#aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist

[ohnoitstbskyen]

asking sincerely. do you see a romance between jayce and viktor? do you think they ended up being something romantic at the end?

With apologies I am going to only half talk about the thing you are asking me, since I have something else on my mind and you happened to hit the button that makes me vomit it into words.

Coming at this from an aromantic perspective, I obviously don't experience the state of absurd obsessive delusion that you bizarre romantic freaks fetishize so feverishly*, but I am often annoyed by the idea that friendship and romance are either opposites or mutually exclusive. From my perspective, the boundary between the two is at best thin, and more realistically not actually a boundary at all except by cultural construction.

*i am taking an excessively hostile, crass tone for my own amusement i do not mean this seriously please be normal at me, weird allo freaks

I won't get into my full feelings about the end of Arcane, but it seems perfectly plain to me that the script, the imagery and the animation presents Jayce and Viktor as two halves of a whole, not opposing forces but alike to yin and yang: opposites which each contain the other. And at the climax of the show, the greatest peril to life and peace in the narrative is resolved by these two men literally joining their bodies and souls together, and going into eternity holding one another for comfort and strength. They are quite literally soulmates, quite literally the most important people in one another's lives.

I don't think that that kind of intimate emotional connection between men must necessarily be either romantic or sexual - I am aromantic, and plenty of ace people exist, and there is nothing in our natures excluding us from intense connections of love with other people of any gender.

I also think it is willfully ignorant (and genuinely homophobic) to act as though these deep connections are mutually exclusive with sex and romance. As though if Viktor and Jayce fucked nasty and made out sloppy style, suddenly their intimacy is less pure or valid, or tainted somehow.

"If these two men who are emotionally close to one another also fuck or get romantically involved, then friendship is dead, murdered on the floor by a dick-shaped knife; vile sexuality corrupts and debases the true, pure and virtuous love of ✨friendship✨" <- This shit is homophobic at a baseline, queerphobic in general, and frankly as an aromantic man I find it pretty fucking insulting as well.

What, are my friendships with other men just inherently more pure and divine, more meaningful and true than a gay man's can ever be, because I will never suffer the vile temptation of adding romance to my affection? Is that how I should think of myself? And is an aroace man more pure than me still, the only source of TRUE male friendship that a man can ever experience, free from the pustulant corruption of sexuality and romantic desire?

You get this pathetic defensiveness (especially from men, but other genders aren't immune) wherein sex and sexuality and romance between men is perceived as a threat to men's right and ability to experience deep connection to each other. But the emotional castration of men comes not from people imagining sex and romance as a component of our relationships - it comes from people who insist that our emotional lives must be ruled by strict binaries. Sex and romance, OR ELSE friendship. Deep romantic connection OR ELSE deep platonic connection. Pick one and do not dare to imagine both, nor act as though the boundary between them is something that we built by cultural fiat, and which can be dismantled just the same.

And yes, yes, yes, I know there are cultural forces literally illuminati-style conspiring to systemically erase the entire existence of explicitly romantic, sexual male love from media, and I know that homophobic puritanism is on the rise and there are material concerns and a real necessity for explicit representation in fiction, yes I know. Everything is more complicated than a tumblr post can cover, I am not trying to Solve Rainbow Capitalism™ over here, I am trying to express frustration as an aromantic man that this stupid fucking binary keeps getting culturally reinforced by both my enemies and my well-meaning allies, when I think the binary is what's fucking killing us in the first place.

So anyway. My position is that Viktor and Jayce can be entirely aromantic no-homo friends, and they can fuck nasty in the throes of mutual need and obsession, and I refuse to entertain the idea that there is an irresolvable contradiction between those things. Each of those can contain the other, or become the other given time and circumstance.

What the imagery, storytelling and script of Arcane makes clear is that Viktor and Jayce love each other more than life itself. To say that that love must be shoved into the box of either "platonic" or "romantic" is to miss out on almost everything that is beautiful about love. It can be both and neither! It can be a secret third, ninth or fifteenth thing that they haven't invented a tag for on Ao3 yet.

They are giving each other whatever the spiritual mind-ghost equivalent of sloppy backshots are on the ethereal plain forever, they are the most romantic lovers in the cosmos, and they are also the most chaste and platonic life-partner friends you have ever seen, effortlessly intimate and unashamedly tender. They are men who love one another, in every way that love matters.

You can pick whichever interpretation brings you joy, and resonates with what your heart needs, the text of the show is eminently and explicity open to it, and anyone who says otherwise either failed to pay attention, or refused to pay attention on purpose.

[ramblingsfromthytruly]

extract from my journal #??

there was this one girl in my old school. she was really pretty. she had this great group of friends. she was funny. she was friendly to everyone. the teachers loved her. the students loved her. and she effortlessly got the best grades ALWAYS, at least it seemed effortless and natural on her part. made me sort of resent her because she was just so so so perfect. she had great fashion sense on the days we could come to school without uniform. i didn't talk to her much but god when i did she was infuriatingly patient and understanding and calm and nice. i loved talking to her. i hated talking to her because she was so maddeningly perfect. i wanted to be her so bad. her home life was also normal, well as normal as it can be in a stereotypical strict indian household. also her hair omllll it was perfection. she had like thick wavy-curly hair. i'm going to a new school for 11th & 12th grade and she is continuing in our old school surprisingly (almost everyone is leaving that school). i miss her, i hate her, i really admire her and just want to be her. she's so lovely i love her so much.

[batshit-auspol]

For those that aren't in Australia right now, we have the funniest scandal going on.

Firstly let us introduce you to the eye of the storm: Sam Kerr. Sam is a women's soccer player who has in the last year become one of the most famous and beloved athletes in Australia. Captain of the women's national team, Sam became something of a cult figure after the last Women's Soccer World Cup became a complete unpredicted sensation in Australia, with the whole country getting behind the team.

Sam, up until now, has had probably one of the most squeaky clean images in sport. Generally in Australia it is not uncommon for our sports stars to be caught up in scandals involving drugs:

violence:

drinking their own urine:

or if you're cricket legend Shane Warne, probably all three at once.

Contrasting all this, Sam's image as the squeaky clean saviour for sport made it all the more shocking this last week, when it was announced that Kerr was to face trial after having been charged by the UK police of a "racially aggravated offence" involving a taxi driver.

This was shocking news. Nobody knew what to make of it. Sam was a model for young girls everywhere and a national treasure. "This is why we can't have nice things" screamed the nation. It seemed like all hope was lost.

That is, until, yesterday, when the UK police finally revealed the full details of the case, in which Sam Kerr, sporting legend, was arrested for vomiting in a cab, and then telling an intervening police officer that he was a “stupid white bastard”.

Now we probably don't need to point out that in Australia, vomiting in a taxi and then calling a cop a bastard is about as close to a national culture as we have.

You could not have come up with a better headline to make someone a national hero.

Needless to say, Sam in now being hailed down under as the greatest legend that ever lived, and a petition has already been started to have her picture added to the $5 note.

The tide has swung so far that not one, but TWO, state Premiers have spoken out in support of Kerr, and the Prime Minister has even gone on the record describing her as "a delight".

And so ends the racial abuse saga of our greatest sports hero of all time, and the very first reverse milkshake duck to ever exist.

[hypnagogics]

heh.. okay, so you asked for different.. rubs hands together villaniously as i materialize from the bottomless shadows..

sub!vampire!ellie biting/bloodsucking denial.. reminding her how much of a good girl she needs to be even when your wrist is practically just brushing past her lips to cradle her face.. or when the weakest bead of blood is pricked from your finger.. flaunting it.. teasing.. goddess bless throw in whatever else you see fit freakmaster

TEMPTATION WAITS

before you read! ▪︎ my masterlist ☆: co-president...this is absolutely divine...shoulda seen the way i dropped everything for this im literally #TWEAKING. new fav thing i've ever written methinks. title song. (vibes aren't there but the title was too good.) ps: if you spot any typos i wrote this with one hand. KIDDING...or am i? divider creds—cafekitsune. ◇: not outright smut, but still suggestive!! and nsfw is described. fluffy end bc i think she earned it, lore sprinkled in because why nawt it's interesting, finger sucking (e! receiving), this is maybe a lil ooc idrc, she's described as looking quite ill in her vampiric form + begs like her century long life depends on it fr, (but also has a bit of an attitude, it issss ellie after all), mean!r, talk of blood/previous bite wounds. ++ 3.3k wc. doesn't need to be that long but atp? take it or leave it LOLL. filing under "oneshots" bc it's way more than usual reqs hehe.

“Please, baby. Just one taste. I'll do anything.” Desperate, shaky pleas spilled from Ellie, her voice noticeably tired from the effort. She's been at this for what felt like forever now, and you were getting tired of ignoring her. Or rather, a little bored.

She was kneeling on the wooden floor by your bed, fisting the creased sheets, trying to capture your attention. The shimmering moonlight was dancing on her features as if it was a sparkle of fireflies, making her oddly colored eyes appear to glow, and highlighting her sickly appearance.

In her vampiric form, her skin was tinted a ghostly—even chalky—white, barely a smidgen of blush dancing on the apples of her cheeks. Her eyes shifted from their original grassy green to a peculiar duochrome blend of emerald and ruby. She really looked unwell, but you knew it was merely a product of circumstance, her gloomy fate.

Ellie donned somber dark circles around her eyes, her lips withered, pale, and thin as a piece of tissue paper. Just behind them though, rested two deadly weapons of her very own—sizeable, razor-sharp, gleaming ivory canines reflecting the scarce lighting as if they were made of mirrored glass.

For the first time tonight, you met her gaze, assuming an unbreakable poker face. Her keen sight could pick out the most subtle of twitches, so you learned to defeat that. The moment you met her line of sight she perked up, her eyes widening in glee, you had finally acknowledged her existence after so long.

Scooting forward you placed yourself right in front of her still kneeling form, sitting so she was in between your legs, but she wasn't allowed to touch you until you said so. What torture.

She began again, “Can I do something to make you change your mind? I'll do anything. Anything in the world. I'll make you feel re-really good, and then I won't ask again…ever even, if that's what you want. Just please let me…I'm so thirsty.” She was rambling a million miles a minute, slurring her words and cutting herself off with hiccups, stuttering like was having a nervous breakdown.

Her chest heaving up and down was visible to you despite the dim surroundings, and you could just make out her facial expression—a pained grimace, as if she was experiencing all of humanity's greatest suffering. When you didn't reply but stayed observing her blankly, she sighed and hung her head in shame, you almost felt bad. Almost.

You extend a hand, twirling a strand of her hair—previously silky and vibrant, now as lifeless and dull as charred hay—and you feel her relax under your touch. You continue raking your fingers through her locks, scratching her scalp with your nails, and you hear her exhale forcefully. She's likely overwhelmed by your scent—it's invigorating, fresh, and full of life.

“Have you been good?” You pipe up with a voice colder than ice, softly caressing the flesh of her tense cheek, and letting your fingertips travel to the underside of her chin. You gently tilt her head up, noticing the way her eyelids flutter to a close. She's soaking up the heat radiating off of you, making sure to feel the sensations of your skin brush against hers as much as she can, commit them to memory for when she's apart from you.

Her lips part, allowing for hushed, woeful whimpers to pour out, and she instinctively bites her bottom lip to quiet herself. Only she forgets about the powerful daggers in her mouth, and almost pierces right through her own skin.

Taking notice, you tut at her, warning clicks of your tongue bouncing off the room’s walls, contrasting the dead of night’s eerie silence. Tsk, tsk, tsk. You push the pad of your thumb down on the plush of her lip, angling her jaw side to side, examining those killer gnashers she's got.

“You could hurt yourself with these y'know, be careful.” Her eyelids flicker open, she's staring up at you with the biggest doe eyes she could muster, somehow all while maintaining such a strong glare you feel as if she's trying to challenge you.

“I'll decide if you can have some, as long as you're good, and you let me have some fun first. Alright?” You explain in a neutral tone, earning a cute “mhm” of confirmation from the undead being before you. “Good girl.”

You slowly slip your thumb into her mouth, avoiding her fangs at all costs, and you let her wrap her slippery tongue around your digit, watching how her cheeks hollow and her eyes roll ever so slightly while she sucks, moaning as she takes in your taste—nothing more than just skin.

You chuckle at her desperation, revel in the power dynamic you have created. “Mmm, you taste so good, so sweet.” She mumbles, swirling her tongue around your thumb, coating the entirety of it in her spit. You allow it for now, but soon enough, to no surprise, she slyly tries to shift to the side in preparation to slice you and get her treat.

You sharply retract your hands from her, removing your finger from her mouth with a pop, disappointed by her greed, her audacity. She turns to the side and pouts, huffing and rolling her eyes with more attitude than a moody teen. “What did I say?” You calmly hiss at her. She whispers, almost inaudibly, “Sorry…taste so good, can't help m’self.” Her voice wavered, and the moonlight illuminated the faintest tinge of red across her features, it was nearly invisible.

But you could tell exactly what was up. She shifts uncomfortably in her spot, grunting with laughable, pitiful attempts to rub her thighs together, fingers toying with the cloth of her pants, putting her frustration on full display. You looked at her struggle, unable to contain your grin.

It was a different kind of high, seeing such a feared and fabled beast kneel before you in such a pathetic manner, but it turned you on like nothing else. It was also evident she enjoyed it as well, no matter how much she didn't want you to be aware of the fact. The extent to which she worships you and handles your body, the way she was willing to beg and let you order her around showed just how much you meant to her—it was beautiful in its own way, how devoted she was to you. You were her person.

The fact she couldn't stifle her desire anymore after all this time suggested a shift in the atmosphere of your wicked games, the tension in the air was getting impossibly thicker, and you were loving every second of it.

Ellie, you've got a short memory.” You tease, then gesture to the gauze wrapped around your forearm, protecting two puncture wounds left by none other than her just the previous night. She looks at it and cocks an eyebrow, grouching, “Yeah, I see that, what about it?” The husky edge to her voice had returned, the defiant attitude you loved to crack was back in full force.

“Hundreds of years old, you even have memories of wars, and you can't remember what happened, like, 24 hours ago? Wow…” Your voice is so patronizing, it's unpleasant and abrasive on the ears, even your own. She shrugs her shoulders, still kneeling on the cold, hard ground at your mercy. “Well let's have a refresher then, shall we?” Tearing the tan-colored bandage apart with a single rip, you reveal the puncture marks—they were still wet and irritated, the wounds reopening immediately at the slightest movement.

Ellie whines like an animal, a crude “ahh”, and she starts pleading harder than ever. “Please, baby, my pretty, my angel, please, please, pleasepleaseplease, just lemme have a drop, just one. That's all, I swear.” Her gaze darkens exponentially, if you didn't know her it would instill fear in your heart, but luckily you were well aware of all her tricks. She snarls, “Fuck you. I'm literally on my fucking knees right now. Why are you doing this?” Her voice breaks angrily, wobbling with great lust and need—the need to have you, the need to drink you and fondle you and taste you in all senses of the word, and at this point she didn't seem to care about preserving a morsel of her dignity, she was simply so drunk on you, you couldn't believe.

You reiterate the previously established explanation, “We have an agreement that says you're allowed to take my blood once a month, so you can have some more each time. Rather than taking a little bit but more often, you requested this yourself. And you already drank lots yesterday. Does that not ring a bell?”

She groans, a gravelly, guttural sound that had you coming back to your senses and realizing, this was technically, a monster who you loved so dearly.

It led you to wonder—to her kind, what was so special about the liquid coursing through your veins?

When you split your lip open as a kid, clumsily tumbling face-first onto the asphalt, or bit your tongue while eating something stubborn, the strange, metallic taste was purely disgusting. It had a certain heaviness to it, both physically with the way it sat in your mouth, but also mentally. Like a subconscious awareness you were not meant to consume it like she does, but to spit it out the millisecond it made contact with your taste buds. There were times where the thought made you queasy, the measly knowledge of just how much of this fluid was inside you, keeping you alive.

But to her, it was a completely different story. She lapped it up with such fervor, such thirst you've never seen before. A sloppy frenzy like there wasn't a single thing more delightfully flavorful.

Her teeth penetrating all the way through your epidermis, dermis, and hypodermis, and straight through the vein wall was a feeling you're likely never going to get used to. It stung, it really did, and you were quick to get all woozy from the blood volume loss, but Ellie knew your limits—even though hers were not even close. Her thirst was insatiable.

The intimacy of the act was a whole separate topic to think about too. It was such an erotic experience, and when probed about it she argues it's better than sex, somehow. When she drinks from you, Ellie is really messy with it, you noticed. Blood dribbles down her chin and stains her lips as if it's a designer lip oil, the distinct deep maroon color sometimes appearing clownish and too intense against her fair complexion.

She was really handsy as well, and you weren't sure if it was purposeful, but you didn't care to ask because you didn't really mind in the first place. It felt nice. Her muscular hands tend to trace your waist as she's suckling, hovering by your ass, and traveling north to knead the supple tissue of your breasts.

And how could you forget about the sheer proximity of it all, even when having sex normally, it didn't feel nearly as intimate or vulnerable as this. Her body would be tightly curled around yours, she couldn't bear to have one meager square inch of her not touching you.

When she drank from your neck, it was bordering on heavenly, you had to be honest with yourself. There was something about the combination of the light headed, dizzying feeling it brought you, her closeness, the licking sensations, and the hungry sounds she produced that all together mixed to form nothing short of a mind blowing, intoxicating concoction.

When you both were feeling it, she'd be able to draw breathy moans to fall from your lips, and would giggle into your skin before sucking harder, leaving bruised marks surrounding the punctures. You read in some folklore that vampires carried a sort of aphrodisiac in their fangs, or was it their saliva? Again, you didn't really know all the details, but the sessions made you both yearn for each other in a way that felt taboo to discuss—midnight feedings often turning into animalistic fucking, sometimes even simultaneously.

Like having Ellie latched onto the side of your neck while she grinds her dripping pussy onto yours, her pleasureful mewls filling your ears, or having her hold your wrist to her mouth while her other hand is pleasuring you into oblivion, prodding against your spongy walls, making your head spin.

The time you spent lost in thought, she had broken the rule of not touching you unless you said so, but all she had done was rest her head on your knee, zoning out, sulking like an injured puppy. Unfortunately for her, you weren't done torturing her just yet. You didn't move her off of you, she was just laying there, grumbling curses under her breath, saying how mean you were, how much she despised you and everything you stood for, although both of you knew the truth—she had said herself, “I've never tasted blood like yours,” and you felt intrinsically bound to her on a subconscious level, these were mere amusements you indulged in, that ended up beneficial for both.

She got her delicious elixir of life, at the cost of you having your way with her for a bit. You hear her sniffle, the little defenseless sound of defeat was able to break your act.

You resume stroking her hair, and she wraps trembling arms around your thigh. “Hmm?” You coo, putting on a sweet facade. “Don't talk to me like that, c'mon man.” She wails, the attempts to regain control over her voice proving unsuccessful.

You took your nails to the newly formed raspberry scabs on top of your bite wounds and picked them off, and she lunges to grab your arm with inhuman reflexes, but once again you emerge on top, having spent so much time memorizing every last one of her behavioral patterns, so much so you knew exactly how she was going to attempt catching you and moved out the way without thinking about it.

“Too slow, you've gotten predictable.” You ridicule her, embellishing your voice with the most fake, sickly sweet tone you could just to irritate her as much as you possibly could. Ellie lays her head on your thigh, sighing. It's like she's given everything up. Her own patience was running out, potentially entering unpredictable territory now.

You squeeze the sides of the hole in your skin to coax a bubble of bright red blood to ooze out, marveling, “It's such a nice color, I see why you like it so much.” You talk to her coolly, ignoring her tearful, yet terrifyingly rage-filled glares, her massive fangs bared as if you were a prey animal she caught herself and was preparing to rip apart.

“Want a taste, Ellie? Have you earned it?” You think out loud, comically tapping your chin to exaggerate the brainstorming act. “Whatever, it's not like I have anything left to say to you.” She sounded heartbroken, you've never seen someone have such sorrow, the sheer misery behind her eyes actually caught you off guard.

"Okay I think you have earned it, just need you to say one more thing.” She nods, a little too quickly, rushing to catch any tears that were planning an escape route down the sides of her pretty face. You cradle her cheek, brushing your thumb against her skin, “Aw, baby, don't cry.” This time however, your tone is sincere.

She doesn't wait for your request, and starts all over again, this is getting old. “I promise everything. I'll make you feel so good, I'll give you whatever you want, please …you're too sweet.” She huffs, “Well, except when you're not.”

She continues mumbling, burying her face in the meat of your thigh, occasionally stopping to lovingly peck where she was laying, quiet smooching sounds. That really melted your heart, you were ready to give her what she needs after so much cruelty. This went on much longer than you had planned, but you were having fun with it. So you decided to abandon whatever you would ask of her. But could anyone blame you?

She slowly reaches for your wounded arm, gauging your reactions, like in the situation you were planning to do something to prevent her, but you come up with a better idea. “I'll do you one even better, Els.” The grin that envelops her face could light up a thousand suns, and melt the coldest of souls. Make vampire hunters quit their careers even, that's how adorable she could be, on the occasion.

You lean back to take your shirt off in one swift motion, and lay back on the edge of the bed, tilting your neck to give her access to the sweet pulsating spot, finding the droplet of drool that falls from her agape mouth utterly hilarious. “Go ahead, I've had my fun.” She hesitates. “But our agreement, I don't wanna hurt you.” “Ellie it's fine, unless you don't want t-” “No I do I do, oh thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you so muchhhh.”

Her gratitude is silly, she's straddling you and kissing all over your neck, face, and collarbones with such care, and you inhale sharply once you feel the familiar sensation of her teeth piercing your sensitive skin.

She has one hand on the nape of your neck, holding you close to her so you couldn't move away, and the other one finds your fingers to intertwine with hers, loud gulping noises filling the room as she messily laps up all that flows from you.

Her bony hips are sat atop your pelvis, and soon enough you feel her start absentmindedly rocking back and forth on you, your breath hitching. You hold her waist to ground yourself, and aid her. She's whispering, mostly to herself, “Fuck that's so fucking good, needed this so bad, need you, fuck- shit. Ah, yes.”

The vertiginous feeling swirls in your head and you feel yourself fading, your grip on her sides loosening, but you don't feel one single ounce of panic, because you know she's got you. No matter what, until the end of time. Or at the very least, until the final bells tolled and you were lowered to your eternal resting place six feet underground.

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[hunnylagoon]

Take Me to War

PT1 Friendly Fire

Streamer! Ellie Williams x reader

A writer, I think is someone who pays attention to the world. We are observers, it is in our nature to be off-putting and turn shallow things deep.

Premise: Your neighbour is becoming increasingly loud and you decide to do something about it.

PT 2 Here!

Two things I hate the most?

My neighbour and New York City.

They shared something in common, they never rest. I liked my quiet life in my small town until I was convinced that all of the greatest writers lived in the city, what a joke. I sold my virtue to move to New York and now my body burned with the shame of not belonging.

I worked as a journalist and in advertisement but it didn't fill the gaping mass that consumed me, I felt like a sellout so I quit to do freelance, and now I feel like even more of a sellout. Freelance is making me think that I hate ghostwriting more than I hate my neighbour and New York City.

It's like you do all of the work and get zero reward but I'm desperate to pay the bills and all that stuff I've been telling myself all my life 'I may never be a rich man but the rich man will never have me' well, the rich man most certainly had me. I was paid an almost criminal amount of money to pour my soul into art just for it to get stamped beneath a new name and make a gross income six times the size of what I sold it for.

I look for happiness everywhere but I do not find it. I search for it in things everyone seems to pry joy from; I go clubbing, walk in Central Park, and date around, but happiness doesn't seem to exist there for me.

I plead for it in my morning cups of tea with a spoonful of honey, the sunshine glittering in a puddle after a rainstorm, for a brief moment, it flickers in the light of my cinnamon-scented candle. The truth is I am almost comforted by my sadness and it is in my lowest moments that my creations are the most beautiful, it is like I am dead and I despise those who aren't for I enjoy the company of my silence more than anyone I have ever met.

It was my dream for my name to be above 'New York Times Best Selling Author' but instead, it is just my work beneath it and maybe that's why I'm so bitter.

Right now as I am trying to salvage the bits and pieces I was given by a washed-up pop star for her memoir my neighbour is screaming and laughing incoherently in their apartment, it makes me miss living in an actual house.

The noise usually started up when I would finish up my writing and get ready for bed, then it would go all the way through the night. The dumb fucker probably threw parties every single night; my roommate never faced an issue with this as she worked at a club and was usually working when the deafening noises would begin.

I on the other hand who lived in that apartment and worked from that apartment was always cursed to listen to the random thumps and spats of laughter that sounded all through the night. At least once a night when I'm sound asleep, I hear a bang against the wall and each time without fail, I'm brought awake with my heart thumping.

Trust me, I have retaliated.

On occasion when I'm sleep-deprived and at my absolute limit I'll bang on the walls, that only stops the noise for a minute. I've even complained to my landlord and that one week was heaven until it eased back to the clamour that I've almost grown used to.

Almost.

I still hate it.

I'm broken from my thoughts when my phone rings, it vibrates till it's almost at the edge of my desk and I feel for it; don't worry buddy, I wanna jump too. I read the caller ID and I almost wanted to gag, it was a woman from the publishing company who reached out to me and asked me to write Nicole Elliot's novel. Despite wanting to throw my phone against the wall to stop Noemi's constant checkups and get back at my neighbour while I'm at it, I answer the phone "Hey, Noemi!" I glance out the window where the winter sun has long set, leaving nothing but billboards, street lamps and neon signs to light up the New York night. Under the unforgiving lights I can barely make out the gentle snowfall.

"Hey," She draws it out and I can hear in her voice that she is smiling "I know it's a little late, just checking in, how is the draft coming along?" A loud thump sounds against my wall along with intolerant cackling "What's that?"

"Just some street noise," I dismiss "Anyways, the draft is coming along great, I'm a couple thousand words away from finishing it. I will of course send it to you and I would really love it if you could reach out to Nicole and ask for her opinion on it before I carry on with the final copy," I give a middle finger to my wall, even if my neighbour can't see me, it makes me feel a little bit more formidable "I did follow her outline, which was difficult but I think I salvaged it pretty well."

This time there is a yelp from my neighbour and what sounds like someone slamming their hands down onto a table, Noemi thankfully ignores it "You haven't been in touch with Nicole?"

My eyebrows furrow "She hasn't responded to any of my emails and she's been turning down all of our scheduled Zoom calls, so no, I have not been in touch with her."

"Weird," Noemi comments and there is a brief break of silence between us "She's been M.I.A on our end too," I could hear her scribble something down. "So can you get the draft to me by Friday?"

Two days? If I lock myself inside and don't see the sun then I totally can "Absolutely!" I do work better under a deadline.

"Great," She sounds almost relieved "We will hunt down Nicole, it would be nice to get her greenlight with this but whether or not she approves it, she has already signed off and it will be going to print."

"Okay," I fight the urge to respond with 'sick' or 'aight' because I'm an adult now and someone who is masquerading as a professional.

"Sorry, what was that you mentioned about an outline?" Noemi asks, she sounds more confused with each word "I wasn't aware Nicole made any-

She is swiftly cut off by a crash from the other side of my wall, when I say crash I mean it. It sounded like someone just bodied their car into drywall. My eyes went wide as I saw a crack splitting up my once pristine white wall. I hold my phone against my collarbone as I get up and pound my fist against the wall, giving it a kick for extra measure.

"Is everything alright?"

"Certainly," The nice thing about phone calls is that the person on the other end can't see your awkward habits or subtle outbursts (Or neighbours breaking through your shared wall). After I hit the wall, everything went silent for just a second before laughter sounded heavily from multiple people. "Noemi, thank you for sourcing me out to write this, I am really grateful for this opportunity I will send you that draft on Friday." I try to wrap up the call but she speaks up.

"Well, I've read your work and I was very impressed, I trust you will do well with this. Sorry to have called you so late-

"Thanks, have a nice night now!" I'm talking faster than I can even think, the only thing in my head is the fact that my neighbour is slowly deteriorating my wall.

"Wait-

Before Noemi can finish her sentence, I've hung up the phone. I'm leaning back in my cushy office chair, hands gripping my hair as I stare down the newly formed crack in the wall. I don't entirely like to be confrontational, even in school I hated drama, but I was beginning to think it was necessary.

I saved the progress I had made on the memoir and pushed myself up from my desk. I was clad in nothing more than a t-shirt and some plaid pants, it was my writing attire and in the moment I didn't care much to make a good first impression. It was fucking freezing the second I got up from my desk.

The moulding on my bedroom window was broken which allowed the frigid New York air to slip into my room and make me shiver with each breath. At my desk, I would usually have a throw blanket to shroud my freezing body but the moment I discarded it, I felt regret. I almost wanted to wrap myself in it to confront my neighbour but the pyjamas alone didn't help me look tough.

I did however shove my feet into some cow slippers and march right up to their apartment.

Apartment 2D stood in front of me, the pastel blue door making me angrier with every second that I looked at it. I rapped my knuckles on the wood and crossed my arms to stop me from shuddering.

My nerves built up as I slowly heard a door within the apartment shut followed by footsteps leading to the door. I would just ask them politely to quiet down and calmly work on a way to fix the shared wall that they are slowly ruining.

The door opens and staring me down is a woman. I had expected it to be a man to be truthful. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, the colour teetered on the verge of auburn and brown. The woman is clad in a black tank top and grey sweatpants, it's almost parallel to my outfit.

"You need to be quiet," I say the first words that come to mind "And stop assaulting my fucking wall."

She sucks a sharp breath through her teeth "Are you apartment 3D?" She asks to which I nod "I knew you would be stopping by soon." She has this sheepish and almost sardonic smile on her face and despite the amusement she's portraying I can see sadness brewing in her green eyes like a storm.

"I don't know what you're doing in there where you are up all night, I don't even have a clue how you sleep and work with all this time to spare to be a nuisance." I say and then swiftly feel the urge to backtrack "I'm sorry, that was a little rude, but mate, I can't sleep or work when you're being loud doing whatever you do."

"Fuck," She mutters looking back into her apartment and then at me "I'm sorry, I'll keep it down."

"What about the wall?"

Her eyes look me up and down, settling on my cow slippers "I'll find someone to fix the wall."

I press my lips tight together, looking dead into her eyes, scraping my brain for something else to say. It was almost like I wanted to fight. I had expected this to be a full-out conversation that ended in yelling but god she was pretty and she was telling me just what I wanted. "Okay."

"Okay?"

I regard her once more with what I assume is a cold glare before ushering back into my apartment and slamming the door behind me, the whole time, my neighbour watches me from her doorway.

That was the first night of uninterrupted sleep I'd had in a month.

-

I woke up earlier than I would've liked when my roommate Margot came home from work at 4:56 on the dot. She made sure to slam every single door and cupboard before throwing herself onto her bed in all of her makeup and musty clothes that had to endure whatever happens at a nightclub between the hours of 8 pm and 4 am, which I can't imagine is very clean.

Still, even though I was a little ahead of schedule I fell into my morning routine. It started with ignoring my phone, this was followed by a mug of Bengal spice tea with a teaspoon of honey and a splash of cream.

Sometimes I would curl up on the couch, though it snowed last night and I loved fresh snow. Freshly fallen snow absorbed sound, it was like soundproofing for the earth. There wasn't anything like the rare peace you could find in New York. I figured I would have my morning tea on the fire escape.

My peaceful image was destroyed the second I pried my window open and crawled through I was hit with the intense smell of pot. "Shit," I mutter, instinctively wafting the scent away from my nose.

"Sorry, man," I see my neighbour leaning against the railing of the fire escape, nursing a joint. It hadn't crossed my mind that I shared a level of the fire escape with her, I had never seen her out here but now the smell of weed that drifted through the damaged moulding on my window made sense, I had always assumed it to be Margot.

"Joint for breakfast?" I ask, half-joking. A dusting of powdery snow adorns each step and railing, creating a delicate layer of white that contrasts with the industrial gray of the metal though it looks like my neighbour has pushed all of the snow off the platform.

"Nah, for dinner I guess, it helps me sleep," She's in the same outfit from last night, except her hair is now loose around her face and she threw a hoodie over her tanktop.

I furrow my eyebrows "You've been up all night?" The slight tension from the previous night has dissolved completely.

"Yeah," She says it like it was a stupid question and it partially was but I hadn't stayed up that late since New Year only because I was the designated driver and was in charge of getting everyone home safe. "I don't sleep much, that's probably why I keep you up all night."

I mean, I'd let her keep me up in other ways "Honestly, I've gotten used to it, it's almost like white noise." I try to sympathize even if it isn’t necessarily true.

"Next time I'm loud, you have every right to bang on my door and chew me out." She takes a drag from her joint and I watch as the smoke escapes her lips, her cheeks tinted pink from the cold.

"Good to know," I glance behind her at the open window and all I see are purple LED lights cutting through the darkness of her apartment. "Now I know that we share a fire escape I'll just crawl through your window and yell at you that way," I joke, taking a sip from my snoopy mug.

This makes her laugh in the slightest, she crushes what remains of her joint on the cold railing and tosses the bud into the pot of a dead plant that's covered in snow and has lived on this fire escape long before I moved in; one time I just about removed it but I felt bad, it's like I was evicting it from its rightful home "Feel free."

"Am I allowed to ask why you're up all night breaking the sound barriers?" I ask, pulling my fuzzy robe tighter around my body to fight the bitter air. "Are you the leader of a cult? Would it be better for the world in the long run if I push you right now?"

The corners of her lips curl up into a smile once again "You've figured me out, just know I've got some big plans with Koolaid," She plays into my teasing.

"It was flavour-aid, actually." I don't know why I said that.

"What the fuck is flavour-aid?"

"Koolaid basically," Silence stretches between us "So what do you actually do all night?"

"It's a bit complicated," She says, of course, it was complicated. "I work from home," She couldn't do something normal, she probably did voice acting or ran a podcast or some weird shit like that.

"Sick," Don't worry, I made myself cringe when I said that too "I work from home too."

"Yeah, you said something about work last night, are you in marketing?"

I shake my head "I'm a writer," every time I tell someone that, I feel a twinge of embarrassment. I know it wasn't a noble career like my parents had hounded me over, but it felt noble to me. I had two absent parents and was raised by a pack of wolves, I would devour as much food as fast as I could because I didn't know when I would be eating next. I was far too emotional to be around all of the narcissists who preferred their own faces to my company, the only friend I had was the written word.

Since then I have been serving my soul up to strangers through word documents.

The thought makes me homesick for the arms that did not hold me and I truly expect my neighbour to make a mockery of me, the way others have. The way they've told me 'It's a tough industry but hang in there!' and pat me on the back like I'm a hopeful child clinging to her mother's skirts.

"That's really cool," She smiles while she gazes out to the skyline, I can see her perfect side profile and ski-slope nose "I wanted to be a writer, I thought myself to be a poet, and then I thought myself to be a scientist and wanted to be an astronaut. Now, I'm here."

"Where's here exactly?"

"Working things out, figure it out as I go," She shrugs like she is unsure of her answer.

I think it's beautiful how everything around me has been touched by human hands and carries so much history. For a quick moment, my mind wonders to those who built this building, the calloused hands that crafted the iron railing and now my neighbour who was leaning against it. "What's the end goal with this whole freefall thing?"

"To make it out alive."

"And your name?"

"It's Ellie."

-

That night Ellie stuck to being quiet as she promised. The next night was a different story. I was so close to finishing the draft of Nicole Elliot's memoir and was praying that the deadline would pass with no issue.

However, the noise began again. I was coming around to like Ellie and I didn't want to go yell at her again so I shoved my headphones in and turned up my playlist as loud as I could. There is no song I can blast in my headphones to drown it out.

She did say that the next time I was loud I could come and chew her out, I wouldn't do that; I would just knock on her door and quickly tell her that she was being too loud, and then we would both carry on with our respective work.

I stopped in front of the smooth door and raised my hand to knock. Ellie slips the door open just a crack, when she sees that it's me she opens the door. "Hey, Ellie."

"Hello," She smiles "To what do I owe the pleasure?" She had a very nice smile.

We both know the circumstances of my visit but I spell it out anyway "Dude, you're way too loud, it's disruptive and I'm working under a deadline."

"I know, I'm sorry." She looks genuinely apologetic.

"I don't know any office job that needs you to scream for hours on end," Alright, that blows what could've been a simple visit where she apologizes and I leave, I always had to add on.

"Right, sorry," She carries herself with so much confidence that it is like she is wearing armour made of gold though she has these subtle awkward tendencies of someone who has never been loved and was forced to improvise. "It's hard to explain,"

"Yeah, you've said-

"Do you wanna come and see?"

I'm taken a little aback and for a minute I think this is all a ploy for Ellie to lock me in her her apartment and kill me because she is sick of her neighbour banging on her door "What?"

"Well, you've asked a couple of times and if you have a minute I can show you."

I pause, mauling over her proposal. I think of my laptop on my spruce desk, open to the final pages of the memoir and I make up my mind "Alright, just not too long."

"If you say so," Ellie opens the door wider for me to move past her and then shuts it behind us.

Ellie's apartment is what I had expected from her even though it is surprisingly nice. She has a large L-shaped sofa in the living room adorned with throw blankets and pillows and a huge flatscreen with a coffee table in front of it. The layout is exactly like mine but inverted, her open kitchen has some odd knick-knacks that looked like they belonged on an Amazon must-haves list.

I don't go into her bathroom and the door leading to one of the rooms (What is equivalent to Margot's bedroom) is shut. The apartment itself is pretty sparse aside from little bits and pieces as she only moved in a month prior.

On the left side, I see that purple LED spilling out of what I assume to be her bedroom.

She walks in ahead of me and the second I follow in after her there is one question I have to ask "Ellie, are you a porn-star?" There are entirely too many computers in here. Her desk is set up with one of those fancy triple-screen PCs and she has a laptop placed seemingly randomly on a white loveseat that's pressed against the right wall.

There is one of those galaxy lamps that projects that trippy shit onto your walls and ceiling. The screen of her PC is facing our shared wall and I can see a huge hole where I assume that a loud crash from the other night occurred. Plastered all over the walls are posters from video games and movies, many of which I hadn't seen.

"What?" She sounds nearly offended "No," she grabs a folding chair from the corner of the room and unfolds it beside her black florid office chair. She sits on the folding chair and motions for me to sit in the office chair. "Come, sit."

I hesitantly sit in the chair "Are you going to attack me now?" I ask, getting defensive for no particular reason other than it was in my nature "Because I've read The Outsiders and I'm pretty sure I can fight."

She chuckles "I'm not gonna fight you."

"Because I'd win?"

She furrows her eyebrows but has this look of amusement on her face "Yeah, definitely."

"So what is this?" I motion around at all of her equipment.

Ellie puts one earbud in then hand me the other "Chat," She says, looking dead at the camera clipped onto her PC "This is my neighbour who came to yell at me for being annoying, she has every right."

"Who are you talking to?"

"I'm streaming," She said, clicking something on the screen so it changed, instead showing Ellie and I in front of the camera, I looked absolutely lost next to a rolling chat bar full of jokes that I didn't understand and people saying hello to me.

"So I was right," I turn my attention to Ellie "You are an internet person."

"Yeah, I'm an internet person but you weren't right, I don't do porn."

"Not yet," I shrug "Times are desperate," To this, the chats come in even faster than before. "So do you just sit here all night and scream at people?"

"I play video games and do challenges, sometimes I do just sit here and scream at them."

"That makes so much sense," I say "If there's any job that needs you to be obnoxiously loud and annoying, it's a youtube personality."

"Okay, well-

"So you're like Logan Paul?"

Her eyes go wide "No-

"What explains why your eyes are so bloodshot."

"You are a writer," She says it like it's a fact I wasn't aware of "You are in no place to judge, you probably spend as much time in front of a screen as me."

I nod "I hate to say you're right," My attention shifts to the hole behind me "Can you explain how playing video games put a hole through the wall?"

Ellie looks almost embarrassed, she doesn't say anything in response, instead, she just clicks something to screen share with us in a little box in the corner and then goes into YouTube. She types in 'Ellie Williams falls through wall' My eyebrows furrow as I read it, and she clicks the first video that pops up.

The video starts off strong; Ellie is cackling at something that her friend off-camera is saying, her friend then makes a comment that makes her laugh even harder and she throws herself back in her chair. This act breaks it, you can hear the chair snap beneath the pressure and Ellie just lets it happen as the chair crashes against the wall. Her eyes go wide when she realizes she's just put a massive hole into the wall and seconds later you can hear me on the other side banging my hands on the wall. Her eyes go wide and she stares at her friend off-camera, all of the laughter stops abruptly before her friend can't hold it in anymore and erupts in chortles, and the video cuts off.

My hand flies over my mouth to fight back the laughter I so badly want to let out. Ellie and I sit wordlessly, the only sound being donations on the screen and my giggles slipping through. Eventually, I manage to compose myself and look to Ellie, I don't have much to say except for "Oh my god."

A/N: Streamer! Ellie won the poll so here we are. As I was drafting out the other chapters for When I Was Your Girl, I decided that it is most likely to be discontinued unless I do a rewrite which will not be in the near future. I’m not rocking with the plot and there was a lot of mixed feedback, sorry if you were invested I guess, but you have this series to be invested in now!

[ever-4sunlight]

꒦꒷♡꒷꒦Headcannon꒦꒷♡꒷꒦

✮Relationship with the genshin hybrids

✮Pairing: gorou, itto, tighnari, yae miko x gn reader

✮Warnings: bad English || pronouns used: none

✮Requests are open<3

𝑮𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖

-Relationships with gorou are kinda complicated he is used taking the role of the serious commander so it's hard for him to actually be himself for you

-He will most definitely act all tough and serious around you so you think he's cool!

-If you two are alone he will cuddle up to you and let you scratch behind his ears with his tail wagging like crazy!

-He's not really into telling everyone about your relationship no one has to know... Not even kokomi

-He would most definitely bite you but not to hard! He still possesses some of his animalistic traits so why wouldn't he let them out on you?

-He's the sweetest lover in the world! He is clingy and will do anything for you! But not when he's around people he knows of course he still has to act serious sometimes

-very silly boy that's for sure but probably already made up the future for the two of you<3 how about kids? Maybe just marrying? Either way he will be happy!

𝑰𝒕𝒕𝒐

-oh oh oh... You got yourself the greatest oni of all time good luck...

-his and my birthday aren't much apart so i just KNOW he is clingy he definitely is! Every second he gets to he will hold you or have his hands on any place you allow him to

-hes very protective and will glare at everyone who looks at you

-the first person who knows your in a relationship is shinobu... She even knew it before you did. _.

-He's very happy to be with you and will show it in every way he can

-if your comfortable with it he will put you on his shoulders so you can see the world from your lovers shoulders

-when you two are home he will grab you and cuddle with you hours for fucking hours!

-he is very talkative and needs someone who listens to him better if even speaks as much as him!

-will grin at you when you trace the red paint on his body patting your head how adorable you look while doing that

-overall a great boyfriend he would do anything for you

Tighnari

-wow! Congrats you got yourself the fennec fox to fall head over heel for you beware of his endless talking of knowledge

-he's very smart and rant about botanic and everything that happened on duty until your ears start to bleed

-he's a loving partner and will take care of you whenever you feel sick or just bad, just don't eat things you shouldn't eat or he will get annoyed

-will he bite? Not often but you will get a few nibbles here and there when he's bored

-you're one of the very few people he will allow to touch his ears and tail he will get very embarrassed so don't do it in public

-he will definitely help you with everything you have problems with hes very supportive

-he can't stand liers, don't lie to him and you will be fine

-he will definitely not tell cyno! He just knows cyno will make unfunny jokes about it

Yae miko

-you got the the pretty shrine maiden to fall in love with you congrats you got the most teasing kitsune to ever exist!

-she will tease you 24/7 if it's just sliding her hand over your spine to get an reaction or just getting close enough to your face to kiss you just to pull away, yae got every possible trick up her sleeve

-whenever you say something she thinks is something you should shut up about or just something that doesn't make sense she will pat on your head with her book

-she doesn't sleep much but loves to have your head on her lap while her hands are intertwined with your hair (if you got hair)

-she doesn't tell any of the maidens but the way she acts with you gets a bunch of attention and pulls suspicion with it

-she will hum you to sleep and hold you for your comfort

-don't expect her to do what you want she's definitely not the submissive one in this relationship

-she's the best girlfriend someone can have>o<

[celaenaeiln]

What do you think of Nightwing/Robins relationship with each of the Titans through the years? Specifically Roy, Donna, and Wally.

With Donna and Wally it’s so fluffy! With Roy however I feel like they are either partners in crime or hitting each other where it hurts

You're so right anon. With Donna and Wally things are pretty much perfect but with Roy, Dick's relationship is back and forth but it's not because they don't like each other. It's because they like each other too much.

Donna

Donna is EVERYTHING to Dick Grayson. She's his sister, best friend, other half. Hardcore ride or die. He literally walked her down the aisle the day of her wedding.

Tales of the Teen Titans Issue #50

She also said she would follow him all the way down to hell and she damn sure means it.

Justice League of America (2006) Issue #50

These two aren't going anywhere but to each other.

Wally

World's Finest: Teen Titans Issue #5

Wally just loves Dick a lot. Like if he could Wally would just live with Dick forever and the two of them would just be happy for that.

You've probably read my other posts about Wally already but I'll collate them here just because it's a long time and it's a nice refresher.

Dick and Wally's friendship post

Dick as Wally's lightning rod post

How Dick and Wally in a relationship would go post

Roy

Like I said. It's not a problem but Roy's relationship with Dick is based on the fact that he loves Dick too much. He thinks Dick is the best thing in the world to ever exist. All the Titans think that but Roy wants to BE Dick. If you look at it, Roy's relationship with Dick is a parallel to Jason's relationship with Dick and Donna, Wally, and Garth's relationship with Dick matches exactly with Tim's relationship with Dick.

Jason thinks the world of Dick Grayson and tried his best to live up to him. He tried to fill in Dick's shoes which is exactly what Roy does.

Teen Titans (1996) Issue #13

He loves Dick to an extreme that he wants to emulate but finds himself struggling because he doesn't believe he achieves that. So, he acts out in order to recieve attention from Dick and Ollie and so on. He gets aggressive with the people he loves because he wants them to look at him. He wants to keep them looking at him. Which is the reason for the back and forth between best friend and angry friend moods he has going on with Dick. It's born out of respect and love and need for acknowledgement from the person who he considers is the greatest to have ever existed.

The reason I bring up Jason and Tim is because it's the clearest way to explain Dick's relationships with the Titans. The Titans and Dick's brothers hold him in the highest esteem - they just react to him differently. Wally,Donna, Garth, and Tim love Dick and think of him as the peak of perfection. So, Wally and Tim especially celebrate it by using him as an inspiration to be greater. In similar ways, Jason and Roy love Dick and think he's the peak of perfection and want to be him. They use him as inspiration but at the same time they feel the need to compete with him to prove their worth. Where Wally and Tim have just accepted that Dick is the best and can't be achieved by anyone, Jason and Roy actually do try to be like him. However you know what they say about Icarus - don't fly too close to the sun. Meaning, don't be too overly ambitious and greedy. I don't think there's anything wrong with what Jason and Roy do but the impact of what they're trying to achieve has negative consequences on their mental health.

They love him, want to be him, but personally feel they're falling short of him which brings in the mood swings. The rest of the Titans and Tim have a fluffier relationship because they don't even bother. They've just accepted that Dick is the best and go about on their day. So in summary, Roy's relationship with Dick is fraught with tension because of insecurities as a result of hero-worship. But truth be told, Roy loves Dick just as equally as Wally, Donna, and Garth. He simply shows his love a different way to him than they do because they're all their own individual people.

In terms of Dick viewing Roy, Dick is Roy's hardcore friend. He's a real one. When Roy was struggling with drugs, Dick single handedly dragged him into Rehab because he was there for him. Because for Dick, it makes him happy seeing Roy happy and successful.

The New Titans (1988) Issue #101

Titans (2008) Issue #23

And Roy literally holds down Dick when he freaks out and chases after Kori after she gets possessed at their wedding. The friendship they have is not the smoothest friendship but it's a real one. They need each other because when they're each at their worst the other other one comes in slaps the other around, gives a twisted love confession in the form of threats, and then they get better.

New Titans (1988) Issue #101

Dick is stubborn as hell but Roy is willing to put in the dirty work to pull him out. Same goes for Dick with Roy.

Outsiders is probably the best explanation of their dynamic. Roy put together the Outsiders because he didn't want Dick constantly depressed WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT WALLY DID WHEN HE PUT TOGETHER THE TITANS IN TITANS (1999). But it comes off differently because Roy is more aggressive in the way he shows love. If Roy needs anything, Dick's there for him immediately.

Action Comics (1938) Issue #631

THIS. This scene is them.

They're a flipping hot mess that love each other. In other words, Roy and Dick's friendship is what you get when you put two egoists in a room together and tell them that they're going to die only for them to start beating each other up because they're each screaming that they love the other more and neither refuses to let the other one go first. Kinda like the song Style. They fall apart and then they fall back together for an eternity.

[padme-amidala]

well, aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist? ― lacy, olivia rodrigo

[cherryslyce]

Second Son (II) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: Getting acquainted with Regulus was inevitable, but your relationship only continues to grow as you figure out a way for your friendship to outlast the closing summer break.

Part I / Part III / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Harry's arrival. Regulus is warming up to Y/N. Little cliffhanger at the end.

It was an ingenious idea.

"That is certainly an idea."

Regulus was very much trying to be supportive of your plans, but you could see the veiled apprehension in his gaze.

Over the summer, you were able to bond with him over the traumas of your life. You were proudly on day 34 of friendship.

In a way, he had become your closest acquaintance in the absence of Harry.

Regulus was endlessly fascinated by Harry when you had explained the lore of the poor boy's life. You would pay a good sum of your inheritance to see the gobsmacked look on his face again after you told him Harry was famous for surviving the Killing Curse.

"Calm your horses, Reg. It will be fine. I wouldn't risk such a thing if I weren't confident."

"Oh, it's not your confidence I doubt," his curls bounced ever so slightly as he shook his head, "I'm just hoping that you aren't in over your head here."

"It will be fine. I have this thing where I am averse to killing friends."

"Friends?-"

Before Regulus could finish, you whipped out your wand and murmured a firm reducio.

His painting gave the faintest quake before quickly shrinking on the floor.

"Reg? Are you okay?"

"Fine. Everything is just humongous now. But I'm no more cramped than I was before."

You pick up the small frame, brushing your thumb over the gold edge. Regulus‘ painting was now quaint enough to fit in the palm of your hand, his shrunken figure gazing up at you in relief.

"See, I told you. Everything's fine. Now I can take you with me everywhere I go."

His eyes glimmer in pleasure at the prospect of actually be able to see the outside world.

"I concede, you were right. However, in the event that you die, what will happen to me? Merlin forbid they bury me with you."

Regulus made it a point to bring up your almost imminent demise at every chance he could, strongly disapproving of your close association with the Dark Lord's current greatest adversary.

It was funny to think the greatest threat to the Dark Lord's reign was a group of teenagers struggling in Arithmancy.

"Don't worry, I'll look up some kind of rune to transport you to a safe place in the event that I am slaughtered. Though, you should have more faith in me, Harry and I have managed to survive a lot of unimaginable things."

"None of which even scratch the surface of the Dark Lord's power."

"Yeah, yeah, but I'm less concerned about the Dark Lord and more concerned about the Ministry. They're completely defaming Harry and I have half the mind to march on in to Fudge's office and slap him."

Regulus let out a noise of amusement and you began to fiddle with your wand in contemplation.

"Hey Reg, do you know anything that could allow you to communicate with me without giving away your whole predicament? I think I'll be shipped off on the first carriage to St. Mungo's if someone catches me talking to myself."

You were hesitant to tell anyone about your summer discovery, but Regulus was vehemently against it. He told you that telling others of his existence would only give him a headache, and you had a creeping suspicion he wasn't on the best of terms with the Dark Lord and his followers or his brother.

"There might be something in my room. I was researching various concealment charms before I died. For now, I'll just remain silent until you address me first."

A warm feeling beat at your chest. Regulus had never outright told you, but you knew that he trusted you and even liked you enough to agree to stick around.

It was probably due to your unrelenting honesty and efforts to make it clear that you didn't hate him for his past juvenile decisions.

Though, he was still quite secretive about his past.

"Well, off we go then. And Reg?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks." For trusting me and for being my friend.

"Think nothing of it."

Brushing Reg's frame one last time, you slip the small item into a wide pocket inside your jacket.

You huff out a heavy sigh and make your way out of the room, slowly cracking the door open. As you peered out into the hall, you let relief wash over you as you realized the coast was clear.

Slowly shutting the door behind you, letting it warp and disappear, you bound down the staircase and towards the end of the hall on the second floor.

You stopped a few paces away from your destination, taking in the sight of the worn door. It felt almost like you were about to cross the threshold into somewhere sacred.

"Y/N! There you are, we've been looking for you! What are you doing?" You curse silently under your breath, spinning on your heel and away from Regulus‘ bedroom door.

Hermione and Ron were looking at you expectantly, confusion flitting in their eyes at your recent reclusiveness and secrecy.

"I was just exploring."

"Near that door?" Ron's voice was coated in a mixture of disbelief and pride, approving of your sudden mischievous nature.

"Yeah, I mean I've always liked a good mystery. Though...keep it a secret for me? I don't want to sit through Sirius‘ lecturing."

This time it was Hermione who spoke, a sudden glint of excitement sharpening in her gaze, "No matter about that! We heard from the adults that Harry should be arriving soon!"

You broke out into a grin at the news, though your eyebrows began to furrow as you let the information stew in your head.

"Wait. Why now? Did something happen? Dumbledore would never allow it unless something urgent occurred."

Hermione and Ron exchange a serious look and a sinking feeling drags down your middle.

It is not until they drag you into your shared room that you're informed of the news, and you honestly could not be less surprised.

Chaos followed Harry everywhere, and a Dementor attack happened to fall into the ‘shit that only happens to Harry‘ category of life.

Harry arrived less than an hour after you received the news, and you could see the relief flood into his eyes as he realized you were all there waiting for him.

You let Hermione and Ron smother him in their hugs before you're up on your feet and gently patting his back, his face shoved into your shoulder as his whole body sagged.

"I'm glad you're here now, Harry. Dumbledore forbade all methods of communication with you, and he's unfortunately methodical. I tried just about everything to reach you."

The tired boy nods at your explanation, clearly still in shock at the events that unfolded to properly react.

You were beginning to relax against Harry until a sudden pop had you gripping your chest painfully.

The bloody twins and their bloody apparition.

"Fred! George! I swear I'm going to castrate you one of these days!"

You were still quite irked with the twins even after they apologized to you and formulated a plan to make up for the scare.

They thought it would be lightwork to use an extendable ear product of theirs to listen in on the meeting going on in the kitchen downstairs.

"As lovely as that sounds, I have to finish reading up for the summer."

"Blimey, Y/N. Don't tell me you're turning into Hermione."

"Well I think that's great, Y/N. And if you bothered to do what we were doing, Ronald, maybe you wouldn't have to ask for our notes every year."

You quickly flee the scene as the others were distracted, shutting the door quietly and striding towards Regulus‘ room down the hall.

Without hesitating like last time, you hurriedly twist the creaky knob and fling yourself into the room, not giving anyone the opportunity to catch you sneaking around.

"Okay, Reg. We're alone now. Sorry I couldn't leave sooner, I'm sure it was a bore for you."

You fetch the portrait from the inside of your jacket, grinning down at the pretty boy who was looking back at you passively.

"It was quite entertaining. It's better than the usual empty silence I'm used to."

"Right...I'm glad. Well, where do you keep your charms books at?"

"Left trunk underneath the bed. The green one."

You place the small painting down on the tableside next to his bed, propping it up against a dust-coated lamp. You heave the trunk out and let out a small exhale from the effort, nimbly unclasping it and flipping it open.

The sight of rows of books greeted you and you had to hold in a gasp at the wide collection and their near pristine quality.

Advanced Charm Casting

Chadwick's Charms Vol. III

Charms and Their Origins

The Dark Forces: Praesidium Carmina and Spells

"Wow. You have quite the selection. Praesidium Carmina?"

"It's latin for protection charms. There should be a few handy charms in there, but I didn't get to finish it so you'll have to read it thoroughly yourself."

You run a finger down the spine of the book appreciatively, grinning at the boy like a child finding a chest of candy.

"Reg, you are truly amazing."

"You can keep it. You can take all of them if you wish."

Your mouth falls open at his words, a pleased expression falling over your face. Regulus, for the most part, looked unaffected by your touched demeanor, but you could see a self-satisfied smile tug at his lips.

"Are you sure, Reg? These look precious."

"They are. But I have no use for them nor does Sirius. Besides, I can trust that you'll use them well."

"Wow. This is the first gift you've given me. You know this means that our friendship has entered the next level, right?"

Regulus shakes his head in amusement, smiling at your enthusiasm.

"And how would you define this new level of friendship, dear Y/N?"

"Well, we're like a couple secrets away from being best friends. Sorry though, I don't really know how I could give you an actual gift."

Regulus seems to consider this for a few moments, merely opting to shake his head in response.

"Getting me out of that room is already a debt I'm unable to repay."

"I'm glad you said that because now you're really stuck with me forever."

And it could have been the trick of the light, but you swear he didn't look totally bothered by the idea.

After shrinking down Regulus‘ trunk and a small pouch he insisted on you taking as well, you made your way down towards the kitchen, pockets full and feeling satisfied from your mission.

As you entered the kitchen, you stop in your tracks as everyone's attention darts to you.

Isn't that fun.

Suddenly, Sirius stands up and gestures for you to come sit, his mouth set in a firm line instead of his usual playful smirk.

"Y/N, there you are. We need to have a talk."

Relax. There's no way he knows anything.

Was what you would have thought, but Hermione and Ron couldn't quite look you in the eyes. You were superbly fucked.

tag list: @krazyk99 @venomsvl

[foreveretherealseviltwin]

Well, aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist?

- Lacy, Olivia Rodrigo

Yellowjackets Appreciation Week - day six🤍

[two-white-butterflies]

smart sexy lacy | c55 and c16

Description: Three years after that horrible breakup with Charles Leclerc; now you're dating his teammate. What happens when certain deals are levied upon you? Will you follow through or go back to what you're used to?

Author's Note: Yes, I'm going through something. SEMI INSPIRED BY THAT ONE TIKTOK WITH THE GIRL THAT LOOKED LIKE YOUNG SALMA HAYEK. A little angsty and sad and toxic. But that's life and this happens in real life.

yourusername: Aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist? #YOURNAME in Vogue AUS' new cover. ✨

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carlossainz55: Beautiful ❤️ - yourusername: Handsome ❤️

oliviarodrigo: dazzling starlet... 😇

bellaciao9: It's so weird seeing her be romantic wit Carlos

carlossainz55: She blesses Mallorca. ❤️🇪🇸

liked by yourusername, Charles_Leclerc and 1,293,192 others

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lovingyou71: HOW CARLOS AND CHARLES DATED THIS BADDIE?? I'D NEVER KNOW

livonce0: is it just me or do they look good together?

holypolly: LOVE FROM BRAZIL 🇧🇷

yourusername: when your boyfriend posts an ugly picture of u so u have to remind everyone that u look good. 💥😮

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carlossainz55: It's called 'gatekeeping' 🤣

carlosandynfanbase: MOMMY...MOMMY...SORRY?

ynforever: the way that there's 4m likes 💀

A small exhale exited your mouth - oh, you always swore that you were over him, but seeing him walk past you. He's just standing there, breathing beside you - all the while your heart heaves in pain. You wonder if he still wears the same perfume - if he still wears the same lucky pants during race day. Or has he changed?

"Nice weather today," he smiled, gently settling down beside Carlos. You promised that you were over him - but now that he was sitting across from you - fuck, was it hard.

How could ever get over him? How could you ever get over a man who brought two umbrellas just to keep you dry? "It'll be easier to race, right?" you placed a hand on Carlos' chin in an effort to rid that man from your periphery. "Depends on how Max behaves," Carlos chuckles while pressing a kiss to your lips.

"Oh, a little decorum for the minors here." Charles chuckled while pointing at Oscar. "Oscar, this is what true love looks like." your eyes narrowed teasingly at the younger man and he rolled his eyes. Yep, this was true love. "Congrats on the engagement, by the way!" Lando congratulates while raising his champagne glass.

You exchange a side-glance with Charles. He wasn't smiling - and that somehow made you feel better.

yourusername: pinon and carlito ✨ 2 dawgs, 1 frame.

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carlossainz55: ❤️

ynuniverse: I WANT WHAT THEY HAVE

bordoutr2: PINON IS SO BIGG OMG

"How much did you pay for your engagement ring?" a street-interviewer suddenly invades your privacy. Carlos gives you a soft glance and you nod, seeing that you had time and there wasn't anything wrong with a little interviewing. "I paid for less than what she's worth," he chuckled - not taking his eyes off you. "Well how much do you think she's worth?" the man asked and he shrugs.

"I'd say all of the jewels in the world - then multiply it by infinity." he laughed while muttering the last word. Carlos absolutely adored you. "He's just bluffing because of the cameras, do you really think that?" your eyebrows merged into each other - he's only said 'i love you' as much as there were fingers in your hands.

You weren't aware that his love was this deep.

"I haven't said it enough - but yeah." he played with the plastic bag on his right hand. To your surprise, the man suddenly turns in your direction. "Do you think that you're worth that much?" he placed the microphone a few inches away from your lips but Carlos interrupts him. "I think that I can answer this one," he glanced at you - and you silently nodded.

"She's worth so much more than that, and this engagement ring is not even a fraction of what I feel for her."

"But if you're spending this much money, what do you get in return?" the interviewer bitterly asked and Carlos couldn't help but laugh a little. He's had years of experience in media training. He could explain his side as eloquently as this man asked his question rudely. "What do I get in return?" Carlos repeated the question. "Yep."

"I get a partner that is loyal to me - a partner that would choose me everyday when there are thousands of men much better than me. I get the mother of my children and a woman that'll be beside me until I die - and this engagement ring is absolutely nothing compared to whatever precious gift she gives me everyday." he smiled at you.

Your eyes twinkled a little bit - you were falling in love with him for the second time. Carlos was even more deeper than what you initially thought - so much more sensible and polite. "Okay, but are you saying that everyone has to spend so much money just to have the bare minimum?" the man inquires and Carlos shakes his head.

"I'll be clear and say that what she gives me is beyond the bare minimum, and it really depends on how much a person makes." he answers and you nod. "It's all about the feelings that come with giving a present," you bite your lower lip and the man frowned. "How much do you earn?" he turned towards Carlos.

"Okay, thank you for interviewing us." he pulled you away - quickly fading into the packed New York crowd.

You weren't prepared to face him alone.

It was a stormy night - a few minutes before your spontaneous engagement dinner with Carlos and the Grid began. The other drivers were in the other room - belting their asses off to singing 'My Heart Will Go On' by Celine Dion while you prepared your signature drinks. You were the only person inside the kitchen - until Charles decided to make his way.

"So, are you really going to marry him?" he inquired in a nonchalant tone. A decade ago, you wouldn't even entertain the thought of dating Carlos Sainz - but now, all you wanted to do was marry him. "What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, eyebrows merging into each other. That tone implied something else.

He placed his hands on the counter, staring deep into your eyes. "Let's not do this, please." he pleaded, searching for something behind your face. A hidden longing. Wishful thinking, maybe?

"We always broke up then got back with each other. This is the nature of our relationship, please don't make the wrong decision by marrying someone that cannot handle you." he proposed and you couldn't help but be offended in behalf of your fiancee. "You cannot handle him - he's boring and simple. You are someone that's so fucking explosive. You need someone interesting." he begged.

"Boring? My relationship with Carlos is not exciting - I must admit. It started off in the most boring way - as acquaintances. And our love may be different from what we shared. It's not exciting, or explosive - but it's so fucking sure. I know that I'll choose him everyday and he'll do the same. Something that I cannot guarantee with anyone else." you breathed, lifting the tray off the table and making your way towards the karaoke room.

You'd always choose Carlos, because he was your true love.

yourusername: slaybells, boots dows, houston i'm deceased. 🎄

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carlossainz55: te amo y mas - yourusername: te amo tanto

[fleshwerks]

Thank you for your rant posts on DAV. They’ve been cathartic to read as they echo so many of my own issues with the game and how it treats its own lore and insults its fanbase. I feel stupid for caring about the oppression of mages and elves given how they sanitized and wrote out these cornerstones of the Thedas setting and it sucks! Im glad I’m not alone.

I had very little hope for this game given its mess of a dev cycle and how the company has bled talent, I thought it would be a very messy narrative as a result. And it is! But it’s worse, because it’s not just messy, it commits the greatest cardinal sin of writing: it’s boring.

I think you nailed it. I'm at the same point as you, especially as someone who's huge into DA lore and the intrauniverse sociopolitics, as well as the expected (foolishly) aspect of your deeds mattering, either positively or negatively.

I have a whole ass Inquisitor who can now stop feeling bad in his steppe-sky burial about his indecisiveness during his tenure as an Inquisitor: BECAUSE NONE OF IT MATTERED ANYWAY. 'Oh, you delayed some suffering for like, what, 7 years? 7 years is nothing when you're doomed anyway. I can already hear the argument "but what you do even in short term matters, too."

Yes, in real life. But I don't do RPGs for real life. I play RPGs to be able to fantasise about doing a bit more than I can do in real life.

On top of it just about everybody being so blasé about what's going on. This is the worst blight ever, two actual gods are loose, but here we are at the dinner table, arguing about Taash' mom being a strict, traditional jerkass and Bellara joining the list of people who hate themselves for having ADHD, and holding her hand through it. Boring.

Veilguard commits another sin: everybody blames themselves for everything, but it either gets fixed for them, or they're feeling sorry and do the thing they feel so sorry about anyway.

My kingdom for a character who can go 'it is what it is, I'm not perfect, but I'm not sorry for existing and having an impact on this world, especially if the impact is caused by something I couldn't really control; all that matters is what we do next.' Which would open up the world at wide: tackling things that make your personal issues microbial in comparison. These people don't have the luxury of crying into their chicken soup. Not to say these things can't be addressed, but in Dragon Age, characters are supposed to support the overarching plot and the worldbuilding. Instead, the world puts itself on hold until you've solved Lucanis' granny issues or whatever.

If you've ever watched campaign 3 of Critical Role, that series has the same issue. The cast is made up of people who by and large have no real connection to the world or the overarching plot, and a large part of the viewerbase has come down onto the same idea: if the characters don't really care and only keep reacting, and reacting with quippiness and laughs and occasional 'oh no, that's bad, right? Anyway,'... why should we care?

Why should I care? Because everything I cared about as a player has been deleted, and the cast of Veilguard is mostly just dicking around until the plot reminds them that hey: we have the worst apocalypse going on since Solas deleted Elvhenan. Can we like... react more to it? We can do the therapy sessions later when people have stopped dying.

Disclaimer: I fully acknowledge that I'm going off on a tangent and I'm most likely projecting and reading into it too much/not reading into it enough. But that's the problem. Most players will play it once. You can't rely on subsequent playthroughs to make someone care.

Worst part is, companions aren't even boring. They're just miscast for this particular plot, exacerbated by what BW did to all the established lore. The tonality of the game itself and its place in DA canon is just wack.

I'm likely being incredibly unfair, but there's something to investigate here, because if you've failed to bring players into the lore and invest themselves in such numbers, it isn't just Mari here talking shit, it's a wider problem. Lest we forget, your fiction, your work stops being 'only yours' the moment you publish it and allow people play with your toys. The author is king, but the author is only the king of their own version of their story. The moment it's read and played by many, it's not just your story anymore, it's everybody's, who's engaging with it.

God dammit my English literature and language degree is catching up with me, I've turned into That Guy. Uck.

[ccscocoapuffs]

KINKTOBER Day #10- Praise- Gabriel May

Gabriel has spent his entire life being degraded just for existing. When entering a relationship he tends to be more on edge during sex and if you were to praise him then the true side to Gabriel would start to come out. Be gentle with him and tell him how pretty his is while you thrust your fingers into him. Tell him the specific details bout him you adore, like "God I love the way your eyes look so shiny when you are so fucked out of your mind, baby boy".

Gabriel obviously can't exactly blush but if he could, His cheeks would flush an extremely bright red whenever you would say anything praising him. He adores when he eats you out and you tell him how good it feels. Tell him how good his tongue is inside you or even how could he tastes. Gabriel also adores the more non sexual praise such as walking up to him and holding his face gently in your hands and saying "You look so handsome today". Gabriel 404 not found. Praise Gabriel in front of someone else and he instantly gets horny and the largest ego boost ever in the world. If you were to be talking to your friends or something then say something like "I'm so lucky to have someone as handsome as Gabriel is". He feels pride in knowing you aren't embarrassed by the way he looks. He considers the way you moan for him a form of praise. If you scream out his name then that works the same as praise for him. Hearing you beg him to go faster and scream out how good it feels is probably the greatest thing you could ever do to make him feel praised. Call him good boy. As simple as that, let him fuck you real good and tell him he's a good boy while you pull his hair ever so gently...or rough. He likes it either way.

[annievrse]

the lamest prank

satoru x reader —ᡣ𐭩 blurb a/n: a little something i came up with in like half an hour, enjoy :P

"...You're up to something, aren't you?" Satoru's voice cuts through the silence in your room, causing you to jump in surprise.

Glancing over your shoulder, palm to your chest, you glare at your best friend. "You scared the shit out of me."

Satoru shrugs, stepping further into your dorm, his eyes narrowing at the packet of Oreos and toothpaste tubes laid out in front of you on the floor.

"Why are you devising the lamest prank in the world?"

You roll your eyes and turn back to your project. "This was meant to be for 'Guru, and you, but I guess the cat's out of the bag."

Satoru threw his head back in laughter, his hand on his stomach. "You're so cute."

Your eyes widen as you spread the toothpaste onto one side of the cookie. "You don't sound particularly upset about being the victim of my prank."

"Oh, I'm not," He says casually as he moves around you to sit on your bed.

You squint at him. "Then why do you look so annoyed?"

Satoru says nothing, but his bright eyes behind his sunglasses tell you everything you need to know.

Sighing, you hold out your hand with a tube of toothpaste and an Oreo in your palm. "You're upset I didn't include you, aren't you?"

Taking the items from your grasp, Satoru smirks. "A little..."

"Well, you usually don't invite the person you want to prank to help you set it up, do you?"

"Guess not. But it's good my daily snooping resulted in something interesting today... It's better than yesterday... Haibara will not like what I saw."

"What?" You furrow your eyebrows. "You're such a nerd, 'Toru."

"Yeah, whatever," He rolls his eyes, white hair falling over his eyes. "Pass me that knife, loser."

After his fingers graze yours, you nod your head toward the uncapped tube in his hand. "You better load that one up good. Suguru used my shampoo yesterday, and then he stole my leftover sashimi in the fridge."

"Oh, that was me. That was so fresh, so delicious," Satoru moans. "Best I've ever had, actually."

Your jaw falls open, and you shake your head. "Fuck you, Gojo."

"Nuh-uh, you don't get to curse the only one who's gonna help you out of this situation later," He raises an eyebrow. "Wait, why were you pranking me? What did I do?"

You give him a deadpan look. "It's more like, what haven't you done?"

A gasp leaves Satoru's lips, and he leans down to place his finished cookie on the plate next to you. "You wound me, my love."

"And you are the most annoying pain in my ass ever, so we're even."

"You love me," Satoru coos, ruffling your hair. You swat his hand away, laughing.

"In your dreams."

"Wow, I didn't know you were psychic!" Satoru reels back dramatically and lays on your bed. "What else can you tell me about my future?"

When he's met with silence, Gojo sits up to see you holding an Oreo out for him.

"Snack?" The sickly sweet smile on your face is to be expected when you're dealing with his shit, so Satoru takes the cookie, unsuspecting.

"Oh, and you're giving me treats?" He clutches his chest. "You really are the greatest thing to ever exist, aren't you?"

But soon, his face screws up in disgust when he realises the cream between the cookie isn't vanilla but minty sludge instead.

"The ultimate betrayal!" He splutters, spitting the cookie into his hand, his hair swaying with each movement. "That's fucking disgusting."

A small, real smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. "Get out of my room, Satoru."

He tilts his head at the softness in your voice and stands. "As you wish," Gojo takes one step but crouches beside you. "Good luck with your little experiment."

You hum in response, rendered speechless when he leans closer to kiss your forehead. But when you don't wipe it off like usual, Satoru feels his heart skip a beat.

"Though, I'm telling Suguru to keep clear of the Oreos in the common area," He whispers. "And I used your shampoo too... he doesn't deserve to endure the pain I just did."

You gasp, dropping the objects in your hands onto the plate below.

At your reaction, Satoru laughs and stands. "Kidding."

"I hate you!" You throw a tube of toothpaste at him as he runs out of your room, slamming the door behind him.

But, later that afternoon, Suguru could be heard gagging in the common area, and you knew Gojo loved a lame prank.

[scoobydoodean]

so the mind wipe was a bad move in context, i think most people will agree with that (i agree with you that it was the worst thing dean did). but beyond that, it barely even makes sense logistically unless you extrapolate that cas removed every piece of evidence of dean from their lives, phones, house, and friends’/neighbors’ memories… so how do you think they should’ve handled lisa and ben’s exit?

Setting aside how unfeasible it seems to truly erase Dean from their lives, it also just doesn't make sense to me because I don't understand how or why that would ever stop people from using them to hurt Dean. Like I guess they make it in the show as if it did in fact work (and it's better than the alternative the show likely would have come up with of killing them off) but why on earth would someone like Crowley for example not use Lisa and Ben still to hurt Dean just because they don't remember him??? They don't have to remember him for them to be used against him??

Like from Dean's perspective though, I think it was was about erasing the "poison". Like he felt he was this monster whose presence had ruined their lives irreparably, and by erasing himself from their lives as if he never existed, he could erase the "ruinous" impact he had on them. I think one of the biggest catalysts for this is ultimately having to put a gun in Ben's hand. When Ben expressed interest in Dean's gun collection in 6.02, Dean swore that Ben would never shoot a gun. Dean appears to have a lot of trauma tied up in his childhood experience with firearms. Lots of American kids grow up shooting, but for sport at targets and usually starting with BB guns. Dean was taken shooting (presumably real guns) for the first time when he was "six or seven" years old (2.06) and when he was taken to do that, he knew he was being trained to become a killer—to hunt monsters and to defend his brother—and John was proud. Dean repeats the story to Jo fondly (because what Jo wanted was a fond story—and Dean really struggles to deliver one because of what he's going through at the time), but there's something melancholic too, and this moment in 6.02 puts that in context, as does 3.10 where Dean expresses all the pent up hurt he feels at being treated as a solider and a weapon by his father, as does 1.18 where Dean is no older than 10 and left alone with Sam for days with a shotgun to defend them both. There's fear that has to be buried there and experiences with violence or the threat of it that Dean simply wasn't psychologically equipped to deal with. Most(arguably all) adults aren't equipped to handle that kind of stress and he was a child. So having to put a gun in Ben's hand so he could aid in defending his own mother was the greatest betrayal toward Ben's right to be a child that Dean could imagine and he HAD to erase it because he couldn't deal with the idea of Ben holding onto even a tenth of the childhood trauma that Dean has.

At the same time, Dean is so caught up in self-hatred and the idea of himself as a ruinous force that he loses track of boundaries and that it isn't his right to decide. And one of the repeated things echoed by Lisa and Ben that Dean never really allows himself to absorb is that they truly loved him and they didn't want to trade the experience of loving him despite the hardships. Lisa was very clear about this in 6.01 and 6.02, and so was Ben in 6.14 (though I don't think he understands all the dynamics in play no matter how much he insists he did).

I don't have a real opinion on anything that should have been done instead. It isn't something I would change just because I don't think Dean made a morally right choice but it is true that it doesn’t make much logical sense. From a practical safety perspective, I think it would have made more sense and been pretty interesting if Dean erased his own memories of them. This would still be in theme with Sam's wall and Cas's secrets and Bobby and Sam hiding Sam being alive and how we hide things to protect ourselves or others (and isn't all the talk from Cas and Death about protecting Sam from his own traumatic memories also probably an influence on Dean's decision to erase himself from Lisa and Ben's reality?). But I think ultimately, Dean wouldn't erase his memory because he would see carrying that experience with him as a "lesson" with scars he needed to bear so he'd never let that desire for a home cloud his judgement ever again and ruin someone's "normal" life.

[goddessxeffect]

MAKE PEACE WITH THE EGO AND YOU MAKE PEACE WITH THE PAST

Disclaimer: This post is not entirely written by me, I credited all the sources I remembered but if something seems very familiar, it is probably out of 4dbarbie's asks or from one or two of @iamthat-iam, sorry in advance to the original source.

" The past gives you an identity and the future holds the promise of 'salvation', of fulfillment in whatever form. Both are illusions... As soon as you honor the present moment, all unhappiness and struggle dissolve, and life begins to flow with joy and ease. "- Eckhart Tolle

Now that you know who you really are you are fast to scapegoat the ego for everything. It is in the way of you getting to that blissful state of peace. It understands nothing, it fights you. It is the reason you suffer - or isn't it? First of all, you wanting to be different is a urge coming from ego, not you. You are already that, everything, want nothing. It's not you suffering, it's ego suffering. Secondly, you are missing the mark by far. Ego is perfectly created the way it is. It's conditioned to be that way and behaves acordingly. It's perfect, so let it be. You are choosing to identify with it. You are giving this role importance or rather life. It is again you choosing to give your power away to a dream, an illusion.

Yes, in a different way now but still: you don't have power, you are it. Already. Nothing is standing in your way but yourself or you clinging unto this false sense of self. How can an illusion be an obstacle for its creator? Only "I am" is true and your real self is love, so anything aligned with love is true. Anything aligned with fear is an illusion by the ego that You fall for.

How to get rid of an illusion you might ask then? By knowing it's not real. What do you not understand about you already being realized? By knowing who you are, you know that Ego cannot be you nor "real".

Even if she [Vanesse = ego] wasn't the greatest, what's so wrong with her? She is just somebody, she just lives a life. Things are only so serious when you're identified with her, you get scared, you get hurt, you feel stuck. But when you know that she can't hinder you? That she was never you? Don't you just want to laugh and hug her? @4dbarbie-backup

To understand Ego is to understand time (x)

Time is not experienced. You only ever experience now, the past is imaginary or as some say "a shadow, ghost town, dead", it is not experienced at all. What you experience is (a persons) memories in the present, but you give them life now and just because you identify with the person for whom this all happened this way.

This is also your answer for why you don't have to care for what will happen to a character and its life. You exist now, for example as Vanessa, with all of her memories, which make her up as we already cleared. The next moment, or let's say the next morning, you "wake up" as Lara, with all of her memories. Would you, experiencing only now and identified with Lara, as her, know that Vanessa even existed? I'm kinda quoting 4dbarbie on this.

"The past is dead. What you see is dead. Until you realize your Self, Present will always be past (something you were prior conscious of)" @4dbarbie-backup

What is the ego's reference point? The past, not the present. What is ego essentially? A "bundle" of past experiences (memories), expectations, habits and traits, that developed because of those experiences. The ego only "exists" as its mind, it IS its mind. But the mind is imagined by You (awareness) since in the present moment there cannot be past experiences.

"Now, all ego knows is illusory, because it's the past, it no longer exists. You see life through the past, you aren't really in the now, so really what does ego know? How can ego be helpful in the now if it only operates based on something that does not exist? If you realize all is now, ego becomes useless" @napolonio

Everything is imaginary, nothing is real in the sense you were taught growing up. You have to imagine the past, which makes it not real. A memory coming up is no different than you imagining "yourself" with a million dollars. Both of those things are imaginary and experienced in the now."

Reality, or the "world" Ego experiences, is real because of our (awareness) experience of it. WE make it real. It’s not like the reality the person was born into is the ultimate one true reality. Every reality is real as long as you are conscious of it being so. You have to re-realize that you are reality itself. "Things" or "objects" are dead (have no independent or own beingness) but only become "alive and real" through our occupancy in it, by borrowing our beingness temporaly. That’s why consciousness is the only reality!

On the topic of "Revision". Before realizing all of this I (person) was like “But it won’t be the same because I didn’t actually get to have the experience” but “Hold up; all that exists of the past IS the memory of it! Its not like I’m vividly physically experiencing my memories every moment. I only accept my past as true because I feel like it happened and I’m attached to it. Who’s to say I actually experienced all those things?”

All the memories that the person/ ego has, good or bad, are only kept in place by the love or rather attachment that we are giving to them. And why wouldn’t I love my own deliberate lovingly created memories even more?