#because i was there for when people latched onto the idea and then new people came and started treating those as the primary source

[the-witchhunter]

in academia this is the difference between primary and secondary sources.

 Are you referencing the what so-and-so said, or what someone else said so-and-so said?

I don’t believe in gatekeeping at all but if you flat out admit to me that you’ve consumed little to ZERO of the canon media and have gotten all of your information based off of reading fluffy fic with woobified characters, I will not be taking ANY of your fandom opinions or meta seriously

[pankielovesfan]

ii16 spoilers under cut

(Analysis of what the episode implies/means for Fan more specifically)

HELLO. SO. I kind of predicted this.

These are specifically about Fan glitching in episode 14, and about PEOPLE OVERLOOKING IT!!! I always KNEW there was something more to it.

Fan glitching is both similar to Springy's glitching, but also the Shield and Tree Mephone made. So automatically I thought, Mephone generated Fan. He can generate things! But, I honestly did not expect this to be true. It felt too easy. (so i instead went with; when mephone regenerates the contestants they are "built" out of his code, so close at least....?) But. Well. You saw the episode. And I am a sucker for these tropes and I have been incredibly interested in what this means for Fan specifically, considering he was made SPECIFICALLY to be a fan of Inanimate Insanity.

Here's me talking about the idea about a month ago:

As we all know, Fan's entire character is that he's a fan. That's the number 1 obvious thing. He was another "stereotype" as labeled by Mephone along with the other season 2 newbies. For almost every character it has been repeated that they are "more than what they are", which makes even more sense with the reveal. However, with this knowledge... What the Flip does this mean for Fan.

His entire arc has always been about his identity problems, and his extreme attachment to his identity as the #1 fan, which he STILL latches onto and puts so much of his confidence in. Almost like that... IS his purpose. Is everything he's ever known. All he had. But that was not only an emotional thing, he was quite literally created just to be the biggest Inanimate Insanity fan. That's his ACTUAL purpose. WHICH IS NOW MAKING ME CRAZY.

With this in mind, you realize how Fan being created is actually hidden in his arc. The writing doesn't make you consider the possibility, because the arc and personality work so well to hide it. This is shown most well once the prime shimmer asks him what he is beyond the show, to which he hesitates to respond to, saying he doesn't know. This whole scene is now in a completely new perspective to me. He ACTUALLY doesn't know. His identity literally IS built around the show, that's what he was made to be. That's all he's ever been.

I had mentioned Fan having parallels to Bot.

Something along the lines of this. Your identity being One Thing but then realizing you can be more than that, that's the main parallel here. WHICH- IS EVEN MORE INSANE CONSIDERING THIS EPISODE NOW. Fan was ALSO made with a purpose to be ONE thing, Fan (and Test Tube) was quite literally repeating the same thing Mephone did- the same thing that happened to them, but even more so with Fan specifically.

The one thing I keep thinking about is how Inanimate Insanity is still a big part of Fan's life. That's still something he loves so much and ties to his identity even with his development of trying new things. How would he react when he realizes he's forever tied to the show he was made to love? That he's forever attached to Inanimate Insanity, no matter what?? HE WAS MADE BY MEPHONE, THE HOST OF HIS FAVOURITE SHOW THAT HIS ENTIRE EXISTANCE IS FOR?? THAT HIS LOVE IS GENERATED? Compared to other contestants, Fan is... even more stuck in the show. He literally surrounds himself with it even when outside of it. Honestly was Mephone projecting when he created Fan or something???

Fan describing him being eliminated as literally dying is kind of even more tragic now. sad!

His whole reality would be shattered if he found out. I don't think he'd have time to think: "wow I'm actually EXISTING for Inanimate Insanity and that actually IS my purpose? and I AM truly the number 1 fan because that's what my entire identity actually IS built on????" While that would validate him and help his insecurities, Fan would be. Well. When your entire person is created to be passionate and dedicated to the thing you were created FOR and you even made prior appearances JUST to serve as the fanbase and nothing more. I don't even know dude. He'd be in so much denial over it. He'd start to question the sincerity of his love, or, something. At least he's made with the things he loves: creative passion. Which he was also made to love . but whatever,

You'd probably think he'd at some point try to separate even more from Inanimate Insanity. Honestly I think the opposite. after his initial denial i believe he'd latch onto it even HARDER. I think he'd just start regressing to old coping mechanisms to deal with it.

The fact he was created FOR the purpose of being ONLY THE FAN Also makes me realize something about him and Test Tube. On one of his tumblr posts he mentions how Test Tube introduced him to so many new things and ideas he had no idea he could be so excited about, because he's always been just tied to Inanimate Insanity and nothing beyond that, as he felt there was nothing else to care about. Test Tube offers the support of opportunities, even as early as when they first met, and especially in Hatching the Plan once she made him realize there was more out there.

It just makes me go completely insane how most of Fan's arc is so built on the fact his entire existence is to serve as a fan, and that wasn't even just an emotional thing or whatever he quite literally felt like he was nothing but a fan. I need to sit down. or draw art inspired by this cause good god. Hey fan you're basically made from technology the thing you really love! haahaa... at least that love comes from a real place right? I mean. In short. Fan is just... made out of what he loves.

[opultea]

Abnormal Love Languages

Genshin men with weird ways of expressing their love for you - Gender Neutral Reader (No Pronouns) - SFW - Romantic - Fluff/Crack

ft. Alhaitham, Wanderer, Heizou, Tighnari, Dottore

Alhaitham

The Scribe of the Akademiya, a renowned scholar, and a totally awkward boyfriend

So what does this intelligent, well-known, socially unaware man do when he wants to show you he loves you?

Infodumping

Knows a lot and makes sure you know it too

If he fell in love with you that means he respects your intelligence and curiosity enough to find interest in your company

So whenever he's on the couch with a new book on Theoretical Quantum Mechanics, he will be reciting the facts to you as if he's doing an oral presentation

Alhatiham keeps one of those big rolly whiteboards in his house (usually used to lecture Kaveh) and you know that when he pulls it out then it is officially date night

He pours you both a glass of wine for a nice candlelit dinner, but then you ask him about his new book and suddenly it's a romantic candlelit lecture

Lucky you find his intelligence attractive ;)))

If you ever need gift ideas for him just get a pack of multicoloured whiteboard markers, he always needs new ones

Even though you might end up regretting enabling his little habit

Wanderer

Traumatised Tsundere (TM)

Has never wanted anything more than to be loved the way he observed in humans, but has always believed he could never be loved in any way. It has only been proven to him that it isn't possible

So he protects himself from rejection by teasing and swatting you away, almost trying to make you hate him so he can at least expect what reactions to get from you

He views it as safe, he knows how humans are when they are angry and hateful, he's experienced it firsthand, so he knows what will come of it

Even though he's secretly saddened by feeling like he has to hurt you

So when you respond to him bonking your head with laughter and a smile brighter than he's seen on anyone in his direct presence before, it startles him

When he pushes your face away with his hand and you retaliate by latching onto his arm he freezes (Wanderer.exe has stopped working)

Calls you stupid and insults your survival instincts

"Honestly, if a complete stranger were to push you away like this, would you still clutch their arm like a lost puppy? How absurd, you obviously couldn't survive without me protecting you, since you evidently can't tell good intentions from bad ones,"

Then you pout and tell him that of course you don't do this with other people, you do it because it's him!

He stops working again

Shoves you to the ground to avoid you seeing how red his face is

Heizou

Riddles and puzzles/tries to quiz you by making you help him solve a case

Brings you to crime scenes even though you are not a detective and definitely aren't allowed to be there just so he can test your skills

"So, what can you gather from this crime scene? This case isn't particularly difficult, so I have no doubt you'll be chasing down the perp in no time,"

Honestly your whole relationship is like an escape room

You want to get into your house but forgot your key? Well knock in morse code and maybe Heizou will let you in

You want to have a nice lunch date with your boyfriend? Well you best be prepared for an intense game of shogi while you eat

You want Heizou to pass you a pen? Well first you must answer these questions three!

But seriously, he makes it fun for you and makes sure to let you know that it’s his way of telling you how much he respects you and he values your input and intelligence

Tighnari

As an Amurta scholar and a forest watcher who has seen way too many cases of mushroom-based food poisoning, Tighnari has learnt to be prepared to dish out medical treatment

So if you cough even once, or sneeze in his presence, Tighnari will begin an impromptu check-up to ensure you're still feeling your best

You try telling him you're fine, people sneeze all the time without being sick, but he just scolds you even more for thinking you could get away without him making sure you're alright

"Don't be so proud, you idiot. What am I going to do with you if you go and get sick?"

Tighnari would hate if you fell ill under his careful watch, but if you do get sick or injure yourself, prepare for a two hour lecture and a bowl of fresh creamy mushroom stew to help you get back into tiptop shape

He's usually incredibly busy with his forest watcher duties, but will somehow almost never leave your side if he's tending to you

When you aren't sick, he makes sure you're eating well, going so far as to prepare your meals or make a nutrition table based on the vitamins he thinks you need more of

Always reminds you to drink water and take any medication you need, your health is his top priority

Dottore

Psychopath (Endearing)

Takes x-rays of you just to admire your lovely bone structure and hangs them up around your shared bedroom as if they're regular date pictures

He loves to have you sit in his lap as he caresses your body and coos at your flesh, whispering sweet nothings in his suavest voice about your organs, and telling you what a strong heart you must have because he can feel it through your shirt

Unwinding with Dottore almost always goes this way, with you getting a shower of what you're pretty sure are compliments about your internal systems and physical attributes

He once shocked you with a mini electric buzzer just to see your central nervous system go off. You were naturally quite annoyed about it but he just shrugged it off, claiming that he just loved to see your body at work, although he never did it again

His doctor brain never turns off, so be prepared to have his fingers in your mouth as he goes on about what wonderful teeth you have

It certainly makes you feel... special

You should feel special, he definitely doesn't do this with anyone else

Dottore is so enchanted by your being that he grows human organs in his lab that are exactly the size and shape of yours, saying it's so you can see for yourself just how beautiful you are

[junedenim]

it's three in the morning

for the long haul

warnings: piv, eating, pregnancy piv, mild dad!alex, and probably some other stuff too

word count: 8.8k

There was an attitude when you first met that you each would hold a sense of permanence in each other's lives. It wasn't completely romantic at first. You and Alex met through a series of shared friends.

This was 2013 and you were both otherwise occupied with separate relationships. His was longer and much more stable. Yours was a short passionate fury that ended by early 2014. Coincidentally, as did his.

But still, it wasn't a direct rebound. He was touring and when the band stopped in New York—your home at the time—you stuck around at the after-party with Alex. Nothing much happened there other than a questionable conversation three rounds in.

"It's all speeding up," he said. It was drunk talk and you weren't paying attention to the idea he had spoken before it but you tried your best to follow after. His body came closer and huddled so close to yours, which was excusable in the February chill, but debatable with the indoor heating.

He slung an arm over your shoulder and, with great camaraderie, you slid your arm behind his back; a "friendly" side hug. "Time is weird," you said.

Alex looked at you. His eyes were alcohol-glazy but his soul was bursting to say something. You could both feel the unsaid left lingering and his head moved forward at one point as if he were going to kiss you but it was then decided he would hesitate on that front.

He chuckled through his nose as if some joke had been made before turning his head to look at the buzzing partiers. He nodded at something and you weren't sure if it was related to your statement or not. You took another sip of your vodka Coke and he said, "Timing is everything."

He slipped away from you after that and it's possible he slept with someone else that night but you aren't sure. You don't even know if he would remember. He slept with a lot of people in 2014. It was a messy time.

Later in the year, toward the end of July, he called you from Iowa. Despite the hour, somewhere in the early morning, neither of you was drunk. Alex's sleep schedule had little idea of the concept of time with the mad case of severe jet lag he could be diagnosed with and you, well, you were asleep but you acted like it was normal for him to wake you up at 3 AM.

"Where in Iowa are you from?" He asked. Neither of you had really gotten to know one another. Not those small details. You knew he was from Sheffield but you don't know what college he went to or his parents' names or if he's ever broken a bone. Your relationship had never been built on knowing each other. It was always just about feeling each other. You had always gotten on well, never fought, always laughed, slung arms around one another, and thought about the maybes.

"Why do you ask?" You laughed at the idea of him calling you in the dead of night, sitting outside his tour bus, smoking a cigarette, talking about your tiny hometown.

"We're playing there tomorrow. Council Bluffs or something. You're the only person I know from Iowa." You told him that the first night you met and he latched onto it like it was some lie you told to impress people because people are usually so impressed with the concept of being a Hawkeye. Although, he never got more information about it. He didn't know that you grew up on a corn farm and you learned how to drive your dad's truck at 9 years old.

You scoffed, "Council Bluffs. You might as well just be in Nebraska."

He chuckled. "Sorry. I'll plan it out better for you next time."

"I'm from Beaman. It's close to the center. Very small town," you told him. "But there's a library and a basketball court that becomes an ice skating rink in the winter. It was dull but I liked it."

"Sounds like a nice place to grow up." You shrugged, not that he'd be able to see it. An air of silence hung over the conversation and you're not sure if he was waiting for you to say something in return. And then he suddenly said, "I've been thinking about you. Not just in Iowa."

You weren't sure what that meant. He was still so new to you and a one-on-one phone call had never been done before. You couldn't yet tell what he was trying to convey through the tone of his voice if this was some playful thing, a joke or something serious, a flirtation. "Why?" You questioned.

It was silent and you imagined him shrugging but you'd never know for sure if he did or not. Eventually, he answered, "Guess I just missed you. Is that allowed?" It was rolled in humour and tucked in a laugh so you took it as a joking sweetness. Some sense of sincerity lingered but it wasn't packed with desperation.

So, you told him you missed him too and hopefully you'd hang out again soon. The conversation ended and soon wasn't around the corner. You kept in touch, by text and through friends, but he didn't return from the road until November and you weren't yet one of the people he would hang out with as soon as he was back, especially since you were in New York and he was in LA when he wasn't on the other side of the pond.

But then you moved to LA, right at the beginning of 2015. Truthfully, it was for your boyfriend. It was an awful idea and you knew it. You had only been dating the guy for a few months and retrospectively it was never serious but in the moment fantasy and blurred visions came to mind and they took the wheel from you. Besides, you had a career that you could do anywhere, most of your friends were in LA, and there was, of course, Alex.

At a shared friend's birthday party, you saw Alex again through a barrier of smoke. Your boyfriend was off in the bathroom and Alex was pushing himself off the wall with a drunken stumble and throwing his arms around you.

"Huck told me you'd be here. Told me you're out in LA. How come you didn't tell me?" His words were rolling out of him quickly with little care where they ended up.

You did your best to reciprocate the hug and follow his sloppy manner as he leaned back against the wall. You stirred your gin & tonic with the flick of your wrist, still sober having just arrived. "It's all been hectic. We're just starting to settle out here."

His eyes drifted away, looking behind you, and when the cold hand touched your back you realized what he was looking at. "Yeah, well, once you are, we should get together or something. Alex, by the way." He waved to your boyfriend, staying against the wall this time. He looked like he was having trouble keeping his eyes open but his speech was clear with no slurring sounded.

You put your arm around your boyfriend's back, returning his hold. "I'd like that. We'll probably have some housewarming party at some point so..."

Alex hummed his acknowledgment like words were becoming too much work. He brought the spliff to his lips and the smell of marijuana began to give you a headache and a craving at the same time. Someone tapped him on the shoulder, pulling him away from you. It took a moment of staring before you moved to find residency on the couch, but more lingered in the air than just the smell of weed. Uncertainty persisted.

A month later, the house had been settled and a housewarming party occurred but Alex didn't attend. He had said he was out of town but you're not sure where out of town. It didn't matter much. You didn't live in that house for very long.

It would seem like fate stepped in at some point or a mere happenstance that the night you and your boyfriend broke up everyone in the world seemed to be busy. Friends were away for the weekend or had guests staying with them or simply didn't pick up their phones at 2 AM. But Alex did.

When you arrived at his house, he was peculiarly waiting in his driveway. His hands were on his hips and his head cocked in a way that some might interpret as pissed but you knew it was just his resting position.

Your unaffected nature could also be misinterpreted. You didn't feel the urge to cry, and though you were upset at the demise of a loving relationship, it didn't provoke your tear ducts and you remained indifferent.

After exiting your car, he asked, "Are you okay?"

And it was easy to nod and answer, "Truthfully, yes." It's probably easier to feel this way when you are the one who initiated the break-up.

It's also easy to feel that way when instead of going to bed you're accompanied by Alex and drinks. No rejection was involved when downing a bottle of hard liquor, especially when Alex seemed to have it stockpiled. You both operated better drunk, which could have been alarming to an outsider, but for you and Alex it was understandable. It wasn't used as coping, each other was used for that. The alcohol was just an additional treat.

"It's hard to not feel like I'm wasting away my youth," you told him, leaning your head on the back of the couch.

He was on the opposite end, cigarette stuck in his mouth as he spoke, "You're still young."

"Not forever," you lamented. "I guess that's the thing. I'm not particularly pissed it's over. I think I did us both a favour but I'm pissed about running out of time for these things. I mean, I moved across the country for this guy. I used to have fun with guys! Now I'm just following them places and desperately trying to play the role of wife. Like, who am I?"

Alex openly laughed in response.

You giggled in return, "Don't laugh at me."

He shook his head, removing smoke and cigarette from his lips. "I think you're getting worked up over nothing."

"Maybe." You shrugged. "But I don't think so. I don't know what I'm saying. Wait, yes, I do." Alex laughed again. "I'm saying I want to have fun again."

"Right." He nods.

His eyes locked with yours and once his cigarette was stubbed out and the bottle you had been clutching was placed down on the coffee table, his lips then locked with yours. It was harsh and rough like every drunk kiss that had occurred before in history.

It must have been around 4 AM at this point and everything felt hungry. Like this was—he was—your midnight snack. This is when desperation occurs. The quick need for satisfaction with no care about the journey to get there.

Alex's arms clutched around your lower back up to your shoulder blades, pulling you on top of him. Her hands grasped around the endpoints of his sharp jaw making it impossible to be stuck in a heated makeout. You straddled him but it was hard (in two ways) to not feel frustrated quickly.

You reached down, swiping your hands along his chest, and landing on the button of his jeans. Everything must come undone and he understood that perfectly. You didn't even bother to pull his zipper down, instead reaching your hand into his underwear and letting the force drag the zipper apart.

He pulled your hand out just so you could get your top off of you and while your arms were up in the air, you grind on him and soft moans escaped, swallowing it up when your lips reunited. He was a master at unclasping a bra and had easy access to your pussy through your small skirt made up of flowy material.

Your hand made small movements around his cock and his fingers grazed through your folds and he seemed to want to do a version of shared masturbation but you ached for something stronger. You lifted yourself off of him to remove your skirt and panties. He shuffled just enough to kick his jeans and underwear off the bottom of his feet. You finished reaching nudity at the same time.

Alex didn't allow you to straddle him again, pushing you onto your back as he took off his shirt. His nude body hovered over you and the back of your head hit the arm of the couch. You curled your legs around him, pushing his hips toward yours. Everything is non-verbal, all performed through signs. You've always been on the same wavelength and it feels like words would have ruined this and made this all seem questionable.

He quit the foreplay of kissing your neck and pinching your breasts and became rough like this is what you wanted, now shut up and take it. He was in you and on top of you and it's exactly what you wanted: fun. He could be described as a pleasurable jackhammer as he moved in and out of you. Everything was hard and skin was slapping but you're both moaning and none of it was silent whimpers. It was shouts of "Fuck!" and "Harder!" and "Holy shit!" and "Right there!"

It's all responded to correctly. You nipped at his neck and toward the end, he reached down to rub your clit. It's all masterfully done on both of your parts. Your walls clenched around his dick and he stretched you open to a degree that has you grasping at the couch cushions until you've come. Then, he pulled out of you, letting it all go, straight onto your stomach.

Exhaustion and complete silence fell. Alex laid back on his side of the couch, panting. A few breaths passed before he rose and grabbed a rag from the kitchen, wiping his cum off you.

"Is that your cum towel?" You joked.

His face broke a smirk and he nodded. A question hung in the air of what to do next, stuck in the middle of his hot living room. He towered over you as you sat up, slowly adjusting. He folded the rag up in his hand and then asked, "You wanna use it again?"

Laughter erupted from you but you did end up using it again the next time in his bedroom, which allowed comfort and greater sensuality. It was less rushed but left you both exhausted by the end of it. You slept like rag dolls, limbs hanging over one another, and powerful sleep.

In the morning (or afternoon, you're unsure), with your bodies connected, you both awoke around the same time, blinking away sleep and finding his eyes doing the same. Your unsaid nature returned and you weren't sure if you should even leave the bed or if you should be racing out the front door.

"Thanks for letting me stay," you whispered with tired vocal chords.

He shuffled closer, sheets rustling, and licking away sleep. "Course," he croaked. "You could stay forever."

It might have meant more, especially after fucking each other, but it felt more like a favour than a request. You ate breakfast together before you left, no goodbye kisses, and he said goodbye at the door instead of walking you to your car. Two weeks later, he joined you and a group of friends for drinks where you shared light small talk and he bought a round. You left for New York two days later with no acknowledgment of anything more. It just was what it was and neither of you was hurt by that, but both of you still felt longing for it to be otherwise.

In the heat of summer, you visited LA and met up with Alex for dinner. The LA visit was more for business but you decided to sort out the personal while you're there. His hair was longer, cut around the ears, no longer greased back. It's a reminder of that morning when everything was thrown about without care. He was dressed in a white button-down that was unbuttoned enough to have a clear view of the chain that hung around his neck and his seductiveness was so clear you have a hard time believing he didn't know exactly how this night was going to end.

There was small talk but Alex was quick to cut through the bullshit and get to the heart of things. "We've never had dinner together before," he said. "Not just the two of us." A smirk played on his face and lewd images flashed in your mind.

You sipped your wine as a coping mechanism and leaned back in your chair. You needed to be far from him, at least for now. Playing it cool was the main goal. "Are you telling me you don't want to hang out with me?"

"Oh, I want to hang out with you but I was thinking of something much different."

Intentions were clear and things were laid out on the table so when he invited you back to his house for drinks, you had no issue with him stopping in an abandoned parking lot so you could fuck each other.

Because fucking was easy and you always felt things together instead of knowing things together. So, when he takes you in the backseat, confined, and hot & heavy, it feels romantic for something usually so drenched in the word "dirty."

The leather seats stick against your sweaty back while he undoes his belt and then his trousers before sliding your underwear aside and going into you. The AC is blasting but you don't feel it and there's a lightheaded feeling likely from wine and dehydration but you blame the way his cock hits that spot in you.

The rest of the drive isn't awkward and that's when things started to feel different. It became clear that the sense of permanence with one another wasn't a platonic coincidence of sharing friends but something much more loving. You laughed that his car radio was stuck on the sports channel and made fun of the baseball announcers shouting over the Dodgers losing to the Phillies.

Before this shift, you expected to continue your intense rush to instant passion; fucking in the hallway, fucking in the living room, fucking in the kitchen, fucking on the bathroom floor, fucking in the shower, fucking in his bed, fucking against a wall, fucking on the washing machine, fucking on the ceiling if you could. Instead, you watched the rest of the Dodgers v. Phillies game, despite knowing little about baseball and Alex's knowledge reliant on Bad News Bears and high school phys ed.

Besides, little attention was paid to the game itself. He drank a beer and made you a vodka Coke and baseball is boring and Alex had suddenly become everything.

"There's a reason baseball is America's pastime," you commented. "Who the fuck wants to sit and watch this all day?"

Alex shrugged, a smile playing on his cheeks. "It's fun when they get a home run."

"It's fun when I get a strike in bowling, doesn't mean everyone wants to sit and watch me," I struck back.

He chuckled, wiping his beer lip. "You like bowling?"

"Yeah. My dad used to set up empty cans and have us play. The nearest bowling alley was 45 minutes away so we went there on special occasions."

Alex smiled, completely charmed, and that's when you started knowing each other. Later, you walked to his bedroom and had sex and while it was passionate, it had lost its spontaneity quality, which didn't lessen it, instead changing it into something new.

The following morning, you took his old words of "stay forever" to heart and never left LA. Your return move to LA was mocked by your friends for your coming-and-going nature and moving everything all over again was a pain in the ass but Alex flew to New York and helped pack your things. When you moved into your new place, Alex helped you unpack and helped "Christen the place," as he put it by going down on you on those marble kitchen counters.

Separate places felt ideal not to rush things, but soon it seemed wasteful as most nights were spent at Alex's. You weren't a big fan of your new place in comparison to Alex'ss, which wasn't shocking. Alex had a pool for Christ's sake.

Although, it still felt like the best fit. You didn't like how much Alex smoked and Alex didn't like how messy you were. While technically not living together, you fought over these things like you did.

Smoking usually went:

"It's my house. I can do it however much I want to!"

"You're going to ruin the house by smoking inside it!"

"I paid for it!"

"You're killing yourself!"

"It's my lungs!"

"I'm gonna die from secondhand smoking!"

Messiness usually went:

"You can't come over and trash my house!"

"It's barely anything! If you let me have a drawer this wouldn't be a problem!"

"It's not just your clothes! You leave dirty dishes everywhere!"

"I get to it eventually!"

"So do the rats!"

But all and all, it always ended relatively positively. Alex took to smoking on his balcony more and you would join him from time to time. You didn't really clean up more, but Alex did give you a top drawer in his dresser.

At the beginning of December, you both attended a Christmas party, where you and Alex wore a Santa hat you bought at Party City because neither of you owned anything festive. However, everyone at the party considered it to make you the cutest couple there. You both thought it was rather cheesy but you leaned into the cliche of it and got drunk off eggnog and roleplayed Mr. & Mrs. Claus at the party until it verged on too creepy.

Over a shared cup of eggnog, Alex asked you, "You want to come to Sheffield?"

Meeting the parents had never been discussed. It was easy when his parents lived in another country and your parents were scared of planes. Though excitement and nerves bubbled, you answered, "Sure" before taking a sip.

He chuckled, now accustomed to what your reactions meant. "We could do Christmas there."

You said, "Sure" and sipped the eggnog again because it helped fight against those nerves in your stomach.

Alex chucked again because he was charmed, now completely lost in you.

Christmas in Sheffield was cold. It rained heavily the whole time you were there. You and Alex only braved walking around town once on the 23rd when the rain had stopped momentarily. The city centre was time for sightseeing all his old haunts. You walked arm-in-arm with Alex in an effort to combat the cold but still keep your hands in your coat pockets.

You got a half hour in before it started pouring rain and you were left feeling like idiots for not bringing an umbrella with you. The car was far away and you both debated ducking into a bookstore but you were both already too soaked and cold and decided just to head back to the car. He grabbed your hand, leading the way, as you raced through the unbearably cold beating rain.

On the way back to his childhood home, the rain had increased even more making it nearly impossible for Alex to see properly while driving. "This is how you end up killing someone," you said.

Alex put his hand on your shoulder but kept his eyes steady on the road. "Relax. I know how to drive."

You removed his hand from your shoulder and placed it back on the wheel. "Then, keep both hands at 10 and 2," you ordered.

He laughed and reached over to kiss your cheek and while the affection made you gain a cavity, your nerves bubbled up as you pushed him away. "Eyes on the road, mister!"

You both made it back unscathed, minus your socks, which had been soaked through. The house was warm and the smell of dinner wafted through the air. The house was quiet other than the pattering of rain and some jazz record his dad had put on. It felt like coming home.

Christmas dinner, however, was hectic. You drove out to his grandparents' place and the quiet 4-person car ride led to a fistful of screaming grandchildren and uncles whose laughs broke the sound barrier.

It had you turning to him. "This is your family?"

"Yeah. Hard to believe, right?" The calmness of Alex must come from his mum's side of the family.

Once dinner was served, the noise level calmed down as people stuffed their faces and they wished to show a great impression to their American guest of honour. The questions were light and it was clear that you weren't the first American girl Alex had brought home but everyone was welcoming and Alex placed a reassuring arm on the back of your chair. He would occasionally lift his hand and play with the longest strands of your hair, bouncing the curls you had made that morning.

Later, while the young kids played with the toys they had just received as gifts, Alex and you drank tea together. It was a warm distance for the fast nights of Los Angeles. You leaned close to Alex on the settee so he could hear your words. "I like Sheffield a lot."

He turned his head away from watching the kids, meeting your eyes. A smile crept to his lips. "Good." His hand smoothed down your sweater-covered arm. "I'm happy you're happy."

That in turn made you smile. "I like this quietness. You know, of the city, not this house."

Alex chuckled and pushed the front hanging pieces of hair behind your shoulder, eyes sculpting over your body. "It's nice to come back. Feels like a reset."

You took your fancy tea cup off your fancy tea plate and took a sip, feeling like a proper English lady. "You should come to Beaman. You'll probably hate it but it's like no one else in the world exists out there."

He hummed, staring softly at you. His eyes made the ice in you melt. "If you love it, I'll love it," he promised.

"It'll just be you, me, and the chickens," you giggled.

Alex grinned, skimming his thumb over your cheekbone. "Hm. I love you."

It caught all the air in the room and it suddenly didn't feel as cold as it did a minute before. You inched closer to him and smiled because he was smiling. "You've never told me that before, you know."

He furrows his brows, playing up his acting. "I haven't?"

"Actually, you told me when you were drunk once. Back in October, at that Halloween party."

He squints seriously this time. "I don't remember this."

You coyly smile. "I know. It was when Miles and me were carrying you inside and I couldn't figure out if you were saying it to me or him."

He leaned forward, his arm pulling you toward him as he laughed in your ear before kissing your cheek. "You. Always you."

"Good." You clapped your hands. "I'll hang this over Miles's head for decades."

That night, Alex fell asleep quickly, allowing you to realize something. You nudged him awake, making him groan. "What?"

You curled your arm around him. "Nothing. I'm sorry I woke you."

His arms moved around your waist, laying you on top of him. His eyes stayed shut, not wanting to lose his sleepiness. "It's alright," he mumbled. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah." You leaned into his ear, whispering, "Love you."

A grin spread across his lips, enticing you to lean over and kiss the corner of it. He hummed. "Love you too. Night."

The following year, Alex went away on tour. You stayed, he went, but it never felt like it placed a strain on the relationship. There was longing and missing but never any resentment and as Alex would put it, "It always makes for great reunion sex."

You briefly joined them in August when they played California: Santa Ana, San Diego, and Outside Lands in San Francisco. They were all one after the next and left you exhausted and though Alex was much more well-adjusted to the pace of touring, it was reaching the tail end and he struggled with the comedown on it all.

Those were the only times you grew frustrated with one another. You never really yelled or fought—maybe because you didn't want to or maybe because you were in close quarters with other people—although, you had tiffs.

Much like your annoyances at home, traveling or touring only amplified what truly annoyed you about each other but in a way—a super corny, cheesy way—you loved Alex even more for that.

"I like that you're not perfect," you said late to him one night. He was smoking a cigarette and though the weather was hot, there was a nighttime breeze that settled over the two of you.

"Gee, thanks," he quipped, puffing away.

You knocked a shoulder into him. "I'm being sweet. If you were perfect then I'd feel inadequate all the time in comparison but since you've got these flaws and vices that make you more real, in a roundabout way, you are perfect. For me, at least."

Alex grew amused with every passing word, tucking an arm behind you. "Well, you're perfect. I hope you feel that."

You shifted your body to get a full look at him. "Maybe not perfect but I feel worthy or something. You always make me feel adequate. I appreciate that."

He shrugged, unsure of how to respond. "You're easy to love. I've never struggled with that."

That's always been the word: easy. From the moment you met, it was a clear link holding you two together, and with time doing its thing, it only grew slowly into what it should be. There was never a force of change, you held onto each other until you clicked at the right time. After that, there was no way to disrupt it.

You moved into Alex's in September. After the tour (and even before), you spent all your time there anyway. He decided over breakfast one day to make it official.

He pulled out a pan to make eggs but before he could place it on the stove, he stared at it. "This is your pan," he said."

You looked up from your cereal. "Oh, yeah, you don't have small pans so I brought mine over. It's better for your eggs, you know. Heats up quicker."

Alex began to laugh, placing the pan down on the stove, and his hands on his hips. You chuckled along with him, even though you were confused. "What's so funny?"

He shook his head, trying to shake off the laughter. "Do you even have anything at your place anymore?"

"Um, I don't know." you thought aloud. You shoveled a pile of cereal in your mouth.

"Why don't you just sell the place?" He suggested. "Move in here."

You shrugged. "Maybe."

"Maybe?" He questioned.

"Yeah, I mean, I like my place."

Alex snorted. "You're never at your place."

"I still like it," you insisted.

He moved over, coming behind you like a snake, and hugging your waist tightly. "Come on, move in," he whispered in your ear.

"I'll think about it," you said as he kissed your neck.

Alex decided on other plans for breakfast. You stood up to clean your bowl but his arms stopped you from making it to the kitchen sink. "I have a convincing argument," he said, taking the bowl out of your hands and setting it down.

You laughed at his bravado but you were soon overpowered by it. He bent you over the counter harshly with a kiss to your left shoulder blade as a form of salvation. He kneeled down on both his knees and grazed his hands on your butt, playing with the fabric of your shorts. He squeezed and pulled and yanked, eventually dragging the material off of you and having it lay at your feet.

Alex's slow nature in the morning took hold as he danced his fingers around your cunt. The tips of his fingers edged on the lips of your pussy. The thumb on his other hand, touched over your asshole, making it pucker up with tension.

"Your teasing is only making me want to say no," you said, desiring relief as soon as possible.

Alex only hummed and muttered, "Interesting." He placed a light kiss on your inner thigh but it only felt like he was moving further away from the point of release. He moved up and kissed your left butt cheek, his hand squeezing the right.

His touch became light and he moved his hand back down to your lips. "I know how to get you there," he insisted. He tapped both your knees. "Spread. They're so close together. It's like you don't want me to touch you."

"It's called being bored," you retorted.

Then, Alex slapped your ass. He'd never done anything more than a pat and it was usually more in a casual setting, not when you were butt naked and not that hard.

You turned your head around, looking down at him with a squint. "Did you just slap my ass?"

"Yeah," he quickly admitted. "Why? Did you like it?" A smirk presented as if he already knew the answer.

You didn't want to give in to him. This was frustration, it wasn't supposed to be satisfaction. You wanted him begging for you, not the other way around. But you couldn't help it. You bit your lip and turned away, not wanting him to see the pleasurable smile on your face. "Maybe."

But then he overwhelmed you, diving straight in and placing his mouth directly on your cunt, dragging a long moan out of you. You could feel the coldness of the counter through your shirt, erecting your nipples. Your hands made a fist, unable to grab onto anything, thwarting you.

His tongue plunged into you and then moved up to your clit before pulling away again, making everything unbearable. His mouth moved to kiss your inner thigh before he left completely to slap your ass again. "You alright?" He asked to make sure, even if you gasped in delight at every feeling.

"Go back down," you demanded.

Alex listened and returned to your core, licking his way through your fold, and reaching his tongue up to your clit. He continued the game of agony, moving back and forth from the pleasurable, but slowly the edging made for a great build-up and he began to lay it on thick, never abandoning your clit until your legs were shaking and you were practically pushing him away from you.

He stood up and slapped your ass. You moved in on Tuesday.

Not much changed. You already had drawers in his dresser and space in his closet and pans in his kitchen. You had already infected his house with your essence and the only difference was you weren't paying rent on a place you were barely ever sleeping.

As the new year began, things slowed. Alex started growing his hair out, stopped shaving, and became far more reclusive. He had grown tired from the road, was now in his 30s, and, most importantly, settled. At times, that thought was terrifying for you, staring down the barrel of this being the rest of your life. Other times, it was comforting, usually waking up in the morning next to Alex.

But there was a lifestyle shift in Alex that you weren't yet aligned with. He rebuffed the idea of going out, talked about leaving LA, and locked himself away in his music room. You weren't particularly annoyed at the latter other than it sometimes felt like he was locking you out of part of him. The idea of leaving LA wasn't unappealing, but he longed for England more and you were American through and through. Going out, well, maybe that's where you got into trouble.

Alex's newfound life as a hermit wasn't horrible now that you were living together but you started to go out more and more without him. Usually with various groups of friends, sometimes for work, two times with Miles, and one time by yourself. Alex said no to going so often that you stopped asking. Soon, you weren't spending many nights together. He'd stay up late working on music or you'd stay out late drinking. Like everything else, it eventually came to a head.

"I think I'm going to Beaman next week," you told him while getting ready to go out one night.

He was in the shower. He was staying in. "Why?"

You furrowed your brows toward the shower curtain. "I haven't been back in a while. My mom's birthday is at the end of the month."

"Alright," he said over the sound of rushing water.

"Do you want to come with me?"

For a moment, only the shower made a noise. It didn't even sound like Alex moved an inch. You stared at the shower curtain and thought he might pop his head out. But he didn't and you didn't move to open the curtain either. Finally, he answered, "No, no. I think I'll stay here. Jamie's coming into town soon."

You thought about fighting it or asking him if he was going to do anything with Jamie, instead, you said, "Okay. I'm leaving now."

"Alright," he said, "Have fun. I love you." He never came out from behind the curtain. When you came home he was asleep.

Upon your return from Iowa, Alex picked you up at the airport. The car ride home was pleasant and he made dinner. You were scraping your fork along the plate when he asked, "Would you ever want to live in Iowa again?"

You snorted at the ridiculousness. "I left home when I was 18 and have only lived in New York and LA. Does that strike you as someone who wants to move back to the Midwest?"

 Alex shrugged and thoughtfully looked down at his nearly empty plate. "I just never knew if you thought about it."

"Are you thinking about it? About England?" You leaned on your fist, eager for the answer.

He shook his head. "I'm just homesick, I guess." He then stood up and took his plate to the dishwasher.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You shouted into the kitchen.

You awaited an answer from the other side of the wall. You heard the dishwasher shut and his feet pad across the wooden floor, he stopped in the archway, facing you. With certainty, he said, "I'm happy here."

You stayed seated. "Would you want to move back?"

He looked unsure but answered, "I don't think so."

"You can be honest," you assured him. "If you think I'm worried or going to shoot it down. I mean, I'm not saying yes, but if you're thinking about it I think we should talk about it."

He shook his head. "I'm not saying I want to be here forever and maybe that's something we should talk about since..."

"Since?" You questioned, clueless of where his words were leading.

Alex laughed at you, turning away, not bearing to make eye contact. "Since we're us. You and me."

"I'm confused," you said, crossing your brows. "What's this have to do with England?"

He laughed again, nerves tackling him. "We're not just fooling around here anymore. This direction..." He motioned a straight line and though you were catching on you still wished to hear him talk in full.

"This direction?"

He rolled his eyes with a smile, exasperated by your questioning. "Look, we've talked about it."

You playfully raised an eyebrow. "It?"

He wagged his finger at you. "Quit playing games with me here."

"Oh," you nodded enthusiastically, "the marrying me thing. You talk around it like it's a curse word."

"'Cause it makes me nervous." He played with the ends of his hair as a soothing mechanism. 

You shifted forward, leaning your head onto your hand, resting it on your knee. You genuinely asked, "Why does it make you nervous?"

A nervous smile played at his lips as he calmly said, "Why the fuck do you think?" He laughed, feeling overwhelmed, both of you.

"You tell me," you egged him on.

Alex threw his head back, exhausted from you toying him. "You do the laundry. I know you've been in my underwear drawer."

You giggled, remembering the sight. "Well, you put it in your underwear drawer, how cliche are you?"

"At least I didn't do my sock drawer!" He shouted, trying to insist he wasn't such an idiot. "I didn't think you'd go digging around in there."

"Hey!" You assert. "I didn't find it. It found me."

You both laughed and soon the room fell quiet. "Hey," you said. "You got me a princess cut." It was dainty like you wanted, no giant diamonds, and no uncomfortability. A simple, classic look. He did good.

He kept a small smile, despite both of your racing hearts. "Well, that's what you wanted."

You grinned back, sitting up straight, and leaning your side into the back of the dining room chair. "You got my ring size right too."

He raised his eyebrows. "You put it on?"

"On my right hand that way I didn't break any rules."

Smiles were plastered on each of your faces. "Should I just go get it?" You'll probably cry if he does go get it.

"Yes. And yes to your next question too."

"I haven't even gotten down on one knee."

You shook your head. "You don't have to get down on one knee."

"I want to." He does. And the ring fits just as well on the left as it did on the right.

Just like moving in, being engaged isn't that much different either with the exception of getting your mother off your back and a nice new piece of jewelry. Alex enjoyed calling you "fiancée" when introducing you.

You started to go out less but when he did he came more often. It was a non-verbal comparison and with a new album on the horizon, you started to stockpile time together. Any wedding talk was limited but agreed upon to take place after the tour so you could enjoy married life together. Alex also heavily enjoyed the in-between state of being engaged and what you thought would be the dull before the actual excitement of marriage, turned into its own new game.

You accompanied him more on tour, mostly because it was much longer this time. You joined him for branches, attended the US shows, made him shave his head in Texas, and made your way over to London. There were bigger breaks this time with things not packed so closely together. You spent Christmas in Iowa with Alex for the first time. You went to Hawaii for his birthday. You went bowling for Valentine's Day.

When the tour ended and there was an actual wedding to plan, everything felt stuck. It was either too cliche or too underwhelming. It became easier to just get married and worry more about planning a party. So, you got married at a cute small inn with sycamore trees with a small number of guests. Those who would be willing to sit through a wedding without getting antsy.

The reception party grew in numbers and the loveliest part is you didn't have to worry about cleaning any of the mess up. Alex got cake on his suit and you went to the bathroom more times than you can count. But overall, it was a simple, sweet night. 

Honeymooning (fucking) in Fiji and then resuming life two weeks later. "Wife" became Alex's new favourite word but everything else stayed the same. Well, for about a month.

You just had a feeling. You woke up one day and felt it. You nudged him awake, it was early before the sun was up. "Alex."

He hummed in acknowledgment, shut-eyed.

You burrowed into him and nonchalantly said, "I'm pregnant."

"What?!" His eyes were wide and his face wrinkled in confusion. "Seriously? When did you find out?"

You flopped onto your back, turning your head to the side to look at him. "Just now. I can feel it."

"So, you feel like you're pregnant?" He questioned.

"Yeah."

"But you don't know it. You didn't take a test?"

"No, but I know. I'll take one in the morning, I just wanted to let you know. Night." You turned over into your pillow and closed your eyes.

Alex sat with his mouth agape. "Yeah. Night." He didn't fall back asleep.

And you were right. You shrugged and said, "Told ya." Alex laughed. Then, he cried. Then, he hugged you. Then, he kissed your stomach, but you thought that was too weird so you told him to stop.

Being pregnant definitely changed things but things felt the same just with one more thing. You fucked. A lot. Your sexual appetite increased but you had always been horny for Alex. It's just a given. But there was a point where things did change.

It was the first ultrasound. You felt it when you entered the room. The air was cold and there was a shift, everything suddenly becoming real. You enjoyed watching Alex twiddle his thumbs while you waited for the technician. 

When they started to move the wand around your stomach, he became fascinated with the machine, continuously asking questions. More of them were about the machine rather than the baby. 

And, well, then the whole twin thing happened.

"Like two of them?" Alex held two fingers up like he couldn't quite comprehend it. 

The technician nodded and you still couldn't think of a verbal response to the news.

Then, Alex said, "We've been having a lot of sex, did we like make another baby when we—"

You interrupted, "Are you the dumbest person alive?"

Alex pinned the ultrasound to your fridge and kept a copy in his wallet. He held an affection for it that you didn't. Maybe because you were the pregnant one. The proof came attached to you. Nonetheless, you were charmed by Alex in his fatherly role, even if he stressed you out with the need to be super-ultra-prepared. His nervousness about what you could and couldn't do got annoying by the second month. He calmed down after you yelled at him.

Although, it was nice for him to take on the extra work. You picked out the design for the nursery and he did all the work, citing that you couldn't paint because of the toxic fumes and everything was a heavy load.

He knew you were full of bullshit but he didn't care. "I like helping out. Being the man in charge."

You told him not to get too full of himself. His insistence on doing everything led him to break his index finger.

But after everything had healed and two babies became two girls, you both relaxed into your final months of solitude, which really just meant lots of sex. You fucked and he went down on you but sometimes you felt too sore down there from all the pelvic pressure and though Alex insisted that no sex was fine, you insisted that release was release, even if it wasn't your release. Alex still fondled your breasts too, saying that's where all his horniness came from.

"How can I not be turned on when they're just staring at me?" They were bigger and Alex was always insatiable.

"I feel like a cow," you whined. You were bigger with two babies and the only way you did have sex was doggy style with everything hanging.

"You're not a cow," Alex said, climbing into bed. You were under the sheets, exhausted at 9 PM. He curled up behind you, whispering in your ear, "You want me to fuck you on your side?"

You thought about it, felt the ache, and said, "Okay."

You were already underwear-free because they hurt your vagina too much when you slept. You had returned to your old days of quickness. Alex pulled himself out of his boxers, gave himself a few pumps, and slid into you. You softly moaned as Alex pushed into you slowly at first before his thrusts grew quicker. He knew you were tired and needed a quick release. 

"Fuck," he harshly whispered as his speed picked up, skins slapped, and sweat beads formed. He clutched your hipbone tightly and you fisted your pillowcase. Every action rushed and a final slam resulted in you falling apart and him emptying into you. His hand caressed up your bump and you knew he was very turned on but the whole pregnancy sex things and not just because of the boobs. However, he did love those too, and gave them a quick squeeze before cleaning up.

The final change came in an expected way. Labour was shorter if only for the epidural and the C-section. You wanted to resist the idea until the thought of pushing two babies out set in and the pain became too unbearable and Twin A was breached and then a C-section seemed like the best thing, even if it was surgery.

Alex liked wearing the medical gear and kept adjusting his mask. Oh, Alex, sweet naive Alex. Luckily, everything was smooth, except for the fact you couldn't hold the babies until they had sewn everything up. But Alex cut the umbilical cord and got to hold them, which was a sweet enough sight.

When you were placed in recovery and finally got to hold them, then came the hard part. "What do we name them?" You asked.

Alex shook his head. "I got no fucking idea." Names had been discussed but you never really landed on one let alone two. "You should name them. You carried them and they're getting my last name."

"It's too much pressure," you whined.

Alex sighed and concluded, "Thing 1 and Thing 2 it is then."

Eventually, you decided on Wren and Willow. You initially hated the shared first initial but Alex liked it and it became too frustrating to think of any other names.

The first month was harsh. Your body was slowly healing and you ached all the time. You had backup with both sets of parents but then everyone went back home and everything shut down and it was just you, Alex, and Wren & Willow. It didn't actually feel like much had changed. It's not like you would have left the house anyway.

Alex takes to having the girls nap on him. Sometimes one at a time, sometimes both. Sometimes he will let you nap in his arms too. The days are long but the weeks move fast.

One day, Willow laughs. It's the first time either of them has laughed. It took you both by surprise. You were feeding Wren while Willow laid on her back with Alex loomed over her. Usually, when he would blow raspberries on her stomach she would just gurgle and flap her arms and legs around, but this time she laughed, and it’s the loudest sound you've ever heard.

Alex looked down at her, completely engaged, not bearing to take his eyes off, scared to miss the sight. It gets him laughing too with tears in his throat. He leaned down again and blew more air against her tummy. She shrieks this time, giggling, and you want to capture the sound forever. Run and have Alex record it.

But you looked down at Wren and rubbed your finger against her tiny baby cheek, deciding that there was no need to move from this comfort.

They aren't easy babies. There are two of them too. They both wake each other up, which means both you and Alex have to get up because it's 2 v. 2 and they're small but mighty. They eventually get on a sleep schedule and a routine and trade-off between you and Alex is set into place.

By the end of the year, it's the new normal and you don't remember a time when they weren't around. You want to be with them all the time just like you want to be with Alex all the time.

They're great. But then they wake you up at 3 AM.

*

a/n: so...this slowly became a prequel to my dad!al fic and i decided to just finish it that way. i also have not read through it because i'm tired so any mistakes you did not see.

[razzledazzlebeach]

Daryl Dixon took awhile to age mentally

As I read more and more analysis about Daryl and rewatch some of the earlier seasons, I wonder if it was intended for his character to have some kind of age regression issue. (I didn't do, like, extensive research, I just looked into some CPTSD and age regression signs on a few different sites, so this is just an idea I'm tossing out in hopes of hearing some other perspectives!)

The first situation that really catches my attention is his reaction to Merle being left in Atlanta. Now, obviously, this would be an incredibly emotional time for anyone and it's not entirely out of place to just say he was very distraught over the news and anyone could have reacted the same way he did. I just think that the specific way he did might have some signs. If you think about a grown man, especially one who was raised in a very macho household, you would assume that their reaction might be to storm out or yell at someone. Although Daryl did yell, he also started crying and pacing. It seemed almost as if he was having a full-on meltdown. Some signs of age regression are meltdowns (Ranting, shouting, insulting others, threatening others, whining, angry tears, or getting physically violent) that ring any bells?

I couldn't find a gifs of that exact moment :(

It probably didn't help that the entirety of the camp was staring at him as all of this happened. Temper tantrums can happen because someone is scared/ashamed and can't regulate themselves. (Like sensory overload.)

Another thing that I want to kind of address is the way Rick responds to Daryl when he's having these sorts of meltdowns. Throughout the series, and in the third episode, we see Rick bending down almost horizontally just so he can make eye contact with Daryl. He speaks to him like he's a child, and instead of feeling insulted, Daryl actually takes comfort in it and calms down!

"I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic, do you think we can manage that?"

What is age regression?

We all know that Daryl was abused as a child, and trauma like that can sort of freeze the brain. This is a quote I really like that explains it: “It doesn’t necessarily make you stuck at a certain age, but instead, [you are] acting out the emotional wounding that happened at that age,” Lapides adds." People may start to regress because they are triggered or feel threatened, and an apocalypse seems like it would cause a constant trigger. Daryl might be reverting back to childlike behaviors as a trauma response. (honorable mention being the nail biting, but that's a bit of a reach) Shane being the way that he was could have also been a trigger for him.

One of the symptoms of age regression is overly clingy behavior. And you are probably thinking, "well, if there's anything Daryl has, it's not clingy behavior. He's a loner." I disregarded this too for awhile before I really thought about it. He is highly independent when he's doing things he's comfortable in, like being in the woods or going for runs. But when it comes to making decisions or being social, Daryl immediately clings to someone who he knows will do it for him. Most of his life he had Mere to hide behind. The most outgoing and shameless person alive. I don't think Merle ever asked Daryl his opinion on anything. He would decide, and Daryl would follow, and I think Daryl took a lot of comfort in that. So when Merle was gone, he latched onto Rick because he was the best choice. He knew Rick was a very righteous man who had plenty of leadership qualities. He knew Rick would make decisions for him, and give him directions.

Carol and Rick's mothering

Circling back to the way Rick would react to Daryl's outbursts, carol sometimes did the same thing. I know some people ship them, but honestly, at least in the earlier seaons, I got major mother/son vibes from the two of them. Especially when Beth died and she was trying to teach him how to grieve. The forehead kisses, the pookie nickname, all of it seemed to point in that direction. There was also another time Rick pulled the "Can we manage that?" move, and it was during Aiden and Glenn's fight in S5. He made sure to get low enough to make eye contact, and block his pacing. He kept telling Daryl that "We can't do this now." It all just looks a lot like he and carol are parenting Daryl, if only in moments where he is feeling intense stress and that trauma triggers.

Anyways, this was just a few ideas I was tossing around, and very clearly this in my first analysis lol, any thoughts?

[queenofthearchipelago]

Long Rant about the Watcher Thing

The thing about what's happening with Watcher is that I'm a musician. I understand deeply the difficulties that come with an artist making their art and needing money and the relationship with the people that art is for. So I understand that Watcher needs money to pay their employees and maintain their business.

That said, they revealed that they have 25 employees (half of which are nepotism hires and friends from BuzzFeed) and that one episode of Ghost Files costs "hundreds of thousands of dollars." (Ghost Files being their most expensive show by bar, not their average spending habits per Watcher episode)

I understand from a few people I've seen who are in their Patreon that they make at least 100k per month from the patreon. And then there's the money they get from youtube itself from the views. And then there's the money they get from the ads.

Now I understand that Ryan said this decision came down to primarily 2 things: the ad companies were making them feel stifled with what they could do (which they don't explain how), and they want more money to be able to keep up a higher production quality.

I'm going to skip past the thing about the ads. They never specified how the ad companies were making them change their content in a way that made them feel unsatisfied. I can't speak or provide any opinions on why they want so badly to escape needing ad deals.

But I can talk about the higher production quality they speak of and that's specifically because Ryan said that they wanted to pay for a higher production quality FOR US. "For you guys."

We... we didn't ask for higher production. This is NOT a decision they need to make on our account. I understand and respect if they aren't creating on they level they want. But it's odd that they're speaking towards not being able to afford their current spending habits, as if this is something we asked them to do.

I've read a lot of comments about this and I agree with a lot of you that it's odd that this decision to switch to streaming coincides with the return of Worth It, a show that when produced by Steven, seems like it could easily cost just as much as Ghost Files to produce.

I understand why it feels like this is all Steven's fault. His vibes in the video today, compared to Ryan and Shane, made it seem like he was the most excited about it. It's Steven that has been highlighted multiple times as the business man, the one who makes the financial decisions. It's Steven's shows on Watcher that get canceled after one or two seasons, meanwhile Ryan and Shane's shows just keep going to 5 seasons and beyond.

Shane even said it explicitly, that there are "shows that didn't do as well on youtube, that might do better on a streaming service."

But most of the fans DO watch Watcher for Ryan and Shane, they always have. Steven's shows don't do as well. When Watcher brings in a new host and makes a new show for them, those shows do even worse.

I know this upsets Ryan, he's been very vocal about wanting Watcher to expand beyond himself and Shane. He wants his company to be successful regardless of whether he's in front of the camera or not.

But I feel like this step is trying to force it. Right now, this is still Ryan and Shane's channel. This is why we're here. The people haven't latched onto Steven as much, and the attempts to bring in new hosts have been unsuccessful.

There are lots of comments floating around about why Watcher didn't do what Rhett and Link did and open up youtube membership. Or why didn't they host more live events. Or why didn't they do more livestreams. These all could have been fantastic ideas that wouldn't betray the fans.

Because I do think they forgot that their fanbase is largely women in their 20s. People are right in bringing up the cost of living crisis, in bringing up how many subscription services we're already subscribed to. And my heart goes out to the international viewers who can't access the website at all in their country and the ones who can't afford it because Watcher forgot to consider the currency difference.

I feel that they have betrayed their fanbase. I remember when Watcher started and Ryan admitted he was scared no one would watch. And then we showed up for them because we loved them and what they did.

But now most of the fans can't or won't follow them where they're going. And I think Ryan might know this too from the way he said If this is goodbye, it's been fun.

I wish they would have tried other things before hard launching a streaming service. I wish they would have had a long game plan to get to the place they wanted to be as a company and as creatives.

I feel betrayed but I also don't want this company going bankrupt. If they go bankrupt, then we truly have lost them forever. I hope they take a look at the overwhelming backlash, at their falling subscriber numbers, and I hope they reconsider doing this.

[doctorsiren]

Moth Psycho 100 AU

Something that I latched onto for mp100 is the moth imagery for Mogami. More than once is a moth shown as symbolism, but it’s also associated with Mogami more than once, whereas with the other bugs he’s shown associated as, it’s just once i’m pretty sure (even if not, moths show up as symbolism the most so uhhh yeah)

So @cupofchemicalchatter and I cooked up an AU idea :)

Mogami Arc happens as normal except for the very end. Instead of Matsuo catching Mogami’s spirit and trapping him, Mogami is able to go and watch Mob from afar like he said he would: “You made your choice, kid. I’ll keep watching from afar to see if you made the right one.”

At the end of the Mogami Arc, Reigen says: “Anyway, history has shown that no good ever comes from drowning in wealth, fame, or power. Think about it: Mogami let his own powers swallow him up too.” Remember this, as this is important for the AU I’m about to explain. 

And this will go into the next arc, the Separation Arc. The part where Reigen is in the alleyway under the streetlight with those moths above him always felt deeper to a level that it probably wasn’t supposed to be and by that I mean I was connecting it to Mogami’s moth thing.

What am I talking about? Okay well, just imagine the Separation Arc happening as usual UNTIL that moment. The moment where Reigen is in the alleyway:

Mogami had been keeping an eye on both Mob and Reigen, figuring that a way to break Mob was to use someone he cared about, that person being his mentor. So in that moment, Mogami had been possessing / using that moth as his vessel to watch Reigen. The moment that the moth drops dead and Reigen looks up is the moment that Mogami transferred his possession from the moth to Reigen, causing his sudden change. Now he is determined to “become somebody”. Of course, just like in canon and like Mogami did, he starts out by helping people out with their problems. He stated in the Mogami arc: “Mogami? Yeah, I modeled part of my work off him when I started this job.” Mogami stated that “at first, I used my abilities for good, giving advice and solving various problems.” Mogami was the “Psychic Star of the 20th Century”, with Reigen being the “Greatest Psychic of the 21st Century”. Mogami basically told Mob the classic villain thing of “we’re not so different, you and I”, but Mogami now sees that with Reigen as well. Despite the man not having powers, he would prove useful.

Reigen began “developing” psychic abilities. He thought at first that it might have been something residual still left over from when Mob gave him his powers while fighting the Scars, but he soon began to believe that he had dormant abilities that became awoken once he set out on “becoming somebody”. However, it’s actually just the possession from Mogami. He begins to realize that he doesn’t need Mob anymore. He can do exorcisms on his own now! So, he starts pushing everyone away…the people who would be able to actually help him out of this.

Reigen starts to hear a voice in his head. It’s Mogami speaking to him like he did with Mob, but he disguises it as Reigen’s own voice, allowing the conman to think that it’s his own thoughts. Reigen begins to separate himself from this “new” version of himself (which is just Mogami), but not in a way of “oh, these are bad thoughts” but in the way of “this version of me is my only true friend.” Since he’s being possessed, he’s not really thinking rationally. 

His reflection becomes a way that Mogami can communicate visually, while disguised as Reigen, of course. He speaks to Reigen, convincing him further that he doesn’t need anybody. Only himself.

His shadow also becomes a visual way for “Reigen” to communicate (because I thought that would be cool, kind of like Morgana in Ducktales 2017, or in The Princess and the Frog). 

The turning point for where things actually go south is the Supernatural Detective TV spot. When Jodo suggests that Reigen be the one to do the exorcism, instead of letting Jodo trick him, Reigen insists that Jodo go ahead with how the program was planned. In this world, the event is reversed. Jodo actually does the fake exorcism, since it was scripted, but then Reigen steps in and explains there was no evil spirit to exorcise, hence making Jodo the fool rather than Reigen. The host praises Reigen and the child reveals that he was acting the whole time. 

And then begins his true metamorphosis. 

Usually, butterflies are used to represent change, however moths go through that same transformation, but to most, they are held typically in a lesser regard than their daytime counterparts. Not really important, but I just thought it was interesting.

Reigen starts to spiral, becoming more and more of a corrupted conman. He isn’t assassinating people for money like Mogami had done, but he is lying more and more and more. The more he becomes corrupted with power, the more his psychic abilities grow (think Ritsu with Dimple and the student council stuff)/ The idea actually started out by me suggesting that as he gets more corrupted, he starts to cough out moths (sorta like an odd moth-based hanahaki, but having literally nothing to do with unrequited love and he won’t die from the moths. He just coughs them out because we thought that went kinda hard), but of course, he keeps telling himself (as well as Mogami telling him) that he’s fine. 

His powers (Mogami’s powers) are getting stronger and he’s taking out bigger spirits, taking on bigger clients, and becoming a bigger star. He finds himself losing consciousness / disassociating at times, only to wake up and find that he is stronger. It has become a little of a Jekyll and Hyde situation, but while Mogami has control of Reigen’s body, he uses it to consume evil spirits to try and regain the power he lost from fighting Mob. How we’re visually showing the possession is through a scar (like how Dimple has the red cheek spots). He got the scar under his right eye when Mogami exploded that one-way mirror in the Mogami Arc, and since Reigen’s technically being possessed during the duration of the AU (once that moth dies), the scar is visible the whole time.

In the end (we haven’t figured out when but we just know), Mob has to confront Mogami inside Reigen’s head, like he did with Minori. Inside Reigen’s head, it becomes blatant that Reigen isn’t psychic, although Mob’s sorta known that for a while (as it is alluded to at the end of the Separation Arc). But, Mob himself doesn’t want to acknowledge that fact. Reigen always said he had powers! Why would he lie? So although Shigeo knows the truth, Mob doesn’t see it. He pretends that it’s not true. He believes in Reigen’s lies. The student has become the master, in it that Mob is now lying to himself because he can’t bring himself to believe that Reigen lied to him.

After everything, Mob is able to separate Mogami from Reigen (but of course, not without everyone getting their fair share of trauma). The scar goes away, as he is no longer possessed. He’s back to being powerless, and now he knows that it was Mogami the whole time. However, Mob says that line. He says how he’s known that his master is genuinely a good guy, because it wasn’t on his own that he did all that conning and evil spirit stuff. It was because of Mogami’s corruption and influence. I think Matsuo would still somehow come across Mogami’s spirit and capture him, just so that it can come in handy later when he’s used in the World Domination Arc bc I don’t wanna mess that up lmao

Anyways yeah that was my attempt at compiling some frantic and excited discord DMs about this AU into something somewhat cohesive! Now here’s art for the AU, because I wanted to share them, but I needed to explain what was going on first!

This was the first one I did for the AU, when I knew I needed to draw something up for the concept of him getting corrupted and coughing moths 😄

And then the shadow and mirror thing (I LOVE the one of “Reigen” in the reflection oughhhh)

If you remember that post where I said I woke up and found I had written “twink controlling a twink” the night prior, this is what it was in relation to 😭 why did I call Mogami a twink very very late at night? Who knows. The important thing is that doing so altered everything and now he is one in my mind, so I can’t do anything about it. Don't ask why this page seems really fruity, it was like 3 AM and over a week ago so I don't know (/silly)

These were from when I was rewatching the Mogami Arc to pick up details for the AU

Moths have the patterns on their wings to mimic eyes, so there’s that inherent aspect of deception and lying. It makes the moths seem like a bigger threat than they actually are. (also I have him wearing Mogami's blazer and shirt)

And then just the moths and such with Mogami’s spirit

And me pulling a quote from when Dimple was explaining who Mogami was.

YEAH I just really love drawing stuff for this AU bc of the fun moth symbolism.If none of any of this makes sense, I’m so sorry. I just needed to finally post about this AU bc it’s given me brainmoths (like brainworms, but y’know)

We kinda came up with the AU backwards and filled in random spots here and there after the fact of our original conjuration of it, so I had to try and piece it together HAHA 

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 8

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: traumatic past, trust issues, cursing, very likely typos

Words: 1951

The One I Want Masterlist

You don't remember how you got to the couch. You don’t remember whose idea it was, or who guided who, or who first fell onto the cushions and pulled the other with them. Jake’s lips have kept you from retaining that information, not that it is of much importance, anyway. It doesn’t change that you are where you are, your legs draped over Jake’s thighs, your fingers woven through the ends of his hair, with his hand latched onto your hip. Your lips have barely had a moment apart since you relieved his concern with your smile and he went back in for a second kiss. Bodies have requested a few decent breaths here and there, but nothing keeps you separated for long. 

His kiss is demanding, but not controlling. It’s a kiss unwanting to break, but willing to do so if that is what you need. And his touch follows a similar pattern. Jake is not shy when his hand ventures past your hip, but he’s still cautious. The warmth of his palm sliding over your ass and pulling you closer is gently done, and when he travels up to your flannel sleep shirt and fingers dip under the fabric, he stops just after two knuckles are hidden past the hem. Fingertips grazing your skin are enough to cause shivers of pleasure, but they are still careful not to cross a line. 

You’re not actually sure if a line is there for him to cross, yet somehow you both know the possibility exists that it is hiding in plain sight. It might be that his touch an inch or two closer to your breast could ignite a panic response. His fingers playing with the buttons that hold your shirt closed or the tie that keeps your shorts around your hips could have you jumping out of his hold. And with such unpredictability, you appreciate that Jake doesn’t take that risk because you don’t want to stop this. You want to stay as you are, connected as much as you can safely be connected.

Jake has stolen minutes, maybe hours, from your morning—although, you suppose it can’t be considered stealing if you’re freely giving them to him and intentionally surrendering to the way he's making you feel. Any grasp on time disappeared long ago, but you couldn’t possibly be more content. In Jake’s arms, you have chosen to loosen your connection to the space around you and he has led you to a place where nothing else, especially not your past, matters. 

And you like it here, in this place. Every available reality suspends. Here, you are not damaged. You are not imperfect. A man like Jake wants you. You believe you’ll never have to leave this town because no one is going to say anything to you that will make it unbearable. Here, there’s the suggestion of a future. Here, you can feel your feet start to plant into the ground.

—

“You’re beautiful, you know,” he says. 

You stopped kissing some time ago and he’s taken to staring at you, scanning your features, touching your kiss-swollen lips with a proud smile on his face that says “This was my doing”. 

“I’ve thought so since I came through the front door and saw you standing right about…” he shifts on the couch to get the entrance of the apartment in clear view. With eyes squinting as if to find an exact measurement, his finger points to the spot where you stood the night you first met him. “Right about there.”

Your eyes briefly follow his finger. “I thought you were disappointed.”

“Oh no,” Jake chuckles with a light shake of his head. He looks down, almost as if embarrassed, and watches his hand run back and forth over your bare knee. “No, that certainly wasn’t the case. And Nat teased me for it immediately,” he says. 

Your brows shoot up. “Teased you?”

“Yeah,” is a long-drawn word. His lips curve into a smile and his eyes find yours again. “She knew I was gonna be a goner.”

When you try to conceal your blush by looking down at your fiddling hands, Jake’s grin widens. “Don’t hide,” he says, leaning over to tilt your chin back up with his thumb and index finger. “I like it.”

“You like what?”

From your cheekbone to your jaw, his knuckle draws a soft line over the pink shade of your cheek. “This.”

You would feel more self-conscious about the blush spreading to your ears and chest if not for the light rosy tint making its way onto his cheeks at the same moment. It’s a lovely shade that blends so well with his complexion and instantly confirms that what you saw at the bonfire was not a trick of the flame's glow. Your abdomen clenches with the sensation of velvety wings fluttering throughout your stomach, but the feeling disperses when a pang of something else hits deep in your chest. 

Jake is already so comfortable with his kissing and touching of you. Though he is thoughtful, he doesn’t hesitate or question what he’s doing. He holds on to you like he’s done it a thousand times before. Your bodies mold to this couch as if the position you are sitting in was imprinted into the cushions long ago. He somehow knows what you like; he knows how to kiss you like a man who has been studying you for years. It all comes so naturally—to you and him—that it teeters on the cusp of unreal, and is, therefore, slightly unsettling. 

Typically, you’re careful; more calculated in your interactions with people. You aim to avoid putting yourself in positions where you lose your sense of control, and yet, for Jake you let it all go. With Jake, you’re allowing the revival of parts of yourself that were slowly fading from lack of use, but it forces you to wonder if you’re capable of maintaining that freedom without him there to help you. You don’t want to clam up if he’s out of reach. You owe it to Jake to try to apply everything he’s given you so you can do right by him. If you hurt him from an inability to let yourself remain open, you expect you won’t find of self-forgiveness. 

You don’t realize you’re staring off into space, your eyes on an out-of-focus plant in the corner of the room, until Jake’s hand cups your face and his thumb begins to stroke your cheekbone. When you look up at him, the smile that at some point fell from his face returns and he leans into you. His fingers slide into your hair to guide your head closer to his. 

“Jake, this isn’t trouble, is it?” you whisper before his lips can meet yours. 

He pauses. Then with his brow scrunched in confusion, he pulls back. “What do you mean?”

“This.”

A palm returns to your cheek and that thumb restarts its back-and-forth motion. “You and me?” he asks, but his head shakes before you can answer. “No, we are not trouble.”

Your chuckle lacks full commitment. A twinge of doubt in your capabilities weaseled itself into your thoughts, and though Jake is rather effective at shaking it, you can feel remnants lingering in a place he might not be able to reach. “You’re so sure,” you mutter.

 “Yes,” he says in the limited space between you. “I’m sure.”

“How?”

When Jake sighs and shifts to rest his back against the couch, you know it is not from exasperation. If you could so easily irritate him, he would have given up on anything to do with you after twenty-four hours of you living in his space. Instead, it’s a sigh of contemplation. By the look on his face, your question is one he already has an answer to for himself. His extended thought is for your sake; an extra minute taken to piece together the most encouraging explanation that will help you understand why he’s so confident.

Your hand is encased in his and he squeezes. His stare matches yours. Intense. Unwavering. “Because,” he starts, “I more than thought you were beautiful when I first saw you. I wanted you, and I have wanted you every day since—you and me, just like this, right here. But I wasn’t going to do anything unless you felt like you could trust me,” he says. “And you said you do now, right? You trust me?”

You nod. Then he nods.

“We’ve lived together for months, and I’ve been deep in it, beautiful. Nothing you can do or say will make me think anything other than what I think of you now. So you’re not trouble for me,” he says, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. “And I swear I won’t be trouble for you. If you trust me, trust that.”

Your eyes sting and your nose fills with familiar pressure. There’s something in the ease with which Jake soothes your worries that is sickeningly overwhelming. Your method of relieving pain is, as it has always been, to flee, and after spending so many years doing so, you refused to entertain any other option. But this is Jake, and Jake is different. He doesn’t do the fleeing thing. He does the “I want what I want so I will figure out how to get it” thing. And what he has wanted is your trust, which he obtained by becoming exactly what you didn’t know you needed. 

Not wanting to fall into a mess in front of him for the second time in one day, you move your legs off of Jake’s thighs despite his noise of protest and scoot your body next to his to regain some of that control. 

“What are you–” he begins with a hint of worry in his voice, but you instantly silence him with the soft “hush” that leaves your lips as you throw your leg over his hips and find your balance atop his lap. Jake’s hands settle on your waist. They snake around your back and he tugs you to his chest. The awe that swirls in his eyes as he gazes up at you fills you with confidence, and you tuck a few loose strands of hair behind your ear before gripping his shoulders. 

“I’m going to kiss you,” you say. Jake blinks, gulps, and nods, both of you knowing that each kiss between you prior to this moment was initiated by him. “I’m going to kiss you, and after that, we’re going to stop focusing on me. We’re going to stop talking about me.”

“I like talking about you,” he says. One hand slowly runs down your clothed spine, over your ass, and along your outer thigh, then makes its way back up. “Can’t we do both?”

“No.” As you lessen the distance between your lips, Jake’s neck stretches up to connect the kiss, but you maintain just enough space to keep him from succeeding. “I tell you something, you tell me something, remember?” 

With his eyes glued to your mouth, Jake nods again.

Good, you think, because step one in your determination to remain open to him is being for him who he is for you—someone to trust. “It’s your turn to tell me why you don’t like to be alone.”

The heat of a hand finds the back of your neck. Fingers weave into your hair. “I’ll tell you anything you want.”

“What I want is to know you, too.”

Jake’s inhale expels as a soft sigh. His eyes pierce yours. “It’s heavy stuff, beautiful.”

“I can handle it,” you say. Then you lean in close so your lips can ghost over his. “Trust me.”

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @sailor-aviator @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @emilyoflanternhill @wretchedmo @shanimallina87 @crowsreadsarahjmaas @mamachasesmayhem @sky2nd @eloquentdreamer @jessicab1991 @rosedurin @averyhotchner @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @emma8895eb @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things

[szasfuckingwife]

SOUNDGASM

RICHBOY!EREN YEAGER x RICHGIRL!READER

WARNINGS: SMUT, Eren calls reader a slut and whore, swearing, Eren is a secret fuck boy, reader has she/her pronouns, no mention of reader’s appearance other than what she’s wearing

SYNOPSIS: Y/N is new to Marley, just moving a few months prior. Her parents are rich doctors and she wants to be a professional golfer. At the country club, Grisha Yeager introduces his son, Eren Yeager to her. As she teach him how to improve his golfing, Eren teaches her one or two new things..

A/N: it’s finally summer time, and this summer me and my friends are going golfing🤭 i hope i find my eren + soundgasm is such a summer song, reminds me of 2016 drake for some reason

It’s 1:25pm at the country club. The sun is shining, the grass was greener than the pockets of the people there. And, above all, a pretty brunette and a pretty blonde are in that field playing a good game of golf.

Eren has his club in hand, his eyes are on the ball. Noticing that he won’t get a good swing from that distance, he scoots himself back a few steps until he finally feels comfortable. His veiny hands latch onto the club a little tighter as he takes a deep breath.

“Are you gonna hit the ball or…?” Armin is tired of waiting. He’s been waiting for his best friend ever since kindergarten. Eren had to stay behind a grade? Armin was waiting. Eren had detention? Armin was waiting.

But waiting for his best friend to hit a stupid ball was so damn infuriating.

Suddenly, Eren’s club went sky high before he hit the ball, sending the white sphere flying over the sky. The green eyed boy whistled in satisfaction; he was getting better each day.

Eren turned to his friend with a smug look on his face, “See! You want perfection? Be patient.”

Armin rolled his eyes before the two heard the familiar voice of Grisha Yeager, Eren’s father and the CFO of a tech company.

“Boys! Get in, drinks are out!” He yelled, waving his hand to grab their attention but all they could see was the bling of his Rolex. “Oh, and son? Getting better!”

Eren smiled, flashing his pearly whites.

“Not better than me though.”

This was your first time at this country club since your parents moved states. Not only was it awkward as most of the girls your age played tennis instead of golf, but all the guys who played golf were…facially challenged.

“Sweetheart, smile.” Your mother spoke through gritted teeth. She had noticed your unusual (but expected) awkwardness even when you were driving to the club.

You looked at her before sighing deeply, “Everyone here is just…weird.”

“The girls play tennis. You know how to play, why don’t you join them?”

Oh yeah, join the girls that laughed when they saw my personalised club!

If anything, you wished your mother would stop trying to get you to have fun so much, because all it did was remind you how much fun you were missing out on back home. It was heartbreaking to say bye to genuine friends and say hello to well…the plastics.

“Y/N!”, You heard your father’s voice and instantly turned around to spot him. He waved you over, looking eager and excited.

“Why is he so happy? I’m scared..” You mutter at your mother. She laughs and pushed you to his direction.

You try not to draw as much attention to yourself as you walk despite your very loud father yelling your name. Upon arrival, you see Mr Yeager, your fathers new friend.

He’s also the man that prompted the idea to move states.

Your father enthusiastically put his arm over your shoulder, “This is my daughter, Y/N.”

You stick your hand out to shake Mr Yeager’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you sir.”

“Nice to meet you too. Your father tells me that you’re applying to U of M. What’s got you so interested in Marley?”

If you wanted to be frank, and boastful, you’d tell him that you didn’t apply but rather you got a scholarship. Whether it was nepotism because it was your dads alma matter or if it was your big brain and athleticism, it was the best offer you’ve gotten.

“I heard they do good Neurology courses. I wanted to go to university and well, to put it short, make sure I have a plan B.”, You reply, smiling sweetly at both your father and Mr Yeager.

Grisha nods in acknowledgment, giving you back the same smile, “What’s your plan A then?”

“Professional golf, of course.”

It sounds boring, but golf was one of those hobbies that just never went away. You remember when you were 9, going with your father to the golf course just to see what it was like. When your dad taught you how to hit the ball, you loved it.

As you grew older, hitting the golf ball became your outlet. Like that one time you imagined that it was your teachers head instead of the ball after she gave you a C in a test.

Where others prefer an ice rink or a race track, you prefer your club and the nice smell of freshly cut grass.

“Y/N reminds me of Jordan in ‘88 but instead of a basketball court, it’s a golf course.”, embarrassment filled your body as your dad bragged about you. All you could do was laugh at his strange comparison.

“Ah, my boy does some golf in his spare time. He’s not trying to go pro, I hope, but, he could definitely use some lessons from you if you’re that good. In fact…” He looks around, squinting his eyes. “Eren!”

Right then and there, you pray with every bone in your body that this ‘Eren’ wasn’t those boys you saw earlier. God knows what you’d do to avoid teaching them a single thing.

What came, however, was a surprise. And the surprise came in the form of a boy. Not too old, maybe nineteen. He wore navy shorts and an emerald green ralph lauren vest over a plain white tee.

His hair was gelled in a small bun in the back of head. You don’t mind though, since it gave you a better view of his chiselled jawline. You’re sure it could cut your mothers diamonds at home. His eyes were green. No brighter than the grass outside, no deeper than the vest he was dressed in but some odd mixture.

He’s hot, you thought.

Grisha out a firm hand on his sons shoulder as he introduced you and your father to him, “This is my second son, Eren. You’ve already met Zeke by the tennis court.”

As your father gets into another conversation about Zeke Yeager, all you can do is stare at the curve of his younger brother’s muscles. You wish that he lifted the sleeve of his t shirt ever so slightly-

“What’s your name?”

You looked at Eren, and he looked at you.

His smile was just so…genuine!

“I’m Y/N.” You smiled sweetly back at him.

After your fathers urged you to go outside, you find yourself next to Eren on the kart. He’s driving, riding across the beautiful field.

The sky is honey coloured, the sun slowly descends giving the lake a beautiful shimmer. You’d look at that view, but there’s already a good view next to you.

Eren finally stops the kart before exiting. The both of you get your equipment from the back of the kart and begin to play.

“So…uhh how do you like it here in Marley?” Eren says, grunting after he hits the ball. You stand there, semi criticising his swing, semi fawning over him. “It’s definitely different from Trost.”

You sigh, “Yeah, the air is a little different. And not too many people play golf here.”

Eren looks at you, chuckling whilst shaking his head a little, “Aren’t you glad you met me then?”

You have no idea how glad I am.

You stay silent, instead choosing to smile and getting ready to hit the ball. Eren whistles when he sees the height of your swing. “Where’d you learn how to hit like that?”

After a couple more swings (and misses from Eren), you guys sit in the kart.

“So, where are you applying for university?”, you ask looking up at him. He scoffs, taking a sip of his water.

“No clue. All these offers and all I really want to do is go to Malta ‘n relax.” You notice how careless his face is when he speaks. He must not care that much about his future.

I mean, his parents are rich enough that both him and his brother can live off them for as long as they want to.

You look down, not in embarrassment, but in awkwardness. It’s strange seeing parents not urge their kids to go to university like your parents and Trost parents do.

“What’s your plans?”

You explain how you want to become a pro at golf. Eren listens attentively but, he get’s distracted when the breeze washes over the both of you.

The hem of your sport skirts lift up ever so slightly and Eren’s heart begins to race. For the next few conversations, he can’t stay focused. I mean, he’s just seen the curve of your ass, who could?

As the conversations die down, you and Eren go back to playing golf. It’s Eren’s turn and if he’s lucky, he can get a hole in one. He does what he did earlier: pull his hips back slightly, legs apart, breathe and…

Eren swung and you swore you saw the ball fly into the stratosphere.

“Yeager, I didn’t know you were the athlete.” You chuckle, shocked that he was actually really good.

He shrugs, “I don’t try. I feel like it just comes naturally..”

You roll your eyes as you walk over to him, pointing the end of your personalised club at him, “Teach me?”

Eren licks his lips, trying to find the words to speak but, the look that you’re giving him makes him feel butterflies. “Yeah…come ‘ere..”

You begin with your starting position, y’know the position that has won you regional competitions and a 2nd place in national.

However, you hear Eren scoff. “Don’t know how you’ve been able to pull of holes in one with that position..”

Suddenly, you feel his breath on your neck as he moves your hand up slightly to your upper chest, brushing agains your boobs.

“I don’t want this to be awkward but can you move your hips back ever so slightly..?” Eren chuckles in embarrassment. You do as he says and move your hips back until you feel his crotch against you. “Now, practice your swing without the club…”

Eren was filled with glee as he felt your ass rub up against him while you practiced your swing. “Is this alright?”

“It’s perfect…So fuckin good..”

Your brows furrow and then you finally feel it. His hard cock almost bursting out of his shorts. You didn’t stop your movements, seeing the fun in making him more distracted. He was absolutely mesmerised seeing your ass go back ‘n forth on his crotch.

Suddenly, you stop, sighing with your lips tilted up into a smirk, “I feel like I’m ready now! Thanks for the hel-”

As soon as you tried to walk away, Eren pulled you back against him. You swore you heard his heart beating a thousand times per second, and his cock was still rock hard.

“I can show you a couple more tips.” He whispered in your ear, “Just gotta listen for me, yeah?”

You nod before Eren throws your club onto the ground and pulls you into the kart.

As soon as you both sneak into the lavish looking bathroom, his lips are on yours. Hungrily making out with you, not giving you a chance to breathe. He gingerly moves you against the wall, giving you more breathless kisses.

He feverishly pulls up your lilac polo top, exposing your stomach and sports bra. Nothing comes to mind as he starts to plant wet kisses along your collarbone.

You try to fondle with his dick through his shorts but Eren wouldn’t let you, deciding he wants to make you feel good before he does.

He sits you on the white, pristine counter, pulling off your shorts in the process. “Fuck, you’re so hot…”, he says in a shushed tone. You can’t help but moan when you feel his hands on you, especially when he begins to rub your clit under your panties.

He starts of slow, achingly slow. All you want is for him to ruin you, rough and hard. But Eren is a tease, he wants you to beg for him.

And, he won’t stop till you do.

Eren feels your slick on his fingers and begins to chuckle. You look so cute like this: a whimpering mess, bucking your hips against his hand. He smirks when he hears you mew small ‘Please, Eren’s and ‘it feels s’ good!’s

“You’re such a pretty girl, huh? You’re doing so- ha- so good for me.” He grins. You see him lower himself, peeling of your panties so he’s at face level with your wet pussy. “What do you want, baby?”

You looked at him with jaded eyes, “I wanna cum..”

He shakes his head, tutting. He looked so different to that sweet boy who cheered you on at the golf course. “Manners, princess. What do you want?”

As he repeats his question, he slides a finger inside you. You moan and it sounds like beautiful to the brunette. You try to regain your voice as he stares into your eyes, blankly as if he was bored.

“I want you to make me cum, please.”

He chuckles again before letting his lips meet with your pussy. Eren takes his time with you, you’re not one of those valley girls that he’s fucked dumb in the past.

You’re different, so why should he treat you like them?

Nothing could be heard in the bathroom but your moans and the sound of your wetness against Eren’s mouth. He lapped his tongue at your clit whilst he continued to fuck you with his fingers, smiling against your sex when your fingers rip through his locks.

“Taste…so good, Y/N…” He muttered. You were so so close, wanting nothing more but to make a mess all over his mouth. Eren knows, he can feel you tightening up. “Gonna cum?”

You nod quickly but just then, he stops.

“Eren-” “Shhh, turn around, show me that ass..”

You do as he says, bending over the desks as he marvels at the curve of your ass behind you. You feel Eren strike your flesh a couple of times in awe before he slides his huge dick inside you.

He groans beside your ear as he hears you gasp, “Oh my fuckk…”

Every stroke feels like he was going deeper, kissing your cervix. His hands traveled to your chest as he lifted the bra revealing your perfect tits. You moan louder as he pounces on your neck again, kissing and biting you whilst his fingers were busy playing with your boobs.

“You knew what you were doing when I was teaching you how to swing, hm?” He chuckles. When he sees you nod, Eren slaps your ass again. “Words.”

“Yes!” you cry.

“You knew that it’d end up with you like this, right? You wanted this.” He asks, earning another ‘yes’ in response. “None of your boyfriends at Trost fucked you like this.”

“N-no! No, they didn’t! Fuck!” You moan. He tilts your head so you can look at the mirror and you finally see Eren, topless. You don’t know when he took of his top, and you were too fucked out to realise. “Shit, you’re so deep in me..”

He smiles at your comment, slapping your ass once more, “I know, sweetheart. Look at you. You pretend to- fuck- be a good girl in front of everyone but now look at you.”

You feel his hand wrapped around your throat as he pulls you back. Eren’s cheek is against yours as you both look at yourself through the mirror. Now, he’s fucking you harder than he did before. Harder and faster.

“You’re such a slut, hm?” He kisses your cheek before speeding up his thrusts. Your moans are louder than ever as he continues to ruin you.

“‘s too big!” It’s scary how croaky your voice sounds. He kisses your crown before leaning your head back and forcing your mouth open with his fingers.

“Stick out your tongue.”

And after you did so, a glob of spit fell from Eren’s lips and landed on your tongue. “Good fuckin’ girl! You close?”

Mistakenly, you nod again earning another harsh smack on your ass. “Yes, I’m close!”

“Gonna be a good girl and cum for me?!” He asks, his thrusts are amazingly fast and Eren’s lips are on your neck again.

The sight of him makes you cum alone, sweaty forehead that makes his hair curl upwards, his toned body and veiny hands gripping onto your waist and his green eyes boring into yours.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” you cry out. When you reach your climax, Eren doesn’t stop.

If anything, he thrusts deeper, chasing after his own orgasm. Your whole body shakes in his touch as he whispers the most filthy things in your ear.

“This pussys fuckin’ mine now, you hear me? I’m gonna be the one that makes you a slutty mess. You’re gonna come to me when your horny, yeah? Anytime, baby, just say the word and I won’t wait to fuck you like the whore you are.”

Although you know you shouldn’t, you nod again, your voice is too broken to respond.

He pulls out and grabs you, forcing you onto your knees. Immediately, you let Eren put his thick cock in your mouth, fucking your face just as quickly as he fucked your pussy.

You feel his thrusts get sloppier as you finally see the white ropes of cum shoot out of his cock onto your face. He groans out so many expletives but you’re too busy finishing him off to hear, making him shake at your mouth still sucking him.

Once he’s done reaching his climax, the two of you look at each other for a moment before laughing. You both look a mess, Eren with his mouth red from kissing you so hard and sweaty from…well, fucking you.

You look like a real pornstar, Eren thinks. If it wasn’t for you very obvious ambition in golfing, Eren thinks you’d make a great model.

“We need to get back…” You whisper, “They’re gonna kill us since we left all of the equipment there.”

You stand up and reach down to get your clothes, he helps you dress and dresses himself. Eren takes a tissue and wets it with water before cleaning his cum off your face.

“Next time, I’ll fuck you in the kart. And after that, I’ll fuck you on the field.” He whispers, causing you to giggle.

[kyunzin]

Hey my love, I absolutely love your writing especially with the JJK men. But spinning off of that and only if you have time, could you write a fic where each of them (whom ever you chose) react to chubby y/n wearing a brand new dress they got?

𝐏𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲

character; 𝐆. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

cw; the price doesn’t matter as long as you’re happy (f!reader)

tags; chubby reader, public sex, slight voyerism (people can hear what’s going on), body worship/ oral mentioned (f!receivng), fingering, standing sex

a/n: thanks ☺️ and I’m always happy to make time for requests

✰ so what if he went a bit overboard in buying dresses.

✰ so what if it may have drained the money he just earned from his recent mission.

✰ why should it matter if he gets to see your bright smile as you walk out of the changing room with the the tightest dress that leaves nothing to the imagination.

he sits there in front of your stall watching as you walk out in a crimson off the shoulders short dress that barely covers your ass and outlines your figure perfectly. a pait of stilettos, a small shoulder purse and a thin black neck scarf to tie the outfit together.

“fuck me”

his hand is covering his mouth so you just barely catch the end of his sentence but you can still see the beaming smile from under his hand. this is your favourite one out of all the ones you’ve tried on so far so you hope he likes it too. “what did you say baby, and also what do you think of this one”

“dont worry about what i said, i think this is the best one you’ve tried on all day”

he stands up, rubbing his hands together as he walks over to you. you turn back around looking at the way it fits on you with a conflicted look on your face. “you really thinks so, I thinks it’s a little bit tight” not a moment later you feel his arm wrap around you as he leans down to press a kiss into the crook of your neck.

“it looks perfect on you baby, I promise”

it’s only a second later that you feel something poking into your back and you have half a mind to know that it’s not his belt and you’re sure he’s doing it on purpose to get your attention pressing into you further. upon realising you let out a shocked gasp “really ‘toru, we’re in public”

“cant help it baby, wanna help me out?”

you can hear the smile in his voice as he rubs up your sides and you cant say that you’re against the idea, but you’re a little nervous about being caught. “we have yo be really quite ‘toru or they’ll hear us.

he doesn’t wait a second before turning you around and picking you up, causing the bag to slip from your shoulders, bringing you back inside the small dressing room closing the door behind the two of you and you let out a surprised yelp when he pushes you against the cold surface of the mirror.

he holds you up by your plush thighs and even with your weight you have no doubt that he won’t drop you as he has proved multiple times that he’s able to hold you.

he long since got rid of your insecurities even though it may have taken hours of him spent down between you plush thighs eating you out and worshipping every inch of you body kissing and licking away any doubts of his desire for you.

your hand reaches to grip his hair as his mouth latches onto yours. after a moment his tongue darts across your lips pushing it’s way into your mouth, which you accept and moan into the kiss as you feel his fingers slide under the dress to pull your thong to the side and slide his fingers into your cunt.

the only reason he’s able to curl his fingers inside you with ease is because he had fucked you against the door before you left, pulling up your tennis skirt sliding your thong to the side for a quick fuck before you left the house. it’s like he’s insatiable, unable to keep his hands of you, fucking you on any surface he deems suitable not that you’re complaining .

hence why the two of you end up licking your way into each other’s mouths in a public space with no shame and it’s not long before you start to feel yourself cuming around he lengthy fingers only for him to quickly remove them. you let out a whine as you break from the kiss “fuck, no no no! please don’t stop. I was so close, why’d you stop?”

“you know you only get to cum on my cock baby, don’t forget that”

“then hurry up and fuck me already” he laughs at you impatience but works on completing you request by pulling your legs around his waist and you get the silent command and lock them behind his back so his hands are free. while he works on undoing his belt and pulling down his trousers you occupy yourself with sucking hickeys into his neck and collar.

you have to bite down onto his shoulder in order to muffle your moan as he pushes into you with no warning though he does let out a whispered growl as he sinks into your cunt. “oh fuck! a w-warning would be nice next time asshole”

he laughs at your irritation and lifts you up from his cock slightly before slamming you back down without warning again. the both of you moaning out a shared “fuuuck” at the jolt of his hips connecting with yours, the slap of your skin against his resonating in the small space.

you expect him to go slow but he does the opposite of setting a brutal pace, lifting and dropping you on his cock like you weigh nothing. the sound of your dripping cunt stretched around his thick cock circulating in the space, both of you panting and moaning out. he has to kiss you in order to keep both of your moans quiet not wanting to draw much attention to you two.

“oh fuck, your gripping me so fucking tight, taking my cock like a -shit! good girl, such a good girl f’ me arent ya”

you nod your head frantically moans to frequent for you to get out a coherent secret but he’s able to make out your little rambles of “fuck m’ gonna cum, don’t stop, please please please!” even without you saying it he can feel it by the way your pussy grips into his duck as he lifts it up. he’s not surprised when he hears your moans of “m’cuming. fuck fuck fuck!”

he feels as you gush around him and it almost sends him over the edge but he’s able to keep it with a harsh bite to your shoulder. he really wants to cum but he can’t because he knows that you would hate having to walk in public with his cum dripping out of you, he regrets not bring a plug with him to keep you stuffed, so he reluctantly pulls out after the waves of your orgasm fade.

“cant fucking wait for us to get home, lets go pay for these and leave”

he gently sets you down and the both of you work on fixing your appearance in the mirror though theres nothing that will hide your bite marks, not that there’s anything you can do about that. you change back into your original outfit and he picks up all the dresses you left hanging on the wall and opens the door leading the both of you out.

it’s hard not to notice the stares of the other customers and he cant help but smile knowing that everyone definitely knows how good he fucked you. the cashiers face is reddened and you notice that she fails to meet either of your gazes as he pays for the dresses, you hide behind him in shame and wait for him to finish paying before quickly pulling him out the store.

✰ so what if you hear people whispering as you walk past.

✰ so what if he has to walk through the mall with a prominent bugle in his pants.

✰ why should it matter if when he gets home he drops all the bags on the floor and fucks you against the door again and then fucks you in all the pretty dresses he bought.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@riowmie @tyunixia

[batboyblog]

2016 is often considered the point when leftism managed to get itself into the mainstream and became more popular, but I honestly can't help but wonder, given the sheer descent into conspiracy theory and selfish cruelty of the current state, whether in hindsight it was actually leftism's step into decline.

I've been thinking about this a lot, sadly I'm getting the start of a Migraine, so the edges of my thoughts are all fuzzy so idk if I'll be able to do what I think justice, but lets try.

The human mind doesn't really like complexity, it'd a pattern recognition machine built to find food and stuff that thinks you're food in the African brush. So we like to find patterns and lump stuff together, its hardwired in.

so "Leftism" I do understand what you mean, but I think it covers a really wide area.

and I think in politics we like to assign ideological and policy logic to things to political movements, it has to be about a coherent and rational ideology and world view we think. But... I think, often times it's emotional as much as anything. Did people vote for JFK or Reagan so much for policy as they, personally in their person, seemed to be the antidote to what was wrong in the moment? JFK seemed young and energetic when compared to an elderly and ill President Eisenhower, Reagan had the claiming aging leading man energy to make everyone feel like it'd be okay, a movie cowboy to lead us against bad guys we didn't understand while nice guy Jimmy Carter seemed stuck.

So back to 2016, I think there was so real ideology to start. The Left of the Democratic Party felt empowered after 2006, the left of the party had been against the Iraq War from the jump and that turned into the organizing issue that pushed Republicans out of power in 2006. A San Fran liberal, founding member of the House Progressive Cause was the first woman Speaker (and in favor of gay marriage too). In 2008 the Left of the party for largely emotional reasons sided with Obama over Clinton, even though they largely overlapped on policy and where there were (minor) differences she was to his left.

so riding high from two back to back wins, having gotten a lot of progressives elected to the House and Senate (like Bernie Sanders) progressive Dems were pretty let down by the real results, the ACA got bogged down and their dearest wish list item, the public option, which Pelosi fought for so hard, failed to make it into the final bill, and then 2010, a blood bath. And understandably there's been some frustration with Obama for not living up to the hype and also failing to really focus on state level races, Democrats got tarred hard

BUT! there's also an emotional side, Occupy Wall Street. I remember at the time being interested in it, I was young and more radical, but soon I got really frustrated because they had no demands, I watched every night MSNBC which was very sympathetic, but no one could articulate what it is they wanted, past a vague idea of "punish" the guilty.

I think there's a lot of restless frustration, some of it grounded and based in reality some of it not, in this country and its only grown over time as well as a contempt for and a break down of any kind of respect for experts and norms any anything established.

SO! I think that emotion latched onto Bernie and the left of the Democratic Party. As someone who worked that election I can tell you, at first knocking doors in New Hampshire, I got the taste of the very start of the campaign. And people would say "oh I'm voting for Bernie now, but I'll vote for Hillary in the general" but soon it went from friendly, from "we're pushing her to the left" to something bitter and angry. I had Bernie supporters tell me 1990s Fox News conspiracy theories around the Clintons, I had a Bernie supporter (in the general election) follow two college girl volunteers for blocks back to our office to SCREAM at us all.

Bernie won the New Hampshire Primary pretty commandingly that year, and partly because he had a strong volunteer network. But in the general despite many efforts we could barely get any of his regular volunteers to come work with us against Trump. I remember one lady who showed up just once and looked RIP SHIT! to be there, I think she said that all the positive stuff we said about Clinton, at a canvass launch for Clinton, made her "sick" and "don't expect me to say anything nice about her!" and she was one of only a tiny number of Bernie people who showed up in the general so she was better than some.

I remember the only Bernie Volunteer we got to become a regular. He'd knocked doors for months in New Hampshire for Bernie, organized his own phone bank into Nevada for their primary, drove down to South Carolina and spent the week before their primary knocking. Clearly a true believer, and when he decided to volunteer with us they kicked him out of the Facebook group he started and stopped speaking to him. I'll always remember what he said, that around the Bernie office they used to say that "a Trump voter was just a Bernie voter who hasn't been educated yet"

So I guess what I'm trying to say is, there were real motivations of the progressives and the left of the party, real policy based frustrations, particularly around how health care worked out, and I think Bernie Sanders himself was running because of that and to express that. But it tapped into something else, something not really political and much more emotional, rage and bitterness and a need to punish, the same energizes Trump taps into. It made a permission to be nasty to people you don't like, particularly women, I won't repeat the things people said on the phones, horrible.

now in 2024, almost 10 years later, there's a lot more depression mixed in, Trump talks about America as a 3rd world country all the time, there's just a vibe of having given up, hopelessness. There's a genocide and everything is horrible and hopeless and give up and die.

I don't believe in giving up, I don't believe in bitterness, I'm not a sunny person in real life, but I believe the point of politics, the politics I'm a part of, is lifting people up. It might be corny and uncool, but I believe in America, not that we're prefect, no, we're not, but together we've done great things, we fought a world war and went to the moon, and we can do great things together still always if we believe in each other, build each other up, stop being so afraid and weak and sad. I want to be beat fascism again, I want to go to the moon again, I want to beat climate change, and finally finally make the promise that all men are created equal REAL, and I don't believe in hiding behind walls, and crying that we can't do it any more, fuck that shit.

[localtelephonebooth]

Thoughts on Kieran’s relationship with Ogerpon as a previously obsessive teenager:

(I did not proof read this. I just woke up, had the urge, and now it’s here.)

Kieran, to me, is a very relatable character. He is a shy, and quiet teenager in a small town. He lacks friendships and possibly meaningful connections with those who do spend time with him. He’s probably isolated due to the fact that he lacks a phone. Any friends he does make are likely school based only. So, Kieran latches on to anything he can to feel less alone in life. And of course he latches onto Ogerpon. Ogerpon is just like him. A sad “monster” all isolated and alone in the mountains. I’m certain that Kieran has fantasized about meeting Ogerpon and getting into wild adventures with her. I did the same thing with characters I enjoyed.

Princess Luna, for example (sorry to whiplash anyone with that), was a character I heavily related to. She was alone and isolated due to her previous actions. She struggled with fitting in and having a healthy relationship with her sister for awhile. To say I didn’t form an obsession with a character who understood my feelings would be a lie. I think Kieran is the same.

He became obsessed with Ogerpon. He become obsessed with the ideas he crafted of him and Ogerpon. In a way, that fantasy was VERY real to him. So when we come around and lie about meeting Ogerpon, and inevitably become friends with her behind his back, of course he freaks out! We stole his fantasy of him and Ogerpon! And that’s the key point here that people tend to not realize. We didn’t steal Ogerpon from Kieran, we just stole his fantasy and made it our reality.

With my obsession with princess Luna (again, whiplash), if anyone said they loved princess Luna it was a fucking attack on me. Princess Luna was my best friend, and she could only love me! Everyone else was just a jealous thief.

As an adult looking back on this mindset, it’s horribly embarrassing. It’s a mindset I carried into my real life, when I actually started making friends, that ruined so much for me. I lost friends because I was so angry that my fantasies were not reciprocated. I really do think Kieran does the same. He grows sad and frustrated over what happened with Ogerpon. His fantasy is just a fantasy, and that’s fucking with him. So naturally, he finds a new fantasy to, hopefully in his mind, make a reality. And so he chose battling and winning against you. The thing we used to “steal” Ogerpon away from him (Even though Kieran technically suggested battling for Ogerpon, I don’t doubt he used it to rationalize why she didn’t want to come with him). To him, being the best battler will solve everything. Kieran will get his revenge, he’ll finally be recognized, everyone can’t lie to him because they fear or admire him, and he’ll prove to Ogerpon he was the right choice.

.

Now, I want to say something about Kieran. A detail that, for whatever reason, people don’t like to acknowledge: He’s just a kid.

I’m not saying “He’s a widdle baby. He can do no harm!” No, Kieran’s an asshole. He became a bully. I can have empathy for his emotions, but not excuse his actions. He’s a dumb and entitled teenager with issues. And, quite obviously, he doesn’t really have a way to deal with his issues in a healthy manner (seriously, his school is based solely on battling. Anyone who’s going or gone to a specialized school can understand how toxic people can get in that type of environment. And don’t even get me started on the incompetence of the adults in Kieran’s school).

Kieran is a teenage boy growing up right now. He’s got a lot to work through, and a lot of people he’s gotta confront about his behavior. He was an asshole, a bully, and genuinely a bad person for minute. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t growing past that. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve recognition for his growth. You can recognize someone has changed and not forgive them.

Kieran is a really intriguing character and holds a valuable lesson in obsession. And I really wish people would recognize that he’s not just an irredeemable prick or an innocent little guy. He’s a kid learning. He’s going to make really stupid and bad mistakes. Just like how I, and probably you reading this, did.

Anyways, hopefully we see him interact with the Area Zero buddies. I think those three have amazing lessons that Kieran can learn from. Maybe Kieran can teach them a few things too!

[prettyoddfever]

the "Ryho" mindset is still happening

I didn’t like how part of the fandom treated Ryan during the pre-split years. This might end up being a lengthy explanation but bear with me because it’s relevant to the modern fandom.

So it was a well-known fact in 2006 that Ryan was straightedge/sober (Spencer was too, but he got less attention from the media). Being straightedge kind of became part of Ryan’s image (here’s a random example) and a lot of fans really connected with that. Then Ryan got drunk for the first time at the end of 2006, and we started seeing pictures of him partying with friends in early 2007 before the band even went to the cabin. 

By summer 2007 Ryan was like a completely different person. I get that the drugs & alcohol probably helped him become more outgoing, but I also think he was just becoming way more confident & comfortable as he grew up. And SO many fans seriously hated the change. Fans still randomly criticized the other 3 guys, but that stuff seemed more like the regular small complaints that happen just for the sake of complaining when people are bored (ex: Jon’s beard existing or vanishing). The stuff about Ryan was very different in tone and there were some consistent themes throughout the last half of 2007: Ryan was too in love with Keltie, he dressed like a hippie now, and he partied a lot. Basically, he was changing. He was no longer the same person that he was during the Fever era.

It honestly seemed like many fans were angry at this new version of Ryan for taking the old version away from them, as though they had some sort of ownership. There was tons of drama over the fact that we were seeing lots of pictures of Ryan partying with various friends (some of whom posted detailed stories about their nights or how drunk everyone was). Some fans said Ryan was a hypocrite or a liar and tried to make him out to be an alcoholic, as though he’d personally betrayed them by destroying who he was "supposed" to be.

However, I think most of the complaints were actually rooted in something bigger: Ryan looked happy.

I felt like a lot of the younger fans had latched onto the idea of a shy, wounded guitarist who needed to be saved or *understood* or whatever… you know the cliche I mean??  That was the vibe that the media sometimes tried to give him during the Fever era, so even they knew it would sell! But now Ryan was partying a lot with a wide range of friends, was dating Keltie, had completely abandoned his Fever-era aesthetic, and seemed to be closest with Jon in 2007 instead of Brendon. He was “destroying” the static image of Ryan that fangirls had taped onto their bedroom walls.

I remember a decent amount of fans actually admitting that they wished Ryan would go back to being depressed. Like they literally wanted him to be unhappy & unsure of himself because they liked him better that way. Others accepted that Ryan was changing and were happy for him, but still thought his bitter lyrics were better. And then even if other people wouldn’t admit that they were clinging onto an old version of Ryan, their main criticism still seemed to revolve around the fact that Ryan was living his life, having fun, and being different than he was the previous year.

I saved one fan’s post because it summed up some of the complaints this year:

The nickname “Ryho” really took off in late 2007.

Obviously a ton of fans loved Ryan (and the kids who were bashing him still claimed to love him too). The petty criticism just became annoying to me. People slammed his new clothes, his new hairstyles, the way he carried himself or talked, his weight/body, his “creepy” fingers, and the “girly” things he told Kerrang he liked (pumpkin spice candles, vanilla milkshakes, his puppy, and Titanic). Even the kids who used to love Ryan’s mild arrogance were now holding it against him. A lot of the fans who were criticizing Ryan in the last half of 2007 jumped right back to being his “fans” once the Pretty. Odd. era got going and things were interesting again, but I guess it shouldn’t have been surprising that so many fans were able to easily switch to bashing Ryan once again in spring 2009 when he was changing yet again. It’s like they were so focused on what Ryan wasn’t doing that spring (ex: recording the third Panic album) that they couldn’t see or accept what he was doing: building a whole new life for himself in a completely different music scene with the new crew of friends he’d been hanging out with for a while (Alex Greenwald’s scene).

One of the things that stuck out to me in late spring & summer 2009 was how many fans felt rejected by Ryan (and Jon). Those fans had basically idolized prior versions of Ryan and were hurt to slowly watch him destroy all of that as they realized he didn’t want to be part of the machine of the music scene that the fandom still loved. That hurt translated to them lashing out in anger.

So you know how I mentioned that in 2006 part of the fandom liked the idea of a shy, wounded guitarist who wrote bitter lyrics and needed to be *understood * and saved? And they resented Ryan for destroying that concept in 2007 and taking away the Ryan that they loved? They wanted to view him as a static character and couldn’t accept that he’s a constantly-evolving human. This is still happening today. Some fans are still upset that the version of Ryan that they want was taken away (ex: Ryan left the Fever era behind, left Panic behind). Except now instead of resenting Ryan for the choices that he made, some modern fans have rewritten the past to blame external forces like Brendon instead. I've been trying so hard to wrap my mind around this for a while, so here's my take on it... keep in mind that this is just my own observation/guess. Ryan isn't very visible now, so people are free to project a lot onto him. I think that by blaming Brendon (who is the visible one left), people can still happily view Ryan as a helpless victim who needs saving, and never feel rejected or betrayed by his choices... then it's like Ryan didn’t actually want to leave them, and could still be the person that they need him to be. Idk I'm still trying to comprehend what happened to the recent fandom tbh.

I'm absolutely not saying that all of Ryan's current fans are like this!! It's just that some little bits I've seen are concerning because they essentially take away Ryan’s agency & erase him. Even on a smaller scale, I've still noticed how some modern fans focus heavily on stories that dramatize Ryan's pain & portray him as a passive victim, regardless of whether those stories conflict with reality. Like why exactly is that angle a priority? Some examples:

Camisado is for dancing

the "funeral picture" isn't real

Lollapalooza was a fun show

June and July are different months

Ryan participated in the stage gay

some of the Ryden stuff could probably qualify too

Keep in mind that I'm saying this as a fan of Ryan. I am genuinely happy to see that he has so many newer fans! But sometimes I'm a little concerned that patterns might be repeating and maybe some people are more focused on their own creation of a character/image than an actual musician who has had many many phases.

[mkaroy]

thinking about life series scar… what’s new…

thinking about desert duo because they break my heart actually. this is gonna get into au territory btw so like this is all my own canon but i must put it out into the world.

like how grian shut down scar in last life and they both went about their separate lives after 3rd life and scar kinda took that as “you didn’t mean that much to him in the desert as he did to you” so he kinda distances himself from grian a tad

by double life, i personally think that he had a little inkling that his soulmate was grian, but knowing he might not want that scar tried to go in an independent direction and leave grian to his own devices, and he’s so incredibly happy when he does realize that grian is laughing and giggling and OKAY with being partnered with him, AND THEN grian actually isn’t all that okay and starts cheating on scar and that’s when the wonderful method of avoidant attachment begins

another small note, have you noticed that scar (the character, again, this is gonna get confusing) often has a fake friendly persona that he shows off to most people, and often times it’s only his allies that he speaks his truth to. he has this disney like salesman persona who’s incredibly friendly and well rounded. anyways back to what i was getting to. he never truly trusted anyone which is why i think he had that persona, so when grian betrays him AGAIN, he just starts using that friendly persona on everyone, never truly making attachments to anyone

anyways this is all leading up to can someone write fanfic of grian becoming growing my concerned for scar in secret life. because what a way to round this out. grian is in fact the only person that really asks scar how’s he’s doing during one of the toughest parts of his life, and do you ever think that grian might be a little hurt that scar felt the need to give him diamonds to keep his secret even though he probably wouldn’t have told any yellows?? am i crazy?? absolutely. this is minecraft roleplay i’m talking about. like the entire time scar latches onto this idea that grian isn’t trustworthy, and that opening up his heart to people will ONLY result in him getting hurt in these kind of games??? but the entire time grian did care and put his trust in scar and thought scar felt the same and then REALIZED HE DIDNT IM RAHHHHH!! SHAKES YOU!!

also hey irls. ignore this. i’m not real.

thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[bekolxeram]

During this hiatus, other than rewatching S7 for cute moments that we missed and coming up with headconons and new fic ideas, may I suggest going back to actually read/watch/listen to interviews with the cast?

Certain more dedicated members of the fandom tend to overfixate on one single sentence or even word the cast uttered and ignore all context around it. Sure, some of them might came into it with an agenda (like many journalists did sadly) and confirmation bias took care of the rest of it, but at the same time, who has time to read pages of disjointed chat with actors improvising answers without full knowledge of the production side of the show?

I've seen people proving Eddie's queerness by this quote from Lou's interview with the Hollywood Reporter in April:

This alone has been interpreted all sorts of ways, from Ryan not accepting this storyline (which doesn't make him homophobic btw, he could've simply not seen Eddie's story going this way, or he thought he wasn't equipped to do this storyline justice), to Buck's LIs not agreeing to come back because of scheduling conflict, to the writers just thought it was more appropriate for Buck to be queer.

I'm not here to speculate anything, I'm just going to point out earlier in the same interview, Lou also said he always knew this storyline would be with Oliver:

I don't know what's going on here, Lou might have insider information, but it also could be him just speculating over Tommy and Eddie's quickly formed friendship. To my knowledge, Tim has never confirmed that Tommy's queer storyline would be with Eddie before it supposedly fell through. In fact, Tim did say once it felt like Buck's story:

And then there's Lou's supposed dislike of filming make out scenes:

I do agree with him that gratuitous scenes on TV are unnecessary. I can't even count how many times I'm watching TV with my family when a graphic sex scene comes on unprompted, and my family members and I have to try our best to pretend we don't see it. But he also said that he didn't like it only when it didn't add to the story. Like we saw in 7x06, Lou gladly rubbed his face into Oliver's because this is how Buck came out.

There's also the part most people skipped through when Lou talked about the 7x04 kiss:

Lou (and everyone involved in the storyline) doesn't want Tommy to seem predatory. I have no idea if it's a reference to a possible earlier version of the script with an Eddie bi awakening instead of a Buck one. What I'm getting is that Lou and Tim tried to avoid playing into the stereotype of gay men hanging around knowingly straight men just to get into their pants.

And boy was Lou right. If they went for a full make out scene, the fandom discourse would've been so different. Naysayers wouldn't have been latching onto bachelor party costume or daddy issue joke. It would've led to much more serious allegations.

I'm happy it all worked out in universe as well. As we've seen from the past 7 seasons, Buck has no problem getting sexual partners. In the past he tried having physical relationships with women in hopes that it would lead to an emotional one, he also tried intentionally holding off intimacy just because he thought it would get in the way of boding with someone on a humanly level. This is the first time someone picked up Buck's (unintentional?) flirting, decided to break the ambiguity (landing it like a good pilot), gave him a brief peck to test the water, and then left to give Buck time to process his feelings.

Not only was it okay for Buck, it left him wanting more.

And lastly there's the allegedly "Tommy is just Buck's gay mentor to test thing out with" thing:

But earlier in the interview, it was established that Lou said it as a response to why the other shippers should still embrace Buck and Tommy's relationship. He didn't actually know what would happen in the future:

[daylite-writes]

Ayo ayo!!! I got an angsty idea for ya!!

Imagine this:

The harbingers find out that the reader has a plot to kill them/the Tsaritsa. How does this go? How do they react?

And for even more angst;

Imagine if they were successful

(Songbird anon- New anon)

OKAY OKAY OKAY I LIKE THIS (also hi ur my first named anon!). I won’t be doing ���if you succeed in killing them”, since they’re dead and therefore won’t have a reaction lmao. I also won’t be doing every Harbinger here because that’s so many words omg. Probably will have multiple parts if ppl are interested.

Wasn’t sure if the ask was meant to be yandere, but this kinda is lmao. To varying degrees for each. Didn’t go too hard on angst but oh well

HARBINGERS REACT TO READER ATTEMPTING TO KILL THEM OR TSARITSA—AND IF YOU SUCCEED? (Pt 1, ft. Childe, Dottore, Arlecchino, Scaramouche)

cw: yandere, violence, referenced death, implied kidnapping, death of reader (in Arlecchino’s), etc.

Childe - mixed results

If you attempt to kill him? Oh baby. He lives for this shit. If you are strong enough to even get close? Well, his heavy panting, wide eyes, and red cheeks convey his feelings easily. If he wins the interaction, overpowering you and forcing you to the ground, he won’t kill you. He’ll probably let you up, let you try again—come onnn. Don’t tell him you can’t continue. You wanted this, baby. Try again. If you escape unscaved, then by god he’ll be thinking about this for weeks. Blushing, refusing to wrap the scars you give him.

If you attempt to kill the Tsaritsa, Child takes it very, very badly. One thing people forget about this man is he is not loyal to the harbingers, but he is extremely loyal to the Tsaritsa. Sentient abyssal creatures tend to latch onto an idea, a “purpose” of sorts that they will hinge their entire sanity on. Without her guidance he is nothing. He will fight tooth and bone to squash any attempts you make on her life. He takes on his Foul Legacy form to fight you, and in his anger, would end up either maiming or ending you. If you survive, he will make sure it never happens again (Read: mangling you). You just had to ruin a good thing, huh baby?

Succeed in killing the Tsaritsa? He’s either killing you, or dying trying. There is no way you’d both survive.

Dottore - Takes it pretty well

Attempt to kill him? How annoying. If it’s a physical attack, he’ll simply thwart it, pinning you down, tossing you in an observation cell, or sedating you. After, he’ll probably just reduce your privileges—less access to the lab, no longer allowed to go out without him. Be a brat, and he’ll put you on a leash no problem.

But… if you're clever about it? If you're slipping poison into his coffee, or setting up traps around his lab, only to greet him at dinner with only a strained smile when it fails? How fun. He’ll let it continue until he’s bored of it, ignoring your attempts. Honestly; it’s a little cute. He’s blushing a little bit you can’t tell with his mask.

Attempt to kill the Tsaritsa? He’ll stop you. Weirdly enough, he’ll only really punish you if the Harbingers or the Tsaritsa herself noticed. Otherwise, he’ll chastise you, leading you back to his lab with his thin, sharp fingers digging into the back of your neck.

Succeed in killing the Tsaritsa? Well… damn. You gonna eat that? He’s kinda turned on. This isn’t a dealbreaker for him, unless it really messes with his plans, in which case he’ll punish you for it later. An easy way to get out of trouble with him is to just gift him the Tsaritsa’s corpse. So thoughtful! He’s never had the opportunity to play around with the remains of an archon. Hm? What about overthrowing Celestia? He’s the second of the fatui harbingers, on the power level of a god, they’ll figure it out.

Arlecchino - takes it badly

Try and kill her? Her eyes sharpen as she evaluates you, panting heavily and on your knees. You’ve proven yourself a traitor, and a bold one at that. Something so bold, to her, indicates you are not an independently acting force. There are others you work for or with. After a moment, her face softens. “I’m hurt” she says, voice raw, “But I love you. Leave and never return.” You take the chance. You have to.

It’s a trap. Her subordinates—handpicked by her—are trailing you, stalking you. The moment your guard drops and you meet with your associates, she’s got you again.

The last thing you see are her boots, languidly walking towards you. The last thing you hear is her voice, barely cutting through the screams of your co-workers. “I suppose I should kill you. It’d be fair. But I am… selfish. Don’t worry, darling, you won’t go unpunished. This will be a fate worse than death.” The last thing you feel is her claws, carding through your hair.

Try to kill the Tsaritsa? You’re called into her office with little explanation what for. Usually, it’s empty. But there are Fatui by the doors. Scattered over her desk, is the proof of your sins. An attack against the highest of the Fatui. You can’t see it, but her heart is quick, and her throat tight. She opens her mouth to speak, baring her teeth, too white, too sharp. Her voice trembles a bit, almost minutely. “You understand what this means? What the collapse of the Fatui would mean for me? For my children? And still…”

It’s a death sentence. She speaks it once, lifting her hand to signal her children to step forward. She doesn’t do the job herself, leaving the room, letting the heavy wooden slam behind her.

Kill the Tsaritsa? She’s not there at the time. Still in Fontaine while your plan gets carried out in Snezhnaya. When she gets the news, she freezes. Hardly a few weeks ago, she found the will to break character for a moment to press a kiss to your cheek before you set out on the voyage north. She ignites the page as soon as she’s done, storming to her private quarters.

Later, when she collects herself, she’d set her assassins out, correspond with any remaining harbingers, and lay out a plan for the future. For one, painful night though, she mourns.

Scaramouche - Manipulatable

Try kill him? Oh god. The monologue. You almost wished he just killed you in response. The “fourth betrayal, at the hand of his lover, cruelest of them all—” it’s a long tangent, and your body hurts from the binds. Don’t tune it out though, because the moment he notices, a jolt of electricity tears through your body. His face darkens at your scream. How dare you ignore him—he probably won’t kill you, but your leash shortens considerably.

Whether you kill the Tsaritsa, or plan to kill the Tsaritsa it’s roughly the same response. It all depends on how you treat him after. Suck up, apologizing again and again, creeping closer and closer, until you climb on his lap, whispering how you only have eyes for him. You love him. So much. Press a kiss to his cold, doll-like cheek. Say after it was all done, you were going to run away with him—it’s your best shot. He may just stow you away, somewhere where his coworkers can’t get to you. He’d keep you to himself and tell everyone he disposed of you.

If you’re unapologetic, making it clear you didn’t care for him, he’d freak the fuck out. A very dangerous temper tantrum. At the end of it, you’re hardly conscious, laying on soft blankets, body throbbing in pain, you wince when you try to move. A hand, porcelain and cold, drags you down. Stay still, he says. You’ve been an idiot and gotten yourself mangled. By him, yeah. He couldn’t bring himself to kill you though.

~~~

So… much… and i didn’t even get half of themmm aaaaa

Anyways I really enjoyed this ask, but doing something for all of the harbingers is a lot, plus this is a side blog and I’m 6k works deep in a main blog project, bleh.