine. The episodes around her family had me bawling [normally I would wish for her father to be run over or something, but that would only add misery to Kasuga's mother, so I just hope he dies first] but seeing her put herself first and release herself from those expectations was amazing. Her journey was incredible and it was great that she was able to open up to Nagumo and Nomoto. I have to congratulate Nishino Emi for her portrayal of Kasuga. Considering she's not an actor (she's a musician btw) and this is her only acting credit, I thought the way she embodied Kasuga was really good.

Nomoto I adore her. Her happiness was infectious and she made me smile so wide. Cooking for your loved ones is just such the most beautiful thing to me and she and Shiro are the standard and everyone else can take notes. She's more open than Kasuga so we have more of an insight to her and to watch her awakening was amazing. It reminded me a bit Sakuko [Koisenu Futari] in the beginning. Her facial expressions always gave her away and it was such a contrast to Kasuga's reserved demeanor.

THEM The Yin and Yang. They are so different on the surface but the way they come together and create a space for each other is just so beautiful to see. They are learning from each other through these two seasons and growing together and navigating the realities of their relationship and what it all means and how it makes them feel. I just love the happiness in Nomoto's eyes whenever Saguka is eating her food and the happiness and little smiles in Kasuga's face whenever Nomoto got really excited by a vegetable or a finished dish. They are perfect and will live happily ever after. Period.

Nagumo This girl has my whole heart. I said this before in the notes but every time she was on my screen I just wanted to give her a hug. She's fragile but resilient and although she was a bit shy at first, the way she shared her story with Kasuga and quickly became the person she went to for advice was so good. And to see her getting help, finding relief in a word and hope in the future made me cry so much. And when she took that bite it made my heart grow that very second. And just as a aside, the fact that the show chose to have her eat while the others didn't notice and after they did, they still didn't make it a big deal made me ugly cry. Because that's the magic part. That when I feel that a show knows what it's doing with its characters. And the moment at the end in the job thing when she said she wanted to do something that allowed to talk to people had me clapping like a proud mama.

Chiharu I love her. I love that Nomoto had someone by her side from the beginning that she could confide in and that was supportive. And that when she "messed up", like with the wedding talk, she was given space to reflect and understand and give her friend the space she needed to talk about it. Cause it's okay to not be all woke - god, I hate this word - all the time. As long as people are ready to listen to each other and learn from one another. Also always happy for the screw marriage discourse.

Yako The ace rep had me clapping at first of course. It's so rare anywhere in media so it always adds points no matter what. So obviously... I love her. She's such an amazing supporter. She's so kind and open. Her relationship with Nomoto was wonderful but she and Naguma gave me some of my favourite moments ever. Because being supportive sometimes is just being present, is asking questions, is just listening to understand and not judge. And to want those around you to grow. That moment where she realized what the move meant for Nagumo and asked her to go for a walk was so good.

THESE WOMEN. I love these women. All of them. How they come together for each other, and the kindness and understanding made me ugly cry on more than one occasion.

The Food This show really speaks to me in several ways and I know I spoke of this before but I keep coming back to food.

You eat too much or you don't eat enough. Or you don't eat it the right way. Or eat the right things. Food is just sustenance for some. Food is joy to others. Food is what makes some of us get up in the morning. Food is to eat alone or together. It means a lot of different things to different people. It's food. You eat yours and I eat mine. Can we just not pay so much attention to this? Now that I got that out. Japanese shows are the best at using food in their stories. And more often that not, it's a place of joy and healing. And the fact that this series showed that food can also be a source of trauma and something that makes you different, as well as a place where you can heal is so important to me. Because I can relate to both those things. The dining table has been a place where I felt wrong different but also a place where I found so much joy.

The Magic Much like Kinou Nani Tabeta this show is full of magic. It was made by people that needed to make it, to talk about things that mattered, from a place of empathy and love. I feel like I was meant to watch this show. The universe conspired to put it in front of me. I understand this sounds super corny, and honestly if anyone else said this words to me I would be rolling my eyes way back into my skull, so I get it. But it feels cosmic somehow. Also fun fact that helps the magic of it all. One of the characters and I share a last name. Me, little portuguese me, and a japanese character from this show. Can you imagine the odds? And no, I have no connection to Japan whatsoever, and my last name isn't even a very common one in either country. So really it has to be magic, right? Also, I have a small confession. GL's were never my favourite. I'm enjoying 23.5 a lot for example but I'm never in a rush to watch them. I have a bias against them that I never really examined, except that I find that I'm much more critical of them so I enjoyed them less. But this show, these women, just moved the needle a bit. There are important conversations here, not just from a queer standpoint but from a female perspective that really resonated with me, so I might need to readjust some things. Anyway, I have a lot of feelings but this is already long. I'll be thinking about this show a lot more, and there will be giffing for sure so I won't leave these characters any time soon. Also, did I mention?, I LOVE Kasuga. SHE IS EVERYTHING TO ME and one of my favourite characters of all time.

I already talked about the kindness in this show but I need to say it again. It's all about the kindness. These women. They are all so open and kind and because of that they are all better people and happier people. Maybe we can learn from them. If only we could be a little more kind to each other.

If you've made it to the end, thanks for reading💜. [A huge thanks to @furritsubs for giving us the opportunity to enjoy this masterpiece.]

[lanitalay]

Supernatural 2

in which you encounter a couple of hunters on a case

Azriel x reader

a/n: babes I'm alive. I have been traveling for a while and have not had the mental capacity to write anything but here is a lil fic to remind you I'm still here lol

warnings: angst, canon typical violence

wordcount:1.5k

Part 1

When three loud knocks rattle the dingy motel room door, Azriel rolls his eyes. He noticed you left your keys behind and when you did not come back he assumed you had gone to Dean. The night was spent in itchy sheets, tossing and turning to the thought of you in another’s bed. Before he opened the door, he steeled his face, wiping away any semblance of care or concern. 

“Open up, pretty boy!” 

Weird. “Dean?” 

“Is y/n with you?” The eldest Winchester barges in. “Y/n!”

“I thought she was with you.” Guilt bites Azriel’s mouth as Dean shows him the cracked screen of a phone. Your phone. “Where did you find that?” Your partner snatches it out of the practical stranger’s hands. 

“Sammy and I went to the lobby to ask for more shampoo because someone refuses to get a haircut.” Sam huffs and finishes the explanation “there was nobody there, but we found her phone. It looked like it had been thrown against the wall or something.” 

Azriel couldn’t understand. Had you gotten that fed up with him? Had last night been the last straw for you? Had you broken your phone, the only thing keeping you on the grid, to spite him? He could almost hear you say “have it your way.” 

“Azriel?” Sam’s voice shakes him. 

“She left.”

“What?” It was Dean this time, bewildered. “Listen, we looked around the desk and found the ledger. Take a look.” Azriel’s mind was reeling and this guy wanted him to look at a ledger? He strained his eyes to focus on the wonky lettering. Amelia Johnson, Benjamin Parker, Chloe Thompson, Dominic Rodriguez, Emma Smith, Finnegan O'Connor…

“Why are you showing me this?” His world had just fallen apart and these guys wanted to work a case? 

Dean groans.“Clearly Y/n is the brains in your operation, take a closer look.”

Azriel rereads: Room 9, Amelia Johnson, Benjamin Parker, Chloe Thompson, Dominic Rodriguez, Emma Smith, Finnegan O'Connor, Azriel Singer, Y/n Y/l/n.

Oh. 

Crap. 

“Crap, crap, crap.” You take in the gray bodies of people you had been trying to save for a week. Your arm hurt, a lot. Because of how you were tied you couldn’t look to see what had been done to it. But based on how your vision blurred at the edges, you deduced that blood had been drawn and based on how difficult it was to breathe, it had been a lot. 

The motel attendant walks in. With all the strength you can muster you spit at it. For what it did to those people, for what this would do to Azriel. He flashes his fangs. A warning.

“I must say, your blood is particularly delectable.” He rips your sore arm from its binding and jams a needle in it. Blinding pain shoots to your neck, up to your throat and a meek whimper escapes you. It was like he pierced your soul. For a second you think he’s draining more than just blood. Before a coherent thought can form your consciousness gives way to darkness. 

“She’s gotta be here. There must be a basement or cellar or backroom or-” Azriel is rambling, scouring through files and cursing himself for not having the blueprints to the motel. He had spent so much time in the archives and didn’t even think to get them. 

“Azriel, she’ll be ok. We will search this place up and down until we find her. But right now we have to sharpen our machetes and come up with a plan.” Sam said while Dean had already begun working on his weapon. 

An hour later they had set out to the lobby.

No one was at the front desk. The hunters quickly made their way to the back room. It was set up as an office. Papers piled sky high, most of them blank. Sam opened a door labeled “storage” and cursed when he shone a flashlight down a steep set of stairs. “Guys, over here.” He whispered. Vampires are heavy sleepers, especially after a meal but they needed to be careful. Azriel tightens his grip on his machete and follows Sam down, Dean watching his back. 

When they reach the landing, distant snoring lets them know they are not alone. There are two doors. Sam presses his ear against one and nods to the others, confirming that it's clear. He opens it, cringing at the squeak. Every damn hinge in this place is rusty. Azriel walks in, flashlight landing on a limp figure. A silhouette he could recognize anywhere, even as it was awkwardly hunched forward. He goes to check your pulse and sighs when he finds it. Weak, but there. 

“Hey, y/n, it's me. We’re gonna get you out of here.” Azriel whispers to your unconscious form while he tears through the ropes that secure you to the chair. Sam and Dean at your flank. He cuts through the bindings of your right arm, cursing to see it discolored, practically  mauled. When he moves it from your back to your front you shriek. Even with the gentleness of his touch your limb felt like it was on fire. The shriek turned into muffled moaning as Azriel covered your mouth with his hand. “Shhh, shhh, we have to be quiet.” 

But the warning was issued in vain. The motel attendant and the janitor were in the room in a matter of seconds. Engaging both winchesters in combat. “Get her out, Az!” Dean shouted through the slashing of machetes against the metal chair the vampire was using as a weapon. 

“I’m sorry if this hurts.” Azriel apologizes as he cuts through the last of the rope and picks you up, aiming to lunge up the stairs. Before he can begin the climb though, the janitor throws Sam across the room and into the pair of you. Azriel does his best to shield your head from the blow. In the beat that it takes Sam to recover the janitor is on you, yanking you away from Azriel and piercing the delicate flesh of your neck with its fangs. 

It's all Azriel sees as he storms forward, swinging his machete like a Tasmanian devil. The janitor is so enthralled by your blood he reacts too late to the blow that severs his head from his body. Your legs give out and Azriel lurches forward to catch you, looking back to Sam who says “go, I’ll finish the job with Dean.”

You woke up in pain. But you woke up in a bed to worried hazel eyes. “Az? Az! The manager and the janitor-”

“I know, Sam and Dean are dealing with them now.” 

“And the people..?”

He shook his head. It was a confirmation of what you had already known, but it did not hurt any less.

Azriel laid down next to you, offering his shoulder for you to lean on. Quiet tears streamed down your face. It was long before he broke the silence “we need to get you to a hospital.” 

Just then, Sam and Dean walked back, covered in blood and clothes tattered to bits. 

“That last sucker put up one hell of a fight.” 

“I’m gonna take y/n to the hospital, thank you for every-”

Dean waved his hands “no no, we got a guy for that. Let me call Cas.”

Azriel and you share a look before you ask. “You know Cass?” 

Sam and Dean share a look. “You know Cas?” 

“We know Cass, but you wouldn’t actually call him for medical attention.”

“Then it’s not the same Cas. Give me a minute.” He never takes out his phone but before you can remark on the effectiveness of his call a flash of light blinds you and at the foot of the bed stands a stoic man in a trench coat.

“What the hell…” 

“Castiel this is Azriel and Y/n. Guys this is Cas, he’s an angel.” Dean’s shit eating grin makes you want to slap him. 

“Dean said that you needed healing?”

You look at your bloodied body and nod.

“This will hurt, but it will be over quickly.” He places a hand on your head and molten energy courses through your veins. It feels like your body will combust from it. In a second it's over though and you are left in a panting mess, no gashes anywhere on your body. 

You pack up quickly after that. Promising the boys you will stay in touch and reach out if you ever need help. 

Soon enough you and Azriel are back in the front seat on his truck. 

“Y/n?” 

“Yeah?”

“About last night-”

“I know.”  You lean into him, placing a kiss on his cheek. “I think there's a case in Florida, I was just reading an article about…” 

You knew the conversation had to happen at some point. Someone was bound to give in or to give up. But there were monsters out there and also, apparently, angels.

[hoetachi]

U GOT IT BAD — G. REYES

i saw this and i immediately wanted to write a little more on that scenario because it was absolutely hilarious // sorry for any mistakes

two months. you’ve been here for two months and the blackwatch commander finds himself already infuriated by you. he thought you was a simple soldier that was going to be the part of the rest of the growing overwatch society, however your skills surpasses any other person in your rank which cause you to gain the attention of strike commander morrison. now here you were, taking small teams on recall missions and as well as being present in debriefing meetings along side with other commanders. the grim commander wasn’t one to be comfortable with feelings like these and it was so hard to avoid you with your newfound popularity

what really made avoiding you harder was the fact around this time, ana was in her second trimester of her pregnancy and decided you would be the perfect fit to take over her current position. so as ana was close to gabriel, you as well was close to gabriel which left him off his game… alot

you came in during one of his drills with ana explaining what was the drill for and just having you watch him with such interest caused him to mistakenly crank up the difficulty until the training bots went haywire and basically chase his entire team in circles and up the walls. he felt the questionable looks coming from you and ana and cringed hard internally

then he had fellow agents boasting endlessly about you to him did a number. normally he’ll get real pissed hearing about some random’s personal information unwilling, yet every time he heard something about your life or things your interested in, it made him intrigued. he wanted to be the only source knowing these things about you, if he was being honest with himself

now who he didn’t want talking his ears off about you was cole…

“everyone seems to be takin’ a likin’ to that smokin’ commander already” the gunslinger kept paced with the mildly busy commander

“she’s not a commander cass, she’s just a commandant studying ana’s position before she heads off for maternity leave “ he corrected the young outlaw whilst skimming through files for an upcoming mission for his team

cole coolly shrugged his shoulders before placing his arms behind his head. “either way i feel like she’ll be good for you” he said which was followed by a teasing smirk as he watch the tips of the his brooding commander’s ears turned to a deep rue color

gabriel grew even more irritated with the young cowboys he knew his reaction would only cause more teasing from him which was making things worse, “good for me? w-what are you talking about cassidy?”

“you need a lady like that. strong, intelligent, not afraid to speak her mind…” he listed on his mechanical fingers as they walked side by side

gabe didn’t say anything else yet he agreed on everything with cassidy, however he’ll never let the gunslinger know due to his loose lips

“plus she got a nice ass in shorts” blurted cole which immediately catch gabe off guard making his instant swing on cassidy for his inappropriate comment

“whoops too slow jefe” cole snickered as he dodged the sudden attack swiftly

before gabe could stop himself from putting his full weight into his punch, it already connected with something else.. well someone else. turning his head to see what he hit instead of cassidy, he felt his stomach fall out his ass as his heart stopped

you sat on your elbows weakly as you watch your nose gush with blood while ana asked if you were okay. both the women looked towards him and he felt a deer in headlights, he couldn’t form a coherent thought which didn’t make his situation any better when his words were faster than his thoughts

“ARE YOU FUCKING SORRY?!”

ana’s face was split between confusion and anger, “come dear, let’s quickly get you to dr. ziegler” he watched as she helped you up and usher you past him as she glared daggers into him while mouthing ‘i’m going to kick your ass in 9 months’

“real smooth commande-“ this time he didn’t miss with hitting cassidy. “suicides until you drop dead, cassidy” he spat as bruised cole sat flat on his butt rubbing the back of his head

“YOU PUNCHED HER!? WHAT THE FUCK GABE!?” jack expressed, beyond shocked from the information his longtime just shared with him

“it wasn’t on purpose! stupid ass cole kept running his mouth and i didn’t know she was behind us— FUCK! what am i supposed to do now?” gabriel felt defeated. he knew he definitely blew things out the water this time and completely understood if you didn’t want to be around his presence anymore

jack stared at his friend with a sympathetic smile as he shook his head, “my friend.. i have never seen you so off guard before… you got it bad for y/n”

“i do not!” gabriel denied

“oh really? so you’re just out and about punching women who happens to make you more nervous than a virgin at prom?”

“no.. she just… so many people have such good things to say about her and actually being around her… i see why she’s a showstopper— christ sake i got into tea so i can have something to talk about with her”

jack gave him a giant smile, amused at his friend’s crush. “just apologize and be direct because the gabriel reyes i know was never the guy to be standoffish with how he’s feels” jack placed a hand on his slumped shoulder and handed a bouquet of flowers to him

“tell her how you feel man..” he encouraged

gabriel stared at the various colors amongst the bouquet, his stomach swelled up with butterflies and that’s when he knew he had to do this now or be a coward.

so striding along the empty midnight hallways of the base, he found himself in a internal battle with if he was making the right call. ‘the worst she could say is screw you, reyes’ he tried to make himself feel better about it but the twisted feeling in the out of stomach seemed never ending and only intensified once he realized he was now approaching her quarters

he stared at the name plate saying your last name. he gave himself one last prep talk before knocking and clearing his throat whilst pressing the flowers into his chest.

“y/n? a-are you up?” his voice cracked a bit as he waited for an answer. He soon heard footsteps approach the door for a moment, probably looking at the camera who was at the door. Taking a guess she figured it was him, he heard the steps start to retreat causing panic in him

he reached for the door as he was reaching for her to stop her from disappearing. “y-you don’t have to open the door, but don’t walk away… please” he pleaded quietly. his heartbeat was basically the only he could hear at this point. it was now or never to fix things even if he felt like he was unprepared for this interaction, however he took a shaky breath before laying everything out on the table.

“look y/n.. we got off on the wrong foot, but i promise you i have no ill intentions towards you. i’m just…” he struggled to finally admit to these feelings that reeked havoc over his being for the past couple of months, but he knew he had to set the record straight.

“i’m just not used to having.. i guess a crush on somebody, you can say”

“you’re all everyone talks about and just hearing about your interests— the things you like, dislike or find amusing— you’re special, interesting and dead gorgeous a-and i’m sorry for being a complete idiot towards you” he finally admitted. it felt like a pressure has finally been lifted off of his chest

there was a silence and at this point gabe was fine with just the simple confess, at least he man’d up and no one could take that from him. he sighed defeatedly, softly placed the flowers by the door as he turned on his heels to head back his side of the base to sleep off this nightmare

suddenly he heard the sound of the automatic door opening, he turned around to see you dressed in silk royal blue robe as you bend down picking up the flowers. a small smile graced your full lips as your eyes flickered from the flowers to his being and never in his life he felt so exposed before

you held the flower close to your chest as you leaned against your doorframe with hand on your hip. “it took you elbowing me in my nose to finally confess to me? you got it bad commander” you shook your head before signaling him to come back with your index finger, “care to share a glass of taylor port? i heard it was your favorite.” you raised a brow, which caused a short chuckle to leave the speechless man as he made his way back