#being vague makes me lose time and clarity.

[cacaitos]

like i have like. 3? more or less rants of this calliber left but i never sit to write them down. that’s why im not a fan of many people following until im done and Normal.

[itacats]

Through Sickness & Solace (mini-series)

FT: Simon Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: being sick (fever), being dumb while sick and making it worse, passing out, scaring the metaphorical shit out of Simon, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: Since it’s flu season, I thought some of you might appreciate a little something to keep you company during your battle with the sniffles (and hopefully nothing worse!). Whether you’re curled up with a blanket, hot tea in hand, or just trying to power through, I hope this brings a smile to your face and a welcome distraction from the discomfort. Stay cozy, take care of yourselves, and get well soon!

SUM: A fever has left you vulnerable, and Simon’s worry is tangible as he battles his own fears while caring for you. When you collapse in the shower, he’s instantly at your side, his strength and tenderness becoming a lifeline.

Soap MacTavish John Price Gaz Garrick

Hot Showers

The room was a soft blur, dim light spilling through the curtains as shadows danced across the bed. Fever had its grip on you, pressing down like a heavy blanket, clouding your senses and blurring the edges of reality. Simon had always been a constant, a steady presence in your life, but his past loomed over him, casting a shadow that seemed to creep in at moments like these. You knew of his struggles—the pain, the trauma, the memories that haunted him. And in quiet moments, you saw the worry flicker across his face when he thought you weren't looking.

You wished you could reach across that gap, bridge the distance to ease the burdens his past had placed on him. But tonight, lost in the fever’s haze, you were the one who needed strength. The chill in your bones clawed deeper, wrapping around your spine as the fever rose, each pulse of heat making you shiver. Simon had been by your side all day, checking your temperature, trying to mask his worry, but you could see it in his eyes each time the numbers climbed. He was a soldier in a battle against the sickness that gripped you.

The warmth of a shower called to you, promising relief, a balm for your aching body. You’d promised Simon to take it easy, not to push yourself, but as the hot water poured over you, easing the chill, you felt a moment of reprieve. Your mind drifted, lulled by the comfort, until suddenly, the walls seemed to close in, and the steam grew too thick, too stifling. Dizziness crept in, and the grip on reality slipped away. You staggered out of the shower, clutching at the door frame, the room spinning around you. Weakly, you tried to call out to Simon, but your voice barely whispered his name before the darkness began to pull you under.

Downstairs, Simon’s thoughts had drifted, but the sound of your fall shattered his focus. His instincts took over, and he raced up the stairs, fear gripping his heart like a vice. When he found you, half-conscious and feverish, the worry that he’d tried to keep at bay flooded back in. Gently, he lifted you, his voice breaking through the fog as he urged you to stay with him, desperation clear in every word.

Each movement felt heavy, each breath a struggle, but you were vaguely aware of his touch, guiding you back to safety. Simon’s hands trembled slightly as he tried to lift you, but you were limp, your head rolling back against his shoulder.  Despite the fear that threatened to boil over, he moved with a precision born of years spent in the line of fire, but there was a softness too—a fear of losing something he couldn’t bear to face. Without hesitation, he filled the still warm bathtub with cold water, the shock of the chill cutting through the air, and carefully lowered you in, his hands steadying you, offering reassurance even as he fought back the fear in his throat.

The icy water jolted through your system, muscles tensing as it pulled at the fever, a strange kind of clarity beginning to pierce the fog in your mind. You became aware of Simon’s touch, his hands warm and sure, his presence grounding you in reality. Through the haze, his voice reached you, low and urgent, telling you to hang on, to stay with him. His words were an anchor, pulling you back, tethering you to the world outside the fever.

As the fever began to break, you took in the room, feeling a chill not just from the water, but from the vulnerability hanging in the air. Here was a man who had faced battles of his own, who had endured hardships that had left him scarred, yet he was here, pushing through his own pain to make sure you were okay. You realized, in that moment, just how deeply he cared. The weight of his worry, his love, settled over you like armor.

The night stretched on, and he stayed by your side, offering you sips of water, feeding you bits of crackers, each small gesture a testament to his steadfastness. His eyes never left you, a silent vow that he’d be here, no matter how difficult it became. Even in your weakened state, you’d never felt safer than you did in those hours, each touch, each quiet word building a bridge between you that hadn’t been there before.

As dawn’s light crept over the horizon, casting a warm glow through the window, you looked over at him, a soft smile breaking through the lingering haze of the fever. "Thank you, Simon. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Your words held a weight, a gratitude deeper than you could express.

A small, relieved smile spread across his face, his voice breaking with a chuckle as he replied, “Just promise me—no more hot showers, alright?”

Laughter bubbled up between you, breaking the tension, and for a moment, everything felt light. In that shared laugh, that quiet moment in the first light of morning, you understood that whatever challenges lay ahead, you’d face them together, one heartbeat at a time, each of you a shelter for the other.

Here's the current post schedule with some upcoming stories to look forward to!

[1moreff-creator]

hii!! so idk if you saw, but i recently posted a theory abt how xander and eden were survivors from a previous killing game.

you’re super cool and smart so i was wondering what you thought of it lol

(this sounds like free promo for my theory but i promise it isn’t)

(i just want opinions on it bc i can’t tell if i did a good job or not)

Hey there! Yeah, I saw it, and I think it’s a pretty good theory! I enjoyed reading it, your writing style is fun. Below are my full thoughts on it. For anyone else, please read the original first, this is going to be incomprehensible otherwise.

Also don’t worry about looking like you’re “promoting” your theory. It’s Tumblr, no one gains anything here, we all just lose. What would you even use the promotion for lol.

Also also you people have gotta stop giving me so many compliments it’s feeding my god complex /j

CW: Violence and blood, death, Danganronpa V3 Spoilers

[Background]

Admittedly, I don’t know how literally connected V3 is supposed to be to this whole situation, given the difference in the settings and the like. Especially since Teruko’s only mentioned remembering “that other killing game”, implying she doesn’t know about the 50 others despite vaguely knowing about the THH one. However, it is perfectly valid to bring up V3 as a meta point (which I think is what you’re doing?); the idea exists, so DRDTdev could have certainly taken it for DRDT. In any case, it sure is an interesting premise!

[The Survivors]

[Xander Matthews]

“[Post]: he has the personality for self-sacrifice.” True!

[For the sake of clarity, I refer to this scene as “the pre-prologue scene”, given that we see it before the Prologue title card appears]

““Them” could be the other people in the killing game. [...]

And, most of all, he says that he has to end the killing game. How the hell would he end a killing game without having been in one? (don’t answer that)”

I mean, solid reasoning! The idea that Xander was actively in a killing game while this scene happened has been thrown around, such as in my “original killing game” theory that we don’t talk about ‘cuz it was insane, because it’s a pretty reasonable conclusion to draw from the dialogue, as you said. For a while now I’ve sorta assumed that Xander was speaking of ending the killing game before it began, but there’s both semantic arguments to argue your theory and that one. The way Xander speaks in pre-prologue seems to imply the killing game is already underway, which is a point to you, but the secret David received mentions “The killing game is all your fault,” potentially implying there’s only ever been one modern killing game (“modern” as in, after THH). I think the idea of Xander actively being in a killing game in pre-prologue is stronger, though, I’m only bringing this up to account for all possibilities.

And “them” could be whoever so :p

[Xander Picture]

“When was this?

Why would he be in the same outfit, while having both eyes?

It makes sense if he was in a previous killing game, doesn't it?”

Well I mean. It could be. It could also just be from the time the cast (or most of it at least) was in the same Hope’s Peak class. Keep in mind all the outfits the characters were using at the start of the prologue are the same as the outfits they first went to Hope’s Peak with, as otherwise they’d have pointed out that their clothes changed between the moment they “lost consciousness” (the last moment of their memories, which is going to Hope’s Peak) and their appearance in the killing game place.

So, I propose that, seeing as it originated from LGI, this image could just be the first time David actually met Xander in person, or some other notable memory between the two of them. Of course, I have no evidence for this as much as there’s no great evidence for your take either. Basically I’m just saying this isn’t a very strong point in my books, but it’s not like I know any better than you what’s going on here :v

[Eden Tobisa]

“First of all, there’s the similarities between her handwriting and the handwriting of the note that Xander received. [...]

The T’s are the same, the E’s are the same, the A’s are the same. Don’t deny that it’s a strong, and the most likely, possibility.”

Uh… I don’t agree :v

I’ll give you the i’s and maybe the capital T’s, but I think the e’s and the a’s are too different for me to really consider it a possibility. It’s hard to explain this, so I’ll try to make some Paint diagrams to exaggerate the differences to get my point across.

-The T’s are pretty similar, but Eden’s have a slight curve towards the bottom, which the other note’s T’s seem to lack. In the diagram, you’ll find the recreation of Eden’s letters to the left, and the recreation of the “kill Teruko” note’s letters on the right.

-The e’s in Eden’s handwriting have a circular head, while the other note’s is almost triangular.

-Similarly, Eden’s a’s are a bit more circular than the note’s, which are sharper and triangular.

This all leads me to believe that the dev explicitly used different fonts for the two (assuming they dev used a text writing tool and didn’t draw the notes by hand, which I feel is a reasonable assumption). When coupled with the fact that Eden could potentially have been defending Teruko in pre-prologue (unless there’s more context we’re missing, Xander wanted to kill Teruko & Eden attacked Xander -> Eden didn’t want Teruko to die), I don’t think Eden wrote that note. Sorry :v

[Eden CG]

Now this is evidence of Eden being in the same killing game as Xander (of course, assuming Xander even was in a killing game in pre-prologue in the first place, which is as of yet unconfirmed). The CG itself heavily implies Xander and Eden were in the same place when the whole eye-fork situation happened, being that Eden is the person who hurt Xander before the pre-prologue scene (pre-pre-prologue?). If that happened in a killing game, then clearly, Eden was there!

“Why would the two of them have images of their past selves wearing the exact same outfits?

Oh, wait a second.

In V3, we see Rantaro’s past self. He was wearing the same outfit that he did in the killing game. And he was a member of a past game too.

And it’s not like we haven’t seen them in other outfits. Xander has been seen in another outfit in his bonus episode.”

I mean. As I mentioned, the characters probably just frequent these outfits, given they were wearing them when they first went to Hope’s Peak. The Eden thing is a bit more notable because, unlike Xander’s which could just be from any point of Hope’s Peak time, that image has to be from the pre-prologue situation. But the idea that she was wearing that because it’s just an outfit she wears often isn’t too far fetched to me. This isn’t a point against your theory, I just don’t personally find the outfits to be the most convincing point of evidence for it.

[Eden’s secret]

“Why is this secret so mundane? (At least in comparison to the others)

Wouldn’t it make more sense to say something about what she did to Xander?

Of course, that could just be because they didn’t want her to know about something she did during the missing year.

But it could also be because it happened during the last killing game.

That one’s a stretch but I just thought I’d put it out there.”

Well, you recognize it’s a stretch, and I agree. If Eden doesn’t remember the Xander thing, then the secret which would be most effective for her would be something different, and apparently she doesn’t really have many serious secrets outside of her sexuality. Keep in mind these secrets don’t necessarily have to be the worst thing the person in question did, as stated by Veronika in 2-13.

“Why specifically these two?

Dev didn’t have to post the colored picture of Xander.

It’s clearly important.

Same for Eden.”

Also not a point for Xander imo. Dev posts a lot of stuff that isn’t necessarily important, such as the Veronico Christmas comic or the “long hair style” images. That is to say, dev posting it isn’t sufficient evidence of something’s importance, you gotta find something important in the content itself to claim that.

And even if the image is important, it could be important in a different way. There is the whole “why does someone turn their back on who they’re talking to” caption or whatever, which could for example be trying to draw a connection between David and Xander in this scene and Mai and Teruko in the 1-6 dream sequence, among other interpretations.

But that’s Xander. I will agree with you that the Eden one is important because it appears in the main series and has a clear connection to the pre-prologue, though.

“Why would he say this?

Unless he knew Teruko in the past, of course.

My guess is that Teruko was named the mastermind during his game. Whether or not she actually appeared, who knows. But she was to blame (supposedly) (to his knowledge) for the killing game. And apparently, killer her would do something important.

This ties in to the note that told Xander to kill Teruko as well!”

I would actually argue that Xander in the pre-prologue doesn’t think Teruko is the mastermind, because “ending the killing game” and “killing Teruko” are two separate goals. If you assume that killing the mastermind ends the killing game (which is a fair assumption I think), and Xander believes Teruko is the mastermind, then what he says is “I have to end the killing game. And even if I can’t do that, I have to end the killing game a different way.” Doesn’t really track does it?

But “ending the killing game” and “killing Teruko” do seem to be aligned goals, at least, so it makes sense to think that Xander believed she had some sort of involvement in it, which is sufficient for your theory I think. Of course, this is very speculative, we don’t know a lot about why exactly Xander wanted to kill the girl.

Btw, what is Teruko’s deal in your theory? Is she another “sacrifice”, a recycled mastermind or traitor of some kind, or someone who was known to the participants of the previous killing game but didn’t participate until the one seen in DRDT? I feel like that ended up a bit unclear lol.

“Who do we think were the survivors of their game?

My first guess was maybe a couple of the AltDRDT characters, but I’m not sure.”

I mean yeah, there’s kinda no one else we can really point to lol. As you said, it’s a guess, so I’m not gonna bother you about the lack of evidence, but yeah. That is a lot of survivors, though, so I’m gonna guess that if this theory is right, the survivors of the old killing game are other people who are probably unknown as of yet.

Overall, a really neat read, and a fun theory! Pretty plausible, too, at least the idea of the pre-prologue killing game and Xander and Eden (and Teruko?) being in it. I disagreed on some points, but that’s only natural with highly speculative things like this. I thought the post itself was well written with a pretty unique style, easy to understand (even if I feel some points could have used a bit more elaboration, but that might just be me), so there’s that. Hope this was enough, thanks for the ask!

[ghostgirl-22]

To Be Loved by Everybody But You

18+ !NSFW! Explicit

Day 17: First time (I’m behind 😭)

To say he’s down bad is an understatement. He’s down horrendously. He keeps thinking it’s gonna go away if he hooks up with enough girls. Hell, it’s fucked up but he’s even fucked Arts girlfriend a handful of times just because she’s his. He doesn’t like her for him. She gave into him way too easily. He knows he’s a fucking asshole. But whoever gets to be with him has to be special. Art is so special.

And his real mistake was teaching Art how to touch himself in the first place. Mutual masturbation, led to kissing, led to dry humping led to whatever the fuck has been happening on and off during sleepless nights in their dorm room for years.

Jackson doesn’t look like Art. He’s shorter for one thing, Art’s about 6 ft tall, Jackson is probably 5’10. He’s decidedly less blonde, his haircut is entirely different, short, straight and spiky with gel on top. He’s hairier and he tans like an Italian. Patrick fidgets on his bed, tap tap tapping his fingers along the headboard. They’re in Jacksons room. His roommate’s always going home for the weekend because his family lives nearby. Kinda defeats the purpose of boarding school but whatever.

Jackson is cute enough, not Patrick’s type but he’s cute. He’s the only boy that’s openly out but apparently he’s hooked up plenty of times. “I don’t kiss and tell… but no he’s never asked me.” Jackson says when Patrick asks about Art.

“You’re nervous,” Jackson points out. He settles next to Patrick on the bed.

”I’m not fucking nervous,” Patrick lies. He sits closer to Jackson. He’s made out with him before when he couldn’t kiss Art. It doesn’t quite soothe the ache but it’s something.

”You look like you’re gonna vomit,” Jackson says dryly, he curls his fingers into Patrick’s hair. “I’m surprised you two really never fucked.”

“I told you—“

“Yeah I know what you told me…” he says. “I think it’s fucking toxic and if you don’t draw boundaries that’ll probably end up blowing up in your face.”

Patrick grabs him and pulls him into a kiss mostly to shut him up. They start making out on his bed. Patrick does what he would with a woman. If he’s going to be on top the way Jackson suggested then it can’t exactly be that different. He’s anxious though. He’s not drunk but he doesn’t need to be drunk to close his eyes and imagine Art. It feels good until Jackson makes a sound and then Patrick’s disoriented. He almost loses his nerve but his dick is so hard.

He’s just been fucking the wrong gender… if he can do this… the obsession will go away and he can be normal. He stops and sighs.

“You’re supposed to put on lube so it—“

”I know,” Patrick says.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Jackson says playfully, he starts rubbing Patrick through his shorts. “I’ve been waiting so long for you to ask me, you have such a big one.”

Patrick smirks. He hears it often enough that he’s really confident about that part… even if he’s taken down a peg by this being his first time and not Jackson’s. He tries to imagine what Art would say in this situation. He already knows what he’d look like… he’s watched him bend over enough when they play doubles. God.

“Okay so…” Patrick reaches for the lube.

“You want me to help?” Jackson asks.

Patrick wants to tell him he gets it and he thinks he gets it but he just needs a little clarity. “Do I put it on you? In your…” he gestures vaguely at Jackson’s lower half.

“I mean yeah, you can do it like that, I can bend over and you can put it on your fingers and get me wet. Or you can put it on your cock… or let me put it on it.”

Patrick shrugs, “I can do it… are you gonna…bend over?”

Jackson smiles, “I want to watch you do it. Then I’ll bend over.”

Patrick takes a breath, “fine,” he says and he eases his dick out and pulls a condom on.

Jackson licks his lips. Patrick laughs, “this is so awkward.”

“It’s hot,” Jackson says. “It’d be hotter if you let me put it on.”

Patrick gives him an amused look.

“I’m serious, imagine like you always do, that I’m your roommate and we’re just fucking around. He’s touched your cock right?”

“Yeah,” Patrick says.

“Imagine he’s putting it on you so you can fuck him,” Jackson says.

Patrick grips himself tighter. Imagining Art when he’s in that state, the state where he’s dizzy and horny and grinding his ass along Patrick’s erection while Patrick fists his—

“Dont fucking start jerking off,” Jackson laughs.

Patrick groans brought back to reality in an instant. “Okay shut up, let me—you should bend over.”

Jackson moves to get into position and honestly Patrick just wants the dark. “Can you turn off the lamp?”

“Better for your fantasy huh?” Jackson says.

Patrick sits up as the lights go low. The dim light from the hallway and moonlight between the blinds is the only illumination. Art probably thinks Patrick snuck into his girlfriend’s room. His girlfriend probably thinks he’s exhausted after practice and is spending Friday night messing around with Art. He hopes they don’t run into each other in the mess hall. It’s how his last relationship got fucked.

It’s still not perfect. Jackson is hairy where Patrick knows Art wouldn’t be when he grabs him and slides his shorts down. He steadies Jackson and tries to ease himself in. He hears Jackson breathing. It’s really, really tight, virgin tight but oddly enough he feels himself sinking deeper into the tight ring of muscle. He feels what must be clenching from Jackson and he groans. This actually feels fucking good. Different than pussy but really fucking good.

“Fuck you’re big,” Jackson gasps.

Patrick moves his hips. He wishes, God, how he wishes he could do this in Art. He’d probably be so tight. Patrick would have to listen to the whiny voice he gets when he’s close. Art would have the same comment, “slow down, Patrick”, “it’s too big, Patrick”, “do it again, Patrick.”

He’s gasping fucking into him. Jackson doesn’t get wetter but the lube keeps him slipping in and out and because it’s so tight and his brain is so fixated on Art he comes, what could be considered embarrassingly quick.

He isn’t normally embarrassed in bed but he feels it when he pulls out and Jackson sighs, with what sounds like disappointment.

“Uh give me two minutes,” Patrick says.

“Well technically I already…never mind.”

Patrick laughs and settles down on the bed leaning up against the wall. “Yeah okay, well give me two more.”

“Two more minutes,” Jackson sits next to him.

“Does it hurt?” Patrick asks.

“No, I mean, yours takes some getting used to but it’s a good hurt.”

Patrick nods, his eyes beginning to adjust to the darkness.

“You want to try it?”

“Yeah,” Patrick says. “Next time.”

“And he’s okay with this?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“So what? You guys do everything but fuck?”

“Look, we don't have to talk about him,” Patrick says.

“Isn’t all of this about him?”

Patrick sighs and slides down the wall.

“I’ve been in love with a “friend” before…it sucks.” Jackson continues. “Especially when it feels like your lovers.”

“He would never be okay with this.” Patrick laughs bitterly. “He thinks the kissing and stuff… he thinks it’s just messing around. Boys being stupid. And he acts like he’s grown out of it… now that he’s not a virgin anymore.”

“Yeah I know plenty of guys in denial. You should stop before you hurt yourself.”

Patrick hopes it’s denial and that he’s not gonna be kept away from Art forever. But until Art figures it out he can keep doing this to stave off the feelings. He’s never been good at self preservation.

“I think I’m ready again,” he says.

[saints-helen]

Hehehehehe

:3

Cw: sex

(crepic sex scene everyone! Wooo! These two are So sweet with each other i couldn't Not write one.)

(anyway this can be seen as a continuation of This or just its own separate thing, you decide.)

(anyway enjoy!!)

They laid there together, a soft shaky gasp escaping cross with each curl of epic's fingers.

"There we go.. there we go, pretty thing, stars you sound Heavenly, don't you? Doing so good for me~"

This never got old for him, the soft rolling of cross's hips, his squirming, the breathy, quiet moans that would escape him, the flush on his face and his eyes squeezed shut, features scrunched up in pleasure as he tried so desperately to keep himself quiet, and oh.. how epic just Loved to make him fail.

"Epic.. epic- Ha~!"

His eyes flew open, and epic didn't even have to look down to see which spot he'd managed to hit, he could Feel it, feel it in the way he massaged it with his fingers, feel it in the way cross's body twitched and spasmed under his gentle touch, the jolt and Gasp he got when he pressed down and rubbed firmly against it.

"Epic- Epic~!"

And oh, yes, of course, he could hear it too~

"Ngh, ha~ ah~ hn-"

And there go his words, he Loved this part, it never got boring, the way cross tried so Hard to keep his melting mind intact, desperately pushing the mush epic had pleasured it into back into a shape that was vaguely brain-like, to see the clarity leave his eyes as they got hazy and teary, his voice more whine than word, and stars did it turn him On.

"What's wrong lover?" He pressed his fingers up and rubbed, resulting in a nice jolt and a sweet moan of his name - garbled, yes, but epic knew him well enough by now to know what he was trying to say "cat got your tongue?~"

He kept his voice teasing on purpose, cross liked being cooed at, but if he did it too soon then cross would just get embarrassed and push him away, oh no, epic would have none of that.

Not with such a pretty tempting lover right beneath him.

He changed the tempo of his movements, and was quite delighted to find cross had pushed his leg up against him and wrapped it around his side, his head thrown back and writhing side to side here and there.

God, epic wanted- no he Needed, to see him fully naked one day.

So god help him if he had to force feed cross his compliments and make him swallow to get him and his pretty, ravishing purple ecto in sight then well you Better call him a farmer the way he'll make sure cross is nice and stuffed before "slaughter".

"Aww.. is my pretty thing losing his mind because of me?" He all but cooed, his eyes lidded and his pupils basically hearts at this point as he gazed at and fingered cross.

"I'm sorry, but I'm enjoying this too much~" he winked at him, his cheeks beginning to hurt from smiling so much.

God, he loved cross so, so much.

Dear stars above, what this man does to him-

"Mmn.." cross beat weakly at him, as if to tell him to shut up, and epic's lovestruck gaze only deepened at the adorable gesture.

"Cute~"

"Hn.."

"Mm.."

He adjusted his position a bit, burying his face in cross's neck and just breathing him in for a few long, blissful moments, the movements of his hand not stilling as he just.. breathed.

He's always smelled so good, somehow it seemed even more so at times like these but, that was probably just the high of endorphins.

He could get high on cross any day of the week though, but he liked to savour moments like these, cross never liked to do this too often, usually because he needed a lot of recovery time afterwards, if not a few hours then a few days before he fully went back to normal.

Epic never complained though, oh no, the extra cuddle time made him Giddy.

"Cross..." He purred out, pressing soft kisses against his pretty, Pretty neck.

"I love you so much.. so so very much, i love you, I love you so much."

Cross only whined loudly in response, both arms coming up, claws out, to dig into epic's back.

"Sweet thing.. pretty thing, so pretty, being so good for me" he never knew what other words to use for him other than 'Pretty', he did it too much, he knew, should switch it up but there wasn't exactly anything else that fit him More.

"I love you" he repeated, the lilt in cross's voice showing he was getting close.

Eh, cross was never into Too deep penetration anyway, he'll sneak off when he's sleeping and take care of himself later.

"I love you" he repeated again, lifting his head from its heavenly, moaning pillow to rest it above his head instead, letting cross have a turn to hide his face

"Love you" he purred, the words cross was saying - if they could even be Described as words anymore - getting higher and higher in pitch as he moved.

He was quite insecure about it, actually, how high his voice could get, especially during sex, often trying to deepen in no matter the occasion, coughing to hide his "mistake" when he accidentally spoke in its true cadence.

Epic didn't get what the big deal was. Well, he Did, of course he did, cross told him, and even if he didn't it wouldn't have exactly been too hard to guess, but he thought it was actually rather nice.

He thought Everything about cross was nice, and he was quite proud of it, too, glad to be the one with the most correct opinion in any room he walked into.

Shame more people couldn't see it, oh well.

A problem for another day.

He murmured a few more soft praises as he pushed cross over the edge, feeling his body Jolt under his own as he cried out, his moans Breathy as epic closed his eyes and rubbed him through it.

Once cross has calmed down, he withdrew his fingers, wiping them on the bed (he needed to wash them anyway), and took a moment to admire cross.

"Aww, i love it when you get like this"

His eyes were dazed, tears sliding down his face as he, with great difficulty it seemed, turned his flushed face to look at epic, and epic couldn't help a small giggle at the scene.

"Aw, c'mere."

He cupped his cheek with the hand that wasn't inside him earlier (cross valued cleanliness quite a bit), and brought his own face closer to nuzzle against his with a content sound.

Cross liked it too, it seemed, as he also closed his eyes with a soft sigh, relaxing into the bed.

"Mm, i love you~" he sing-songed, not bothering to open his eyes to see what cross thought of that, ha, oh no, his lover couldn't even Think right now.

"Cute thing.. i love you~" he's parroting himself at this point but who cared? Certainly not him, and certainly not cross, who was too busy burying himself against epic's chest to think about much else.

"Mm.. cute thing"

He settled himself down as well, feeling blissfully content, he'd always found Cross's pleasure hotter anyway, and oh trust him, he had more than enough of this burned into his memory, all nice and safe for him to access later when cross wasn't there. (He got too embarrassed, when he heard what epic did when he thought of him, and epic wasn't too keen on getting a pillow thrown at his face again)

He sighed contently, throwing an arm across cross's chest and sliding one beneath his back, settling in with his pretty lover tucked against his neck, already dozing off.

God, he was so pretty, epic was so lucky.

Stars, he loved him so much.

[hellofeternity]

ORV transcends language | how ORV is kind to readers (1.1k words)

the difficulties in analyzing text are already numerous without a language barrier, the way one word can mean 5 things and when you put it in a sentence suddenly it can mean 50 things and put that sentence in a paragraph? go further and put that paragraph in a page? construct a whole world around it, weave it into the fabric, and suddenly you are painting with words.

ORV is a daunting text, it calls and references so many mythos world wide, greek, roman, indian, chinese, japanese, it plays with meaning and intent and uses gaps in our knowledge like weapons, making us extrapolate our own meaning between the sentences, it is a tome of knowledge when it comes to histories and philosophies it feels at times like I will never understand all these things inside it.

One of the difficulties of reading a translated text is that when we analyze a text the authorial intent weighs very heavily in our minds, sure we can immerse ourselves in the world but once we start picking apart at the threads we hit a wall pretty soon when we start asking ourselves "what did the author mean by this?" however in a translated text there is an obvious gap, a game of telephone, did the translator actually capture the authors intent? or are we just reading the translators perception? sadly I don't know korean, and I cant say I have the drive to learn it, as such I know there will forever be a side of ORV that I will never be privy to - however I am bilingual and had the pleasure of reading two translated versions of ORV, an English translation and an Arabic translation, I didn't finish reading the said Arabic translation but a couple things stood out to me when I briefly did ORV is very kind to readers, following along in other stories can seem confusing at times, the pacing might be too fast and you might miss some details in a characters actions, the wording might be too vague and ah damn 20 pages later you realize you don't actually know why the characters are doing what they are doing. A big writing adage that you will see a lot is "show dont tell" and it holds merit, but ORV doesn't subscribe to it, because ORV shows AND tells. ORV built a world around readers and reading, and it makes sure that there is clarity every step of the way on what is happening, first by starting out as a homage to the isekai genre, and not deviating too much at the start, making the readers feel at home in a worldview they are familiar with, systems, leveling, videos games etc, and when it starts deviating it explains things with clarity that no matter how bad the translation is you understand the general intent, and secondly by being VERY blatant about the names of things and having a built in "story" system that is built on common story tropes and names the themes for you! take for example "unbroken faith" and "Blade of faith" both of these are two translated versions of dokja's sword. I will never know which one is closer to the original authorial intent, but I can tell you something, dokja's sword is symbolism to the faith he is wielding. (CH386 vague spoilers) or the entirety of "the great war of saints and demons" being about the concept of good and evil fighting and how kimcom aren't just above being good and evil, they are both. By using story tropes that we are familiar with to explain the complexity of situations in a simple forms you no longer have to worry about losing you readers understandings through language barriers. Every story in the world in every language knows what good vs evil is, every language has the words to explain them. and therein lies the beauty of ORV. But of course this isn't to say translations don't matter, it does speak to the strength of an original texts clarity when it accounts for the big things by making them simplified, but when we get down to the nitty gritty it starts to lose form take for example

"Tell me, you fool. If I continue to regress, will I ever get to meet you again?"

this person here has a great write up explaining the translators thoughts behind this specific line

but it has spawned a lot of debate in the English speaking fandom, as to the strength of its translation, I remember when I first saw someone claiming that its a mistranslation and "you fool" isn't part of the original, my first thought was "and so?" I do not mean to be dismissive to the original text, but I do not exist in a space where I can appreciate it in the original korean, I do not exist in a worldview where I can understand the historical implications of a lot of the characters, and even when I try to research it in English sadly the resources do not exist yet and its even more laughable to think of finding these things in Arabic. (Goryeos first sword doesn't have an English wikipedia page as a clear example) a lot of people have issues with the most popular English fantranslation of ORV - and I can understand why, being bilingual I have a lot of opinions on how a lot of things SHOULD be translated most of the time, and have done my own translation work but as I sit and think about this popular translation I cant help but just feel love for it, it might be lacking to some, it might be inaccurate at times to others, but its just enough for me to paint the gaps in the text with my perceptions, the words used are tied to my affections the Arabic translation of ORV is clunky, it is messy, it doesn't have as much grace as the English translation of ORV does, the words barely string together cohesively, but it has enough clarity, enough intent, and enough love for its readers, to catch their hearts, their attention and their energy

and so I want this to be the first post on this blog because, the author is dead here, not because I buried them, but because the tower of babel fell down a long time ago, and all we have is rubble and each other. a lot of the analysis on this blog will try to be respectful to the korean original wherever it can, however my words will be coming from an anglosphere perspective, and build on other English reader's perceptions of a text translation that a decent amount of people don't think is adequate, but just like ORV is kind to us, we can be kind back, I will quote the most popular version because its what connects us together, and while the authors intent might be lost, we can share our own meanings with each other, and build our own intent from the rubble.

[bluberryffxiv]

topic of the hour seems to be ardbert and his relation to the wol and its been making me ruminate on his relationship with bonana so lets ramble about that....but first i have to talk about mental illness. lol

so, the instigating action of nemona leaving home and starting her msq journey was her mom finally putting her foot down and forcing her to go to sharlayan, something shed been fighting against for years at that point. she did not take it very well at all, and in the days following she became a mess of anger and despondence and was pretty inconsolable, the world may as well have been ending for her at that point. which lead to her doing a lot of drastic and irrational things, one of which came very close to killing her

while she was unconscious she had a strange dream, in which she met another version of herself who acted very different. he was kind and gentle, and introduced himself as bonana (the nickname his friends used). he offered to trade places, promising to ease the burdens of life and carry onwards for nemona, stating that whenever she felt ready she could trade back

when bonana was woken up by sasabe, it was as if he was a different person. no longer moping around, he acted with clarity and made a plan. he realized there was a ship bound for eorzea, leaving before the one he was supposed to be on. so he made his preparations, cutting and dyeing his hair and donning a new wardrobe, essentially discarding his old life and making way for the one hed always dreamed of

from then on he was just bonana, the guy who was eager to help anyone and everyone, with only a vague recollection of a promise made to...someone. whenever he got asked why he did what he did this is all he would answer with, if he answered at all. to any aware of him and sasabe they assumed she was the person he meant, and she herself believed it too because he had also made a promise to her in the past (in reality he had repressed that memory because it was made after a very traumatic incident).

it wouldnt be until heavensward when he picks up dark knight that nemonas presence starts to leak through in the form of fray, giving voice to the thoughts and feelings bonana thought he'd left behind. and it happens again later with myste, this time giving form to the pent up guilt and grief he couldnt process. but neither time really stuck because he wasnt ready to acknowledge what he'd done

which finally brings us to shadowbringers and how this all relates to ardbert! at this point bonana, as a personality, is breaking down because he was something made out of a childs idea of a hero, and he simply wasnt built to weather the kinds of things he'd faced as the warrior of light, with the events of shb bringing him to his very limits. however, ardbert ended up being a very welcome presence because during downtime they got to talk and understand each other better, and bonana came to realize how eerily similar the two of them were. he ended up being the first person he'd confide in about his dissociative nature and poor memory, and ardbert genuinely seemed to understand

so just like the exarch, losing him after the soul fusion felt like losing a piece of his heart, ironically (keep in mind bonana is horrible at dealing with loss). ardbert became another bullet on the list of things that lead to his breakdown at the very end of the patches.

but now we know ardbert didnt completely disappear, and i think during anemone arc he gains a complete understanding of the situation, and wants nothing more than to reach through to nemona and her how much she is loved, as herself. literally im just imagining him sitting somewhere deep in the back of her head as this guy throughout endwalker, until the oddity nature of ultima thule finally allows him to help revive bonana

[snailofkale]

so its occurred to me that kirby hcs i talk about with my buddies so often that they don’t even need to be restated anymore and we’ve kind of just accepted as fact are, in fact, entirely noncanon and could do with specifying! specifically those surrounding Kirby, Meta, DMK, Galacta, and Morpho.

also this post is gonna be really bad and confusing im so sorries

THESE ARE JUST MY HEADCANONS!!

They’re being stated as though factual because it would be annoying to specify every time!

so, to start, they’re all the same species. i’m pretty sure this is a fairly common hc? specifically, kirby is a preadolescent child and doesn’t have wings YET, whereas the others are adults who didn’t have wings as children. normally i call this species “kirby” and its members “kirbies” but i’m gonna call them

orb knights

in this post for the sake of clarity.

orb knights live for many thousands of years. kirby is only a few hundred years old (~200) prince fluff is older (idk how much i haven’t thought about him that much), Meta (and DMK) are several thousand (i don’t really have a solid estimate for them, not over 15k) (honestly i hesitate over 10k), galacta is a few tens of thousands (i generally put him at 50k?) and morpho is at least a few hundred thousand. the time at which morpho was a child is so ancient that the only way to know about in detail it is to be that ancient

orb knights tend to get darker with age but this isn’t a universal rule. also, the actual hue of their bodies doesn’t typically change much.

the age of an orb knight (physically and mentally) doesn’t translate properly into human terms. meta knight is old but not elderly, if that makes sense. galacta on account of being sealed has partially forgotten that time passes at all so he has in a way transcended describable age. morpho has as well for reasons i’ll get to. kirby is not a baby. he’s more like ~10. the younger an orb knight the easier it is for me to describe their age, personally.

orb knights have a sort of built in awareness of their culture and traditions despite possibly never meeting another member of their species. its sort of like the world’s worst hivemind meets instinct, or maybe like vaguely remembering something you read 6 years ago and trying it out and it working. the most notable and visible aspect is the masks, which orb knights usually make not long after they grow wings, many describing a comforting sense of having someone telling them that’s what they’re supposed to do.

orb knights (and indeed, many species in the kirby universe) have anatomy only possible with magic. they have no brains, no bones, no proper digestive system, and no circulatory system. they’re basically just a thick somewhat squishy membrane with eyes enclosing a mouth that leads nowhere, keeping themselves held up and locomoting with sheer force of will.

the texture of their skin is extremely variable, going from totally rubbery (i imagine galacta knight is on this end) to, rarely, downright fluffy (none of our known orb knights are fluffy, prince fluff doesn’t count because he’s made of yarn.) (if he wasn’t made of yarn he would probably be fluffy though). i’d imagine kirby has a very soft peach fuzz feel, morpho is more like velvet, and meta is probably somewhere in the middle of those two.

orb knights don’t die from age. they sort of fade out of existence very slowly. morpho knight is effectively dead. morpho knight is also the grim reaper, but more importantly he’s dead. most orb knights do not become the grim reaper upon dying

when an orb knight is dying this way, they lose all their power. the only way to gain this power back is by fusing with an entity of roughly equal power to their former self. this fusion is temporary and will break down in a relatively short amount of time, leaving both participants mostly unharmed.

orb knights can also be scarred, injured, and killed (skipping the “ghost” phase morpho’s in). all of these are exceptionally difficult to accomplish. when kirby falls in battle, he isn’t dead, he’s exhausted. DMK’s mask scar indicates an actual scar.

alright thats all i have rn sorry for how long ghis post is

[silly-boio]

Well it's 2am after spring break and I gotta be up for classes in an increasingly frightened number of hours. My sleep schedule has been roughly fucked in the ass by me, of course. Is there anything better to do with this time than write smut?

So usually the stuff I write is intentionally vague in gender because 1. I'm attracted to every gender. 2. I wanna appeal to every gender (and make them all feel sexy cause y'all are). 3. I wanna avoid fetishizing anyone.

So, instead of that, I'm gonna write 7 mid-length smut posts. In-between horny shower thought and short fiction. I'm gonna use kinda neutral language because I wanna cast a wide net (see above) and I'm an anarchist, traditional gender can get stuffed. That being said I'm a cis dude, so I really don't lose anything by saying this. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(the language below all based on traditional gender shit for clarity, honestly I've just been stressing out too much about language, and this shit does not matter that much)

Anywhoosits, here's the list of smut.

- Male anatomy, presenting masc(ish)

- Female anatomy, presenting femme(ish)

- Male anatomy, presenting femme(ish)

- Female anatomy, presenting masc(ish)

- Male anatomy, presenting androgenous(ish)

- Female anatomy, presenting androgenous(ish)

- Indeterminate anatomy, presenting androgynous(ish)

So yea, I'm gonna do all 7 of these, probably in all different ways (top, bottom, fetish, etc.), there's a lot of different combos I could do, but this is really just a writing exercise and 7 is a cool number. So ye, gimme suggestions/motivation if you come across this.

<3

[peachym00]

Prying his eyes open to the light flooding in from the unclosed curtains in his room was not the worst way Pete could have woken up. Once, years ago, he’d woken up in the back of a car, the left side of his face throbbing from where his father had punched him for losing a match; it was still dark. He didn’t know where he was going or who was driving the car, and it scared him. He was only eleven.

As the grogginess faded to something more manageable, his head was pounding; a glass of water was on his bedside table, and he was only wearing one sock. Sitting up was a struggle; the pain in his head worsened when he moved, making him feel nauseous. Reaching out for the glass of water, he realised some paracetamol was sitting there too.

Huh. 

After giving some time for the painkillers to kick in and his brain to restart, he gets out of bed and into the shower. Standing under the hot water gives him clarity, so much so that the memories from the night before start flooding in. He was drunk. So drunk. In front of Vegas.

Fuck.

The thought renders him useless, and he drops a near-full bottle of shower gel onto his foot, yelping in pain, then wincing when the echo of his own shout hurts his head.

Vague flashbacks of Vegas walking into their conversation in the bar, saving him from face-planting and helping him to bed surface from the shallow depths of his brain.

“God, Pete, you could give me a hand,” Vegas struggled to take all of Pete’s weight as they walked towards his bed.

“Here,” he holds his hand in front of Vegas’s face, chuckling to himself while he does it.

“What are you doing?” 

“Giving you a hand,” Pete bursts into hysterical laughter as Vegas shoves him onto the bed.

“You’re fucking hilarious, Pete, really,” Vegas sighs, pulling off Pete’s shoes for him, “your comedic talents are wasted in the mafia. Do you need help getting undressed, or can you do that yourself?”

“You just want to see me n a k e d,” Pete teasingly spelt out, watching as Vegas stood up straight and put his hands on his hips. Pete tried to sit up but found he couldn’t manage it; instead, he settled for leaning back on his arms, slightly propped up.

Before he knew it, Vegas was leaning over him on the bed; Pete felt like he was going cross-eyed, trying to look up at him, “And what if I do?” Vegas murmured, far too close for comfort.  

Well. 

Suddenly everything wasn’t so funny anymore.

“You’ll have to use your imagination because the only place you’ll be seeing me naked is in your dreams,” Pete whispered back, proud of himself for being able to sound coherent. 

“And what sweet, sweet dreams they’ll be,” Vegas said lowly, his tongue poking out between his lips, wetting them slightly so they glistened in the room’s low light.

Pete gulped loudly. 

He was fucked. And that was putting it lightly.

How was Pete supposed to face him now?

[usagihoppu]

Being bipolar is so strange because it's like someone else pilots your life for months. Then you crash back to your actual self and your life's now completely wrecked, and you only have vague memories of why.

I feel like I've literally lived multiple lives. Not in the birth/death sense, but like I have periods of my life where I wake up and I'm hyperfixated on something I've never cared about or even liked.

Let's say for example it's being the best athlete. I spend literally all my money, no I'm not exaggerating, on athletic gear, I train, I make new friends/love interests, lose old friends/love interests. Then like a few months later I wake up and have this moment of clarity of "what the fuck am I doing? I don't even like this, why is my life centered around it?"

So you change back to a "regular" state, and lose those new friends too because the idea of being in that world sounds as fun as walking on glass. And then you just kinda...stagnate until the next one. Often times you actually crash into a major depression after realizing what you did while manic. And then as you heal, you find new interests to make "yours" and not the manic version of yours. Except the next episode cycles in and a whole new fixation on that starts. It all repeats again.

I've been a professional classical musician, indie coffee house musician, drunk and drug fueled nights rock musician, teacher, artist, photographer, programmer, podcaster, streamer, only fans girl, writer, mangaka, animator etc etc etc. Nearly none of these to the quality of someone who actually knows what she's doing. Probably the teaching and music were the only things I had significant success in. Enough to make good money and live on it.

It's literally like I'm an rpg blank slate and someone randomly picks up my character creator and starts a new story then gets bored and leaves halfway through.

I have pushed nearly all my friends out of my life in these episodes and I'm incredibly lucky that a small few love me and understand me enough to know when I'm sick and when I'm me. And they love me regardless and have stuck around.

Idk what I'm really meant to be doing with this post. Venting I guess. Just wanted to shout my thoughts and frustrations into the ether.

[mt-lowercase-m-derogatory]

{typical tumblr discourse disclaimer: trying for a chill vibe, I'm just taking an aside to peddle some of the nuance OP was talking about. This post was probably not addressed at whatever collagenopathy mutation "never before documented in the literature" I've got, and I'm not trying to imply OP wronged me somehow}

What is medically/legally considered "schwerbehindert" here might be different, but I really urge caution around thinking someone isn't severely physically disabled because they walk and move perfectly well using light/no mobility aids

Personally, in the health state when I actually present to the world, there are very few non-exercise activities an abled person could do that I cannot also do for a bit, albeit with some pain and uncertainty. The trouble is that something bad is happening while I do things or sit/stand upright for longer, and all I'm sure of is that it's not my respiratory or (probably) my circulatory system.

I'll be at a rare and cherished social gathering for a few hours, just seeming a bit loopy and dissociated in the latter half, then I'll safely arrive home unaided if the Vienna underground is in sight, not even using mobility aids! (I've tried a few but my physio found none to be safe for me). I'll manage to change clothes and go to bed, and then... I'll manage to be awake around 60-70 hours the following 7 days, mostly out of my mind with more brain fog than brain.

The only answers my doctors have feel more like questions: it might be an unrelated hypersomnia that just didn't show up on the polysomnography, it might be post-exertional malaise, it might be some kind of comorbid kleine levin syndrome, it's so odd that it's not POTS, it might just be a symptom of "whatever is going on, let's call it Ehlers Danlos Syndrome because that was the original diagnosis", or my blood-brain barrier might just not work right with whatever third-grade materials my body made it of.

And all I personally know is that... I have the full physical and neurological capability to move, I can manage the pain, I can manage the psychological aspect... But any given activity still comes at a high cost beyond all that, and neither any process I can observe nor any version of god damn spoon theory can adequately explain it.

It's more like my mind is a bottle of water, and every few minutes I stand upright is a spoon of milk dropped into it. I lose full clarity basically immediately, and then it just becomes harder and harder to tell how far I'm gone until I stop being able to talk fluidly or make decisions.

And this is not something I just realized when it set in - like any good child used to being gaslit about their body-wide chronic pain, I didn't even realize I had any health problems when I started waking up disoriented, unsure whether my alarms had rang already, with me having decided to skip school and go back to sleep without remembering any of it.

It was only with covid lockdown that the physical attendance I was forcing myself into naturally tuned down, leaving my "free time" lucid and awake enough to become sure that I had a health problem beyond migraines, with my first few doctor's just leading to a psychologist suspecting schizophrenia

... Lockdown might genuinely have saved my life. I- I hadn't processed that before now.

I think I had something more in mind about this vague group of conditions science is recently getting much better at diagnosing. Especially how the problem in figuring them out is that the causes (and the most informative and dangerous symptoms) are physical issues outside the brain, but the signs that cause most of the Leidensdruck (the pressure of suffering a patient's diagnosis and treatment is in service of) are more classically studied and discussed in psychiatric disability.

... But I've been trying to write a coherent tumblr post for 3 hours now and my brain is trying to erase all caches so I think I'll just hit post.

Also the term "severely disabled" is getting stretched pretty thin too, I see a lot of people who are like... talking about how severely disabled they are and how their body is rotting and they're a total lost cause who can do nothing for themselves, and then I look at their blog and they're like... a cane user or something similar.

I really hate to be like "that's not that bad" when someone else is suffering, but it makes it really hard to find people who are in a similar boat as far as being nonambulatory and who need constant care from others. It's taken me a long time to find a precious few friends who share those experiences and that I can relate to and it certainly doesn't make it easier when the definition of severely disabled is stretched so thin.

I really don't think it's helping the impostor syndrome some people face either. There are a ton of people who are in constant pain with mobility issues and stuff like that who are on the fence about calling themselves disabled at all because they see people talking about how their glasses that correct their vision to 20/20 are a disability aid that makes them Visually Impaired and Disabled and want to avoid looking or sounding like them.

There's a lot more nuance to this than I could put into words because holy cow I don't want to hurt people that don't deserve to be but also I want to be able to find and talk to people who are also disabled without sifting through 10,000 "I'm severely disabled because I need to eat microwave meals when I don't have the spoons to cook" people first. I don't have the capacity or ability to do that sifting, it's almost like I'm severely disabled or something.

[fell-contract]

fell-contract's 2024 Albums

#1: Romanticism - Hana Vu

Hana Vu has felt like some sort of well kept secret since her debut EP in 2018. Often oscillating between a variety of genres, her official debut Public Storage in 2021 synthesized bedroom pop with indie rock to establish a sound that was equally ethereal and industrial. This year’s Romanticism turns the dial further toward rock but uses the monolithic choruses on Public Storage as a foundation for a more ambitious project.

What has kept me ensnared in this album has been the opacity in which Vu communicates her themes. There’s the album cover, a reference to the famous painting Judith Slaying Holofernes that interprets her as the one under the blade, moments before a brutality she seems to welcome. Elsewhere there’s the music video for lead single "Care", an intense depiction of tragedy that encourages inference but also conjures a sense of dread and helplessness as she recounts the moments leading to her demise. This degree of uncomfortability seems inherent to Vu’s craft at this point, recalling the smeared scream of the painting on her mixtape Nicole Kidman / Anne Hathaway or the unsettling singles images for the Public Storage rollout, including the close up of her own open mouth on the album cover. What then makes Romanticism feel like an artistic breakthrough is the thematic consistency within the material. While she has received some critical pushback in the past for being too vague in her lyrics, she rectifies that here by zooming in on what we romanticize to give our lives meaning. Memory often bleeds into fantasy, with songs like "Hammer" detailing the self-flagellation that we administer upon ourselves in order to feel our penance is paid. Elsewhere there is the hope of a life given purpose ("Dreams"), the possibility of escape ("Airplane") and existential dread ("Find Me Under Wilted Trees"). This is juxtaposed with the romanticization of what we lose, whether it’s youth freshly lost ("22") or desire that calcifies into eternal longing ("I Draw a Heart"). 

Through it all is Hana Vu’s immense voice, oftentimes an eruption of feeling or a snarl of anguish. The most notable case here is "Alone", a song that effectively conveys the loneliness of screaming into an empty tunnel. Like the rest of the material here, she still anchors the song in melody. It’s a powerful means of capturing each strand of memory like one might capture a firefly in a jar to store on their windowsill. Every time I sing along to these songs I’m enraptured by the respective feeling, and despite this being my most played album of the year there is still that same intensity as on first listen. 

This is especially true of "Care", the best single of the year for my money. What begins as a fruitless exercise in frayed connection and the impossibility of want gives way to conviction: “All hope may die, but it lives on inside of me.” What could scan as overly earnest feels instead like a necessary declaration of hope. Instead of sadness, Vu invokes fury as her voice ratchets up the melody for the outro, relentless guitars syncopating every word with a newfound clarity that only comes when you finally let go: “I’m running from this world to the next one until I can find someone who cares.” Sonically it lands somewhere at the intersection of Sheryl Crow and Liz Phair, verses dipping into her lower register while she lets her voice soar over the chorus.

The way pain mutates into anger is the primary conceit of Romanticism, and it comes to a thematic apex on album closer "Love". Despite coming at the end of an album that spends much of its runtime examining the respective artist’s psyche, it’s still the most potent divulgence of the obstacles we impose to insulate ourselves from vulnerability. The chorus functions as both a confession and a plea to whom I imagine is a lover or a dear friend, acknowledging that there’s no way forward together yet no end to the love between them. Every line lands like a discarded conclusion to a story that should finish happier, yet it’s the reality of the inevitability that makes it so effective. Within this there is an implicit resignation that can’t come without letting someone close enough to mean something. “You know I hate giving up.” In that sense, it’s not the end of suffering but it is the end to its pointlessness. This is what ultimately sets Romanticism apart from other similarly tortured albums by indie songwriters over the years: Vu never wallows in misery, she excavates it in order to move forward. We’re often damned if we do and damned if we don’t. But fuck it, we have to at least try.

[stardust-in-my-mind-blog]

when conflict resolves

like glowing the lunar sphere collects the sunlight

to radiate on the nights of her fullest reign

I'm learning it takes time to absorb the energy

of the emotions that impact us and that move us

but first they have to move through us

like the arrows of eros or artemis and even apollo

emotions hit our life force and stay in our bodies

we have to grasp the hilt of the arrow

pull it out of us and let it bleed into the sea

of our hearts and just feel the burn of it

understand why it hurt and what it means

inside us so we can release it back into the flow

and if you never learned how to feel them

or figured those feelings hadn't even mattered

well, you'll find yourself full of a bunch of arrows

but each one you pull out and examine

understand and comfort with your attention

if you do it right the arrow loses its stain of color

becomes starlight in your hands

and if you're wise you can put it back into your quiver

so that should another situation happen where

someone is aiming their bows at you

you can either shoot back

or build proper fortification

or catch it as it comes and grin slowly at the adversary

know that the intention and impact

are yours to take and use how you see fit

energy is energy and once purified

can neither be created nor destroyed

it just changes form and if you attach to the emotion

it will change form no matter what so the loss is always there

change is the only constant so look at the color of that arrow

remember the pain and then release it

watch the color fade into pure luminescence

this is the power we have in our consciousness

and I've counted so many of these arrows

transmuted them because it's all I've known

but now I know what I have to do

and where to fire them and like the light

everything in my life has to change

and I'm finally okay with that

not with bravado or determined confidence

but with this sense of sorrowful peace

because even when you want something else

so bad that you can almost taste it

it hurts to change everything

even if it's change you desperately want

maybe that's the price of your dreams

you have to take this arrow of sadness

and see it and feel it and know it to heal it

soothe the heart that feels the little deaths

of everything you thought you knew

I'm looking at mine now and it's cyan

stained in a scarlet that is wet in my hands

but I took it with my arms completely open

chest vulnerable and eyes flashing

HIT ME IN THE FUCKING HEART I DON'T GIVE A SHIT

and the deity of justice grinned and took sly aim

didn't even count just watched me with interest

as the shot hit and I fell and screamed and jerked

with the impact I asked for but was shit at the taking

by the time I recovered my composure they were gone

and I did what I knew and jerked it out

patched it up and cursed as it got inflected

healing doesn't happen best in isolation

and so I'm changing my direction and heading north

whatever the fuck that means

taking hands and trusting in darkness and it's not fun

but not many would describe the spiritual journey as fun

I've touched whispers of future and I have vague impressions

that's all the clarity they really give you as you begin

but each step makes the color lighter and brighter

and so I know to take another and another

until I know how to go from lost to found

do the next right thing and move with inspired action

not the shy avoidance of the deceiving but powerful fear

it feels like being blindfolded while I'm trying desperately to look

anticipate or understand of do anything besides

just keep walking toward my own sense of knowing

but that's the game and you just keep going

breathe and release up hills both ways in the snow

at least I know it's going to be worth it

all of this headache and changing and moving

growing is supposed to be painful

that's why so many choose not to

so here we go

[danimia]

I think I'm doing pretty well on some of these at least! but I'm gonna think about each of them in order because I like lists when I don't have to write them and especially when someone gifts one to me.

I actually tend to have the opposite problem - I focus exclusively one one project up until something gets in my way for long enough that I lose momentum. And then regaining momentum becomes impossible because having to (for example) painstakingly force 250 words out of my brain in the same story where I used to let thousands just flow onto the page just fills me with the agony of "but I used to be so good at this". I really like the idea of "main project/side project" though - especially since I can make my current writing WIP be my "main" and my current software WIP be my "side". That way I'm not overloading my writer-brain trying to keep track of two plots at once.

I'm actually sort of doing that with this WIP! My rule is that before I can move on to the next chapter, I have to get the current one to the place where I'm happy enough with it to post it to AO3, and after I post a chapter, the only changes I'm allowed to make are edits for clarity (like if someone didn't understand what was happening in a sequence). I'm not allowed to change what happened in any previous chapter, so it forces me to yes-and with Past Danielle rather than second-guessing myself all the time.

Huh! I've never really tried this cause when I set challenges for myself, if I meet them I feel like I should have set a loftier goal, and if I miss them I feel miserable. I've never tried asking someone else to help me with it, though, and I always find it easier to do things that other people ask me to. Not to mention, having someone else set the targets also means that if I do miss a goal, the person who set it is a lot more likely to absolve me of it than I would be.

ughhhhhhh I don't waaaaaaanna do an outlineeeeeeeeeeeee Okay with that out of the way I honestly probably ought to at this point. Especially given that I just looked at the vague story structure that's been sitting in my head and realized that I've plotted things out to the third novel in a trilogy, despite only being four chapters in. >.>

Heh, I'm coming from the other direction—it's taken four years of unemployed depression (unemployment is likely to persist, but depression is slowly easing up) before I had the strength to write anything. My biggest worry at this point is how personal it feels; I've never written about my physical disability before, and getting crickets is hitting me in a way that none of my other projects ever really have. I feel like I need to figure out some way to isolate myself from my extremely-thinly-veiled-self-insert protag, but I haven't managed to yet 😞

Anyway thank you so much for responding ❤️ it's been a long time since I was active on tumblr and I definitely kinda feel a stranger in these parts, so it's really nice not to feel invisible.

Take your writing motivation dose for today:

You will finish that WIP.

You will find people that like it.

You will be recognized by someone as a living legend that you are.

It may not happen today, but it will happen. Stop the worries, stop the overthinking. You got this, you goddamn living legend.

[honeesucker]

Prelude -

Pairing: ProHero!DynaMight | Katsuki Bakugo x Puppygirl!Reader

Word count:  2,263

Series Content Warnings: Little bit of a slow start... Graphic Depictions of Past Abuse & Trauma Response | Profuse Usage of Pet Names / All-around Softness | Bakugo Experienced Work-Related Trauma (causing near deafness, being put on leave from the agency, PTSD) | Eventual smut™ (will be tagged in individual chapters - to include but not limited to KiriBaku, HybridxHybrid, Hybrid heat trope, sex toy usage).

*Not Proofread.

Next Part

Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t a fundamentally nervous person. Sure, even as a Pro Hero in the public spotlight under constant scrutiny and dissection by media outlets and fans alike he experienced a normal amount of anxious awareness, but he wasn’t nervous – not like he is now, with his right leg jumping up and down rapidly, rubber-bottom boot creating a soft squeak that filled up the sterile room of the Musutafu Hero Recuperation Facility. It had been just over a month since the incident that gave him nightmares and left him with such severe hearing damage that he was currently unable to perform even basic hero duties for his agency – which is why he is sat where he is now, waiting. Hoping the next steps are what could get him back out into the city on normal duty than having his medical leave extended. 

He was losing his mind being left to himself and his thoughts each day, being told by doctors he needed to be still, and take is easy, and he was only losing his patience each subsequent doctor’s appointment that left him no closer to returning to Pro Hero work. 

“Tch,” the blonde ground his teeth as the indignant noise stuck in his throat; he swallowed it down with a harsh gulp. His ears were ringing when the two doctors walked in, eyes unfocused as the room and people in front of him blurred in and out of clarity, everything around him sounded like it was underwater, and he hated it.  

“Mr. Bakugo,” the doctor continued, Katsuki refocusing his attention on the man’s words, annoyed and thinking that Mr. Bakugo is my old man, not me... “we have some support specialists working with the latest auditory data set we took from you and they are getting closer to having a solution to get your hearing back to where it was before, and keep it there – even possibly making it better if all goes to plan.” 

“In the meantime, it is recommended you follow the strict guidelines for allowing your body to heal itself naturally,” the other spoke. “You need to make sure you’re not exceeding the maximum limit for minimal exertion we’ve placed on your physical activity, so you have a better chance of getting back to your pre-incident status.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Katsuki sighed out, tired of hearing this same speech each visit. “Don’t overdo it, give my damn body time to heal – I got it.” The two doctors observed Katsuki with cautious eyes, but simply nodded their acceptance of his understanding. It was as good as it was going to get with him. 

“Another suggestion,” one of the two added. “We have provided you with an email detailing a program we’d like you to consider – your colleague Red Riot actually participates and could be a good resource for you if you have any questions about it.” 

“Please take a look when you have a moment and consider this a strong suggestion for helping you progress further in your treatment,” Katsuki eyed the two, irritated at the vagueness of the conversation, but swallowed down his disagreement and simply nodded. 

“Yeah sure,” his chair slid back with a jarring scrape as he stood, moving toward the door to leave, “I’ll read your damn email, but I want progress updates from the support nerds.” He didn’t wait to hear their reply as he pushed through the door and hurried down the hall. He hated hospitals, hated the itch of memory in the back of his mind at the sterilized smell that gave him goosebumps and had him picking up the pace to rush out the side exit before heading to the sidewalk to wait for his friend to come get him after he shot him a text that he was all wrapped up. Another annoying outcome from the accident and the resulting toll on his body – he couldn’t drive himself as it was deemed too unsafe for him.  

Bullshit. 

“Hey Bakubro!” Katsuki’s eyes snapped toward the boisterous voice, seeing his red-headed friend waving his arm out the passenger window of his car. Katsuki ripped the door open and sunk into the passenger seat, Kirishima avoided asking how this appointment went the second he saw Katsuki’s demeanor. The two men drove in silence on the way to Katsuki’s apartment when the silence was cut. 

“Doctors mentioned an email they sent me about this program,” Katsuki tested the water, being unsure what the program his doctors suggested he partake in he wasn’t sure if it was good to bring up with Kirishima at this moment. “They mentioned you’ve taken part in it before... Was curious what it’s all about,” Katsuki wouldn’t add the unspoken because I trust your opinion, but he knew Kirishima knew him and his nuances better than anyone since they’ve been side by side since UA. 

“Program...?” Kirishima wracked his brain for a few minutes until it clicked.  

The Hybrid Rehabilitation Foster Program.  

A program that matches people with hybrids who have been rescued from inhumane circumstances with a person who needs support in their healing journey, and who is believed will benefit from focusing more on rehabilitating another which has been shown to have equally beneficial results with the healing person themselves. Kirishima had first taken part in the program after he was put on medical leave due to a villain fight that nearly left him dead – his body and his mind took almost a full year to heal, and he nearly gave up entirely. On Pro Hero work, on himself... on life. His doctors had mentioned the program and Kirishima wasn’t sure at first – how would he be able to provide a good home to someone who needed stability and support when he could barely pull himself out of bed? He got matched with a wolf hybrid, TetsuTetsu, who had been rescued from an underground fighting ring, having to kill other hybrids just to be able to get locked in a cage alive for another day. TetsuTetsu was surprisingly positive and open for someone who had gone through what he did, but he still had issues – Kirishima slowly helped break him of his more undesirable reactivity and in return TetsuTetsu gave Kirishima a reason to get up every day, make food, go for walks... talk about things that weighed on him, and before he knew it, he was making strides rebuilding his strength with his new training partner. Kirishima still had TetsuTetsu living with him, and Katsuki had met him several times now, but Kirishima never divulged how their relationship came to be – just alluded to him adopting a hybrid in need. 

“Yeah! If it’s the one I’m thinking about it’s a pretty great program,” Kirishima finally spoke. “It’s a rehabilitation program for hybrids who were rescued from bad situations. They place them with a person who they feel would benefit from having something to care for while working on their own journey too.” 

“Tch,” Katsuki snorted out, “sounds like a pain in the ass waste of time.” 

“It’s how I adopted TetsuTetsu,” Kirishima stated out loud for the first time to his friend. Katsuki noted the stiff body language from his friend, knuckles white as they gripped the steering wheel. “When I was out on leave for that year after...” Kirishima couldn’t finish the thought, the memory still a sore spot. “I was out on leave, and it got bad dude. I really came close to just giving up.” Katsuki had seen his friend in a lot of lights, weak and strong – but Kirishima never revealed what happened after that incident that left him injured when he was on leave for that year. Never thought for a second his life came so close to not having that shitty red hair and sharky smile in it, never thought he’d ever have that brotherhood bond ripped from him. Katsuki swallowed hard, the lump in his throat the size of a boulder.  

“That bad, huh?” Kirishima just flashed a half-smile, watching his friend shift uncomfortably in the seat. 

“Yeah,” Kirishima sighed, “it got pretty bad. I was against the idea at first, not thinking I could take care of someone when I couldn’t do it myself but it’s amazing how your mind overrides itself to keep going for someone else... and having TetsuTetsu around really helped me get back on track to be back where I am now.” 

Katsuki had been chewing on the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowed into a concentrated death stare before he noticed that they were parked in front of his apartment building. “I do like that annoying rockhead,” Katsuki finally said. Kirishima just laughed and gave a gentle punch to his friend’s shoulder. 

“Just think about it dude,” Kirishima smiled, seeing the cogs turning in Bakugo’s head. “They provide a link to the rescue sight so you can see some of the hybrids they have in their facility right now – and look into next steps if you end up going that route...” Bakugo had stepped out of the car listening to his friends, and before shutting the door with a quick Later, dude Kirishima added - “it’s worth it Bakugo.” 

Slam. 

Kirishima just laughed, watching Bakugo enter his building before pulling away to head back home. Intending to text Bakugo later to see where his head is at and see if he wants to talk more in depth about the program. 

Bakugo made his way up to his apartment – opening the door and stepping into the genkan to slip out of his boots and into his bright crimson and black Red Riot house slippers – a joke gift from his friend but functional enough that Bakugo didn’t mind replacing his old ones with them.  He’d never outwardly admit it but he had a love for sentimentality even when it made him uncomfortable, and Kirishima always had such a shit eating grin on his face when he came over to Bakugo’s house and saw them still being used. 

Bakugo’s apartment was wide open, a minimalistic space with deep chocolate colored wood laminate flooring and a traditional shoji style wall, some actual shoji, and some just styled in a more traditional way with wallpaper and wood accents. The whole living room wall facing out toward Musutafu was made up of large windows that lead to a fairly decently sized balcony with a bonfire and patio set, and down a short hallway was the spare room that currently housed his office where he could complete some more of the menial work from home, and a pull-out couch for guests. His bedroom was an equally large, open space but housed a King-sized bed with plush comforters and pillows, a wall dedicated to All Might memorabilia he collected since he was a child and was connected to a luxury bathroom with a deep tub and natural rock wall shower that doubled as a steam room. 

Bakugo took his time getting showered, changed into loungewear and set to work through some of his most recent light work assignments, and finally his emails where one caught his eye immediately. 

Musutafu Hybrid Rehabilitation Foster Program, LLC <info@MHRFP.jp.com> 

To: Bakugo, Katsuki <explosionmurdergod@endeavoragency.jp.com> 

Tue, Nov 8 at 10:26 AM 

Hello Katsuki Bakugo, 

Congratulations! You have been extended a conditional offer of consideration for adoption as a part of the Hybrid Rehabilitation Program per a request from your medical team at the Musutafu Hero Recuperation Facility. Please note that this adoption offer is contingent upon the completion of the necessary online paperwork and tasks, as well as your attendance to the required hybrid informational seminars prior to the adoption process. Additionally, your offer may be contingent on screening results (e.g., background check, reference check), as applicable for the adoption. 

In advance of you coming to the facility, please follow the link below to complete required paperwork and tasks as stated above. You will also be redirected to our facilities availability calendar to choose a day to come in and tour the facility, speak with staff and begin the introduction process at your convenience. 

Thank you for your cooperation. If you have any questions, please feel free to contact the facility and ask to speak to the Managing Director.   

Best regards, 

The M.H.R.F.P. Team 

Bakugo stared at his computer screen for the longest time before deciding to click on the hyperlink that led him to the rescue facilities website. He was on autopilot as he filled out all of the personal information, required questions (both information-gathering and personal) and even wrote in his concerns in a concise manner in a provided box for additional comments before hitting submit and staring as the screen buffered with a loading wheel until it finally read ‘Thank you! A member of our staff will be contacting you shortly to confirm your appointment date!’ He didn’t know why he easily accepted this opportunity despite his growing hesitation, again unsure that he could or should be seeking to take care of something else when he could barely manage to care about himself beyond pushing himself into getting back to his normal Hero work... but a nagging feeling at the back of his mind told him this was something worth checking out. 

“Hell, if shitty Broomhead can do this program then so can I,” he finally said, shutting his laptop and heading toward his bedroom to sleep.  

Underneath the plush covers, in the darkness of his room, Bakugo drifted off into a dream of what awaited him upon meeting a hybrid.