#as opposed to just helping you find it so you can deal with it normally like the lan juniors try to

[leidensygdom]

Okay, we all know about the usual warlock-patron dynamics. Creature with god-like powers tries to do their bidding or further their plans through a mortal, who is often going to be troubled by the pact. But, I'm here to propose some alternatives, specially for warlock deals that aren't inherently very harmful to the warlock themself:

This one is pretty typical, but the patron is a family member. If sorcerers can get cool powers from having a dragon grandpa, your fire genasi can have an auntie who is a big fire elemental who is trying VERY hard to connect with her family now, so she gives her nephew an allowance in the form of a Genie Pact

Your patron is undead (and your pact is Undying), but this person is not some power-hungry lich. This is someone you knew in life: A friend, or perhaps a partner. You had fought for a common cause, and they met their death trying to see the end of it, but they refused to leave you alone. Now, within you, their stubbornness has kept them from moving on, and they lend their newfound powers to help you in your common cause.

It's an eldritch entity, a creature beyond your comprehension. Your pact is that of a Great Old One. However, this creature doesn't quite have very concise plans to bring the end of the world- You're actually pretty sure it isn't even from your world. As time goes on, and as you realize their whims seem erratic, you realize that this thing you get powers from is... Probably the cosmic equivalent of a child. Maybe it's still cocooning in the depths of a distant dying planet. And it's incredibly bored. Someday, maybe, they'll terrorize the universe, but right now, they just really want you to be their eyes on another world. Call it enrichment.

Okay, this one is a fiend. Unequivocally so. But truthfully, they couldn't care less about your world, and you're not particularly concerned about what is going down in theirs. They kinda need few things done in your plane, few resources gathered, some people talked to, and between the lines, you realize that your newfound... ally is actually trying to oppose their boss or whatever. This one is a deeply legal-minded fiend, as far as you know: The hellish equivalent to a bureaucrat, after really digging around. Your party is convinced they will turn on you sometime, but eventually you realize you're just helping something that, for a lack of a better word, has to be an infernal-equivalent of an union effort.

That sword you picked was definitely cursed, and the voice within it has been calling to you. Eventually, you lend them your ear, and now you have an Hexblade pact. But this creature isn't bloodthirsty, nor talking to you about soaking their blade with your foes' guts. Truthfully, they hate being a sword. Trapped there as part of a vengeance, perhaps, this thing longs for freedom. And it has been used for evil in the past- Maybe the overabundance of skull motifs in their physical vessel didn't help. But this creature just wants to be able to experience a life that has been robbed from them. Your party may raise an eyebrow at you getting friendly with the possibly-malignant sword, but y'all are just making plans to get them to your favourite restaurant once they're freed.

This Archfey is the descendant of a powerful entity in Feywild side of things. The heir of some great lineage, or whatever is going on within their realm. You frankly don't know, because they're a bit of a... brat. One that kinda longs to escape their situation and get to live something more normal. You only find out this over time, when you realize you're kinda that friend their parents frown about. This entity, powerful beyond comprehension, just really wants to hang out with you and have a board game night with you. They'd love to meet your besties-- I mean, your world-saving allies. And you'd love to give them the opportunity someday, truth be told, but pissing off a fey court seems to be a high price.

You got stranded far into the ocean as a kid, and the rest of the people involved in the shipwreck did not make it out. But you attracted the attention of a group of merfolk, who had barely ever had the chance to meet someone like you. People had told you tales of how they'd drown and eat anyone coming into their territory, but these creatures were instead cooing about you. You're now grown up, and you can call them for power. Your party frowns at the idea of "I kinda got adopted by a sea polycule and I got a cantrip and few other boons about it", but you know they'll have to eat their words when you bring them for dinner- If you can find a way to table them in the middle of the ocean, that is.

the celestial patron is still a dick tho

Feel free to add onto these if you'd like, I'd love to hear concepts >:3

[writingquestionsanswered]

I'm tired of my ideas always being big. It's overwhelming. I like seeing others' WIPs and ideas because they're just so simple... Like, that comic about a mermaid living in the ocean in our modern time and dealing with plastic trash. So simple and my own brain is bursting with ideas. But my own WIPs... they just start huge. I'd like something smaller... but I don't know how.

Stories Always Get Too Big

Stories can get out of hand quickly when they sprout too many independent threads. There are three primary culprits that serve as sparks that create these threads:

1 - Setting 2 - Non-Protagonist Characters/Relationships 3 - Back Story

The thing to remember, though, is that no matter how interesting your setting is, no matter how compelling your other characters are, and how fascinating the back story is, those things are not your plot.

Plot is the sequence of events through which the protagonist (and potentially other main characters) attempt to resolve the story's conflict by overcoming obstacles and setbacks in pursuit of a goal.

In other words, focus on this:

the protagonist > their normal world > the event that introduces a problem they must resolve > the goal they formulate in order to resolve that problem > the events that occur as a result of their pursuit of this goal > their attempts to overcome obstacles and setbacks encountered along the way > their attempt to solve the problem once and for all > failure or success > life in a changed situation/world

Anything else doesn't need to be there unless it is critical in order for one of the above steps to make sense.

So, let's take your mermaid example... though I haven't read that comic so I'm winging it here:

the protagonist = mermaid normal world = doing mermaid stuff inciting incident = finding plastic trash in the water goal = clean up/find the culprit and teach them to do better events = cleaning up, learning about humans, tracking down culprit climax = mermaid appeals to humans to do better finale = mermaid is living in a cleaner ocean

Now, let's say your brain starts to go off on a tangent about a deep oceanic rift and an evil merman wizard who lives there... stop right there. It's a fun idea, but what does it have to do with this story? How does it relate to the trash, clean-up, finding the culprit, or appeal to humans to do better? It doesn't. Theoretically, you could make it make sense... like, maybe the merman wizard likes the trash and wants the ocean to be dirty and gross, so maybe he is opposing the mermaid's attempts to clean up and to appeal to the humans. Okay, that works, so you can keep it. But, let's say you also have this idea about these creatures that live around the hydrothermal vents, and the mermaid meets and falls in love with a scientist who's studying them. Okay, again, interesting idea, but this one is much harder to fit in with the rest of the story. Sure, you could say the scientist is studying marine pollution instead... that brings it back around to the main conflict, but still, what does this relationship add to the story? How does it help or harm the mermaid's mission? How does it help to explore the story's themes or help deliver the message? It doesn't really sound like it does, so this would be an example of a thread you can probably snip.

And the thing is, it would be okay to follow a thread like that while you're plotting or writing your first draft, just to see where it goes and see if you can make it work. Part of why we edit and revise is to snip out the threads and elements that aren't pulling their weight. But learning how to curb them as they occur to you will help save you work later on down the line. Try writing those ideas down in an ideas document, and maybe those can be worked into different stories, a sequel, or a companion story.

One final note: I am very much aware that there are some epic writers out there who let wild tangles of threads sprout as they write, and they follow them all without abandon, relevant or not. That's okay, too. These are writers for whom that works, who don't feel overwhelmed by all of those threads, who want to write something bigger and more unwieldy. Maybe in time as you get accustomed to writing smaller, tidier stories, you embrace the bigger stories your brain wants to tell. Or maybe you don't. Whatever works best for you is all that matters. :)

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[ladyofthebookcase]

i need to yap about cultural nudity in nine sols NOW. context for new followers is that i watched kill la kill this summer and really enjoyed it and the commentary it made on nudity and the desexualization of the naked body. not sure how i want to structure this so i'll just kind of block it out based on the three main characters that are relevant to this. also when i say "the text" i mean the game of nine sols as a piece of media, like how english majors would refer to the book or movie they're studying. im not an english major but i could be.

goumang: my initial reaction to seeing her was to be like "huh she's not wearing any pants that's weird", followed by "well that's probably normal for solarians, they're cat people after all so it's probably less of a big deal in their culture" and then i just didn't care about it for like the rest of the game until i replayed it and got to her again and went "oh that's right, no one else has their pussy out like that. i guess that's just a goumang thing?" and, while i think it IS probably just a goumang thing to some extent (see the post about her being pussy out because of furgonomics basically/it's comfortable for her bird legs), an interesting thing to note here is yi's complete lack of reaction to it. goumang doesn't interact with any other characters in this outfit (the jiangshi don't count cus they can say like 2 words ok), and it could be argued that yi simply has bigger priorities/is not into women, but i do think it's notable nonetheless that literally zero acknowledgement is made to the fact that goumang is just walking around pussy out. not even non-diagetic elements interact with that at all; she's never censored in her manga cutscenes or posed in a way that either hides or exposes her. what this means is that her nudity isn't really treated like nudity. the text completely ignores it! now, we also know from a dev comment that solarians are matriarchal, which i think definitely ties into the different treatment of goumang and jiequan in this regard (i.e. why he's censored and she's not, from an in-world perspective, probably is similar to the way "women's" chests are censored in our world, although non-diagetically we know why he's censored lmao.)

jiequan: ok hmm. i'm no jiegolar, so i'm open to input on this one, but the element here i find significant is that jiequan is seen interacting with another person (aside from yi) while being naked. the fact that ji is hidden behind a screen is most likely just to obscure their identity (specifically his tall form) from the viewer, since they don't seem to have a problem also going around essentially pussy out the entire game; this is to say, it's not because jiequan is naked. i will say that the jiequan naked scenes have quite a different Vibe than the goumang and lady e scenes (no seriouesly why is that one cutscene so sexually charged help) but i think it's reasonable to chalk that up to 1) jiequan is a freak and 2) he's obsessed with yi so that changes the overall vibe of their interactions as opposed to, say, goumang. yeah i don't really know what i'm saying on this topic i don't have enough jiequan brainrot experience for this really. it does kind of give the vibe of like an emperor chilling in the nude in his palace and he's allowed to do that because he's the emperor though.

hm. yeah let's move onto something i've thought a bit more about.

lady ethereal: now THIS is really interesting to me for a few reasons, the first of which being that yeah, she's hot, and the game treats her as such! and yet at the same time it doesn't oversexualise her, or portray her as attractive at the expense of her personality. in fact, once again yi makes zero acknowledgement of her nudity-- his focus is on her, and that something strange is happening to her. yi also shows no discomfort or shame about entering the hot spring-- there's no "wait, you want me to get naked?!?!?!" moment that some media might have had, and i think that's really good not only because im a sucker for different cultural and hypothetical-cultural interpretations of nonsexual nudity, but also because a moment like that would have been cheesy and annoying and made the scene less serious. the focus of that scene ISN'T that the hot lynx woman is hot, it's that there is something mentally wrong with the hot lynx woman. the fact that these scenes take place at a hot spring without the text ever interacting with the nudity of the characters is to me a really strong argument for the idea that nudity is fairly normal and definitely not inherently sexual for solarians. the idea that it is inherently sexual is a very historically recent and western thing anyway and maybe i just haven't consumed enough media where it's not portrayed that way but i found this portrayal really refreshing ESPECIALLY WHEN ITS WOMEN ok this isn't even in a gay way i literally don't care about bodies like that. i dont having sex. i just think it's really really refreshing and nice for women to be, like, able to have these kind of scenes and character moments without the text reducing the entire scene to "ohh look boobies lol". without them being censored or hypersexualised or made into a joke. rips off shirt to reveal a tattoo on my bare chest that says "I FEEL STRONGLY ABOUT AFAB BODIES BEING TREATED LIKE THEY'RE INHERENTLY SEXUAL AND THE STRONG EMOTION I FEEL ABOUT THIS IS THAT IT FUCKING SUCKS". thank you for reading my essay.

[gallowdancingmuck]

Analyzing W(e)yler: Part One

The first thing I would like to discuss is Tyler’s role in the whole story. While we can debate on whether he is the best love interest or not (I’ll get to that) I think it can be accepted that he is a foil to Wednesday. A foil is meant to act as a contrast to the protagonist and is not always necessarily the antagonist. The difference between foil and antagonist is that the antagonist opposes whilst the foil exposes essential beliefs and characteristics of the protagonist. Something often forgotten in terms of foils is that they are extremely similar to the protagonist, but a critical factor causes a ripple effect that diverts the foil’s path from the protagonist’s path.

Lets look at how exactly Tyler and Wednesday foil each other:

Grumpy x Sunshine

Tyler showcases a positive and soft side, but hides the darker aspects of his personality (Hyde, anger, sadness, resentment). Wednesday showcases her dark side proudly but is ashamed of the softer aspects of her personality (love, affection, loyalty, sympathy). If Tyler (and people around him) were more accepting of his darkness, Hyde would not be as easily manipulated and he would probably be able to leverage more emotional control. If Wednesday accepted her softness she would also be able to exert more control with her emotions. Her “getting in her own way” comes into play because she doesn’t reach out for help and when things go wrong she makes impulsive decisions that hurt her relationships (think about how Enid and her fought because Wednesday just didn’t ask for her help in an honest way). Raw emotions are hard for Wednesday but her care for other people is always used against her and her denial makes things 10x harder for her.

Family Dynamics

Tyler’s family is broken. His mother died and his father shut down, leaving Tyler with anger, sadness, and abandonment issues. The neglect from Donovan has caused Tyler to develop severe daddy issues and a mommy complex. Tyler is chasing affection, which is why he falls into Laurel’s grasp. Wednesday’s family on the other hand is pretty functional if not a little overly expressive, however she finds their constant affection suffocating and is running away from it. She has mommy issues in the fact that she looks at her mother as competition (which I hope the reasoning behind this is explored more because it really confuses me, what led to the riff between Morticia and Wednesday?)

Outcast Status

Tyler has been forced into outcast status. As a hyde he was already predetermined to be isolated, add onto it his family dynamic, Tyler is alone and he does not know how to deal with that. He wishes he was normal as seen through the way he interacts with other characters and in Jericho. Wednesday, while seen as strange by the world, is still accepted. I think it has been seen that as long as you are a pretty girl, you can be as weird as you like (Manic Pixie Dream Girl vibes) and with the Addams family wealth and status added, Wednesday truly will always have a place. She despises this. She wants to be an outcast, but as seen in the show, her assuredness is magnetizing, so people flock to her despite her best efforts.

Wealth

Tyler comes from a working class family. While he may not be struggling to get by, a sheriff and barista’s salary is not much. The Addams family has so much money it's comical. This matters because when Tyler beat up Xavier he got sent to bootcamp. Wednesday maimed the swim team and got sent to a private school. Money affects circumstance and punishment. It begs the question of what would happen if the roles were reversed and Wednesday was a hyde? Wealth affects power, and the hyde is in constant danger of power dynamics being manipulated.

Masking

Faulkner’s diary points out how the hyde is an artist by nature, this relates to how they are actors, switching personalities or parts in society. Hydes are naturally manipulative because it is an adaptation to the tumultuous personality changes. For the most part, Tyler can act through social interactions and delight people. and that is why he successfully tricked Wednesday. He is able to save himself a lot of trouble. Wednesday on the other hand is honest to a fault. Brutal and straightforward, Wednesday scares people and causes herself a lot more trouble than she needs to.

Emotional Expression

Both Tyler and Wednesday have difficulty with emotional control. Tyler lets his emotions explode while Wednesday diminishes her’s. Moving forward I think Tyler is going to be going through therapy where he learns to not suppress the hyde, but regulate it and all the emotions that fuel it. Wednesday has been put through a lot of emotional wringers (Thing almost dying, Eugene being attacked, the attraction and betrayal with Tyler, Enid being Enid) that I think she is going to soon realize she has to manage rather than ignore them. I think learning to cope with this regulation will happen as Wednesday and Tyler reconcile and learn to work together again.

Control

Due to the nature of the hyde and how it was unlocked, Tyler has never been in control. Even before that, he had no control in his family due to neglect and secrecy. His development is about gaining a sense of control and autonomy in his life. Learning to be alone but not being forced to be. His story I think has to revolve around choice and empowerment. Wednesday is a control freak. She hates emotions due to the unpredictable nature and she can’t handle relationships because you can’t healthily control another person. She needs to relinquish control because it stands in the way of her softer qualities and often gets her in trouble.

Tyler and Wednesday are the same, but the way they approach life is different and is linked to an overall theme of Wednesday (and the Addams Family in general). The Addams Family has always been a satire about how despite the family being macabre and gloomy, they love and support each other more than the average nuclear family. Never are we expected to understand the family but more so to accept and appreciate them. If we look at Tyler’s Hyde, this character is exactly what happens when we don’t do this. The filial bond is damaged because Francoise’s hyde was never accepted and it caused this generational trauma. The hyde I think is a representation of the things that haunt people and families when they are not addressed or accepted. Wednesday is just as much about the hyde as the Addams family, so with the tragedy surrounding the Galpin family and the state of the hyde as a species, I do think that Wednesday and Tyler will reconcile (maybe not romantically) and work to resolve the stigmatization of hydes.

Plus if Wednesday wants to be odd and outcasted she would refuse to be outdone by Tyler! Not for a second time.

[dameronology]

star wars boys and having to share a bed with you? 🙌

i feel like some fluff is needed after all the angst lately icl (this is like in a pre-established relationship scenario <3)

includes din, poe, finn, han, luke & obi-wan

the mandalorian/din djarin

sharing a bed with din is like being in the safest place in the world. he absolutely has to be the one to be closest to the door and more often than not, he'll wrap his entire body around yours both out of affection and protection. if he's comfy enough to share a bed with you, it sort of feels axiomatic that he's comfy enough to sleep with the armour off too, but in the earlier stages of your relationship you might have to deal with it being on all the time. after a while, though, it'll be shed before he gets into bed. din is an incredibly warm person so it's always pretty toasty too, even without him acting like a human blanket. his favourite way to sleep is with his back pressed to yours, arms looped around your front and legs tangled together.

poe dameron

poe is a cuddler. there's no two ways of going about it and it's not exclusive to you either - actually, there's a reason that most his colleagues want two beds on a stakeout, as opposed to being dragged into dameron's arms against their will at nighttime. obviously, you mind a lot less than them - it's something you come to struggle sleeping without, actually - but just expect for him to always be holding you. even if you move to the other side of bed and jut your limbs out, the man is still gonna find a way to pull you back into his arms. his favourite way to sleep is facing you, head buried underneath your chin, one arm underneath you and the other over you.

finn

finn spent most of his life sleeping in tiny military cots in the first order, so when you first share a bed it's like sleeping next to a corpse that simply will not move. so, in the early stages of your relationship you sort of have to work yourself around him but the more he gets used to it, the more receptive he is to being touchy at night. he's generally quite light with his touches - usually just a hand on your hip or his head on your shoulder - but when one of you has been away for a while or life is a little tense, he definitely becomes clingier.

han solo

han solo manspreads at night. he hanspreads. you could have a kingsize bed and he could take up 99% of it. it makes sharing a bed with him difficult at first but the closer you become, the closer he likes to be at you tonight. after that, the problem is not so much sleeping around han as it is avoiding han at night, because you normally wake up to find that his entire torso is on top of you, or he's managed to slip underneath you is now your mattress.

luke skywalker

luke is susceptible to nightmares after the fall of the empire, and sleeping close to you is what helps soothe him. it's something he can't avoid if you're apart but if you're sleeping together, he has to be close to you in someway; maybe just a hand holding yours or even your legs touching, anything for him to know that you're there. you can normally tell when his nightmares are worse, or when he's feeling low, because he'll sleep closer to you and hold you a little tighter.

obi-wan kenobi

obi-wan is the heaviest sleeper you will ever meet, so the position that you go to sleep in has to be one that you're okay to stay in til he wakes up. he's self-aware so he's quite light with his touches at night - more often than not, he just sleeps beside you with a hand resting on the side of your leg, hip, or arm - but there have been times when he's wrenched you closer to him in his sleep. good luck if you need a wee.

[whereserpentswalk]

See, misogyny inherently operates under the idea that women are weak, childlike, and incompetent, and thus need protecting by men and society. It basically frames it so that the idea of women's being men's equals is seen as being dangerous for women. And a lot of this carries over to how transmascs and afab enbies are treated.

While transfemmes and amab enbies are seen as being dangerous perverted men, it's way more common for afab trans people to be seen as confused women being put in a dangerous position by nebulous outside forces.

If a trans woman is seen as something dangerous and powerful hiding as something weak, and thus she's seen as a threat, a trans man is seen as something innocent that can't fend for itself being place in the dangerous position of something powerful and competent, and thus he's seen as a victim. It's a disturbing and distorted type of sympathy. Transandrophobia hurts as much as transmisogyny, but transandrophobia is unique in that it's much more common for the transphobes doing it to see their bigotry as a form of protection and love.

(Also, sorry if transmascs and afab enbies (and transfemmes and amab enbies) are being lumped together. Transpobes deal in agab, not gender identity, so when talking about how transphobia works, we kind of have to split it that way. I say this as a transneutral enby who doesn't even tell strangers online my agab.)

So we end up in this very weird position where people treat misgendering afab trans people as something they're doing to help them. It's done by terfs of course, but it's also done by the type of person who says "women and nonbinary people" who basically treats afab trans people as women with different pronouns. There's this aura people have when talking to or about afab trans people where it feels like they'd consider not treating them like a woman to be a disservice to them. I've even seen a lot of transmascs fall into this trap themselves, especially with modern "feminism" often treating femininity as a group that must be maintained as fought for as opposed to a harmful social construct. So many young afab trans people end up being pushed into either trying to make their identity something that doesn't offend binary femininity, or feel a need to completely detach themselves from womanhood by suffering the worst of male gender expectations.

If you find yourself misgendering (and that goes deeper than just which pronouns you use) afab trans people and thinking it's to help them, take this as your sign to stop.

If your an afab trans person, please remember that you can be loved and protected without being treated like a girl. You can be cute and pretty without being a girl. You can be emotionally vulnerable and given affection without being a girl. Your achievements can be celebrated without you being a girl. You can have community without being a girl. And you don't need to be treated like a child to be protected, you don't need to be misgendered to have community. Anyone who will only be able to love you by seeing you as something you're not doesn't deserve you.

Also, if you're a woman (normal or cisgender) reading this, you also don't need to put up with being seen as weak or incompetent to be protected. Your accomplishments aren't just women's accomplishments, they're your accomplishments. You should not have to buy your safety by painting yourself as lesser.

[crangrapel0ver]

Sunburns and Silence

Caring!Katsuki Bakugo x fem reader.

Summary: Katsuki cares for you after you become effected by the drawbacks of your quirk. Once you go back to your normal self, he expresses how much he wants to take care of you; although you guys can't help but be interrupted by your well-intentioned friends.

Word count: 4,076

Tags: Caring!Katsuki Bakugo x fem reader, Bakugou cooking for reader, dealing with sunburns, heavy petting, and making out.

“Get in groups of three! We're doing a quirk exercise. Try to get with someone who's quirk doesn't suit yours. Two of the groups will have four people, not three.” Aizawa ordered while he led us to the middle of the arena. It was a similar arena to the one we were at for the sports festival, but it seemed to be a bit bigger without as many stands above. I look to my classmates to see who would be good for the exercise. Most of the groups had formed while I was taking in the arena, and there were only a few people left. Mina, Kaminari, and Sero had grouped together almost immediately. As did Todoroki, Midoriya, and Uraraka. Iida, Tsuyu, and Momo had paired together near Todoroki's group. The other groups were too far away for me to discern, but as far as I could tell, the only group left missing someone was Bakugou and Kirishima's group.

“Oi! Come on Airhead. You're with us sweetheart.” Bakugou snickered as if he was amused with the group. He waved me over with two fingers and I quickly jogged over to him just like he beckoned. As I approached Kirishima turned from Mina's group and gave me a bright smile.

“You ready to win this (surname)?” Kirishima asked with a pat on my shoulders.

“You know I am Kiri! I wonder what it is we'll actually be doing.” I grinned up at him while I looked over to Professor Aizawa. He was looking around with his hair pulled back in a bun to get the hair off of his neck. I understand why. The April heat makes my skin sticky. My own hair was pulled up out of the way. We were all in the school gym uniforms; although most of the students had rightfully ditched the jackets. Even in a thin white tank top, I could feel the sweat pooling on my forehead. I could tell the heat was getting to the boys as well, them having to wipe the sweat off their face.

We hadn't even started the exercise and the sun was already making us exhausted. I just hoped it would be over soon so we could go inside and get something to drink.

“Now that you all are in groups, go ahead and organize yourself at the edges of the arena. We're doing two groups at a time. you'll fight to try and grab each other's flag while protecting your own. You'll have fifteen minutes to get the opposing flag. The first group up is gonna be…” I zoned out as Aizawa drags on. His voice becomes a murmur as I look to the sky. There wasn't a cloud in sight.

I flinch as a hand slaps my back. It's Katsuki. From the way Kirishima has already walked off, I assume we're to find a spot at the edge to watch. I wordlessly follow him as he finds Kirishima next to Mina, Kaminari, and Sero's group. The first two groups go to their flags and I take a seat against the arena walls to rest my feet. I can see Katsuki's watchful gaze out of the corner of my eye. I just watch the grass and try to not fall deeper into the murmuring of my friends' conversation. The heat isn't letting up anytime soon, and before I know it the first groups are done. I hear Aizawa call for the next two groups, but his words are lost on me. I haven't even used my quirk and already, I'm experiencing the drawbacks of exhaustion. I see a tall figure in front of me and before I can recognise I've put my hand out, Bakugou is pulling me up and telling me that I'll be staying with the flags. All I have to do is stop anyone who comes too close while he and Kirishima get the opposing team's flag. I have to try not to get lost in his ruby eyes while he tells me about the plan.

“You listening to me, Airhead?” He huffs, stirring me out of my stupor. I can see that Momo, Iida, and Tsuyu have already gotten ready for the match. I nod to him as confirmation while he squints at my silence. He lightly slaps my arm as a sendoff and he's off to get set with Kirishima. I can see them nod at each other while Aizawa counts off the match.

As soon as Aizawa says go, they're off in a flurry. I can barely make out what's happening when I see Iida coming my way. I stop him in his tracks just before he gets too close. I can tell he's fighting to get out of it, but I'm too focused on him for the hold to weaken.

Tsuyu is next passing around Bakugou and Kirishima, and I can see her gearing up to snag the flag. I paralyze her where she stands, and I can feel my concentration slipping. Iida is able to move slightly and he's about to break out completely when Kirishima makes his rounds back to our side. He manages to get Iida in his rock solid grasp before he can speed towards the flag. I still have Tsuyu stuck where she was before, but then I can almost feel my mind slipping away from me.

I know Bakugou will be aggravated if I don't protect the flag. He gave me the easiest job, and I don't wanna let him or Kirishima down. I hear a muffled yell, but before I can look towards the sound Tsuyu is out of my hold and reaching for the flag. I'm able to push her away and temporarily stop her, but my grasp is limited. she can't run towards it or reach for it, but she's still able to thrash her body around. I can only afford to focus on her if I want to keep the paralysis. I can see Kirishima and Iida fighting somewhere near our flag. I just keep repeating Pause! Pause! Pause! I could see Tsuyu slowly moving out of my hold, and I couldn't stop her.

I couldn't do anything. It was as if I was quirkless. It felt as though my quirk was being used against me. I just looked at Tsuyu's movements to grab the flag, only to be stopped by Kiri.

“Bakugou retrieved Yaomomo's flag. Bakugou's team wins.” I can hear Aizawa's voice somewhere behind me in the arena. I saw Kirishima helping up Tsuyu from the ground. I wanted to move to ask if she was okay, but I couldn't seem to move towards her. I can see Katsuki walking up to me, passing Kirishima, Iida, and Tsuyu. I can only look at him, as he says something. He's probably teasing about not being able to keep my quirk to hold them down. I can see him squinting at me like he always does when he's upset with me.

“Did you hear me?” He asks with something lacing his tone. Is it concern or is he aggravated with me ignoring him? I nod at him slowly, not being able to move more than the subtle nod. He only sighs and grabs my elbow. His grip guiding me to the edge of the arena. Over to where the other groups sat. The sun is still beating down onto us. I can feel his calloused hand rubbing the inside of my forearm. One of his hands moves to hold mine and he rubs his thumb on the skin there. It's more gentle than I expect him to be, and I don't know what it's for. I'm just staring at him trying to find the strength to move my hands to hold his. I move my other hand over to his, but the ability to contract my hand is lost on me. I'm turned to face Katsuki, and I can hear Aizawa saying something about going back to the dorms for the rest of the day. I didn't make an effort to leave until Katsuki moved the hand holding mine to rest on my lower back. He lightly pushed me forward with his hand not leaving the area once I started moving.

When dinner is finally ready, I'm on one of the chairs in the common room that Katsuki put me in after I got back from my shower. It had taken me longer than most of the other students because I couldn't seem to open the door handles or move the shower nod. I struggled to close my hands around the soap to wash my face. I couldn't take my hair out of the ponytail it was put in this morning. When I arrived back downstairs, Katsuki stood up from the table in the living room. I could see him walk over to me, but I didn't realize he was trying to get my attention.

“What do you want to eat?” His warm hand grabbed my cold one, and I could've stayed in his hold forever. I look up at his piercing eyes and I can’t help but relax at his warm gaze. I frown at the question while just barely shaking my head. My eyes seemed to drift from his. I don't know what I should eat right now. I can't imagine cooking in this state. The last time I tried to cook while I was like this, I ended up burning my hand. Katsuki was so mad when he found me in the kitchen, clutching my bubbling hand. He had huffed and pushed my hand under cold water while he took the pot off of the stovetop.

“You're not gonna be cooking like this. Not after you burnt yourself last time.” He snarled at the memory of me crying silently while cradling my hand. When it happened, I couldn't even yell or ask someone for help. I just silently looked up at him with my puppy dog eyes; pleading for him to not be too upset. I nod at Katsuki, and he just sighs and pulls away to walk to the kitchen. My eyes follow him and stay with him while he moves around to different shelves and cabinets. I see people shifting out of the corner of my eye, but I don't bother to check the movement. I only look over when Mina waves her hand slightly in front of my face.

Mina and Kirishima are sitting on the couch next to my chair while Kaminari is crouching in front of me. He reaches to rub my hands with a gentle smile, but I can only glance at him before looking back over to Katsuki. When I glance over, I meet his eyes and he only nods at me then goes back to cooking. I'm pulled back to Kaminari when he squeezes my hand. He asks me if I'm doing alright and I can only stare while he frowns at the blank expression on my face. He glances over to Mina and Kirishima while making a concerned face, glancing at me with a head tilt. I blink slowly and look over to where Katsuki was, but he's gone. My brows furrow as I slowly look around to find him. 

I'm pulled out of my silent concern when he appears in front of me, ushering Kaminari out of the way. He sits on the coffee table in front of me and he looks between me and what he has in his hands. When he moves his hand to my face, I look at his hand not knowing what he's doing. He's holding a spoon. A spoon full of fried rice with small pieces of egg, peppers, and sausage. It's one of my favorite meals, but I didn't know Katsuki knew that. He ushers the spoon to my face again, and I think I know what he wants now. I open my mouth slightly, and he puts the spoon in my mouth. He gives me time to chew it before he picks up a cup for me to drink. I've been parched since we went outside into the sun, but after the exercise I couldn't open the water bottle in my room. I tried at it for a couple minutes silently in my room before giving up and getting in the shower. I’m usually not able to move my hands and use small muscles when I’m exhausted like this. It’s like when you lose blood flow to a certain limb and it goes to sleep. I lose it in most places which leaves me feeling hollow. Like my body doesn’t work anymore. 

I sometimes feel bad for people who are under my quirk if this is what they feel like. Your mind is slower and fuzzy. Your limbs might as well be absent because you can’t use them. You're helpless in your own body and you can do nothing but wait it out. Usually when I get like this, someone will drop me off at my room and I’ll sleep until I can feel again. On days like these, people don’t seem to notice my inability. They think I’m just tired, not that I’m being paralyzed by my own quirk. Unable to control my body or mind fully. Some people notice, but they don’t know how to help. Not that I could tell them what I need. I barely know what I need myself, but Katsuki never has to be told what I need. He always seems to know what to do without us needing to communicate my needs. 

Katsuki continues to spoon feed me the food he made for me, always so patient with me. The warmth of the food spreads through my cold body. I can hear Mina, Kirishima, and Kaminari gushing over the sweet action, but I can't seem to care. Their conversation continues on, but Katsuki doesn't add to it. He only focuses on me. One of the students on the other side of the room must’ve dropped something because a shattering sound startles me out of the solace Katsuki is giving me. A burst of voices and laughter flows throughout the room, killing the comfortable quiet that I was basking in. My facial expression only barely changes from the blank exhausted one to a slight curiosity. Katsuki doesn't follow my gaze over to the source of noise, he just stays looking at me with that expression I can never place. He taps my knee after a second of me observing their conversation, but when I don’t look back at him, he softly says my name. I look back over to him with a slow blink and soft sigh. 

“Are you feeling any better?” He asks with a hand rubbing my knee and lower thigh. The action is chaste, but It still warms my heart. I tilt my head and lightly lift my shoulders into a shrug. He continues to rub my leg as he looks over to the rest of the class which isn’t going to settle down any time soon. He picks up the bowl slightly to ask if I still want any and I just look away to the empty kitchen, still not being able to find my words. He understands my intention without it needing to be explained. He moves his hand from my thigh to grab my hand gently. He pulls me up slowly with him and takes me to the kitchen where he washes the dish, and I just stand where he left me.

Why is he so kind? For anyone else he would have just left them to deal with themselves. He would’ve scoffed if someone else had asked him to feed them. He’s always been a little gentler with me, but I assumed it was because he thought my blank state wouldn’t be able to handle his brash nature. 

I don’t notice when he stops doing the dishes until he's in front of me and putting his hand on my lower back. He ushers me to the elevator, and I spare him a glance when I notice he presses his floor number not mine. He rubs my back with his thumb, the warmth from his hand bleeding through my shirt. 

When the slow elevator pings and the doors open, I silently walk wherever Katsuki leads me. When I’m with him it’s easy to allow myself to shut off, knowing he will take care of me. He puts in the code to his door and when we get into his room he just points towards the bed. I sink down into the well made bed as he walks to get something. I grab one of his throw blankets and pull it around my shoulders. He’s gone for a couple minutes, and there's some shuffling in the bathroom where he went. When he leaves the bathroom he turns on his small heater and walks over to me. He has a container of clear gel in his hands. He sits the container next to me on the bed and reaches to pinch the material of the blanket between his fingers. 

“You gonna let me put this aloe vera on?” I nod up at him, my tired gaze not leaving his ruby eyes. I pull the blanket off and the material rubs on my sunburnt shoulders that I hadn’t felt until now. The skin hadn’t been aggravated by my tank top, but the blanket seemed to set it off. Usually when I went to relax with Katsuki in his room, this was my favorite blanket. Claiming the soft blanket as my own whenever I was here, but now I wanted nothing to do with the itchy material. His lips tightened into a line when I winced, but it's relaxed whenever he let out a deep breath through his nose. He gently pulled my hair into a bun to keep it off my back.

He easily opened the container and began rubbing the gel into my red shoulders. My eyes close with a sigh as the cool gel eases the hot skin, and I can't help but smile softly. He puts a little bit of aloe on my forehead and cheeks. He spreads a thin layer of gel across the bridge of my nose. He wipes the last bit on the lid of the container, and when there's nothing left on his hands he moves to cup my jaw. His thumb rubbing the edge of my jawline that doesn’t have gel on it. I lean into the touch and he smiles at the small action. 

“That feel good? I thought you were gonna melt outside today.” He chuckled softly, but I only looked up at him. He planted his knees on the bed and bent down to be face to face with me. He glanced down at my lips, and I leaned forward looking at his blood red eyes. They were always softer when they looked at me. I licked my lips and his grip tightened on my jaw. He closed the gap and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. I kissed back as best as I could before he pulled away again. 

He had a fond look in his eyes when he looked at me, only inches away. I leaned closer to him again with my eyes closed, silently begging for another one. He granted my wish, this time with a deeper kiss. He moved to cup the back on my neck where there wasn’t any sunburn. His hands lacing through my hair while the other one wrapped around my waist. My hands rested on his muscular arms. He kissed me like I was air and he was drowning. He held me like I was never going to be in his arms again. He devoured me like he was starving. When he pulled away I looked into his eyes, and he must've seen my dazed look. 

“Are you better now?” he asked, not letting me out of his hold just yet. I nodded at him and he gave me a skeptical look. 

“Thank you Katsuki. For everything.” I whispered with a quick kiss on his lips. I wasn’t completely back, but the numbness has subsided to a fuzzy feeling. Even though I’m still exhausted, it’s something I can manage now. 

“You don’t have to thank me for this. Someone has to take care of your ass.” He mumbled into my lips as he closed his eyes again and kissed me once more. His hands pulled me tighter to him before releasing and guiding me to lay against the bed. I moved to lace my hands through his hair as he explored underneath my tank top. He just barely grazed the underside of my boobs, and he kissed me a little harder realizing I don't have a bra on. He continued to kiss me with a warm passion until a knock startled us out of the makeout session. 

“Bakubro! Is (surname) in here? Mina went to check on her and she wasn’t in her room.” Kirishima asked from outside the door. Hopefully he hadn’t heard anything. If he saw us now, with puffy red lips and the aloe vera smeared on Katsuki’s face, he’d definitely know something was going on. Katsuki finally pulled his warm hands out of my shirt and walked over to the door. He opened it just enough for me to be blocked from Kirishima’s view. 

“Yeah, she’s in here. I just got her some aloe vera and she’s resting a bit before she goes to her room for the night.” Katsuki says with ease. It’s technically true, but Kirishima doesn’t need to know that our version of ‘resting’ was with Katsuki’s hands up my shirt and his tongue in my mouth. Kirishima seemed to hum in understanding and I see Katsuki freeze when Kirishima asks about why he has aloe vera on him as well. 

“Tch, I was a little sunburned also. Why are you being so nosey, Shitty hair?” He tried to defend, but Kirishima just chuckled as he patted Katsuki’s shoulder. He wasn’t believing a word that came out of Katsuki’s mouth and we all knew it. 

“Whatever you say, just remember we’re going out into town tomorrow morning. Try to make sure she actually gets some rest.” He grins and I’m sure he can see me from just behind the door. 

“I will, Shitty hair.” Katsuki mumbles as he looks back towards me. He says goodnight to Kirishima and Kirishima says goodnight to both of us with a boyish laugh. Katsuki shuts the door with a sigh and returns to the bed with a small grin. He gets back on the bed over me and pulls him into a slow kiss. Katsuki puts one of his hands on my exposed thigh and the other in my hair. This time I lace one of my hands through his hair and grip his arm with the other. He smiles into the kiss and I can’t help but smile as well. We break apart and he looks down at my lips before initiating another breathtaking kiss. I almost think I’m going crazy when another knock at the door sounds. Am I having deja vu? No, unfortunately, there’s another person at the door. Katsuki groans as he’s forced to break the kiss and take his hands away from my soft skin once more. 

“Come on Bakugou! You can’t hide her away in here.” Mina yells through the door, and I can already imagine her stance. Her hands are probably on her hips, impatiently tapping her foot while waiting for Katsuki to open the door. When he does, Mina can clearly see the aggravation slipping onto his expression. “Don’t be so sour. I just wanted to check that she was feeling okay, but clearly she’s feeling more than okay right now.” she grinned slyly and I could feel the glare from Katsuki. She waved through the door past Katsuki and said goodnight as she walked off in the direction of Kirishima. 

There’s no way we're hearing the end of this tomorrow or anytime soon. I can’t seem to care as Katsuki falls back into the bed and pulls me onto his chest. Eventually the fuzziness of quirk exhaustion fades and Katsuki’s warmth encompasses me. His warm hands wrapped around my waist and my thigh pulled up around his waist. My hands resting on his chest as his heart beats lull me into a quiet sleep.

[thirstyforlulu]

Hello im a new Follower! That Has been loving your Work ESPECIALLY THE WALTER HEAD CANNONS. So Can i request for Younger Walter Headcannons when he has crush on Reader (The Version Of walter where Alucard called him "Little Walter" Lol Little cute Walter) :D

Younger Walter is not as straightforward and to the point as regular Walter

He’s young and dumb as they say, so when he has a crush, he doesn’t exactly know how to deal with it

I could see him being more of a tsundere

To your face he can be kind of abrasive and blunt

But behind your back he’s making sure you have what you need or trying to find out ways he can help you

He’s definitely the type to buy you something if you offhandedly mention you’re out of it

If you work with him, he’d insist on going on any missions you have

He feels like he has to protect you, that that’s what a man should do when he’s in love

If he can’t go with you, he’d be a mess the entire time

The people around him can tell he’s off, and that his mind is focused elsewhere

He won’t chill out until he sees you again, but you won’t know

He’d be the type to hand you a flower and immediately walk away

It’s mainly so you don’t see the blush on his face

He will rarely compliment you because he gets flustered

In his head, he’s screaming about how beautiful you look, but on the outside, he’s turning his head away so he doesn’t slip up

If anyone tries to move in on you, he will get very upset

He hasn’t asked you out or anything, but in his mind, he has a claim on you

If it’s a random soldier, he will fight them, although with his reputation it normally just takes a glare

If it’s someone higher up, it takes some work on his part

It would take a lot of coaxing to get him to confess

He’s content to just admire from afar

To enjoy the strange friendship you two have as opposed to potentially scaring you off

But if someone were to truly catch your interest, he’d be forced to act

He’d finally start being forward with you in that moment

He’d get super serious, potentially even pinning you against a wall to declare his feelings

[caw4brandon]

How to End a Story

Stories are often told through two styles. It's either a recollection of something that has already happened. Or, it's an ongoing event happening to the character's life.

The story can be told through just one main character or multiple characters but like all stories. They have to end. Let's discuss the ending of three shows that I recently watched. (I'll try not to get into the spoilers)

- They're Not just Frogs -

< Amphibia > by Matt Braly; follows three girls; Anne, Sasha and Marcy who stole a mysterious music box that transported them into another world of talking frogs, toads, newts and other horrifying monsters.

Our main character is Anne Boonchuy who found her temporary home with the Plantars; Hop Pop, Sprig and Polly. A small family of frogs who took Anne in and helped her better understand the world. The show is good at using little segments to build the world. Such as a mind manipulation sentient spore, the divisions between the main races and the mystery behind the music box.

Story-wise, the show tried to make the flow of events happen at a nicer pace. Season 1 was used on Anne to better understand the world and how things have changed between her friends. Season 2 used that change to add another twist to their relationship. As the seasons progress, the cast slowly expands.

The show eases in the main trio and their new friends. Some episodes foreshadowed what was coming for the characters, and some felt pointless. With a cast that big, it would slow the story down but surprisingly, it felt okay.

You get to spend some time with them, learn what makes them tick, what changed them and how they felt about the current state of the story. As a person who had some regrets in life, I really liked Sasha Waybright's development. She went from someone who took charge to becoming a character who matured into a better person. Giving her time to improve, showed that she improved but is still a work in progress.

As far as the ending goes, I felt a little bittersweet. I liked that it ended and that the big arc of the main trio is resolved but I would really like to see an expansion for how they deal with all the events they went through as it was rather traumatic. Thankfully, we have fan artists for that!

- Eat This Sucka!!! -

It would be impossible to avoid spoilers when < The Owl House > by Dana Terrace was at its peak. Spoilers were happening left and right!

Context, The Owl House follows the outcast teen; Luz Noceda who was meant to go to a summer camp. On the day she was about to go. Luz got distracted by a thief who went through a mysterious door that led Luz into the Demon Realm.

The series takes on a familiar arc where the outsider; Luz learns the ways of the witches but with her own creativity and innovation. Luz also resides under the care of the Owl Lady; Eda Clawthorne, King and Hooty (The house itself)

As the seasons progress, Luz helps the other witches her age improve and come out of their shells. Importantly, she finds new friends she never had in the human realm.

The Owl House is a show of obviously coded Queer characters and individuals that don't fit with the norm. Dana is a genius that never made a big fuss over the fact that some characters are openly Queer. Although the studio; Disney tried to limit the screentime to avoid public outcry.

The show is my first-ever witness to openly Queer characters being completely normal about it instead of being preachy. Perhaps this has to do with the title; Demon Realm.

"Where the general belief of the overzealous conservatives in a so-called Good and Righteous God thinks that's where Queer people and other abnormal people belong."

The main villain; Belos tries his hardest to "purify" the realm by limiting how witches use magic and violently persecute anyone who opposes these new rules. It's a symbolic view of the Puritan tyrant. That their ways are destined to be divine when it was all a ruse to further their own personal agenda.

The show suffered a mess of developments as Disney has a strong Anti-Queer policy with their shows. But Dana, the sneaky bastard that she is. (he says affectionately) Slipped in undeniable proof that the characters are proudly Queer and the Puritian miserably fails.

The ending was pure cinema! The show uses Luz's perspective to show that kids can have their own complexities and what we may think is good may not be what is right for said person. The show also displays good values of being open to change, that it's never too late to right the wrongs and Weirdos Gotta Stick Together.

- The Freaky Friends -

We finally came to my favourite show of this batch. < Hilda > by Luke Pearson is a fun and adventurous show about a young girl who loves adventures living in a world that is brimming with magic. I would like to talk more about it but I've already covered that in [The Beautiful World of Hilda]

For the sake of this post, I'm only focusing on Season 3. The final season of the series. While the show is not as plot-driven as the latter mentions. I think there is much to be said about the breath of fresh air Hilda brings to the table.

Hilda has a special place in my heart for how she managed to bring wonder and joy into my viewing experience. This season, took on a more ominous turn where the adventures get deadlier and the stakes get higher in this little world of the blue-haired adventurer.

Season 3 was commented on by the viewers as "underwhelming and inconclusive" and that it tore its own "fan theories" apart. Personally, I loved that the showrunner revealed everything and also nothing because that's the point.

Hilda is not about a big mystery, it's a pure adventure and curious exploration of the mythology surrounding Trollberg and the rest of the world in Hilda. The feeling of fulfilment but also, melancholy that the series has ended is in my opinion, the best conclusion.

Admittedly, I didn't know how to end the post. I just wanted to get my thoughts out about these three shows and how it ended. It feels like the end of another era. A close to another chapter for animation and the stories it can tell.

These three shows; Amphibia, The Owl House and Hilda proved that animation is still taking new heights but still maintains the charm of what stories are. A good ending where the arc may be over but the adventures will still carry on.

It's been a fun and tear-jerking journey with Hilda, Luz and Anne. Their worlds are unique and brimming with excitement that I haven't felt in years and a desire to catch up more.

I'll miss them dearly but hey, such is the life of an adventurer. Don't be sad that it's over. Be happy that it happened and above all. Go make your own stories!

[kissofthemis]

Artem and Rosa chatting over coffee BECAUSE they're pulling an all nighter again?

The whirring of the coffeemaker felt exceptionally loud in the otherwise quiet office.

Rosa didn't want to waste any resources or time by making a full pot of coffee, so she had defaulted to heating up a pod. However, she forgot how loud the machine was when heating up a single pod, and she lifted a finger to her lips to give a whispered "shush."

She wasn't worried about disturbing anyone at this hour, as she was fairly confident that she was the only one still at the Themis office at 11:52 PM, but the jarring buzzing noise and now the echoing plops of coffee falling into her mug were a bit too eerie for her liking amidst the silence.

"At this hour, I would recommend not adding as much vanilla syrup as you usually do. Can I grab you a sugar?"

"Eeeek!"

The unexpected voice caught Rosa entirely off guard. She whirled around, one hand clutching her chest, only to find herself face to face with what was now an equally startled Artem.

"Sorry. I wasn't... trying to judge your coffee habits."

"N-no, that's not..." Rosa exhaled sharply, willing her heartbeat to return to a normal rhythm. "Please don't sneak up on me at this hour, Mr. Wing," she managed to sigh out at last. She was still audibly panting, but she tried to act as nonchalant as possible as she grabbed her mug and stepped to the side. "One sugar sounds great. Thank you."

Rosa practiced some deep breathing while Artem fetched two sugar packets. "I wouldn't recommend both at this hour, but I do know you have a sweet tooth, so..." His voice trailed off, and he instead punctuated his sentence by handing her the packets.

"Thank you." Rosa accepted them and dipped her head politely. "Um... you aren't going to chastise me for drinking coffee at this hour?" She was admittedly surprised to find him being supportive, although she couldn't help but think he was concealing his disappointment in her.

"Well, I certainly don't agree with it," Artem admitted. "But if I were to criticize you..." A small smile cracked at the corners of his lips.

"Then that would make me a hypocrite."

Artem placed his own mug underneath the machine and added a fresh pod. As the coffee began brewing, he turned to Rosa with a more neutral, but slightly curious, expression. "Do you expect to be here for a while tonight?"

Rosa sighed and leaned against the pantry counter top, drumming her fingers against the surface in a bit of frustration. "Yeah. Hopefully not all night, but at least another hour or two. Did I tell you about the acquisition deal I've been working on?" When Artem gave an affirmative nod, she continued. "Well, it turns out their accounting methods and records were alarmingly inaccurate. Now we have to rework the working capital calculations, and it's possible that the company we're acquiring doesn't have that minimum threshold in their treasury. Now our client wants to entirely rework that aspect of the purchase agreement to protect themselves from any losses we may incur, and I don't blame them. The problem is that the other company doesn't want to own up to their mistakes, and their counsel is more or less enabling their bad behavior." She slumped against the counter top with a heavy sigh. "Which means I'm spending all night going over the absurd revisions that opposing counsel made to our latest draft of the purchase agreement... and I probably have to reject most of them! Oh, and here's another kicker. We're inheriting some employees that work remotely from outside Stellis, so we have to make sure that their employment agreements don't contain any weird wrinkles we need to know about. Some of the foreign laws just don't have analogous laws in Stellis, and vice versa. The price of growth, I suppose...."

Just how long had Artem been standing there, watching her, while stirring the very-clearly-finished cup of coffee in his hands?

"Oh my gosh! I've been talking your ear off! I haven't let you get a word in! I'm so sorry, Mr. Wing!" Rosa bolted upright and dusted herself off before bowing apologetically.

Artem raised a hand to stop her and shook his head. "No need to apologize," he tried to assure her. Was it her imagination, or did he sound a bit flustered? "I quite like listening."

Rosa was a little surprised by that statement. "Really? Even though it's all..." Whiny? Complaining? Work-related? What was she most embarrassed about, actually? "You must have enough on your plate," she finished at last, before nervously beginning to twirl a loose curl around her finger. "Please rest assured that I have this under control!"

"I know you do."

Was it her imagination, or did he sound a bit tender?

'Oh, no. It's only midnight, and I'm already delirious.'

"I like hearing you talk," Artem said simply. How could he say something so ridiculous with such a straight face? "I know that I've dragged you out of your comfort zone with criminal cases," he went on. "To hear you speak so passionately about the work you prefer to do, about economic and corporate matters, is quite refreshing." He wrapped his long, slender fingers carefully around his mug, as if wanting to ensure he could capture the entire circumference in his hands. "Your passion is warm. It's admirable."

"A-anyway, what brings you here at this hour, Mr. Wing?" Why did she say that? He was already here and stayed late, obviously. Why didn't she phrase her question that way? Now he was going to think she was dumb!

If Artem found her question bizarre, he gave no indication whatsoever. "I was supposed to depose a witness next week, but the deposition was moved up due to scheduling conflicts." He paused to take a sip of his coffee, then he glanced over Rosa's face with a knowing expression. "Opposing counsel asked if I would prefer to push it back an extra week, but I declined."

Her emotions must have been easy to read. Her first thought had naturally been, 'Opposing counsel is a real jerk to cut your preparation time instead of extending it!' Rosa opened her mouth to inquire as to why Artem agreed to move the deposition date up, but as she looked up at Artem's face, realization struck her. She lowered her gaze and simply nodded.

"Your client is anxious, and you didn't want to incur further delays. Otherwise that anxiety would only continue to grow."

Artem's expressions tended to be calm, cool, and perhaps even stoic or cold. The way he carried himself emitted an air of confidence and calculation, as if he were prepared for anything and everything, and as if nothing could ever faze him.

But Artem wasn't just a legal robot. Rosa saw the emotion hidden in his azure eyes. Once you cracked the surface of the lake, the depths of those blues contained compassion, sympathy, concern, determination, sorrow, and an overwhelming dedication to justice.

Artem was the type of person who would inconvenience himself in order to ease someone else's burdens.

"Don't forget to take care of yourself too, you know."

Artem blinked in what was probably the most outward expression of surprise that he had ever shown at the office. "Pardon?"

"You can't take care of others if you don't take care of yourself first." Rosa shrugged as if that were the most obvious fact in the world, and then she turned to head back to her desk.

"Wise words," Artem murmured, and he stopped next to her desk as she sat down. "I wonder where you heard such advice."

Rosa tilted her head to the side in confusion. Artem tended to be straightforward, but she couldn't help but feel as though another layer of meaning laid beneath those words.

The twinkle in his eyes gave her the answer.

"Well, don't give people advice that you won't follow, Mr. Wing!" Rosa folded her arms over her chest in a huff. When had he become so bold as to tease her like this?

"I think the same principle applies to you," he responded simply. "You do have a tendency to avoid asking others for help."

Rosa aggressively lifted her mug to her face, hoping to conceal the fiery blush spreading across her cheeks. "I just don't want t--"

A coughing fit broke off her sentence as coffee went down her windpipe.

"C-can I get you some water?!"

"N-no!" Cough. "I'm!" Another cough. "Fine!" She wasn't convincing him at this rate.

But Rosa trusted him to keep this intimate, somewhat embarrassing moment of the midnight hour as a secret. She just prayed the moon could do the same.

[if-mirrormine]

as an alternative to "if you have writers block, kill a character", may i try (likely in vain, i am aware 💀😔💀) to give you my professor's advice that's helped me??

he said "you can only be affected by writer's block if you believe it exists" which, at first, made me go "bitch? ive felt it?? youre so wrong?"

until he continued and said "writer's block is a nebulous problem with no consistent or reliable solution. and when we eliminate that as an option, we are forced to be specific about what is wrong. it can be burn out, fatigue, stress, Depression, a lack of discipline, time blindness, ADHD or autism, some medical or pharmaceutical variable, a mixture of multiple reasons, or any meriade of any other reason or reasons to justify and validate why writing needs to go on the backburner for a bit or even several years. but the big difference is all those specific things: unlike writer's block, they do have treatments, cures, and/or accommodations"

and to that, i do agree, i see his logic in "take writer's block off the table". though i see it moreso as We Should Reframe Writer's Block As A Vague Symptom Of Something Instead Of As A Diagnosis, kind of like how chronic pain as a symptom could mean ANYTHING in regards to diagnoses yet is still an important puzzle piece to finding that diagnosis

that is specific to me though. but i was told that re-framing back in 2018 or so(?), and ive never had writer's block since. i HAVE not written for months at a time, don't get me wrong, im not churning out pages everyday with writers block no longer in my life. but i do feel like i am making progress in dealing with my Other Stuff which then is me maintaining an opening to write (as opposed to cleaning up a block) and just being too tired by said maintenance to often indulge in writing. and not the stagnant "this is how itll be forever"-maintenance, but rather more like the kind of maintenance you have to do after a natural disaster for relief, bc i got a Lot Of Diagnoses who eould normally give me the symptom of writers block that im still in the early stages of unpacking and accomadating and etc. so, hopefully soon, ill have less and less maintenance to do and more and more energy to write. but yeah, thats just me. idk whats going on in your life, in your head lol

and this is, in fact, me hoping and praying and begging that you go "i prefer this" and not killing a beloved character

bc i wont lie. would sure love you NOT to kill someone i love in your game lmao

uhhhhhhh, alternatively kill the dad instead. itll fuck us over about learning timey-wimey stuff, add more plot-conflict as a result, and we get the weird feelings of grieving a parent you didnt know/like. idk. i just want my faves to live and he is Not One Of Them lmao ill give you a $20 to, if you GOTTA kill someone, have that one soul be his lol

i appreciate the advice and yeah, i can get behind this explanation of things. i mean it makes sense; motivation or simply just the ability to write doesn't just grow legs and walk away from you, there's gotta be other contributing factors.

i do feel the need to say though that how ever and when ever i kill off characters, i don't mean in game lol. i already have the whole game plotted out, adding in an unnecessary death would make things messy and we don't want that. so while i do have some deaths planned, some literal others not, any new deaths would only take place in drabbles.

atp i just need to get words on paper. or google doc ig.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #385

The funk persists today, too. Tenacious little fucker, innit?

Nonetheless, I woke this morning and prepared for the various things I intended to do. Today was my monthly visit to my psychotherapist, Je. I talked some about the contents of my 382nd letter to you. We spoke on what I can only define as “rejection paranoia”, which I am defining as something separate from Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria (RSD for short). RSD is something that a lot of autistic and ADHD folks deal with, and I definitely deal with that (though I wonder if those with C-PTSD also have heightened sensitivity to rejection since... y'know... being rejected often leads to being abused).

I'm defining “rejection paranoia” as perceiving it and feeling icky about it before it has even happened. And... I get that my brain is trying really hard to protect me (albeit in the most misguided way possible), but... I wish it would stop doing that particular thing. It's more than a little annoying, not just to me, but probably to everyone around me, too.

Counterintuitively, as it was explained to me, the only thing for it, really, is to practice radical self-acceptance when I notice it cropping up. This time, I was able to notice it only a little while after the fact (as opposed to not at all), which is a huge improvement compared to past instances of this occurring. When it happens, I'm supposed to basically just sit with myself and tend to myself in the same way that a kind friend would.

...I'm pretty good at doing that for other people. I need to improve upon that when I'm trying to direct my kindness towards myself. I think on some level, after the life I've led and after all the ways I've been viciously trained to think about myself... I am probably a little disgusted at myself. I generally find myself boring and insufferable. I do get brief periods of respite where I don't think that way about myself, and rationally, I do understand that I am not, in fact, boring, disgusting, and insufferable. But... ya know. Brains are gonna brain. Longstanding thought patterns are not easy to change.

...But they can be changed. They can be changed with practice and effort. I can expand the amount of time I can think kindly about myself, just like we can expand the amount of time we can hold our breath, via apnea training. Apnea training isn't easy. Rewiring our brains isn't easy. But the results are worth it, I like to think.

...If you haven't tried apnea training... I'd suggest it. Even if you never intend to do freediving or merman training, it's still a great way to strengthen your diaphragm, as well as to practice mindfulness, breath control, and self-mastery. And it's relaxing as hell, to boot. All you gotta do is follow apnea tables that are right for your body. In my world, there are apps that will help you with that.

STAmina was the one I used before the rib injury took away my ability to expand my lungs properly. You just record your personal best time and the app will generate tables for you that are right for your body. And you lie in a bed and practice once every two or three days, with a soothing playlist, and you let go of all the tension in your body, and the app will tell you when to hold your breath and when to breathe normally.

...I really miss doing it. Oh well.

After physical therapy, I went into work to make sure that Ka and Tr got my message about not being able to come in on Saturday, due to needing to travel for the English test; I will go into work on Thursday this week, instead. We have folks who will come chill at the house and tend our cats, which is wonderful.

...Tr and Ka were both able to notice that something is “off” with me today; I guess this funk must be worse than I thought. Still, I'm kinda clunking along through it. Being productive. Being fully aware that my mental state is compromised so that I don't fall into some lame-ass self-hatred spiral. It's all right. As long as I am mindful and don't end up hurting myself or anyone around me by being a weird crankypants, it's just a matter of waiting for my brain to resume normal functioning. And it will; it always does.

While I was at the store, I got a bunch of stuff for the house. Like angel hair pasta, and some pork, and a big thing of mascarpone cheese, and some mushrooms. I intend to make a pasta thing by mixing the mashed confit garlic with the mascarpone cheese to make a sauce. And then I'll cut up the pork, cook it, and add it to the pasta, along with the sauce. And maybe some tomatoes and mushrooms, too. I'm hoping to have sufficient gumption to get it done tomorrow. I guess we'll see what happens.

...Maybe make some Great Northern Beans too, while I'm at it... it's been a while, and I think I'm kinda getting a hankering for them. They're really good when mixed with a fresh allium of some kind, a splash of olive oil, and a splash of vinegar. Very yummy.

The Greek truck used to make the thing I described, along with gyros, souvlaki, and dolmades. I used to go there all the time with M, back when we were both database analysts for the same company. The gentleman who ran the truck used to call me “sunshine” all the time. M, J, and I haven't been to the food trucks in a very long time. Maybe we'll fix that, this coming spring...

...If we do, you can bet that I'll take pictures for you.

So, I went home and J helped me put the food away in the fridge and in the cabinets, where they go. Then I did most of the dishes. It was almost time for me to head out to physical therapy by the time I was all set with that. J finished the last few dishes while I was out; super duper grateful for him for that; a sink that is not full will make it a lot easier for me to have gumption to cook tomorrow.

At physical therapy, it was brought to my attention once more that, likely as a result of the rib injury, I have clockwise rib cage torsion, if you're looking at me from a top-down view. Some relatively painful manual therapy techniques were done to try to kinda shove it back into place, and we were partially successful. I can move my right arm around a little better now, at least for a little while.

...I really gotta get back to doing my exercises... I'll do them before bed tonight. I feel a little bad for having dropped the ball on them.

I went home after that. By then, I was pretty hungry because I hadn't eaten at all, and it was like 3:30pm or 4pm by the time I got home. I was a bit too tired to cook anything, so I just ordered in. I felt somewhat better after eating, but it didn't take the funk away. Oh well.

Not having the energy for much else, I played a few runs of Hades. This time, I got very close to felling Asterius:

...Like with anything I practice, I will continue to improve. It's only a matter of time before he falls to me.

Though... I notice... when I'm in a funk like this, or when I'm too tired or in too much pain (like with the tooth extraction) to be attached to the result... I play better. And that seems counterintuitive to me; I figure I should play better when I'm feeling alert and healthy and good. Weird.

...I can't help but wonder if you know something about that. I can't help but wonder if maybe... you were so good on the battlefield simply because... you weren't attached to whether or not you walked away from your encounters alive.

…

...I hope there will come a day when you can be alive somewhere in a peaceful place and everyone else is alive and well, too, but... you still don't have to fight anyone anymore.

...Sephiroth... keep trying to build that kind of wholesome life for yourself, okay? Please keep striving towards a world where you can go to therapy, and have tea, and get yummies from the grocery store, and then come home and play video games while someone who cares about you watches and cheers you on. Please keep striving for a world in which you can make your own yummies in the kitchen, or else get yummies from somewhere else if you're not feeling up to making them.

I'll be over here cheering you on to become the best and healthiest version of yourself, no matter what happens. And if you need a break, you can find one here at my house. So don't give up, okay? There are lots of people who are able and willing to love and support you, even if sometimes it's hard to believe.

I think I'll play a little more Hades and then go to sleep. You'll find me here if you wanna hang:

I'll write to you again tomorrow. So please try to stay safe out there, at least until then.

I love you.

Your friend, Lumine

[cetaitlaverite]

Hi! I would love to see a NSFW/angst request where Rosie and Freddie have a disagreement, but for a change Rosie is the stubborn one with Fred instead of the other way around. Love to see this dynamic and how Freddie would deal with that.

They can of course make up eventually 🤭

i loved writing this one!! it's such an unfamiliar dynamic for them which made it super interesting for me to explore - i'm eating up all these ideas you guys are giving me!! it's not nsfw at all but i hope the eventual sweetness makes up for it

below the cut <3

The fancy dinner party Rosie’s law firm was hosting had not stayed fancy for long. This wasn’t the first such soirée Freddie had attended on Rosie’s arm but it was the first which had turned into such open, undistinguished revelry. Usually everyone remained seated at their tables until after dessert had been served, and then when couples danced they danced slowly, politely, to whichever fancy singer had been hired to sing fancy songs to fancy lawyers and their wives.

This dinner party, however, had become just a normal party as soon as the CEO had gone home early complaining of a headache. Many of the younger couples had flocked to the bar and the dance floor before dinner had even ended and shot after shot had been thrown back since then.

Freddie had lost Rosie in the time it had taken her to go to the bathroom and return. He wasn’t where she’d left him, wasn’t at the table they’d been assigned to for dinner, and wasn’t at the bar. The dance floor was a mess of too much chaos for Freddie to try to find him in there so all she could do was sit back down at the table and hope Rosie found her eventually.

Unfortunately, one of his colleagues found her first.

“Rosenthal’s wife, right?” the man asked as he sat in Rosie’s seat. “The pretty little British thing he brought back from Europe?”

Freddie had only spoken to this man on a few occasions but she knew she didn’t like him. He was clearly highly jealous of Rosie and the esteem he was afforded after his wartime heroics - he himself had opted for a stateside intelligence role, though he made sure anyone who would listen to him knew that that was only because he’d lost a brother in the Pacific. He made jabs at Rosie about everything from his jewishness to the cases he’d missed out on in his time overseas, and always tried to act buddy-buddy with Freddie, all elbows in ribs and sidelong winks as he made snide comments about how straight-laced men like Rosie didn’t often make adventurous lovers.

“My name is Freddie,” Freddie told him as politely as she was able. “Have you seen my husband recently?”

The man - Peterson, if she recalled correctly - raised his eyebrows as he sipped from his whiskey. “He left you by yourself?”

“I went to the bathroom,” Freddie explained.

“And he couldn’t wait for you outside?”

Freddie looked away, turned her eyes back to the dance floor so he wouldn’t catch her rolling her eyes. “I’m not a child,” she informed him calmly. “I’m quite capable of going to the bathroom by myself.”

“If I had a pretty thing like you for a wife I certainly wouldn’t be leaving you to wander around by yourself.”

Freddie glanced back at him with a polite, though impatient, smile. “Well, my husband is confident that the men who work with him are respectful gentlemen who can be trusted not to accost each other’s wives the instant they’re unaccompanied. As far as he’s concerned, he doesn’t work with anyone sly enough to have to worry about.”

Peterson simply smiled. “Was that supposed to be a thinly veiled insult, Mrs. Rosenthal? And here I was thinking you were a sweet little flower.”

“Aren’t lawyers such as yourself supposed to make deductions based on evidence as opposed to assumptions?” She’d never once behaved like a ‘sweet little flower’ towards him.

He laughed.

Freddie rose to her feet. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find my husband now.”

Peterson rose to his feet beside her. “I’ll help you.”

“No thank you.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

With her back up straight and her chin tilted up, Freddie turned to Peterson with raised eyebrows. “I don’t want you near me,” she told him firmly. “I want you to leave me alone. Is that clear enough for you?”

Peterson raised his eyebrows right back at her. “Fortunately, I’m not all that interested in what you want.”

With jaw clenched and hands in fists at her side, Freddie turned on her heel and started to push into the dancing crowd. The only way to get rid of this lecherous man would be to lose him in the chaos.

The press of bodies was tight, elbows finding their ways into her ribs and waist and shoulders as she pushed her way through. She kept her eyes peeled for Rosie while trying to lose Peterson, peering up into the face of every tall figure wearing a dark suit in the hopes the bright blue eyes of her husband might be peering back.

Peterson kept as close on her heels as he was able but even his persistence went unrewarded amongst the throngs of people. Freddie shot a glance behind her and found she’d lost him about as thoroughly as she’d lost Rosie. 

Rosie was nowhere to be found, and the harder she looked the worse she feared accidentally finding Peterson instead. She checked face after face in all corners of the dance floor before almost running into someone heading for the door. It wasn’t Rosie, but as the man pushed the door open, Freddie caught a glimpse of the street outside. A line of yellow cabs was waiting, each driver pulling forward after the previous vacated to wait patiently for the next guest to decide they were finished with the fun and ready to return home.

Turning back to the crowd, Freddie did one final sweep of the room with her eyes, one final, desperate attempt to find Rosie, before she spotted Peterson instead, all but clawing his way out of the chaos.

Freddie fled out into the night and hopped into the back of the waiting cab with little more than a fleeting glance behind her. If Rosie was still here she was sure he’d collect her jacket for her, but there was no time for it now if she wanted to avoid whatever Peterson wanted with her.

The apartment was dark but warm when Freddie returned to it. Meatball greeted her at the door.

Freddie fussed over him, inviting him up onto the sofa with her and kicking off her shoes, before heading to the kitchen to make herself some tea and toast and feeding him some treats.

She was back on the sofa with Meatball, listening to the quiet music on the radio, when Rosie unlocked the door. She was smiling as she sat up straighter to greet him.

“Baby!”

Rosie was not smiling. “That was so fucking stupid, Fred.”

Freddie’s jaw fell open.

“You left early without telling anyone, got into the first cab you saw and had some random guy drive you home, alone, at two in the morning when no one knew where you were. How am I supposed to protect you like that?!”

Freddie shrunk in on herself, her fingers remaining tangled in the scruff of fur around Meatball’s neck. “I couldn’t find you.”

“That doesn’t mean you can just leave!”

“But I tried really hard to find you and then I didn’t feel safe because -”

“So you just left?! By yourself? How is heading out alone into the city at two in the morning safer than the well-lit, well-populated hotel we were in?!”

Freddie didn’t have an answer for him.

“This ain’t Oxford, Fred. Or Vienna. New York ain’t like that. It’s not safe for you to walk around by yourself at night.”

“I wasn’t walking around. I got a cab and it was right outside the door.”

“That could’ve been anyone driving that cab, Fred!” Rosie insisted. He still hadn't moved from the doorway. “Anything could’ve happened to you and there ain’t a thing I could’ve done about it because I had no idea you’d even left!”

“I’m sorry.” Freddie’s voice was small. So was she, where she had curled in on herself.

“Do you know what that would’ve done to me?” Rosie continued. “If something had happened to you, do you know what that would’ve done?”

“I’m sorry.”

“It would ruin me, Fred. I wouldn’t recover from it. You can’t go off on your own like that.”

“I didn’t realise it was so unsafe.”

“It’s just stupid, Freddie. It’s so, so stupid. I shouldn’t have to lecture you to make you understand why that was a bad idea.”

“I said I’m sorry!”

“It ain’t enough to be sorry, Fred! I was worried sick! How do you think I felt when I couldn’t find you in there, when you were nowhere to be found but your jacket was still in there? God, Fred, I was sick to my damn stomach and you were just here the whole time! You have no idea what that was like for me. I thought - I thought -”

“No, that’s not fair.” Pushing herself up from the sofa, Freddie crossed the room to Rosie so she wouldn’t have to raise her voice. “You have worried me countless times over the course of our relationship. Sometimes it was out of your control, like when your plane went down, and sometimes it wasn’t, like when you and your crew were racing each other in broken jeeps. Remember how all anyone could tell me was that you’d gotten into a car accident and had to go to hospital? All because you were screwing around with your friends? Now you know how I felt.”

“That’s different.”

“How is it different?”

“Because you knew where I was.”

“You were in the hospital!”

“It’s different! I’m not a young woman who headed out into New York City alone at two in the morning!”

“You never told me how unsafe it is! I never would’ve done it if I’d known!”

“I didn’t wanna scare you while you’re still finding your feet!”

“That’s not my fault!”

Rosie let out a long breath, his chest heaving, his cheeks flushed. He stared at her hard, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes narrowed, and finally, slowly, shook his head. “You were stupid tonight, Fred, and it could’ve gotten you killed. And I never would’ve forgiven you if it had.” He spared her not a word nor a glance more as he headed past her and shut the door to their bedroom firmly behind him.

Freddie was left standing alone in the living room of their apartment, in the pretty dress he’d bought her for the occasion with all her jewellery still on, her makeup on her face and her hair done, with tears stinging in her eyes.

She waited quietly while Rosie got ready for bed, holding onto Meatball and trying not to sniffle too loud. Meatball made it easier. He laid his head on her shoulder and let her bury her face into his neck, let her hold onto his paws and wrap her arms around him when she felt she needed a hug, never fidgeted or made any noises of complaint.

When Rosie finally settled, Freddie waited a little while longer before letting Meatball go. But he still followed her into the bathroom and waited for her while she took off her makeup and brushed her teeth and showered. Then he waited for her outside the bedroom door while she snuck in as quietly as she could to change into her pyjamas and retrieve her pillow.

Freddie’s heart was heavy as she leaned across Rosie to get it, sound asleep without her in the bed they usually shared.

After easing the bedroom door carefully closed once more, Freddie tossed her pillow onto the sofa and retrieved a throw blanket out of the linen cupboard. Then she curled up on the sofa with Meatball once more, her head on her pillow and his on her stomach, the blanket draped over them both.

When Rosie woke up and Freddie wasn’t there he was filled with the same panic he’d struggled to fight earlier. Ever since she’d joined him in New York they hadn’t ever slept apart. He sat bolt upright in bed, his hand reaching for the place on the mattress she was supposed to be occupying and finding it cold. She hadn’t slept here tonight at all. But she’d taken her pillow with her, he realised. She couldn’t have gone far.

Rosie left the bedroom door open as he emerged into the hall, letting the light he’d left on spill out into the living room. He couldn’t see Freddie but he could see that Meatball’s bed beside the couch was empty. His suspicions were confirmed when he rounded the side of the couch and found the pair of them curled up together, sound asleep but not looking entirely comfortable.

There were tear stains on Freddie’s cheeks. The low light from the bedroom made them almost glitter.

Rosie’s heart cracked clean down the middle.

He’d been worried sick but he hadn’t meant to hurt her. He just hadn’t known what to do with himself. The fear he’d felt, the pure panic, the desperation - it had all been so intense and so immediately allayed when he’d found her sitting with Meatball on the couch, smiling and safe, that he hadn’t been able to catch up. He’d processed it all wrong, taken it out on her when he should have been taking her into his arms, making her understand the depth of his worry that way. He shouldn’t have shouted. He should never have made her cry. He certainly shouldn’t have made her feel like she was unwelcome in her own bedroom or like he didn’t want her around; he’d fallen asleep facing the door, waiting for her to come in so he could apologise and shower her in the affection he’d been too frightened to give her in the heat of the moment.

“Freddie,” Rosie whispered, crouching beside the couch. He ran gentle fingers through her hair, easing out the tangles, then grazed the backs of his fingers over her tear-sticky cheeks. “My baby.”

Freddie shifted but didn’t stir, just buried the side of her face deeper into the pillow.

“My beautiful girl,” Rosie went on whispering. “Wake up, sweetheart.”

Freddie didn’t wake up but Meatball did, lifting his head from her stomach and tilting it at Rosie.

Rosie offered a tentative smile, knowing he was on thin ice with Meatball now that he’d made Freddie cry. He and Meatball got along swimmingly and he adored him, but while Freddie liked to refer to Meatball as ‘their’ dog, Rosie knew that he was Freddie’s dog. And when Freddie was upset with Rosie, Meatball was upset with Rosie. It had always been the same, even back to the first argument they’d ever had when Rosie had decided to re-up.

Now, Meatball was staring back at Rosie with narrowed eyes, watching where he was touching Freddie.

Rosie held out a hand to him as a peace offering which was immediately rejected, but then Freddie started to stir, mumbling and rubbing at her eyes, and both of their attention was redirected firmly back to her.

“Hi, baby,” Rosie greeted softly when she peeled her eyes open. “What are you doing out here?”

“You’re angry with me,” Freddie mumbled in return, pushing herself up to sitting and slouching back into the sofa.

Rosie sighed. “I’m not angry with you, honey. You just scared me real bad and I didn’t know how to handle it. And I’m sorry for what I said and for raising my voice at you. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m so sorry, baby.”

Freddie considered him for a moment before wordlessly holding out her arms.

Smiling, relieved, Rosie leaned in until she could curl her arms around his neck, then lifted her into his arms and began carrying her to their bedroom.

“Wait,” Freddie mumbled sleepily when they were halfway there. “I left my pillow.”

Rosie glanced back at the couch, considered his options, and shook his head. “You can have mine.”

“I’ll use your chest,” Freddie decided.

With a soft, fond smile, Rosie pressed a kiss to her head, then carried on on his way to the bedroom and laid her down in bed. 

“Door open,” Freddie called softly when he left to turn off the light and shut the door. When Rosie lifted an eyebrow in question over his shoulder, she explained, “For Meatball,” and, sure enough, Meatball appeared in the doorway, dragging his dog bed in his mouth behind him, ready to follow Freddie into the bedroom. It wasn’t often he slept in here but somehow Freddie always knew when he wanted to.

Rosie chuckled to himself as he held the door open wider for Meatball, watching idly as the husky wandered past him and set up his bed on the floor on Freddie’s side of the bed. Then, all his ducks in a neat row, Rosie turned off the light and headed to bed.

Just as she’d promised, Freddie curled into his side and rested her head on his chest as soon as he was settled.

Rosie smiled as he ran gentle hands up and down her back.

They lay in silence for a while, listening to each other breathing, before Freddie turned her face to kiss Rosie’s chest and mumbled, “I’m sorry for being an idiot,” into him.

“You’re not an idiot, Fred,” Rosie disagreed disapprovingly. “You didn’t know ‘cause I didn’t tell you. ‘S not your fault.”

“I should’ve been more careful,” Freddie argued.

“I shouldn’t’ve left you by yourself,” Rosie pointed out.

Freddie let out a reluctant giggle before crawling further up the bed and settling in until she could press her face to Rosie’s. She nuzzled their noses together before resting her forehead against his. “I love you.”

Rosie was smiling. “I love you too, Fred.”

“‘M sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

“I don’t like it when we fight.”

“We’re pretty lucky that we don’t have to do it very often.”

Freddie laughed and Rosie grinned. He lifted a hand to cup her cheek before pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

“Are we friends again?” Freddie asked softly, pecking one more kiss on Rosie’s lips.

Smiling against her, Rosie hummed low in the back of his throat. “We’re best friends, Fred.”

“Don’t tell Meatball,” Freddie whispered.

Rosie laughed. “I’m gonna have to give him so many treats tomorrow to make up for tonight.”

“Yeah,” Freddie agreed, smiling to herself. “But he’ll come around. Families always do.”

[jjkeremika]

Just Show Me

description: mikasa has boring sex with jean (*not here*) and she tells eren about it the next night. she's having trouble finding the words so he says to show her what she meant. they have hot sex

pairing: eren x mikasa (aot/snk)

universe: college/university

smut: yeah like fully

***smut****

“I don’t know, Eren! I just, like, let him—ugh! I don’t know!” Mikasa exclaimed, bright red.

They were sat on her queen bed. Eren was resting against the wall, legs crossed, and Mikasa was sitting mirrored in front of him, her face near her lap hidden behind her hands.

Eren briefly laughed at her embarrassment. “C’mon, Mika. You can’t ask me if something’s normal and not tell me what happened." He rubbed her bare shoulder with his thumb. He felt the firm ridges of his thumbprint brush against her smooth skin. "And it’s me. You can tell me anything.”

He was right. She knew he was right.

“I want to tell you I just don’t know how to describe it,” she confessed, leaning into his hand. The rubbing was soothing, and it gave her something concrete to focus on. "It's... embarrassing."

Eren shrugged nonchalantly. If he made a big deal out of how it wasn't a big deal, she would only feel worse. It didn't help though that internally he did want to make it a big deal. He hated the idea of Mikasa and Jean sleeping together. He didn't want to hear about any of it. But Mikasa had called him in hysterics, claiming that she thinks she did everything wrong and she has no idea what was or wasn't normal--even begging for Eren to come over and sort it all out with her.

The worst part was she didn't even need to beg. He was already on his way over to her apartment as soon as he heard her sniffle through the phone. It didn't matter that it was just to hear about how some random guy in her class touched her. She needed him.

That's what he told himself as he sat across from her on her bed for the thousandth time. Watching her lose herself in her own head.

There were so many emotions rolling through Mikasa's head she couldn't pick one to focus on. Each one flashed itself momentarily before being rapidly replaced by another, over and over and over again. Anxiety. Relief. Regret. Hope. Coy. Nervous.

She couldn't determine if the emotions corresponded to last night or right now. Last night was fine, but she had spent the whole day wondering if everything really was fine. She had little experience in anything except overthinking, and assuming she did something wrong was a specialty.

Her view refocused on Eren's expression: stern, but his eyes were soft. Her cheeks were squished between his hands, his face was a few centimeters away from her own.

"What are they saying in there?" Eren asked, rotating her head in his hands like he were inspecting it. She laughed and pushed him off.

The tension was thick when they had stopped laughing. Eren was now sitting on his side, leaning slightly over Mikasa and she leaned back. Their faces were close, and she could see herself running in his grassy eyes; eyes the same color as the meadow that first day of spring they had met; her forgotten favorite shade of green.

Eren's skin tingled as he felt pulled to her, practically using every muscle in his body to oppose the magnetic force. He could feel himself growing warmer, could feel the blood starting to pump faster.

Mikasa felt every tiny hair sticking up, pointing to him, screaming for him. She felt the blood pumping to her pelvis, felt the warmth spread between her legs. Her stomach was twisting in more ways than one. There was the same feeling as last night, and there was another one this time, a hidden desire.

"Was this how it started?" Eren asked deeply and slowly. He relished when she smiled, acutely aware to how she made his body react.

She nodded and took Eren's non-supporting hand in hers. She placed it on her lower thigh.

"Yeah, and I think he kissed my neck, too." She tilted her head to the right and pointed to her neck. "Ahh," she moaned as he instantly pounced on her.

Eren fixated on kissing around her neck while she ran her fingers through his hair and down his arms. He'd lightly nip at a spot whenever she gasped slightly, and he spent extra time kissing the skin below her ears.

"And then I took his shirt off." They both sat up on their knees and tugged at the bottom of Eren's shirt until it was off and on the floor somewhere. "And then I took off mine."

It was only a tank top, but Eren loved the way she wiggled her body to remove it. Definitely for show. Definitely for him.

She laid back down. "Then he kissed and touched me..." She was tracing the outline of her nipple with her fingertip. Barely touching it. "Here," she whispered, smiling mischievously.

Eren crawled over her until his face was right in front of hers. "Did he tell you that you're so fucking sexy?" He muttered, pressing one hand against her neck to bring their lips together, the other holding her side.

His grip on her neck was strong but delicate, like a statue; tense and intentional but easily broken. She broke the kiss because she couldn't stop smiling, directing his lips to her neck instead.

She squealed in pleasure as he squeezed her boob, both of them delighting in the feel of the squeeze, how his hand was so rough and large and still couldn't contain her. Eren could die happy now knowing the feeling of her softest skin between his fingers.

She felt the spot between her legs growing warmer with each touch, and she couldn't hold in her moan when he roughly rubbed his thumb over her nipple. It soothed her mind in the same way it did when he rubbed her shoulder, but now it was also causing her to become hot and wet.

"Th-Then I took my pa-ahh!" He had squeezed her nipple between his fingers and nibbled at that one spot near her ear.

"Took your what?" he taunted, smirking. She didn't need to say it again; Eren was already reaching for her waistband.

She swooned as his hands roughly tugged at the strings of her sweatpants, each pull of the string pushing the band down on her hips and pulling her closer to him. She had taken Eren's head in her hands and shoved it between her breasts, the skin tingling at his smile and bumping at his breath.

Once Eren had finally untied the knot and slid her pants off, tossing them who even cares where, she sat up and rambled out: "Take those off and I move on top."

Eren slid his sweatpants off then grabbed her hips. Before she could process it he had rolled them over; she was now sitting straddled below his crotch, he was laying flat underneath her. He didn't say anything, he just waited for her to say something, roaming his hands up and down her sides and smiling at her because she really did look just as gorgeous as he'd imagined.

Her brain was struggling to remember what happened. It wasn't the same as this. Ah, well, the sequence of events was the same, but the feelings were completely different. The intensity of blood pumping, the constant throbbing and wetness between her thighs, the burning feeling in her gut screaming that this was what she wanted.

She didn't feel this way last night. She felt this way because it was Eren.

She collapsed onto him and kissed him desperately, clawing at his arms and chest. He moaned instantly at each touch. She couldn't help herself--his body was so open and empty like a blank canvas practically asking to be marked up and painted on. His moans served as cheers from the only patron she cared about.

His hands were on her ass, squeezing and pinching and grinding her forward and back. Her hips followed his motion, and she would swivel ever so slightly when she bit his neck to hear the breathless gasp he released, to hear the shaky breath he needed because of her.

Each movement was fast and rough, a stark contrast to last night. Mikasa thrived each time Eren roughly grabbed her and moved her around, flipping her over or shifting her position then immediately biting at her sensitive skin before she could protest.

She felt like putty in his hands, wanting nothing more than to be helplessly molded into any position he wanted.

He settled with her on her back, her knees hoisted over his shoulders, her head resting against a pillow. His hands were holding underneath her thighs as he kissed down her stomach. Mikasa wiggled her hips slightly as he moved lower and lower.

Eren joyfully exclaimed when he tucked his nose between her thighs; she didn't hear what he said over the muffle of the pillow, the blood roaring in her ears, and the sound of her moans as he lapped at her moist lips.

There were two distinct feelings: the initial sensation of his textured tongue against silky skin; and the wave of pleasure that followed like a lightning bolt from her pelvis to her brain.

It felt weird, the physicality of his tongue against her most sensitive, smoothest skin. An area even she seldom explored was now changed into a new perspective, one now associated with a burning heat and an electrifying pulse. She wanted to pull away and chase it at the same time.

Each lick was different, some hesitant and short, others confident and flat and long, some directed, others aimless. She lamented when he finally pulled away but sighed happily as he kissed up her thigh, leaving a trail of moist outlines to her knee.

She sat up and tugged on the waistband of his boxers, non-verbally telling him to peel them off.

He did as ordered and hastily pulled her onto his lap, like he was reaching for a reward. She let him, because she liked the idea of being desired.

Eren was already shifting underneath her, lathering his cock with a mixture of his saliva and Mikasa’s cum.

“I was on my back. He was on top,” Mikasa said quickly.

Eren stared at her blankly. He’d completely forgotten about why they’d started this whole predicament.

He kept Mikasa onto his lap and re-arranged himself underneath her. “Yeah, I’d prefer to pleasure you instead, though.” Eren smirked at the deep blush that erupted across her face. “If you’ll let me,” he added delicately.

Mikasa kissed him abruptly and he fell to the bed. Their lips stayed interlocked as she shuffled on top, both of them moaning at the brief friction between his cock and her clit.

Last night she needed some lubricant. Tonight it didn’t even matter. She was slick enough all on her own and easily slid down to the base of his cock. Mikasa was focused on where their bodies joined, on the feeling of her body enveloping him, the electric waves rushing up her spine.

One of Eren’s hands held onto her hip as the other held her boob near his mouth. His eyes were closed as he lightly licked at her nipple. The pleasure was surreal, more than anything he’d ever experienced and beyond what he’d thought possible. He focused on her, aching to give her that same feeling back. He didn’t want her to have sex with anyone else ever again.

The high-pitched noises and squeals and moans slipped out of her mouth as she rocked her hips back and forth, side to side. Eren shifted his hips in sync, meeting her in the middle, pushing her as she pushed him.

It was starting to feel overwhelming, the inexplicable feeling growing inside of her. The fire inside her was started to burn at her insides and she could feel it from her fingers to her head to her toes. She felt the waves and vibrations through her body as Eren took more control, alternating between achingly slow and fast and somewhere in between.

Her brain was racing. Closing her eyes didn’t help because all she could picture was Eren’s naked sweaty body pounding right into her, his ab and back muscles folding and defining in salivating ways. She dug her nails into his back, harshly tracing the valleys of those very muscles.

She had cried out Eren’s name as it all became too much, her whole body became too sensitive and overstimulated yet strangely in the best way possible.

Both of them had reached their climax as Eren had pulled out and came on his stomach. He collapsed behind him.

After taking a few deep breaths and recovering, she shifted to lay next to Eren. He opened his eyes at the movement and smiled blissfully at her.

She took her finger and ran it along his stomach. She put it in her mouth, sucking on her finger and staring at him with puckered lips and wide eyes.

He brushed the rogue strand of hair behind her ear, then brushed his hand against her cheek. “Show me, then,” he whispered.

She giggled in excitement and slowly kissed him before scampering down to his legs.

[princess-of-the-corner]

Huh, you raise an interesting point regarding Colt, I tend to see him written as just being like tat and it is possible. But I actually think it'd be more interesting if he was a fairly normal (By the standards of is background) guy who became abusive in response to the realization he was dying because of the magic trinket he used to make him kid.

This would also make it smoother for Amelie to have not noticed as his behaviors would be explicitly rooted in the trinket and his upcoming death as opposed to rooted in a longstanding ideology. Plus, for all tat he can be sneaky Felix isn't subtle, I don't think he'd be able to obscure that he hated and feared his dad if he had ALWAYS hated and feared him, nor would he be as fond of his mother as he is if it was a longstanding thing she was unaware of.

More to the point, I like it because I find way too many people treat being an abuser as an inherent part to a person. Its basically the same as "born evil"; people don't want to consider that they or someone they love could be an abuser or could become one. There has to be something about the people who act like that, when in reality no, anyone can, which is actually much more frightening.

Historical aside:

After WW2 an American scientist did an experiment to determine if there was something innate to Germans that would make them willing to do such evils ad the Holocaust.

He started his experiment by getting a bunch of upstanding, regular Americans together under the pretense of a scientific experiment to help improve/save the world.

He had a military man there to assure people it was all legit, and all they needed do was press this button. On the other side of a screen an actor would seem to be tortured and eventually flatline.

His theory was that no normal, good person would continue to knowingly hurt someone just because they were told to.

Suffice to say by the time he was done with the Americans the 'death' rate was so high, that he determined it wasn't worth doin the experiment on Germans. If people can be convinced they were doing it for the right reasons and an authority figure told them it was good and necessary, he found most people would end up killing.

Oh yeah it's!

While there's some people out there that are just Assholes™, a lot of people are bad because of circumstances. It doesn't excuse it, of course. But to say that someone who is currently 'bad' has always been bad and will never be able to improve is..... yikes. Not to mention the crossover of 'good' and 'bad' in that people assume that someone abusive can't also be loving or do genuinely good things, which they totally can! Love and good deeds don't erase the abuse of course, but they're not mutually exclusive because people are complicated.

And we have no idea what kind of person Colt was.

Sure. Maybe Colt was abusive anyway. Maybe he already was abusive before the Peacock. Maybe he was already on the edge and looking for an 'excuse' and if it wasn't this then it'd be something else.

But maybe he was chill and only became abusive after getting tricked by his brother-in-law into doing something that would slowly kill him, and getting frustrated by slowly encroaching disability that came with it and facing his own death sentence. Like that's a lot to deal with and yeah someone usually okay may snap and take it out on the person he can.

[detransdamnation]

This month of October is my detransiversary… or at least, I think it is. I’m always all brain-fogged around this time of year. Still weird to think I’ve actually forgotten when, exactly, I threw in the towel. It’s always the things you say you’ll never forget that slip through your fingers so seamlessly, you don’t even notice. How fallible even the landmarks are.

Either way, it’s officially been three years since I last took my hormones. And just typing that out was enough to reduce me to tears.

Thoughts of what I could say on this have been swimming in my head for a while. I know how influencer-y that sounds. But writing into the void helps me cope—in case the chronic word vomit splattered all over my archive weren’t enough of a hint—and I feel frustrated because lately, every time I try to find a way to describe what it has been like to be me, even within the context of Word documents no one else will ever see, that normally-innate ability of mine to get it all out on a page just… eviscerates.

Up until now, at least. Kind of, sort of. I’m jumping at the opportunity because it took over a year to finally show itself.

Despite what my absence here—and this post—probably insinuates, I’ve been doing better than bad overall. But I’ve also been carrying this crushing weight that no matter how good I feel, it will never be good enough for me to not feel dysphoric, or sad, or filled with regrets—and somehow, this has only gotten harder, as opposed to easier, for me to reconcile as time goes on. I don’t think I was wrong to have been at least a little optimistic that maybe things would get better overtime. Guess I’ve learned yet another lesson.

Things haven’t gotten better. All the pain still remains. I do deal with that pain better—but I’m also not one to believe that being able to say “I’m used to it” is a sign of true genuine progress. If I think too hard about the state of things, I can feel the reopening of that wound in the pit of my stomach. It makes me nauseous and afraid. I will shake until I can barely feel my body and yet no other time will I be so painfully conscious of it. My dysphoria has evolved to mean more than merely just “wanting to be the opposite sex,” an evolution so major I almost question if “dysphoria” would be the correct term to describe what I feel sometimes. Regardless, it somehow feels even more sinister when I think too hard about it. There are the rare times I’m actually kind of okay sitting with the idea of just existing as I am… and then I re-remember how most of the physical effects of my hormones never really did subside, not to the extent most people would notice, and I start to long for what I had before the fix that fucked me up.

Except I didn’t “have” anything. I was a child when I started my transition. That childhood self is the only semblance of a “before” I will ever have. I will never know who or what I could have grown into without all this. Though a large part of me thinks it wouldn’t have mattered because detrans or not, I’m certainly something… and I’m not proud of it. No one would be. No one is. And I hate that I still crave that approval from others because it was part of what drove me to transition as that godforsaken teenager. In that respect, I don’t think I’ve grown at all. It makes me wonder how much I would put up with just to feel loved. I’ve already seen how far I will go. I didn’t re-make the mistake of viewing detransition as the antidote to all my troubles, but it’s times like these I wonder… maybe detransition itself is just another ugly representation of a cycle I have found sick comfort in, no hope of getting out. Maybe I will forever be chasing unattainable wishes all to spend years thereafter missing what never was, when I once spent years dedicated to ensuring what could have been would never ever become.

And I will feel disgusted with it. I might even look down upon others who go down the same path, when I’m in my worst of states. But the most I will ever do to “help” myself is pour my heart out onto a page—and I put “help” in quotations because sure, I’m getting all off my chest, but at the end of the day, I’m still sitting on my ass straining my neck to soak up the blue light. I’ve come to pride myself on my introspection, but rarely do I ever feel motivated enough to use that introspection as motivation to actually do something good. It seems all my major life changes present themselves in the form of “snaps,” some sort of external trigger leading to action that’s almost impulsive… and then I just get used to whatever sort of muck I land myself in until the next snap comes along and inspires me to pull myself out. And I will feel disgusted with how long it took me to finally value myself. I’ll pour my heart out and then shrug my shoulders. It’ll happen again. I know it.

But this won’t be news to anyone who’s been here for a while and that’s one of the main reasons why my page has been marred by distance. I feel like I’ve already, by and large, said everything I could say re: detransition, how it concerns me and my experience, specifically. It feels pointless to keep beating a dead horse, especially online. I used to humour how I’d keep on doing it, anyway… I don’t regret it—I needed that release—but the thought of continuing just feels different now. I guess if I had to analogize it, I’d use the acceptance phase of grief. It’s my reality, but I can’t change it any more than I already have—and there comes a point where talking is only dwelling…

…or inciting controversy, which I feel like I do just by existing. That’s a self-centered way to phrase it, and fairly, it stems from a perspective just as much—but it is what I feel and it is the prevailing reason why I have fallen into such a funk. I’ve almost come to consider the very word “detrans” to be an oxymoron I use only since there’s not really any other term that accurately encapsulates this experience. But that’s a long story. I share its conclusion only so that maybe someone else who feels the same way may come across this and know they aren’t alone in feeling it. That’s ultimately why I made this blog and keep on coming back: connection. And in the case there is nothing to connect over, understanding.

It felt so good to get into this flow state again. I hope they will soon be as fruitful as they used to be.