#but now she keeps making these comments where it's clear she doesn't see my art commissions as real work

[practically-an-x-man]

It's becoming abundantly clear that my mother doesn't see art as a real career path

[firefly--bright]

knowing. (1)

jean kirstein x fem!reader, modern a.u.

summary ; to love someone is to know someone, fully, wholly, and jean fulfills this, wholly, knowingly.

warnings ; (not in this part but) eventual smut (this part is sfw!!), descriptions of religion as a concept

a/n ; uhhh smut in the next part (which is already written. hidden for now.) and it was my first time writing that and . well. you'll be the judge of if it's good or not but if it's BAD dw I'm never writing smut again. I'm gonna delete my account after that actually. thanks.

taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @ppushable , @raazberry , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes , @gojo-ana .

masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ enter my taglist! ✿

centre tile art cred to @bpepper_cn on instagram :)

✿

jeans mother always told him that love will come with time and patience. when he complained to her about loving too much, she assured him that one day, he'd be loved the same. he has to have the courage and time to keep doing it. he rolled his eyes then. but now he's getting ready for a new years eve party, an invite extended to him through eren by Connie. he raked his hand through his hair, looking at his closet, deciding on what to wear, with you on FaceTime, propped up on his dresser.

so why was it that he'd remember his mother's words now, out of all times? why was it that his mother's assurances rung out in his ears after he laughed at a comment you made about his closet?

or maybe he knows why. he just hates to address it. instead, he focuses on your voice like he always has.

"maybe if you had less clothes, this would be an easier decision." you say, your voice muffled by something you're eating. jean rolls his eyes and you can barely see it. from where you're set up, you can only see his waist, the view ending just above mid-thigh length from the bottom and cutting off at his neck on the top. you can see the tips of his hair and parts of his growing scruff and grey sweatpants. he knows this, but he rolls his eyes anyway and he knows that you know he's making that face.

"you're a hypocrite." he says, lightly scratching his cheek. he reminds himself to shave before leaving.

in all honesty, jean doesn't do this. he's always been the type of person to have his outfit picked out the night before, ever since he was a kid – the need to be too prepared just so he has a plan of action; options he could employ. but he was rethinking everything today, after seeing what you were planning to wear and how he wanted to match with you without making it too obvious.

Why? He doesn’t know. Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s too much of a coward to admit it.

he remembers the first time he did that accidentally. he matched what he was wearing with you and you greeted him with a giddy smile and your finger pointin0g to him and then yourself and he knew what you were saying without you even having said it.

he remembers how your smile made him reluctantly smile as well, even if he spilled ink on the maroon crewneck, and you made fun of him for it. he rolled his eyes but didn't have the heart to throw the cloth out. it was still there, in his line of sight, and he smiled to himself after catching a glimpse of it. he hears you hum in thought.

"what about that vest you have? the dark green one?" you ask. his eyes light up and he hums right back, appreciatively.

rummaging through his closet, he pulls out the knitted vest, holding it up to his chest. he nods to himself.

this could work. your outfit was the same shade, and if he layered it right-

"see! it looks perfect. you're overthinking too much, you'd look great." you say. he's glad you can't see his face and how flushed it was, the tips of his ears and nose warming with comfort and madness.

he clears his throat, muttering a small, "thanks" to you. you smiled brightly. he refused to look at the screen, not admitting what your actions did to him.

half an hour later, the call finally ended. he cut it unwillingly when you complained about there not being enough time to get ready. he agreed but didn't do anything about it for another ten minutes, letting you go off on a tangent that led to another tangent. he listened while laying on his bed, playing with the hair that lay on his forehead unconsciously. you talked with a smile on his face and he swore the brightness on his screen increased, he swore that you had swallowed sunlight when you were young, making everything you said meaningful. or maybe he was the only one who found meaning in them, soaking into your words like a plant waiting to grow.

or maybe he was the moon, shining off of your light. maybe he was meant to love you like this; with his love known but afar, seen but untouched.

that was the only way to explain it. the only way he could put his words into any fruition, the only way he could make it his, because this feeling wasn't his. he was used to loving people without them ever realising it. he was used to his love being messy and thrown around without any care, he was used to his love being everyone but his. but for the first time it was here, with him, in his hands that were reaching out to yours.

always reaching out to yours. it was the closest he’d felt to the reaching the stars. the world around him fell apart and it was just him and his love and you, afloat with hands reaching out to the others. always. Or maybe it was the fact that this was the only way he could describe it in a way that made sense. Maybe it was the fact that all other ways would be too plain, too simple. Maybe relating what he felt for you to something as important and all-consuming and divine as the stars he sought out in the city was the only way he could feel it be as important as it felt.

he got in the car with Marco at the back, waiting outside your dorm to pick you and sasha up, after which it would be Connie's turn. everyone had their designated seats - Marco in the middle of sasha and Connie because their presence together was something jean’s extensively loved car was not equipped to handle. and then you, sitting next to jean in the passenger seat with jean driving, and Connie complains about how you're allowed to choose the music but he isn't, and sasha complains how youre allowed to eat in Jean's car but she isn't. marco doesn't complain, but he does comment about the extra privileges given to you just because you "sit shotgun" with a nudge to Jean's ribs. jean rolls his eyes and says it nothing, tells Marco to shut up. Maybe he doesn’t want to address it.

he doesn't. even now, as you take your rightful seat next to jean, flashing him a smile, Marco notes how he'll annoy jean about his eyes wandering to you, how his mouth opens and closes, no doubt thinking of some compliment to give about how you look tonight. but jean ends up saying nothing, as always, and Marco notes it down to tease him for it later. it's a cycle; perpetual and routine but the routine provided comfort. it was predictable and it was comfortable because they were people he cared about. there was you, who was picking out 'the perfect song' (that only Marco would end up actually listening to) with a cheeky smile in the passenger seat. there was jean, driving, responding to Connie's jabs at how he's never let Connie play the music before and then there was sasha, who was rambling to you (Marco didn't know how you could possibly even pay attention to her and respond to her with Connie and Jean's back and forth, but you did it anyway) about that blonde guy she met at the diner the other day, and you gave her notes on how she should respond to his texts when she showed her screen to you with a panicked expression. marco smiled widely, crossing one foot under the other, getting comfortable in his seat. he was glad he met you clowns. jean glanced at him through the rearview with a knowing look. jean knew him long enough to know what he was thinking about with a small smile on his face.

"well then you shouldn't have lived so far away." jean mutters, his argument with connie pulling his focus back to the moment.

"what does that have anything to do with this?" Connie asks, grabbing the back of jean's seat.

"hey! careful with that, that costed more money than-"

"I'll lick the goddamn thing if you don't tell me what it meant." Connie said, removing his hand from the seat and folding them on his chest.

“yeah? Do it, you shameless cu-“

"and then, he said... wait let me scroll up. he's so cute," sasha says, looking at her phone in her hands, scrolling through her messages with niccolo. marco stole a glance at her phone. "oh! there it is!" she says, showing the phone to marco before passing it on to you.

"you should go for it sash. shoot your shot," Marco said, looking at sasha's flushed face under the dim passing of the streetlights outside. she looked good today, sparkly eyeshadow highlighting the browns of her eyes, a baby blue dress and pearl accessories to go with it. you took a while reading the texts, scrolling down to the current chat where sasha had typed out, 'see you there!!! I'm wearing blue! :)'

"oh my god, sash, this is adorable. i agree with mar, you should go for it." you say, and sasha takes comfort in the nicknames you used for her and marco. Predictable of you to use, really. It was only a shorter version of their names, nothing creative, but it felt comfortable when you said it. It felt more like it was yours, that they were yours to make short and say without hesitation.

"really? i mean, I am sorta old fashioned in a way. i want him to ask me first," sasha says, sighing and leaning on Marco's shoulder. "but I do also want to speed up the process." she says. you hum. marco puts his head on top of Sasha's and she thinks, amongst many other things, how glad she is about the fact that you're here. that she met you and marco and jean this year and about how she had always dreamed of friends that felt like family like in the T.V. shows she used to watch, sitcoms with their own openings and closings, inside jokes that kept repeating until it became a comfortable thrum of predictable but bright laughter.

"i think you should go for it first. he seems like the guy who'd bring you flowers and stuff. besides, I think he really really likes you. I mean, the way he looks at you, sash-" you start, putting a hand over your chest. jean glances at you not so discreetly while waiting at a stoplight.

your face is lit up under the usual red stop light; an everyday feature, something jean has come across uncountable times, but jean looks at you like you've been casted in the sun and sasha blinks. if that's the way nicolo looks at her then she may have a chance.

"alright. I'll go for it." she says with resolve, clapping her hands together. you smile back at her, looking at marco, neck straining with effort, stretching to look over your shoulder so your eyes could meet his. "do you like this song?" you ask. marco smiles and nods - a cycle. Predictable. Comfort.

the five of you reach yeager's house in about ten minutes of the same cycle, the same perpetuality. jean opens the door for you, and marco stretches as he gets out, wringing his hands after being cramped. sasha adjusted her dress. Connie exits last, closing the door loudly.

"don't close the door that hard, dumbass." jean says, waving a hand through his hair, crouching down to look at the side mirror to get his hair just how he liked it. sasha asks you if her lipstick is okay and you tell her she looks perfect and has nothing to worry about, holding her cheeks in your hands. she smiles into them, giving you a hug that leads jean to stabilize you, abandoning his view in the mirror in favour of placing his hand near your shoulders gently.

his hands don't leave that place until youre inside the house and you have to pretend it doesn't affect you. it shouldn't. it really shouldnt send a large shiver down your spine, the touch making your bones relax and melt and be remade again. you wish he did that more often - let his hand sink into your skin. You wish he made it a routine, a second nature. Muscle memory. Your tendons would shape around his, and the comfort of the routine wouldn’t make it any less important. let his body meld against your own until it was one entity, floating and untethered but still grounded on earth with the same clay you were made from, same strings you were attached to.

"you guys! over here!" Reiner's voice booms out as he waves his hands over his head so the four of you could see.

you were soon joined by historia, ymir, bertolt, reiner and annie. you didn't do well at parties; a fact jean knew far too well, but you talked to the group you knew well, laughing and smiling, trying. everyone's finals had ended, and Reiner boasted about how well bertolt did - even if they hadn't released the results, he knew that Bert did well, patting a hand on his back as Bert smiled shyly. historia and Ymir were talking to sasha and Connie, marco struck up a conversation with Bert, and you and jean were talking to Reiner but jean wasn't really paying attention to it because he was too busy looking at you. A routine.

it was unusual, he thought, how quickly you had grown into his company and vice versa. but you did, somehow. you claimed everything to be yours without you even touching it. it was unusual how quickly he grew comfortable into this non-existent touch, more importantly how he knew it was there, how he quickly made it his rightful home because it would be too formal to call it sacred. sacred would mean he'd have to abandon and pay for his sins. sacred would mean he'd have to join his hands and beg for forgiveness. sacred would mean rules and regulations - a book he'd have to keep reading until he understood it, until the verses poured from the tip of his tongue as a reminder of his guilt. Loving you was divinity as a whole because it was the only word that could describe how it felt, how you felt, but you were far from it. Your divinity was your humanity, jean thought, because that was the only sin he could commit to memory.

but no, you weren't a place of worship that upheld it's sanctity. you were holy the way his home was - the way he didn't have to beg or pray or pay for his crimes, but the way where he could remove his jacket and hang it up next to yours. you were holy in the way where he didn't have to read you because of shame or guilt but because he wanted to, because there wasnt compulsion in your love. you were holy in the way he found god under his blankets when he was a child; shining a torch light on his sketchbook and drawing a nameless face while thunder roared outside.

his heart settles back into his chest, not realising it hadn’t been his for a long time. you were holy. not because you were pristine and untouched and well-kept, but because you needed to be touched, because you needed to be held and kept in the palm of his hand.

he'd do it. he'd hold you. he'd love you as a sacred home that was meant to be lived in even as you do as you were doing now, your hand holding a cup and fingers tapping the rim of it to the beat of the song, nodding along to reiner's story, he'd do it. he was doing it - all the loving and praying. not praying for you, but praying to you without the guilt and shame and begging.

you were not a god but jean would see you in every one. jean would find you everywhere. he would look at the sun and think of your smile and he'd feel the breeze in his hair and think of your hands. you were not god because you weren't and couldn't be as cruel as him but jean loves you like you are one - like you're the one that gave art it's meaning, like you're the one that followed him everywhere he went, that you're the one that could ever have the courage to look him in his eyes and forgive him even if he didn't ask for it, even if he didn't think he deserved it.

you weren't god but he says your name like worship. He looks at you like home.

"i think there needs to be better music," Reiner says, and you nod readily. Connie joins in the conversation, "I think they need to pass it to me." jean rolls his eyes, and you laugh, agreeing with Connie, egging him on.

more people arrived as the night went on, some of whom you knew the names of. it was a mix of people - a bunch of zeke's friends and a mix of eren's. friends in a loose sense – classmates and acquaintances of the classmates and their coworkers, making the large house seem smaller than it had when it was just you guys on the weekends playing with an abandoned ouji board (jean and eren tried to shit talk each other but ended being the most scared out of all of you. jean’s shriek still echoed through the basement when connie tapped on his shoulder in the dark). you were glad you at least knew the way through it as you lead sasha by the hand to the kitchen, deciding to give her a pep talk there.

the plan you and Connie made was simple - you'd lead sasha to the kitchen under the guise of giving her some encouragements, and Connie would lead niccolo to the kitchen as well, claiming that they could really use him there, even though the area was mostly empty. it wasn't an actual 'plan' – nothing you and connie concocted ever was - more of just a way to speed things along. Connie had brought it up the night before and you had readily agreed before putting a pack of gum in the shopping cart he was wheeling.

(grocery shopping with Connie had become a routine for the two of you. it started first as a way of getting Connie's life together but then spiralled into buying dumb snacks that you knew sasha would eat anyway. The last one she had tried was butter chicken jerk beef, something you had to spit out immediately but something sasha gobbled up in flat 6 minutes).

the kitchen was, thankfully, away from most of the crowd. the music still penetrated through the walls and the vibrations were still present on the floor, but there wasn't anyone in here, preferring the loudness of a stereotypical party to the quiet of a corner, finding their spots either outside or on the lawn or in the basement to dance. you held Sasha's hand as you turned to her, rubbing circles into the back of her hand.

“youre beautiful.” You tell her. She nods, understanding that it’s a command and not a compliment, a beckon for her to believe the truth as it is. “and I know he’s important to you, and I know you’re afraid of loosing him, but that’s why you should go for it.” You say, fixing the top of her hair that had gotten a little frizzy because of the heat in the house. “he’d be the dumbest person alive if he rejects you. I’d egg his car, but that’d be a waste of eggs.” That gets a small laugh from her. You’re glad that the noise from the outside isn’t loud enough to be important because you can hear her laugh. That becomes more important than any music with any amount of meaning.

"thank you. im just...really scared. i just haven't, I dunno, put myself 'out there' for a long time. especially since he's a good friend too. i mean you get it, right? with you and je-"

"i know what you're saying." you interrupt gently before she has a chance to complete her sentence, "I wish there was an easier way out, too. But, I mean, again, its scary because its important. And it’ll be even more important once you go through it." You say, unsure of what exactly your mouth is spewing out.

you're not good at this. you wonder what drove Connie to tell you, of all people, to give sasha advice on a topic that you also had barely enough experience with.

"just...rip the band-aid off. then you won't have to worry about it anymore. you won't have to have this wall with him, and if everything goes well - which I know it will - this can turn into something beautiful. just these couple minutes. and then it'll be done and over with." you say, hoping it does the job as well as you think it should. Verbal words were never your forte – you only hoped your actions could provide enough proof of your love than your flimsy words could, have more of a grip and tangibility than your voice.

she smiles and squeezes your hands in hers, and you smile in relief. "you're right. ripping the band-aid off. mhm." she says, nodding once in approval, before bringing you into her warm embrace. you happily obliged and hummed - sasha's hugs had a way of making your unsaid love feel heard. (you found that out after a long day of working at the café where an older customer had screamed at you until his head turned red, all for accidentally getting his order wrong. the start of your day was just as crappy as his yelling, everything had gone wrong since the moment you woke up. but when sasha took one look at your tired expression and mumbled hellos, she wasted no time in wrapping you up in her hug and you were sure it cured you, healing all the wounds that had been there prior to that day. if you could bottle up her hugs you were sure that it'd sell as an antidote for any poison, the gentle and consistent strength of her arms around you could hold the sky up better than Atlas could, holding your world up on her pinkie finger without breaking so much as a sweat).

"thank you," she muttered softly, pulling away. you didn't have a chance to reply before connie and niccolo entered the room, and connie sent you a not-so-discreet wink with two thumbs up, sealing the business deal.

you smiled back at sasha, squeezing her hand twice before walking up to Connie. "we'll leave the two of you alone!"

"use protec-" Connie's voice was cut off by your hand on his mouth, muffling it and pulling him out the kitchen. “don’t ruin it, man.” You tell him under your breath with a hopeful gleam on your face.

removing your hand just as you stepped out, connie turned to you with just as much of a bright smile on his face, holding his hand up for a high five.

you replied with a smile of you own, slapping your hand against his, grabbing his hand and shaking it.

"we did it!" he exclaims. you laugh, nodding, the slight amount of alcohol you had buzzing in your head; just how you liked it. Everything felt joyful – the faces and smiles unblurred, important, but words slurred. he continues, "you know what I just realised?" he asks, and he has to shout over the music to be heard, even if it wasn’t too much of a strain for him. Connie thrived in parties, being used to the shouting and the continuous laughter and bad decisions that led to even worse hangovers. you don't say anything, tilting your head and furrowing your brows instead., allowing him to continue. "this was our last mess-around of the year!" he shouts, leaning closer to your ear. You can smell the boozed punch on his clothes.

“oh my god, it is!” you say, “my favourite one was when we made the lights go out for the entire building.” You say, your voice reaching his ears only barely over the music. He nods with a big smile. Connie Springer in his natural element – going over shitty ideas with a drink in his hand, not his first and definitely not his last either. “holy shit, dude, I forgot about that!”

“im pretty sure what we did was illegal-“

“we’ve done more illegal shit-“ “shoplifting a pack of condoms isn’t the same as plugging the wrong wire into the wrong hole-“ “I CAN FIND THE HOLE.” He cuts you off, making you burst out laughing. Its routine – he says something particularly stupid, you say something worse, and he would say something to top it off. (the last time the pattern occurred was this morning – he spilled his mug of coffee on the kitchen counter as well as his pants, you had joked about how he kept “getting wet” to which he says “I always am.” Jean scoffed from across the room)

“no you cant, connie.” The familiar voice yells out to the two of you from the end of the wide, poorly-lit hallway. Jean walked towards you with what seemed to be his first drink of the night, and the dim overhead light made his hair shine like a halo on his temples. He tips his glass towards you with a nod and raised eyebrows, worldlessly asking if you’d like one. You shook your head. Connie continued, rolling his eyes. “not what your mom said last night.”

“my mother doesn’t even know you exist.” “that’s not what it looked like last nig-“

“im going to go out. To dance.” You say, avoiding another bad excuse of a brawl. If it was anything like the countless times you’d witnessed before, jean and connie would end up failing their arms at eachother; nothing short of just a catfight.

Jean turns towards you, his feet pointing to yours, “dance?” he asks, his voice only heard because you were standing so close to him. You nod once, knowing that you probably weren’t going to step outside so soon, knowing you preferred more quiet rather than the loud, crammed bodies in the basement or front of the house. Jean nods once too, knowing what you’d want, knowing what this is, knowing what your voice meant even if he can’t hear you well.

Connie shrugs, “im gonna go to the basement. Find the love of my life tonight.” He says, turning around with a smirk as you shout to him, “use protection!” mimicking his cut-off statement from before.

Jean shakes his head with a smile that only you got to see. the house was big enough to have two kitchens – a smaller one that was occupied by sasha and niccolo, and a bigger, more known one that was occupied by barely recognizable faces and loud voices. This hallway, although used many times by you and your friends, seemed more sacred now that jean was infront of you, latching onto every blink of his eyes, every sip of his drink, every tone of his voice. You liked having the intel – the power, really – of knowing him so wholly. Knowing that he knew what you meant, knowing what you did and didn’t mean to say and knowing exactly what he was feeling even under the dim, warm light of this hallway. It didn’t deserve to be called just a hallway. It felt more like a temple, more like the road that led to something twice more beautiful, more like the process you were told to trust.

“so,” he says, and you note how unaffected his voice is by the scarce alcohol he had. Reaching out, you take his previous invitation now that its just him, holding his cup and stealing a small sip. Jean tries not to think about why an even an indirect indication of a kiss can make his heart flip out into the open world and he wonders even more if you can see it, his heart, bare open on the carpeted floor of the hallway, ready to be treated however you’d choose to treat it. He wonders if you know its waiting for you, and he wonders even more about if this is what is never told to people about love. About how its known that you know him, that his heart – more soft than he’d like it to be – was for you to hold but more that he trusted you to keep it well. He knew you more than enough to know exactly how you’d treat his pulse. Maybe that was what the movies and t.v shows failed to tell him, that maybe loving someone meant knowing that they wouldn’t willingly hurt you. or maybe it was just him. Maybe it was just you.

“so,” you say, handing his glass back to him. “roof?” you ask, tilting your head towards the end of the hallway, leading him to an escape from this sanctuary, but really, everything would be a sanctuary with you. so he agreed, taking his cup and then your hand, leading you up the stairs, your hand clamped into his, feeling the folds of his palm under your own. You wondered if he knew that the wrinkles on your hand described everything you knew about your unheard future, and you wondered if he knew you were trusting him with it. You wondered if he knew it was only his to hold.

Maybe he did. His thumb circles the back of your hand, drawing conclusions to questions he was too afraid to ask out loud, knowing that the answers only lay with you. the rooftop was also a routine – visited countless times by the whole group after the basement got too stuffy to handle. The lawn would be too predictable, eren would say, and led everyone to the extra guest room on the last floor of the house (it was a mansion, really, you remembered thinking, because what kind of a house had a spacious basement and three whole floors? You remembered also knowing why eren preferred to spend nights at mikasa's much smaller, shared apartment than this solitary building with nothing but empty halls and stairways, quiet bedrooms that were almost never occupied). The roof wasn’t built to have people on it, presenting to be slanted and kind of a risky ordeal to climb up to it through the window of the bedroom, but it was worth it because the air would no longer be filled with the now comfortable smoke but would remind you of how wide everything felt, about how the watchful but drowsy eyes of your friends provided and endless amount of comfort against the cold nights.

jean opened the window of the bedroom, exposing you to the forgotten thought of how cold the air was, how still but lively everything felt. The music was still heard, but there were barely any people in the lawn below you since the back of the house always went untouched, the grass growing wildly – a stark contrast to how the front yard looked. The window was large enough for jean to fit through, and you held his cup as he climbed out of it.

His shirt rode up a bit as he climbed out, his arms flexing with the effort to pull himself onto the roof. This part was a routine. A dance, well-choreographed and practiced to the point of it being muscle memory, his hand reached down just as you sat on the ledge of the window, handing him his cup and then your own hand. Jean pulled you up with ease, holding your shoulders as you adjusted yourself on the slanted platform, breathing comfortably right beside him because that’s the only way you could breathe when he was around.

You sat with your legs on top of the other, and jean prefers to lay down right beside you just as he had countless times before, admiring how the side of your face looked because he knew he was too much of a coward to look at you fully without feeling everything he had tried not to feel before. Your weight rested on your hands behind you, and you looked at the sky, as the clouds rolled in to cover the moon momentarily before moving, seeing something new. Jean looked at your face, gauging the light on your face to know if the moon was visible or not, admiring how your eyes shone against the soft glow more than he’d ever appreciate the moon.

“what a year.” You said, the statement enveloping jean as your voice carried out to him softly, wholly. This was how he knew you. how he wanted to know you, how you were, your presence wasn’t a symbol of what could be or what was, not a reminder of what he could be, but more of the present tense. Love had always been something jean viewed as something he should be better for, something he should improve for, unknowing of how this was the feeling he should’ve been looking for all alone. Or maybe the fact that he wasn’t even looking for it made it even more beautiful – the fact that love was how you found him in the present. How you sat beside him, patiently, knowingly, always there. Its been a whole year of you being friends, of jean finding more things to appreciate, to love a little freely. His hand rested on his chest, and you rested just as he did. Rested, because that was what he made you do, no longer running around for some better version of yourself that you wouldn’t find. No, you were here, present, whole, with your muscles as relaxed as they could be without the influence of anything but him.

He hummed. You didn’t dare look at his face, knowing you were too much of a coward to look at everything you wanted to tell him, the silence stretching beyond the space you two shared. You wondered if he knew what you wanted to say, but you decided to take the risk. Break the comfortability, take a step against the routine.

With your heart beating at a slower rate than you thought it should in your chest, you spelled it out for him. “I didn’t… think I’d be here. With people I care about and who I know care about me.” You said. Jean breathes in and out, his hand covering his heart that was already safe with your own, listening, knowing.

“thank you.” you say. “youre important to me. Thank you for seeing me as important to you, too.”

The same silence stretches before you again, but unlike other times, you don’t have to wonder if you said the wrong thing, because it was an important thing to be said. Sacred, to you, more like the scriptures that told you how live, what was right and how to not do wrong.

Loving him was right. Knowing him was right.

He sits up. His shoulders brush yours as he does and then he says your name like you belong there. You swear you do, because you’ve never really fully been present but he says your name like you do, like you are. He says your name as if you’ve always been his to say, always been his to become. “youre so much more than that.” He says, “youre so much more than just important to me.”

You could stay here forever, you think. His voice is everywhere, colouring every atom with himself, and you can finally find the courage to look at him. His face shines, his cheekbones highlighted by the moon and you swear its made for him. The too-important, all-knowing satellite shines just for him, his eyes shine, watery and beautiful. The browns look a little greyer under the night, safe and tucked away for something less important, a small speck of white in his pupils, reflecting the light form above, preferring you over the wholeness of the moon. Theres no breeze and you barely notice the winter cold because of him, the warmth in his gaze holding you, wrapping itself around you long enough to make it known. It already was known.

He continues. In his head, he’s counting everything that makes you beautiful but loses count, loses track with you infront of him, giving him everything that was already his. “youre…. Youre you. I mean, everywhere I go, everything I do, I think about you because I know what you’d think. I know what you’d say, and everything becomes so much more meaningful. I don’t know how I can even simplify it or, I mean, I don’t know how to say it,” he does have to, you think, but he says it anyway. “I just… this feels more than anything ive been feeling. You feel right. I love – I love you. everything feels much more than what it is ever since ive met you, since ive known you. I… I don’t even know if love begins to cover it, honestly, but you know-“

“I do.” You say in a breath that youre so afraid to take because that would mean that everything he was saying was real. but he makes you braver than you thought you’d be, and so you inhale. Exhale. Youre you. he’s always seen you as such, and not as a perfect version of you that you’d always wanted to become.

“I know.” You say, “you’re in everything I’ve done. Everything I continue to do. Jean, i…I’ve always wanted to be, like, better than what I was. Better than I could ever be, but for the first time I think, because of you, I don’t need to be. Everything I have is yours. Everything I want is yours. i mean, its not…complicated, really, its simple and I love you. so much.” You complete, your words soft and quiet and that’s how jean knows they’re yours.

the string tying him together snaps in half, an inevitable conclusion to the long drawn-out, impossibly divine moment and he finds his hand meeting yours again, resting on top of yours, and he knows youre not god because he feels the reciprocal of his unending service because your hands turn upwards to his, interlocking your fingers, engulfing them in his. It feels predictable, comfort, routine even if you hadn’t done it before, even if you’d have the chance to do it countless times again.

And he knows youre not god because he’s never been close to the concept of one like this before, face to face, noses touching, the only thing he can think about is how your lips look, how his hand his travelling up to your cheek, tucking hair behind your ear so it doesn’t bother you. he knows youre not god because loving you is the closest hes ever been to himself, to everything that ties him to his existence. All meaning, all importance, all routine and all comfortability lies with you, he thinks, your breaths mingling together, both an answer and a question, and jean closes any gaps that had been left in the distance between you two, placing his lips on yours, slowly, wholly.

Everything happens. Universes are created, ended, made again, you shift closer to him if that was even possible, letting yourself melt into him because his hands are the only ones capable enough to build you all over again, your hands tangling themselves in their hair like its second nature, muscle memory, routine, comfortability. Your heart beats contently in your chest for the first time in a while, and the moon witnesses it all, shining softly. Your hand traces down to the left side of his chest where his own heart beats for you, and he pulls away for only a second to breathe before his lips are on yours again, half of his being in him and the other half in yours, your legs laying on top on his. Your hands caresses his heart, gripping his green vest, wishing to take it off so you could hear it louder than your own pulse. But youre sure you can hear it, because it sounds the same as yours, because its been with you this whole time. His hair tickles your forehead and you smile because it feels right.

You feel like yourself and jean had never felt the outcome of his love so tenfold before.

✿

part 2 >

[ooctlt]

I really like this blog most of the time, but sometimes you take reasonable earnest asks that are trying to be thoughtful, and are such a dick about it.

Like if it's the characters being dicks, fine. But you could say something in the tags or post to indicate you're not just viciously mocking someone for trying to engage.

I still haven't submitted an ask since seeing your response that led to comments along the lines of "anon should go die in a hole" for asking, pretty reasonably, why harrow would want to stay with people she didn't seem to like or want to be around or interact with.

(i know, because she does like them and does want them around but doesn't know how to show it) but it's an ASK blog. How do we hear that from her unless someone ASKS

i understand it might be surprising and a bit hurtful to see an ask answered with the characters being mean/flippant, and for that i do apologize that it wasnt made clear that it would be a common thing in this blog. id like to issue the disclaimer: there is always the possibility that the characters here will not take your question well. they might answer rudely, and instigating behavior is not only encouraged but expected on both ends. this does not reflect my personal opinions as the artist; there are over 250 asks even after i constantly compile duplicates, and i will answer the asks that i personally like.

i will assume you are referencing the two most recent posts where gideon acts rudely and i repost an old panel: for the former i thought anon was really sweet for being so heartfelt and encouraging, but gideon isnt the kind of person who needs to be told shes brave for doing that by a stranger. it was a simple act of survival. and harrow is still very much in the passive deprogramming phase. the latter response was meant to kickstart (spoilers) what i will call the "dicks last resort" arc, where i clean out the inbox and share more simple, low effort, but potentially rude responses*. this is because i have roughly drawn almost daily for 87 days straight, and would like to recuperate without being burnt out because i love this blog and i love art.

this leads me to my next point: some of these answers will be curt and short and rude, because they are easy to draw. if i only prioritized the "good" asks or to make certain ask responses kinder, or longer, it wouldnt be a daily blog. it would be a monthly blog where 5 asks get answered among 100s. i didnt anticipate people asking about harrows piercings, and i considered shutting it down by just having harrow say she likes them etc. but i did want to give more insight into harrows character even if she wouldnt say so herself, and that took roughly 3 full unemployed nights. if i treated every ask in good faith the same way i wouldnt have time for anything else, because they take more effort and have to be seriously considered for the future. i can retcon their favorite ice cream or play off griddlehark fighting - it takes more to keep track of a narrative about people talking Around their issues

* by rude responses i mean "this will affect the 679ers negatively, much like making your sim 🧑‍🤝‍🧑➖➖ someone" there are a few asks planned to hurt in the same way one drafts a bad end in a visual novel, and this type of interaction is encouraged. of course if you dont want them to get worse dont send asks telling gideon she should flirt with MILFs (you cant send this ask now i already said it), but i encourage the banter.

TL;DR this is the "characters think you are weird for personal questions" blog. i am sorry i didnt warn of the ask-response banter, because i also enjoy drawing these characters being dicks. i do like when aggravation and conflict leads to character development. "how do we get earnest answers unless someone asks" sometimes you will never explicitly get that from them, and thats what the dead ends are for: to let you know to try something else and read between the lines

[dootznbootz]

As someone who is also really uncomfortable with the Zeus/Odysseus art trend, I completely understand where your coming from!

People’s treatment of Odysseus’s assaults in general makes me really upset. Just the other day I saw a comment on a post saying that “Odysseus wasn’t loyal to his wife yet expects her to be loyal to him” and not once in the replies did I see someone mention that he was literally assaulted. It’s absolutely gross and makes me hesitant to go deeper into the fandom.

I remember being so frustrated when the snippets of “There are Other Ways” came out because so many people were making Hamilton jokes and talking about how he always talks about his wife yet cheated. When in the song it was so clear he was being coerced which is yknow, not a form of consent. I couldn’t even listen to it because it made me so uncomfortable, and even now with the full version out the fandoms reaction to it overall have soured me to it. Which sucks, because I do think it’s a great song.

Also I don’t even think Epic completely erases Calypso’s assault? At least, I think it’s left ambiguous enough during the time jump that people can come to their own conclusions. Specifically when Calypso says “Soon into bed we’ll climb and spend our time” just really gives me the impression that something else happened.

I suppose in the snippets we’ve seen of “I’m Not Sorry For Loving You” it seems like Odysseus and Calypso are on slightly friendlier terms, but I don’t think that negates the fact she could’ve assaulted him. And I’ve always took that song as pretty manipulative on Calypso’s side, with Odysseus more so trying to placate her. But that’s going into theory territory.

And even if he isn’t SA’d in Epic it’s pretty clear he doesn’t want to be there!! Same with Homer’s Odyssey. It’s so infuriating to see the cheating narrative be so widely spread when that is just not what happened.

Anyway’s sorry for the long rant, but I wanted to say that it’s nice to see you take Odysseus’s SA seriously. It’s not something the fandom does enough.

It's okay for the long rant. Sorry I took a bit to get to it but I wanted some "soft chatters" for a bit before I tackled this one :)

"Just the other day I saw a comment on a post saying that “Odysseus wasn’t loyal to his wife yet expects her to be loyal to him” and not once in the replies did I see someone mention that he was literally assaulted. It’s absolutely gross and makes me hesitant to go deeper into the fandom."

I completely understand you with this stuff. ;~; I used to go through Odyssey tags often as I LOVE possibly finding new people to follow and fun things but too many times I would see shit that pissed me off. ;~; I've honestly kind of just stuck to my mutuals that I trust tbh. And honestly, there's soooo much shit of people just straight up not understanding the context/culture/meaning/etc. of the Epics and just taking it at face value and not understanding the meanings. :/ I'm no expert, but I also have analyzed and researched quite a bit on my own to try and get the full picture. I think in order to truly enjoy the Odyssey, you need to just... really soak shit in, you know?

When Calypso, that lovely goddess,  tried                           to keep me with her in her hollow cave, longing for me to become her husband,                                  or when, in the same way, the cunning witch Aeaean Circe held me in her home filled with a keen desire I’d marry her, they never won the heart here in my chest.

(Book 9, Johnston)

Odysseus tells this to the Phaecians. They are strangers that he will likely never see again and who are isolationists. Therefore his story that he told probably won't be "spread" to others so he can probably say whatever. So he doesn't have to worry about "Penelope hearing a different story than the one he told to her" if people wanna argue about how "Oh well, he didn't tell Penelope about the 'affairs'"(He tells her everything as well btw.)

He could literally say "Oh yeah, I had the time of my life!" but he doesn't because that's not true. Odysseus has no listed concubines, I just literally don't see him as the type of guy who's really into that.

And while yes, he would be devastated if she didn't "stay loyal", he does sound like he'd be understanding. He asks his mother in the Underworld if Penelope had gotten remarried to "the finest of Achaeans". And we all know of Odysseus' words of "when Telemachus has a beard, feel free to remarry". Even when first "rejected" by Penelope in that she didn't hug him when he sat across from her, he was incredibly hurt but asked for a separate bed. He literally could have had it where Penelope takes a different bed and he takes their luxurious/fancy one because he has the rest of the household on his side.

But he DOESN'T!

Because he adores her for fuck's sake!

Funny enough? I have the weird reaction of like, weirdly searching out "Good" animatics as it was a weird reassurance of "yes, people see that it's wrong." as while holy fuck. so many stupid, awful jokes about "Say No to This" in the comments (I have learned to just stay the fuck away from youtube comments on Odysseus shit. :') ) but like, seeing and HEARING how yes, this was fucked, was weirdly really nice for me. yeah, it took a lot of digging but there's a few "There Are Other Ways" that I love. Literally, both are unfinished wips and they're still my favorites. If you can, please give these two a watch and some love for the creator.

This was back before we heard the full song and it's still very good. How he's on guard until she "magics" him and the colors change. After that he kind of moves like a "puppet" but he's still resisting as best he can.

This one is literally still sketches but it's my absolute favorite. Oh my word. The body language, PENELOPE FLASHBACKS!!! Showing cute bits of Penelope's character and how awful this is for him. (Penelope is so cute. She puffs up her cheeks to make him laugh!) How he really is scared that he'll have to go through with this in order to save his friends until all his past trauma floods back and he just can't. It's lovely.

And yeah Idk how to feel about "I'm Not Sorry For Loving You" :/ I don't know how it'll be yet, maybe there's something in another song that shows Odysseus' real feelings or whatever.

And with just the whole cheating thing, yeah, it's really upsetting to call what is blatant assault "cheating". As wild as it sounds, Odysseus' story has been more relatable for me than any other stories like this, even modern ones. I've spoken a bit about it before but yeh, victim blaming at its finest. I find him and his story and his love for Penelope slkdfj very relatable. It's honestly really nice to write about in a sense..

(I'm pasting this from an old post of mine but yeh)

I have never had a story that felt like how it actually FEELS. The "aftermath" and "regaining life". It's hopeful and feels really good. It's been years since "everything" but it just felt nice to see "Everybody has the chance to get better." Even Nestor, Helen, and Menelaus, while still dealing with their traumas, are doing a lot better now. And after literal hell, Odysseus got to be with his family and loved ones again. He can start living again. It's why I'm just...idk passionate about this? I'm not a murderer or a war veteran but I see myself in him. Hopefully, y'all see me as nicer though!😂(plus, let's be honest, the Odyssey is romantic af and OdyPen is right up my alley as well >:D )

I really hate the whole "he's a guy so therefore ____" whether it's used as a "Boys will be boys. they can't help themselves" usually aimed at female victims or a "Men always want sex. they cannot be victims.". It's fucked up and used against ALL of us. :( Doesn't matter if it was history. People, no matter the era, should never be put through "Are you Victim™ enough?". He is one.

Idk the Odyssey means a lot to me. I hope it's okay I take some liberties with my fanfics as it's nice healing through him :D I AM kind of using my own experiences and ideas and it feels nice. I don't think Homer necessarily meant for this but eh, anything that helps is good :D He's a war criminal that I relate to.

[technicallyfurrydetective]

Hey people I am one of the trolls who stir some shit up and no not the one who sends death threats or stuff but the one who stirs shit up,

ABOUT ME

Interestingly opposite to popular belief i actually do have a life, a husband and 3 girls who are teens now, i started working again 8 years ago after my youngest started 5th grade and yeah i live a cozy homey life but sometimes i just find stirring shit up for no reason at all so amusing & interesting, like irl no one could guess it would be me, my kids teachers praises me for being a god mom and supporting not just my girls but donating and helping her friends who need it, my girls love me and i love them too, i do don't drink or anything i work, spend time with my friends/children/ hubby and that's about it,

WHY I DO IT

But since last year I posted a post where unintentionally people got heated and the arguments got passionate, and I love watching it unfold and sometimes I can't help but post some stuff on other's tags/anons to stir shit up, i am guilty but sometimes i can't help it,

HOW I DO IT

Takes two minutes to make a new ID with an email which doesn't exist.

HONEST OPINION

It so funny how down bad you are for your ships and honestly a little pathetic as well, like i spent some time on both sides of the shipping fandom and it's so pathetic watching you guys fight tooth and nail to prove your imaginary friends will make it in the book and the other side are disgusting rats with no reading comprehension, especially elriels, like sometimes i make stuff up and send them anons that gwynriels said this or that and they get so triggered like most of the time they won't even fact check, with gwynriels i think they are more pathetic because they generally keep their pro tags clean and pretend to not care but you can tell that they hate elriels to death but will pretend otherwise like to me being a two faced cunt is more pathetic,

Like i can't decide which side is worse because elriel on one side makes it clear that they stalk the other tags and openly posts stuff from others tags on their tags, like i have seen too many "tell me why i saw this EL/GA theory/art?" and care about GA/EL opinions too much, they will fight to death to prove how the other side is crack ship, idiots to see any sort of romance in two characters which they can't see, will follow and support elriel blindly and many more but i don't like typing anymore,

Proof in the comments

WHY GWYNRIELS ARE PIECE OF SHITS

They romanticize and choose the weirdest hill to stand on, like they will die defending tamlin X nyx and tamlin X anyone, they hate the main characters to death why the fuck are you still reading the books and sitting here if you hate the main people so much?

They will romanticize the wierdest shits "GA having sex where most women feel comfortable after being raped, Gwyn felt the bond and the love after she was actively raped,

As a survivor myself i think these people need to be more mindful and intelligent,

And the whole elain gate thing, dude who posted tamlain? like they whine for no reason at all,

Cry bout minor stuff and are the reason for the threats trolling like if they kept quite and ignored the trolling would've stopped,

Hate elriel and also think they are idiots for not seeing sparks and glows but will act like a two faced cunt and pretend they don't

Proof in comments:

So really both sides are pathetic and i am too but honestly life is getting too busy so maybe i won't be here,

And i wanted to say this before i left,

You guys are the real ones who need a life and i need a psychopath assessment, i'll get it done soon or go to therapy but for now BYE,

Hope you all love and hope you guys understand that you are all the same people

[jillsandwhichs]

Valenfield Oneshots/AUs Collection , Chap 16 , R.P.D Party

Masterlist

Pairing: Chris Redfield & Jill Valentine

Summary: A party is hosted at the R.P.D and Chris & Jill hang out during it

Status of their relationship in this one shot: Friends with clear feelings

WC: 5.9k

Type: SFW

Warnings: Talks of SA/Usage of weed

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

Pulling into the R.P.D parking lot, Chris released a hefty sigh as he just sat there in the driver's side seat. Stifled music playing off of the radio, more specifically a Queen song. The drive wasn't too bad but Chris was just tired from the past work week. Driving from home, to work then from work then back wasn't easy. It was quite an annoyance but his presence was required at this event.

The R.P.D is celebrating it's 27 year anniversary of being an official Police Department. More certainly, the Raccoon City Police Department. Chris has worked here since the mid '90's, it's odd trying to comprehend the fact it was once an art museum. He was apart of the elite S.T.A.R.S team, alongside some others such as Barry Burton, Brad Vickers & Jill Valentine. They also had their captain, Albert Wesker.

About the only thing that was going to keep him sane tonight was drinking and smoking, probably seeing Jill too. Chris & Jill have been close friends for awhile now. She became a member of the Alpha Squad only a few months ago but they've truly become inseparable. Chris even trains her in marksmenship and she'll train him in B&E. They're quite the duo, at least that's what Barry tells people. Chris already presumes they'll stick together throughout the event.

Grasping onto the handle, Chris opened the driver's side door to his truck as he hopped out of it, shutting the door carefully and huffing out with tranquil. Just from outside, Chris could hear the sound of blues music with a tint of classic in it. It was going to be one helluva night, that's for damn sure. He wouldn't be surprised if people end up being kicked out for being to blacked out.

Not only is it members & workers of the R.P.D but also local civilians who were granted an invite. Mostly just people who donate to the department or have family members who work for it. Either way, Chris has already predicted it's going to be busy as all hell. He'll just find his people & act as natural as he can. He isn't for public events such as this, he'd rather be at home right now, watching TV or working out.

Different people, some he knew of and some he didn't, were making their way into the establishment. The Police Department's doors were wide open for entry, welcoming each guest with guidance. Chris kept it casual, wearing his brown leather jacket with the words 'Made in Heaven' patched into the back of it. His pants were black jeans & his shoes were brown boots, basically the same shade as his jacket. Wesker had told him to dress nice & simple, this was Chris's idea of that.

Ambling into the building, Chris was wowed with how it looked. It doesn't normally look all fancy & elegant. Streamers were hung up, tables were all over, buffets were in place and oddest of all, hundreds of people were littered on the inside. It was extensive enough for that so he guesses it's not all that surprising. Sticking near the reception area, Chris scanned the main hall and didn't see anyone he knew personally. Of course he seen a few workers he knows of but it's not like they're buddy buddy or anything.

Right beside where the main hall desk is at, there was a plastic, white, thick table with different containers of wines & juices. Chris snagged out a red solo cup and filled it with champagne. He prefers harder & more stronger drinks but this'll suffice. And besides, it didn't taste bad. Actually, it was sweet & tangy. Must be flavored. Or rosé. As Chris sipped from the cup, he strolled up the ramp and spotted Barry standing beside a few people.

When Chris saw Barry, it was like he knew as right then Barry shifted his head and noticed Chris. "Hey, Chris, buddy, come over here!" Barry shouted to him, waving his hand too. Chris chuckled to himself and made his way over, not walking too quick as to not seem eager. As he stumbled on closer, he realized Barry's wife, Kathy, was there. He's only met her a couple times but she's a sweet lady.

"Hey buddy, you remember Kathy?" Barry asked him, his burly arm around his wife's waist. "Now of course I do, hi Kathy." Chris said kindly to her, giving her a friendly nod. "Hello Chris, you look well." "You as well." Chris smirked, his tone sweet. He was a genuine guy. He could also be formal when needed. "Glad to see you remember. Besides that, have you seen what they have to drink?" "Just wines and champagne, juice too." Chris nodded his head, taking a glance in his cup. "Alrighty then, honey, I'm going to get us some drinks, be right back." Barry snickered out to Kathy, letting her go & striding off.

"So..." Kathy began, "Is working with my husband nice?" She seeked an answer out from Chris. She was just trying to create small talk. "Yeah, he's a great man, a smart one at that." Chris answered her, tapping his right foot on the clean ground. "He is, he most certainly is." Kathy responded, giving Chris an affirming grin. "Are your daughter's here too? Or just the two of you?" "Just us. My sister is babysitting Moria and Polly tonight." Kathy replied to Chris, she had a purse hung from her lanky shoulder.

"Hey, have you seen a short woman at all? Uh, short brown hair, skinny, hazel eyes?" Chris questioned Kathy, wanting to find out where Jill was. "Jill? Barry told me she was off with some man named Brad." Kathy responded to him, her voice was timid, like she was nervous. "Oh ok, thanks." Chris muttered out, sipping his drink and glancing over at Barry who was filling up cups for himself and Kathy. He was a gentleman to his wife. That's how Chris hopes to be someday.

Grabbing both cups, Barry wandered back on over to Kathy & Chris, handing one cup to Kathy. "There you go lovely, it's just red wine." Barry spoke to his wife. Kathy took the cup from Barry and sipped it, nodding her head in approval. "Tasty." She complimented. "Uh Barry, do you know where Brad and Jill are?" Chris asked him, scratching the back of his head. "Last time I saw them was when me and Kathy first got here, all I know is that they went upstairs, I'm assuming to go somewhere more private." Barry teased Chris.

Barry wasn't born yesterday, he's aware of how Chris feels about Jill. It's clear as day, if anything. The first time Barry realizes Chris had a thing for Jill was on the first mission they went on when she joined. All Chris did on that mission was take care of Jill & help her out. Chris was never the type of guy to worry about his team like that. Not that he was selfish, but he never notices their struggles. But with Jill, his eyes are always on her, therefore he's capable of noticing.

But Barry knows, he knows how he feels for her. Barry even notices how Jill is too. She often gets all finicky & off putting when Chris is around, as if he makes her shy. She's also always demanding that he be the one to train her & no one else. Not only that, she tends to be only excited & uppity when he's around. If he's not at work or just not around, then she's all quiet & keeps to herself. Which, that's not an issue, she can do as she pleases, but all it does is further prove her feelings towards Chris and how they aren't just friendly.

"Seriously?" Chris spoke blatantly to Barry. A roaring laugh come from Barry, his hand placed on Chris's bulked shoulder. "No." He snickered. "She is with him but they're in the office upstairs with other people, like Richard, I think." Barry laughed, removing his hand from Chris's shoulder. A deep & annoyed scoff came from Chris as he rolled his eyes. Damn, he could be sassy. "Oh, well, speak of the devil." Barry whispered to Chris, pointing up at the left side staircase.

Chris swiftly spun his head to look up at the staircase. There she was, it was Jill. She was in fact next to Brad too. She looked so beautiful. She was wearing a dress, in which she never does. Chris has never ever seen her so dressed up. She was stunning. The dress she wore was long sleeved and short but flowy at the ends. And it was all black too. It suited her quite well. Her hair was the same as always but without her beret, she looked even better.

Moving down the steps, Jill took notice of Barry but didn't realize Chris was beside him. She honestly believes he wouldn't even show up tonight. She only did because she's sick of Wesker's bullshit. "Barry!" Jill announced, stepping down the stairs with most haist. "Jill, Chris is here now!" Kathy vocalized to her, waving her head, urging her to walk on over. "What?" Jill shouted out, not being able to hear Kathy.

Jill was off of the stairs and finally noticed Chris in all his glory. She was very glad he was here tonight. "Chris!" Jill spoke with excitement, cutely running over to him in her flats. Once again, she's never worn shoes so formal, only her work ones. "Hey." Chris said to her, holding his arms out as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He was pretty sure she was buzzed but he truly couldn't tell. "How much have you had to drink tonight?" Chris chuckled out, his arms wrapped around her. "She hasn't had anything yet, she's just in a good mood." Brad enunciated to him.

"Is that right?" Chris questioned Jill, his voice low & hushed. "Mhm, today has just been good, especially now that you're here." Jill expressed, letting go of him as she didn't wanna seem weird for being all touchy, she was just happy he was actually here for the event. "Would you like a drink? Wine, champagne, juice?" Chris seeked, his cup was also empty so it was a good opportunity to get her one as well. "Wine would be nice, thank you Chris." Jill praised him, her eyes set in stone on him. Chris nodded and ambled off back to the beverage table.

Walking down the ramp, Chris first refilled his cup with juice. He didn't plan on drinking too much since he does have to drive home. It's ironic he's drinking at all when knowing he has to drive, considering he's a type of cop. Lifting up the tab to the wine container, Chris let the wine spill into Jill's cup. He didn't fill it too much, he remembers the time she was hungover and he most definitely doesn't want that for her tomorrow. At least if it does happen, it won't be all that bad considering it's Sunday & they'll have the day off.

As he poured her drink, his eyes gandered over at her and he nearly lost his breath as he caught onto the fact she was also looking at him, her arms crossed against her chest. Her eyes were full of blissfulness and looked dove-like. Quickly turning his head away, Chris held onto both cups as he made his way back to the small group he was in. Chris never noticed how many people piled into the department until just now ; It was not this full when he first arrived.

"Here you go, Jill." Chris smirked at her, handing off her drink. "Thank you." Jill whispered, going back to engaging in the conversation. "So then after I drop off the casserole, Kathy just gives me a look of concern! I don't think it was that bad!" Barry voiced with a older man chuckle. "Oh sweetie, it was bad." Kathy giggled, slapping his shoulder playfully. "What did I miss?" Chris muttered to Jill, his mouth up to her ear. "Just Barry talking about the time he cooked a green bean casserole." Jill snickered, side eyeing Chris in a friendly manner.

Chris snorted when Jill said that. Imagining Barry cooking was hilarious. He was old school, he was raised to not have to know and luckily, Kathy was A okay with that. She's a great cook anyways. Sometimes, she allows Barry to bring extra to the office. Chris's favorite has always been her lasagna, she makes it excellently. Jill has told him her favorite is her homemade baked Mac & Cheese. She'll crumble potato chips on the top even which makes it even yummier.

"I don't know how to cook either Barry, don't feel bad." Chris cackled out, his free hand in the pocket of his jacket. "See, I'm not the only one." "I don't know how either, never was taught and I haven't had the time to teach myself." Jill uttered out, sipping her wine. "Oh Jill, I would love to teach you how, Barry, does she have our house phone number?" Kathy asked her husband, she was eager to set up a time & date. "Pretty sure, right Jill?" "Yeah, yeah, I do." Jill contently spoke, her body swaying back and fourth.

"I didn't know you didn't know how to cook." Chris mumbled to her, a sly chuckle releasing from him. "Sadly not, but I suppose Kathy will teach me somewhat." Jill snickered, gazing at Chris. He gazed back at her, his eyes locked on hers. Kathy began to talk again, which snapped the two of them out of their staring. "So Jill, the first thing I'll teach you to cook is your favorite food, what is it?" Kathy had a happy voice. "Oh, I would say chicken parm and spaghetti." "Great picks, I'd love to teach you how to make those." Kathy tittered to the woman.

Listening in on their convo, Chris was happy for Jill. He first of all had no clue she didn't know how to cook but the both of them, her & Kathy seemed ready to learn and Kathy seemed ready to show her. "Wanna go get something to eat?" Jill asked Chris, placing her petite hand onto his brawny shoulder blades. "Sure, why not?" Chris responded, following right behind her.

There were different buffets set up around the main hall and even in the upstairs area. There was one with mini sandwiches, one with sweet treats like cookies and ice cream cups. Other than that, there was one with meat boards and veggie/fruit trays, it was obviously coordinated. "What are you going to get?" "Oh, probably a sandwich and some vegetables." Jill told him in reply, her head looking down as she picked up one of the. The sandwiches were cut to look perfect, thin slices through them & they were exact triangular shaped.

"Who the hell would take the time to make sandwiches look so divine?" Jill snorted out, placing two of them into her plate. "And how bout you? What are you gonna get?" She questioned him. "Probably a cookie, I'm not very hungry." He expressed, viewing the sweet treats table which was near the beverage stand. "My sweet tooth is not in tonight, by my savory one is." "Valid." Chris teased, peering at Jill as she placed some cherry tomatoes onto the small styrofoam plate.

"Want me to come with you to get a cookie? I don't mind." Jill raised, holding her plate with both hands. "Sure." Chris shook his head, shifting his body and ambling over to the desert table. Not only was there cookies & ice cream but also mini cakes, macaroons & rock candy. "Ooo." Jill shrieked out when she noticed the macaroons. "Don't mind if I do." She mumbled, snagging two and setting them beside her already bitten into sandwich.

"I don't know if I want a sugar cookie or a chocolate chip cookie..." Chris pondered aloud. "Want me to choose for you? I bet I can read your mind?" Jill jokingly said, her arm scraping against his as they stood quite close together. "Have at it." Chris cackled, tossing his free hand up. "Mmm, okay." Jill laughed as she picked up the chocolate chip cookie, "Was this your card?" Jill verbalized, acting like it was a magic trick. A warm heat arised in Chris's lower abdomen, she was right, when is she not?

"Maybe." Chris tugged her leg, taking the cookie from her and biting into it. It was really good, it reminded him of the cookies Kathy would make and bring in. She may have baked these even. "Ready?" "Ready." Chris responded, strolling alongside Jill as they went back to the group. Now, a few others were there, a few Chris didn't know but he did know Kenneth & Forest. "Hey man!" Forest exclaimed when he seen Chris. "What's up Forest?" Chris questioned his pal, taking a miniscule bite from the sweet treat.

"Nothing much bro, just chilling around. You two hanging out?" Forest wondered, making it obvious he wanted to hang with them. "Yeah, yeah, we just got some food and now we're just gonna be here with you guy's." Chris had a curved smile whilst he nodded his head up & down. "Rad." Forest chuckled, gulping down his drink, which must've been something he brought from home. It smelt like straight Vodka. He was wild like that.

"So Jill, how're you?" Forest asked the girl, a cringy smirk plastered on his face. "I'm okay, you?" "Oh I'm great." He answered, chugging more of his alcoholic drink. Yeah, he was out of it. "Are you already drunk?" Barry mumbled out to Forest. His words were slurred as he began to talk, "A little bit." He wiped the slobber from the inner corner of his lips. "You're one hell of a man Forest, I'll give you that." Barry snickered, raising his glass slightly before drinking from it.

Continuing to talk, the group, everyone in it, was speaking & having a great time. Chris felt comfortable enough to give his two sense in as well. The only person Chris dreaded seeing today officially showed up. Chief Irons, he's the chief of police and man, is he a dick. All he ever does is find ways to comment on how the STARS members are screwing up and how they need to do better. Chris knew he'd most likely attend considering speeches were in order but he was praying it would be postponed.

Chris also knew that sooner or later, Irons would make his way over to them. He is going through everyone in the front first, talking to those and acting all civil & respectful. It's just a mask. He's a prick. Chris doesn't understand how Wesker can put up with his shit. Speaking of Wesker, he didn't even show up tonight. He's going to most definitely receive a mouthful of bullshit Monday morning.

"Irons is here." Kenneth groaned out to the group, everyone either sighing or grunting. Transparently, nobody likes him. Very few people do. There have even been speculations of him bribing certain companies to save the ass of the R.P.D. It's complete nonsense. "Of course he is." Barry scoffed out, his hand on his wife's midriff as he held her close. One time, Irons literally flirted with Kathy. He's a weird fuck and they all stand by that.

"Jesus Christ, is his ass coming over here?" Forest whined out, trying to seem professional but it was difficult due to his sobriety being gone. "Hello." Irons spoke to the group, his voice deep & off putting. "Have any of you seen your captain tonight?" "Don't think he even made it." Jill was courageous enough to say something, Chris knew he wasn't going to. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was speak to that asshole. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Irons hissed out, veins popping out from his forehead. "Your captain needs to learn how to act like one." Irons blabbered.

"Well, Chief, he's not our puppy, we aren't supposed to keep a chain on him." Chris spat out, his tone was so clearly not calm anymore. Something about the guy brings another side out of him. "Now, Redfield, when the fuck did I say you were to? Exactly, I didn't. Don't be a smartass." Irons clapped back, he was a giant dick. Chris scoffed and walked off before things got to heated. He knew that if he would've stuck by, it wouldn't have ended well. "Chris!" Jill muttered out, wanting him to come back, but he didn't.

Jill just simply stood still as Chris jogged off through the main corridor of the R.P.D. She understood how he felt and what was going through his head. "Just fuck off Irons." Jill frowned at him as she walked away angrily. She didn't immediately go after Chris, she didn't know how he felt about her chasing after him. He deserved alone time if that's what he so desired. But at the same time, she wanted to be there for him. Deep down, Jill knows she's one of the few people, if not the only person, who can control him good enough.

Exhaling softly, Jill sat down in one of the chairs near the exit, twiddling with her fingers & occasionally guzzling her wine. After a few minutes or so, Barry came convoying to her all alone, Kathy must've been off doing something else. "Hey Valentine, you okay?" He wondered, popping a squat down beside her. "Yeah, I'm doing just fine." Jill said with pure sarcasm. "Hey, don't give me that, I'm not the enemy here." Barry spoke like a true fatherly figure, which he sort of was to not only her, but Chris too.

"Sorry... I just feel bad for Chris, like why does Irons always have to be a cocksucker?" Jill grunted, the veins of her hands being more visible now. She wasn't angry like Chris was, she was more sorrowful than anything. "Ya, I get it, he's something else... I have learnt to ignore it and so should you & Chris." "I'm trying." Jill expressed, her head in her hand. "I can tell, I know he's a lot to deal with... You know where Chris ran off to?" "No clue." "You should go and find him, I presume you're the only person he wants to be around right now." Barry voiced, his voice so honest & caring.

She thought about what Barry was saying. Was there some deeper meaning behind it? Barry was full of riddles. "Maybe so..." Jill whispered, fidgeting with her nails, they were even painted for once. "I know so, Jill, you bring a comfort into his life that I've never seen him have. I'm pretty sure you being around makes him different, makes him himself, y'know?" "You think so?" "I do." Barry smiled at her, standing up from the folding metal chair. "Bring it in." Barry held his arms out for her. He did always give the bestest of hugs.

Briskly, Jill got up and wrapped her arms around his round stomach, feeling like a little girl as she did. He caressed the top of her head as he hugged her. Jill and Barry were close the second she joined the squad. He welcomed her in with open arms. Chris was actually distant with Jill when she joined, but within time warmed up to her. "Go find him and talk to him, ok?" "I will." Jill muttered out to him, pulling away slowly. Barry has such a kind soul.

"I'm gonna get back to the wife now, don't be gone to long!" Barry cackled out, stepping backwards as he disappeared into the crowd. "You do that." Jill spoke below her breath as she sighed soothingly. Her nerves were less shaky now, she felt better about all of this. Jill left her empty red solo cup on the chair, along with her plate as she didn't even see a trashcan in sight before she then stepped outside, checking around the front area to see if Chris was anywhere to be found.

If he wasn't out front, then he may have been in his car. Jill just hopes he didn't decide to up & leave. He wouldn't be that selfish. "Chris, you out here?" Jill shouted out, her arms at her side. The wind was picking up, her dress was flowing in the breeze, it was chilly out. She spotted his truck near the edge of the parking lot but where she was from, she didn't see him in it. Jill was just very relieved it wasn't gone, that meant he was somewhere around here.

He wasn't the type to just go out on a walk so she scratched that off of the list. He would've said something if he were to, right...? At least she hopes that's the case. "Chris, please answer me!" It was still silent, all Jill could hear was the sound of the wind and people yapping inside of the R.P.D. It was tiring, trying to track him down whilst being cold. She took it upon herself to check the East side of the building, maybe he was there, just taking some time to himself.

Turning the corner, Jill heard someone cough, it was a manly cough. "Chris..." Jill whispered out, looking at the East gate fence and scanning it as she saw him sitting on the steps. "There you are..." Jill mumbled, slowly walking towards him. "Here I am." Chris sighed. She scurried over to him and sat down beside him. The two of them stayed silent for a few moments, Jill just didn't really know what to say. The sound of the wind got louder and goosebumps formed along Jill's arms. "Fuck..." She uttered beneath her breath. "C'mere." Chris soughed.

He took his thick leather jacket off and put it on her shoulders, keeping it stiff so it'd stay put. He was wearing a long sleeve shirt anyways so the cold didn't bother him as much. "Thank you." Jill hushly said, her hands resting on her thighs. "Yeah." Chris said in response. Jill broke the tension and spoke her truth, "You can't let Irons get to you like that... He isn't worth it." Jill spoke kindly, her voice soft as ever. "I know." Chris groaned out, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Looking up at him, Jill gave him a small half smile. "Are you okay?" Her soul was so gentle. She cares for him so much. "I am now." Chris whispered. Jill was sitting one step below him, it made him seem even taller than he really is. "Good." "Are you doing okay?" "I am, I'm just exhausted... But not like physically, y'know?" Jill expressed. "Mentally then? If so, me too." Chris chuckled, it wasn't a happy one though. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." Jill chortled, hiding her head in her arms.

As she sat in the same position for a bit, she heard the sound of a lighter clicking and she shot her head up, seeing Chris lighting joint up, which shocked her. "Chris, that's illegal, what are you doing!?" Jill covered her mouth, her eyes wider than ever. "Oh, yeah, whatever." Chris snickered, taking a long drag of the joint before blowing it out, the wind pulling the smoke with it. "Oh my God, where did you even get that?" "Somewhere over yonder." He teased her. "You wanna hit it?" He asked, holding it out to her.

"Oh I'm not sure..." Jill said with a brittle voice. She was contemplating it but she didn't know what it was like, she's never even smoked a cigarette before. "What will it do to me?" "Nothing, you'll get high." "What happens when you're high?" "Depends on the person and the weed. With this, you'll mostly get the giggles and get hungry." Chris's eyes trailed on her, then down her figure then back up to her eyes, although she didn't realize that. "What if we get caught?" "We won't." Chris reassured her.

Chris wasn't going to pressure her into smoking, he would never, but he'd love to see how she gets when she's high.

"So?" Chris snickered, wiggling the blunt in front of her face. "Okay." Jill giggled, grabbing a hold of it and placing the end of it between her pink, smooth lips. "Now just inhale slowly, you'll feel a burn but it's a good kind of burn." Chris explained, gazing at her as she began to take her very first hit. Jill inhaled slowly yet deeply, feeling that burn Chris spoke about, she instantly felt the need to cough. She zipped the joint away from her mouth and coughed profusely, her throat itching & scratching. "Atta girl." Chris smirked, taking the blunt off of her hands.

"Fucking hell." Jill coughed out, her eyes begining to water as the coughing didn't let up. "You're ok, let it out." Chris teased her, taking another drag from it himself. "Here." Chris handed his cup to her, allowing her to take a big 'ol swig from it. Jill heaved out, leaning back and giggling. "Let me try again!" Jill snickered. "Damn, you sure?" Chris posed, not wanting to let her do it again, she took it pretty roughly. "Yeah, I'm more prepared now." "Alright." Chris laughed, passing it back to her and studying her pretty face as she took a safer approach to it.

She took an even slower hit before stopping right as she felt that tingly burn deep in her neck. "That's it." Chris praised her attempts at a good inhale, she was a natural. Jill blew it out moderately, tittering as some of the foggy smoke seeped out through her nose. "That happens." Chris mentioned, admiring her newly found talent. "That's not so bad but I feel like a druglord." "Jesus Jill, it's not like a bad drug, other people smoke it, even Kathy does." "No fucking way Kathy smokes this shit, does Barry know?" "I don't think so." Chris laughed, the laugh clearly came from deep within. It was nice to see him so gleeful.

The sun has officially set, it was dark now, Jill assumes people will probably head home after the speeches but they haven't even begun yet. The first & only star was out, finally, it was directly above Chris & Jill too. It was like destiny. The steps were cold but the heat from Chris's jacket countered it, Jill felt appreciated when Chris gave it to her, it was like he commonly thought of her. It was a kind gesture that she was always going to accept with grace. "Did you notice how Forest was hitting on me earlier?" Jill randomly brought up. "Yeah, I noticed. He's a dork." Chris snickered, breathing in the marijuana.

"Why? You liked it?" "Absolutely not." Jill laughed, gazing up at Chris. The incoming reflection of moonshine hit her hazel eyes wonderfully, she was so full of light & beauty. "I've never even seen you in a dress before." Chris expressed, his eyes on her body once again. "There's a first for everything." Jill beamed at him, her elbow resting on the step as her head was in her hand again. "I feel like I look stupid in dresses." "No, you don't, you look good." Chris complimented her. "Yeah?" "Definitely." He mumbled out.

"You know, I've never seen you wear this jacket before. It's always hung up by your desk." "Yeah, I never liked how it fit me." "I think it looks nice on you." Jill whispered to him, she bit her lip slightly whilst doing so. "It looks better on you." Chris tittered, he was so evidently checking her out ; There was no way she hadn't caught onto it yet. Jill stood up for a moment to sit up beside Chris, their shoulders side by side, their legs rubbing against one another's.

"How ironic is that? Two stars are above us now and we are also two stars." Jill giggled out, pointing up at the grayish sky. "Cool." Chris said to her softly, passing the joint to her for the last time. "You can have the last hit." "How generous of you." Jill said cockily, taking the final hit before stomping it out on the steel ridgid steps. "You gonna take up smoking now?" Chris teased. "Actually, probably." Jill joked, looking at him again.

"Chris..." Jill whispered out, not saying anything after that. She was gonna get all heart felt, but didn't wanna ruin the joyous mood. At the same time, it felt needed. She really just wanted to make sure he was truly okay. He needs to be at least okay. "What's going on?" Chris asked her, placing his hand on her knee in a comforting sense. "Uh I just... You know I'm always here for you, yeah?" Jill smiled. Chris stared at her, his heart swelled up.

Chris always found Jill to be a sweet girl, from the day they met, to be exact. She's always treated him so kindly and never once doubted him. She even makes him compliment himself on his hard days. She's such a good person. "Jill..." Chris mumbled underneath his breath, their eyes locked on each other's. Chris suddenly felt like just holding her. Even just like... Kissing her? That was even too far.

Although, it was as if she read his mind. Jill wrapped her arms around his neck, pushing her body closer to his as she did so. Chris breathed deeply into the crook of her neck, morely into her thick, healthy hair. His bulky arms encased around her waist, holding her as close to him as he could. Her warmth was comforting more than anything. His jacket slid off of her shoulders as they embraced one another lovingly.

Sure, they've hugged before, but it was never anything like this. This was real. This was passion. It felt so good to feel her against him like this. "I love you Chris." Jill said, it was meant to be interpreted in a friendly way but even Jill didn't know if she meant it like that. She finds herself questioning what kind of love it is that she feels for him. "I love you too." Chris replied, his hand stroking her hair carefully & with ease. "Thank you for being you." Jill mumbled out, her nails digging into the back of his shirt. "Oh Jill..." Chris's voice shook as he held the back of her neck gently.

Leisurely pulling away, Chris gazed at Jill, his hands in hers. Chris also heard the sound of someone speaking loudly, indicating that speeches were starting. "I guess we should go in for those, huh?" Chris chuckled, feeling sort of awkward but also happy. "Heh, I suppose so." Jill cleared her throat, standing up and stretching. "Here." Chris spoke once more, picking his jacked back up and putting it on her. "Now Forest will know you've been with me." "Chris!" Jill giggled, smiling with her teeth, oh how pretty she was. "Let's go, you ass." Jill rolled her eyes playfully as the two of them made way back into the department.

[acourtofthought]

I just want to say my piece about Elain week and be done with it. Honestly, you’re one of the few accounts I follow that actually gets it. You genuinely love Elain’s character but aren’t blind to her flaws, which is rare. It’s refreshing to see someone who admires where her story might be going while still keeping it real—because let’s face it, Elain is just a character in a book, not a real person. It’s exhausting to see people lose their minds over fictional drama. So, thanks for being one of the few who can balance it all without losing touch with reality.

I can’t take Elriel’s seriously because they treat Elain like she’s some real, fleshed-out character while simultaneously reducing her to a mere plot device in Az's story. It’s like they completely ignore her agency and depth just to fit her into Azriel's narrative. And don’t even get me started on Elainweek. If it was supposed to be inclusive, why was it riddled with bans that sidelined anyone who had different preferences in the fandom? They act like Elucien fans are the problem for not participating in previous years, but then turn around and complain on Twitter when a bunch of Eluciens actually engaged this year.

They should have just been straightforward about their intentions for Elain-week instead of being passive-aggressive and called it what it was, Elriel week.

Now, I want to touch on the art that is now causing so muchdrama. I want to make it abundantly clear, the art itself was beautiful, many Eluciens and Gwynriels said so, but it was the artist's words that hurt many POC among the fandom.

It’s was honestly sad to witness this whole situation. I do not think the artist's comments were made with malicious intent, but rather came from a place of ignorance. Eluciens and Gwynriels had been nothing but supportive of her work, sharing her previous pieces and even showing interest in commissioning her - despite her obvious preference for Elriel.

However, how she choose to address the situation escalated things and I will bet good money she is now being manipulated by Elriels, who are telling her that she said nothing wrong, because they want the artist to create a narrative that Elucien are bullies. They are taking advantage of her situation and making things worse.

But does the artist even realize that many of the people sliding into her DMs are the very same ones who have engaged in real bullying? Seriously, these are the people who have sent death threats, harassed SJM’s best friend, and targeted authors, influencers, bookshops, and other artists just for shipping Gwynriel or Elucien. Does she know she is being exploited by Elriels, it’s sad that she doesn’t see it. Her artwork was stunning but it was overshadowed by her thoughtless and careless words and how she handled the situation. She seems to have completely missed the point.

This entire week has just been a reminder of how hypocritical some Elriels can be. Honestly, I can't wait for the day they finally drop Elain's character, because you know they will when they don't get their precious Elriel in the canon. They’re delusional if they think SJM would ever write Elriel after the way they've harassed her team, her husband, her best friends, and her colleagues. The death threats and even the creepy threats to kidnap her baby? Seriously?

Let’s be real: if they were truly confident in their ship from the beginning, they wouldn’t have needed to resort to bullying the author and anyone who disagrees with them. I think they have always known deep down that they were shipping a red herring. Now they’re just trying to strong-arm Sarah into writing them some fanservice because they can't handle the fact that their ship isn’t happening. That SJM prefers mates and they know Elriel aren't mates. It’s time to call it what it is. They want Sarah to cater to their whims, and their desperation to spam and harass anyone who doesn't ship Elriel is just pathetic.

Alright, I’m done

Thank you for the background on the photo drama! I know people were looking for more details of what happened and I had heard about it but didn't see some of what was being said on IG. You know, E/riels can call Elucien's and Gwynriel's bully's all they want and I know there have been some situations where even our side has behaved badly (though I'm not sure I remember seeing de@th threats / SA threats coming from our end) but if E/riels truly hoped to have some influence on how Sarah writes these books, I do not understand how they think their behavior is doing them favors. Sarah and her team know nothing of the verbal sparring between anon user A versus Anon user B on IG / Tumblr/ Twitter (X) whether it be Eluciens to E/riels, Gwynriels to E/riels or E/riels to Eluciens and Gwynriels. But they most certainly have heard about what happened to the other famous author who called out E/riels on her IG simply because she liked the Gwynriel ship. Sarah almost certainly heard about how E/riels acted towards her good friend Steph after she said she didn't think E/riel was happening on one of her Lives. I don't think anything any of us are going to change Sarah's mind on what she writes but if someone is over the age of 12, I imagine we all learned the lesson that good behavior gets rewarded and tantrums do not.

Thank you for your comments on my view of Elain's character! I can't think of a single FMC who has started her book happy with friends, already in love, and already living where she's going to end up by the end of her book, can you?

Yet somehow Elain is already perfect with the perfect friends and the perfect lover who treats her so well and they're already the best friends ever even though he spent a year avoiding her and she's so at home with the sisters who call her a dog and a pleasant companion and the way she treats Lucien is not at all inconsiderate because she is perfect and does not owe the one she has a forever magical connection to a single word from her lips because real life women don't owe men anything! Apparently the E/riel version of Elain is living the Barbie Dream Life and that's all well and good but then the author has absolutely no need to write a book about her. Have they listened to Sarah talk about her favorite characters? Nesta. Manon. She likes complicated women. Which we saw with Bryce and Feyre and Aelin. These women are layers upon layers and they are flawed. We can love them all the same but Sarah does not like Mary Sue's. Even her most Mary Sue like character (the not morally gray Yrene) had major prejudices she had to get over! She was a bitch to Chaol at first! That means Elain is not starting off her book as the Voted Most Beautiful of the School Head Cheerleader of the Squad leaving care packages on her sweetheart of one year and counting's locker since they're already so in love, Elain who already has the picture perfect life and only needs to fight the bad guy because there's absolutely nothing else for her to achieve. Elain, just like every other SJM heroine is going to have depth. Heavy emotions that have held her back from doing the things she needs to do, being who she's meant to be, facing her bond instead of avoiding it. Emotions that are HERS and not just her showing Rhys up. That's blaming everyone else for Elain's current state and not giving her any of the responsibility for anything. They just don't want her to have depth and things to overcome because if she does that means she might change (just like every other FMC does) and they worry that if she changes, it could mean those changes will lead her in a direction they don't want for her. So for them she must remain exactly as she is and end her book with things exactly the same as they are right now. (or at least as they were pre Solstice because right now she hasn't looked Az's way for months). We all knew Elain Week was going to be E/riel Week 2.0 despite their cries of "no, Elucien's are welcome! All ships but Tamlian and Berlain are welcome!" Damn if I'm now not wishing for some Jurlain content because that seems to be their hot button these days. We knew they'd cry that it's our fault, that we are the ones who choose not to participate while conveniently forgetting all the posts they liked over the past year calling Elucien's abuse apologists, misogynists, etc. But Yes, Of COURSE we're all welcome this week. It's like making fun of how a kid dresses every day at school then promising they'll behave the week of May 3rd, ONLY the week of May 3rd but act shocked when the kid doesn't thank them for the compliment of how nice they look that week. Assurances don't mean a thing when the people making them are nasty to us and our ship 99.9% of the time. At this point we can only hope that Sarah will some day decide to put us out of our misery and announce the next pairing.

[homesickn]

Isn't bite also touch?

Chapter six! (Chapter 7)

(Loki X Female demon!reader)

Summary of the chapter: It's the first Stark's party you two are going to, what's going to happen?

Warnings: fingering, oral sex, vomiting, handjob, and a lot of blasphemy, I assume. We have this a lot here.

Taglist: @mischief2sarawr @dangertoozmanykids101

Note: It shouldn't have taken so long, but this chapter contains almost 8k words, I hope it's not too exhausting but I wanted to keep it in one. I promise next ones are going to have less words, I hope you enjoy it, truly. I love every single interaction I receive. ♡

Now get ready, I'm already wearing my suit and tie 'cause we're having a party!!

A party. Of course, Stark planned a party.

It came unexpectedly when he announced it, but to his defense —he explained, “We work all the time, how could a little time-off hurt? Just a night of partying for us,” trying not to get into any discussions with the team, but everyone knew he'd do anything he wanted anyway.

“I need to have a reason now?” He huffed angrily, all the others gasping at his sentence. Steve mumbled something about 'rich people always making a huge party for nothing.' “Yes, ancient relic, it's become an addiction by this point.” He cleared his throat, “I can always claim it's for our two new additions.” He presents you and Loki to the conversation.

That's how it ended up where you are now, sitting on the main couch two days afterwards. With Nat trying to show you how to do a makeup look like hers.

“Okay, tilt your head up a bit.” You do as she says. She holds your chin and highlights your cheekbones. “You look beautiful with this, even more than usual.” 

You're not sure what to respond, you just shrug messily, but feel your cheeks warm at the comment. You noticed her eyes stared intensely now in comparison to the first day, when she wouldn't even look at you.

You two were alone doing the makeup until two of the men decided to sit around and watch. The men being Clint and Thor.

“Can you do one on me too?” Thor asked, laughing a little but seeing truthful in his words. “I mean it, I think this art is really pretty. My people do this too, but it doesn't look like that.” 

“And what does it look like?” Asked Clint. 

“Well, firstly it kind of involves a bit more blood. The warriors —men, mainly— prefer to have their faces painted with blood, before, after or during a battle.” He took a sip of his alcoholic drink, you were interested in the story. 

“Whose blood?” You wondered with a crooked smile.

“Of the ones who die first.” He laughs and finishes the rest of his drink in a large sip. “They are unlucky, but we consider their blood honorable. So their death is honored, and gives us more luck with their passing to Valhalla.”

“Brother,” Loki makes his entrance in the room, “you never cease your battle-talk.” He smirks, you noticed he's a bit more mirthful these past few days. You believe he's starting to notice this too, compared to how tired he was some days ago.

“I think battle-talks are entertaining.” You say and look at Thor,  “They're the ones everyone wants to listen to.” 

“Of course you'd think that.” You try to ignore Loki's eyes. “Anything with blood interests you, I wonder what else would–”

“Alright, you two are getting a little too close for me.” Clint said getting up quickly and going to the feast, far closer to where Tony was drowning in his beverages.

“I think Tony's enjoying it too much.” You say. “I don't see the appeal in losing your sense of control.” You were still looking at Tony, so you didn't see Loki's eyes sparkling with mischief and new ideas.

“You should try this.” He puts up a glass with something that looks a bit too much like beer to you. 

“I've tried beer before and it's disgusting.” You put the glass away with your fingers. 

“It's not beer.” He simply says, “I'll take it as you're too weak to taste it. Even the gods faint at the single taste of a powerful Asgardian mead.” He says too proudly.

You picked some interest at that, looking over your shoulder at the glass with a look of superiority. 

“Come on, demoness!” Thor almost screamed with joy, “It's a moment of pride for our Asgardian heart. So we can see your reaction.” He gestured to both himself and Loki.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed the glass from the table, swallowing its content in a single second. 

“See? Nothing, it's nothing to me.” You crossed your arms and gave them a tight-lipped smile.

“PASS ME SOME OF THAT!” Stark appeared suddenly with three other strangers around him. Looking all like a proper Queen Bee.

“It's definitely better if you don't even touch it, Stark, not in your state.” Thor hurries to hide the mead, “It's not made for human men.” 

“Then it is exactly what I'm looking for today!” He smiles trying to reach for the bottle once more.

“Hi Thor!” Some girl waved at Thor, Loki rolled his eyes and focused on you again.

“Drink more.” Loki pointed to the full bottle at the side of the table, “I could use a few too, I'm so glad Thor could bring this from Asgard.”

“Normal alcohol does nothing to you, I'm guessing?”

“That you've guessed right.” He confirmed, already putting more mead on his glass. Lifting it up to present it to you with a lifting eyebrow, “A toast for us?”

You moved to accept and grab more for you. 

The tower got full quicker than expected and to your surprise you failed to meet some of your known buddies. You met new nurses, some businessmen, some business-people in general, even celebrities (which might be an out-of-this-world-experience for humans).

You left a quiet gasp of surprise and quickly turned around when you felt a touch on your shoulder. The cold breath hitting your neck made you come to your senses quite quickly so you already had an idea who the person was.

“Loki,” You whisper, trying to keep your timbre low. “What are you doing?!” You exclaimed as discreetly as possible.

“What does it look like I'm doing?” You couldn't pinch the alcohol in his breath, you quickly wondered if this was an illusion he pulled on the spot or if he simply was used to the drink so he just didn't get drunk.

His hand moved from your shoulder to pass openly over your body's upper half. Discreetly going through your breasts to your stomach to finally reach your hips and grab them with passion. And pressed his body with precision against your back.

He couldn't stop touching your hips with his fingertips and pressing his distinguishable hard-on on the curve of your ass. Making you squeak as you tried to not bring attention to you, tried to pretend nothing was happening.

“Are you drunk?" You're facing him now, turning to bring your arms around his shoulders, silently wishing he would pick you up from the position. Maybe the closer you've gotten together these past few days made him get comfortable enough to do this. Either way, you couldn't say you minded. 

“Hmmm,” He hummed, pressing his face on the crook of your neck, smelling the new human perfume that Nat insisted on putting on you.

“No,” he finally answered. “I'm not drunk, just a bit full, but nothing I can't handle.” He gives you a characteristic smirk, wanting nothing more than to take the offending clothes off your body and give in to his desires, make sure his primitive instincts get sated right there, in front of everyone. You bit your lips with the lights turning your vision.

He groaned in your ear as you squirmed in his embrace, —as if he heard your mind, he made sure to pull you up and even closer to him. Getting you all puzzled, but once again, not even complaining. You understand by the atmosphere the place has, and the attraction you give, this might even come as irresistible to him.

The loudness could make your heartbeat quake and the floor tremble beneath your feet and the very vulnerability the humans presented in the scene in front of you was something of a proper entertaining performance to your eyes.

But you couldn't help but feel addicted to it, you felt the rushing in your veins and your blood pulsing mistakenly mixing with the local music.

“What if we get out of here?” You tried to induce Loki. “Maybe you're giving in to this Devil's tricks after all.” You couldn't help but smile sweetingly.

“Oh dear, right now I couldn't care less. I've denied it for long enough.” You doubted his truth about being sober, as he maintened his harsh grip on you, marking your skin with his nails. “We could always just stay right here.” He smoothly moves your body up and down his clothed erection, licking his lips with a charming smile as you feel him throb through his pants. 

He suddenly leaned forward to, desperately, start kissing you, for the first time. His hands explore as much as he possibly can as if you two have so little time, as if you'd run away anytime and he wouldn't get to memorize you. He's kissing you like he's been denying himself the temptation.

“Loki,” You moan against your will, putting your hands to his chest to get a break from him, trying to catch your breath, halting his tongue from greedily seeking yours. 

Your hands look tiny in comparison to his bulky stature and it made your eyes wide at the sight, he seemed every bit as god-like as possible. “Loki…” 

“Yes, my fierce demoness? Are you going to take my soul? Or do I need to give you what you need most?” His pupils were dilated at the sight of your breathless state, your lips plump from the kissing and shining with the mix of your saliva, dripping a little beside your chin, your eyes shining bright just for him, making his cock twitch. “If I give you my cock, will you become more amicable? I wonder…” 

The possessiveness in his position, with your thighs spread apart for his body to accommodate between your legs, exactly where he should've been this whole time. Damned be the consequences, blame it on the party if needed, but his hands wouldn't stay away from you even if he tried.

“What is it that I need? You think I need you, now?” Fuck me. Fuck me. His talking was cruel as you felt your body burn. 

His hand delicately moves lower to rest on your pelvis. His huge palm pressing it like it's his, like such a private part of you it's his property, caressing it and making you shiver as you restlessly snapped your head around the room. 

You gulped a bit from the sight. “Loki? We should cast an illusion... I can cast it if you want.” You said.

“Do we need to?” He bit your earlobe, and almost desperately as possible, reached down to your lips again, wanting to stay close. Wanting to constantly touch you. “Imagine what a time we'd have,” He spread your thighs even wider, making you gasp as his hands were claiming, tightening around your skin. “If they could see you like this, a dangerous monster to their eyes. So fucked up and wet for a God...and one like me, the one they despise…” 

His eyes sparked like offering a challenge, like you're in the company of a wolf ready to devour you.

“Right, darling? Do you think they'd get off on you too? I'm almost making a mess of my pants just from the sight of you, imagine what these mortals would do.” He moved your dress up to present more of you to him, and you shiver, unable to stop your sounds as you squirm in his grasp. “Shhh,” he whispers. “Shhh, my devilish little whore–” 

His words make you groan with sudden distaste but he quiets you, putting you down and turning your body so your back is against him once more, and moving his other palm to your mouth. Silencing any protest that you'd make from his words, until you bite his skin. He lets go with a hiss.

“I'll murder you if you try to offend me,” Your eyes look murderous as you force your neck to glance at him, “I know it turns you on, but I'll kill you, Loki.” You press your nails down the skin of his arms, wanting to scratch him and make him hurt for his single comment.

“I've put a spell on us,” He says, groaning from a momentary friction the roll of his hips caused. “No one will catch us.” His voice was so tempting, you feared he was making you weak. You knew he was lying about the spell but it suddenly felt irresistible to comment anything against him.

His fingers slide down to brush the thin cloth of your already soaked panties, just from his brutish handling but delicate caresses. Loki starts kissing your jaw and his teeth scrapes over your neck, biting and licking it until he leaves a mark.

He brings your panties to the side and starts trailing his finger over your folds, taking his moment to massage your clit, eyes glinting with want and he looks down, frantically wishing he could just lower himself down right there and worship your quim like you're a goddess instead of a sinner. Your cunt clenched with each stroke and you couldn't hold the soft whine of the god's name as he went faster. “Loki.”

He took such a pleasure from listening to your voice as you say his name, he couldn't contain himself, his hips rutting on your behind, glued to your body, merging himself with the curve of your naked ass whilst he remained fully dressed, holding you in place, and leaving his mouth open as he threw his head back in pleasure. “Your voice… say my name…” He pleads and you grant him his wish, unable to control your own instincts.

His finger slides into your entrance whilst he keeps his thumb pleasuring your clit, giving your body a mind-numbing pressure, you couldn't even stop shaking, stuck in between his arms. Your jaw is clenched and your teeth gritted, trying to keep yourself from moaning too loudly and giving him satisfaction.

“Lose yourself to me, you can do it, I'm here for you,” he coos somewhat mockingly to you, feigning innocence in his tone, enticing you with his true purpose. 

He makes you yelp when he curls his fingers inside you, you squirm and grip onto his arm and whine like a needy whore. “Your voice is ruining me, those pretty little sounds.” He sounded just as ruined, his voice so low and gravely and almost stuttering his words by being so drunk with pleasure.

He fervently rubs his thumb deeper against your desperate clit. “And you thought you could stick around with them, whoever these heroes think they are, they could never have you, they–” he pauses and groans out ferociously, gritting his teeth looking up, overwhelmed with this simple pleasure. “T–they could never have this. As long as you're my ruin, you're still mine, not Thor's, never anyone else's, you're mine now.”

You moan out, if all his anger makes you burn, now the pleasures all mix in one. Your vision was both the red from the party and red from his emotions, your mouth open, unstopping the cries of pleasure you felt as you desperately clenched your thighs together, making everything oh much tighter and pleasing for both of you, you both moaned together from the friction, but he still burst your thighs open right there just to continue his fingering.

“Ride my fingers, my angel,” he maliciously says, you shiver in his embrace. “Do it,” he groans into your ear, gritting his teeth and looking at the ceiling to keep himself contained. 

Your half lidded eyes and parted lips, chest heaving with the impact he has against your back, thrusting his hips against yours matching his fingers inside you. “Fuck.” He curses, desperately clutching more of your skin. “Fuck it, I need more.”

You can barely blink before he completely manhandles your body, grasping your legs up and throwing you on top of a wooden table at a corner, you wonder how the humans didn't turn their heads on you from the noise. He keeps your dress up and growls like a beast when catching the sight of your fucked-up state.

He eagerly pulls off the material still covering your cunt, and his eyes focus on the spot between your legs, you swear you can see his mouth watering. He licks his lips and his pupils are purely blown out, hiding all the usual cerulean color they have. 

Desperate, you feel your cunt squeeze around nothing, you worry you might make a mess of the table with your juices.

Your cunt feels so warm beneath his fingers as he cups it with his hands, his eyes are looking at it with such adoration. Practically clawing the rest of the dress out of your body, in a hurry, holding all the skin he can in the way, admiring the way your breasts jiggle as they were shown to him. A moment that could be mistaken as sacred if not so sinfully sacrilegious. 

You couldn't stop it, it was making you feel full before even starting, the power you felt from him and the strength you felt were all so luxurious it made you close your thighs together, which made him sternly pull them apart once again.

“Tch, tch,” he reprimands you, having to keep his grip stern on you again. “Who knew you'd be such a ferocious little thing under my touch? Can't even stop moving,” He grits his teeth and brings his hand down to slap your ass with a strong impact. “Stop wiggling,” he says firmly.

“Damn it,” you curse, feeling the stinging pain. “What are you doing to me?" You even feel dizzy.

“Why do I have to be doing something? That's just how you feel, little demoness.” He licks the skin beneath your neck, going for open-mouthed kisses as he speaks against your pulse. “There's no running away, I have to have you.” You almost miss him undoing his belt with an animalistic force, throwing it aside with a clunk sound. “You're my godslut now, aren't you? You're doing anything for your God…look how far you've fallen.” He chuckles, gripping your waist.

His hands take their time grasping your breasts, moving his mouth to delicately start licking them with reverent precision, giving you very wide eyes as he looks up, silently seeking your affections. 

You lose your breath as you look down at him, grabbing his dark hair and pulling him closer onto your chest, wanting to suffocate his face against the skin of your breasts, wanting to feel him inside of you, his cold tongue made everything feel divine. 

His tongue moves to gently worship your other nipple as he carefully gives attention toying with the other. His giant hand cupping your breast, making it feel so full to him as he squeezes and hears your pleasured soft sighs and squeaks when he presses too much.

“Loki, Loki,” you call his name among the whimpers, he brings himself to his knees for you, sliding his hands around you as he kneels. Looking up while delaying around the area of your hips, his hair is all messed up from your pulling already, and he reverently locks his eyes with your pussy again, watching its softness so puffy from want, he can smell your arousal from how much you're dripping, it's enchanting him, he can't think of anything else but you, not even about his painfully throbbing cock begging for attention.

“I need to…” He tries to catch his breath as soon as possible, moving his hands smoothly down your thighs and silently looking up to you, asking for permission. “Please.” he almost squeaks out.

You didn't know why you couldn't just speak but you frantically nodded your head, desperately wishing to continue, giving him your consent as he desperately leaned in to drown himself into your pussy. You grab him by the hair, pulling him even closer as you bring your thighs together instinctively, wincing from the contact of his cold tongue in you but quickly moaning out to the air as you ride his welcoming tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckkkk,” your voice draws the mewling, and he deliciously accepts the pressure you put to drive him further. Dragging his curls up to bring his mouth up and down on you, delighting himself on your lips and fucking the spot inside of you that made you quiver, drawing even more moans of you. “Fucking hell, w–what, I–” You breathe out a long trembling breath, and you're tempted to brag but it's as if he can sense your coming petulance and he blissfully let's out a wanton moan bringing multiple vibrations to your core, doing that on purpose.

When you let go of his hair to get a grip of yourself he pulls himself even deeper inside you, if that's possible. His nose bumps your clit as he eats you out like a starved man, he skillfully moves his lips around the bud and sucks hard. 

You start riding his face, with sweat shining down your neck and on the curve of your breasts, looking down at him with blown eyes and a clear impatience for release.

You could feel his magic working unconsciously to him, surrounding and overwhelming you whilst he remained unaware of its use. You gracefully move his head —with a small fight because he doesn't want to let go of his newfound spot inside of you— for a second, and you see his entire face glistening with your arousal, he licks his soaked lips excitedly waiting for you to pull him in again.

Your head goes back in ecstasy as you feel your orgasm approaching, your senses being numbed as your only thought was him and his mouth, his face between your legs, his tongue, how red and desperate he seems, his cock standing up proudly so red and ready to burst, his hair messily among your fingertips, his fingers on your hips, his magic, his veiny hands, his body taking place between you, him, him, him.

When he realizes you're about to cum he brings his fingers in to join his pleasing tongue, curling them inside you and sucking your bundle of nerves as just as hard, just like he knew how to make your toes curl and you drown him with your cum as you moan out to the air. 

You have to stick your fist into your mouth after some seconds to muffle your moaning, and Loki's hands are punishingly grabbing you in response, mixing the bare skin with your juices and guiding you through your orgasm with his tongue.

When he sees you calming down and your legs shaking a bit too hard, you softly bring his head back out of your cunt, and massage your fingers through the strands of his dark hair. The moment even seemed soft as he pressed his head on your pelvis and gave very heartfelt breaths to recompose himself, licking the juices he has all over his lips with such passion and awe, as if your taste was that of a sweet fruit he could never grow to despise, it made your heart step a beat.

He licked his fingers covered with the remains of your cum, moaning around them and making you shake your head to the sound, his moan made your cunt flutter in response. “You're ridiculous,” You breathe out, still trying to recover your normal breathing pattern. 

You cry out as his palms hit your ass with a strong powerful strike. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, owww,” you hiss after a blasphemous complain. He puts his hand over the spot after to cover the red he was responsible for, giving you a not-so apologetic smile.

“Don't mock me,” He felt so surprisingly powerful, more than he has felt during all these days since he met you. The other days he could feel his energy diminishing and he could logically blame it on his lack of sleep, but now he had you and he felt himself burn with such energy. It was almost overwhelming. He felt like he could have you for hours on end.

You quickly lean towards him and bring your hand to hold his fully throbbing cock, the tip angrily reddish and begging for attention. And you grant it to him, you wrap your fist around it and start pumping his cock, merging his precum all over your palms and making you lose your breath all over again by how easily he could be throughly fucked.

He yelped as the constant movement made him lose himself, getting his body closer to yours and wrapping you into his arms, rutting into your hand and resting his forehead against yours as he moaned with a such low gravy voice, so close to losing it. Your body close to his in a mixture of sweat and sex, and he wanted nothing more than to put it in and feel the comfort of your warm cunt to wrap around him. 

Your pumping and the tightness of your soft palm only working his fantasies further, his imagination of wanting to dive himself inside your cunt as your walls milk his cock so tightly. And now he cries out, whimpering your name and the word 'demon', 'demon'. You moan as if he's worshiping your summoning. 

He's almost breaking your skin with his fingertips, applying so much pressure on your shoulders as he bites your neck to contain a loud groan from a fervid thrusting. And as his mouth leaves your neck, his eyes roll up to the ceiling and he gives a guttural groan followed by a long, almost quiet moan as his mouth opens up drowned in pleasure.

His thrusts in your hand begin wavering and getting unsteady as his knees buckle and his grip on you tightens, his moaning unstoppable as he releases pearly white semen onto your hands and near your pelvis and abdomen. He looks down with glazed eyes and grunts as he watches his cum marking your skin. 

You collect the cum from your skin and put your very messily sticky fingers into your mouth, licking his semen off of you.

“I'm cleaning myself,” you explain as he couldn't stop watching, entranced, bewitched by your tongue surrounding his essence like it's your favorite taste, —and you couldn't deny he tasted delicious, but in your defense, you've never tasted the cum of a god, you weren't aware if it was just Loki. 

Your words make him notice you again, he suddenly remembers the suddenness of all of this, what his sex-ridden brain made you two do, the awe he held in his expression for you before now replaced with an undescriptive look.

His cock twitched from the sound of you sucking your fingers clean. Recovering from his post-orgasm, he took deep breaths to recompose better and pressed his fingers against your flesh as some ground to fix himself upon, or maybe just a reminder that you're still here and he's not cursed.

He feels surprisingly light, like he doesn't have anything else to worry about at the moment. He thought by this point he'd have to worry about getting weaker after you received his sexual attention.

But no, he feels just as strong, more alive than he felt during all this time, especially more alive than he felt before the New York attack.

“Have you drugged me, sweet?” He asked, the suddenness of it making you give a light-hearted laugh. “Have you stolen my soul from me? Hm? Are you making me sick, little devil?” He asks moving his nose around your cheek so softly, leaning close to your neck to smell you. 

“I'm not. I can feel it too.”

None of you say anything, he just keeps holding you. You can feel his arms slowly wrapping around your waist, and for the first time in so long you question what you're doing.

After a moment of silence, he dares to break it. 

“Demoness…” he calls you. “If you wanted to, could you get drunk?” He's curious.

“Yes. Yes, of course I can.” You say, almost offended by his phrase.

“Would you?” He gives curls a strand of your hair with his finger, watching it as it whoops when he let it go. Snapping his head to meet your gaze, looking as unexpressive as can but keeping the contact. “Would you get drunk with me?”

The noise increased tenfold but also did the mindnumbing happiness you were feeling. Now you understand what the humans find so appealing, this feels like a biblically description of Heaven. That coming from the brain of a demon, it makes your skin crawl.

The humans were shaking from the songs and a guy named Rhodys came around presenting you one more round of recently found 'vodka', you smelled it but didn't think twice before drinking the content in one go. You seemed even more cheerful after the graciously spent-time with Loki. The humans cheering for you and applauding like they always do for anything stupid.

Gods, you almost felt human. Ugh. You were both repulsed and amused.

The dancing was what got you all happy and smiley, you just couldn't keep your smile hidden and your jaw was aching from the constant joy. 

“What if we play two truths and a lie?”

“Oh, or even better, truth or dare!”

“Noooo, these are for children,” said a slurred voice through the crowd, you giggled at their drunken tone.

“Loki would suck at this,” the god heard you and gave your shoulder a small bite. Nothing to break the skin but still made you hiss. “Can you not? I swear you're addicted to this, biting.” You moved to throw your finger to his face, which he gladly took as a sign he could lick it.

“Isn't it already enough that I have a bunch of hickies to hide, thanks to you?” You say attempting to keep stern, and keeping your voice quiet, but he could see right through your façade.

“I want to see what the games would be...” He says, his words muffled by being said against your neck. “I'm curious to see how you'd charm the mortals' contest. That's all.” He said more clearly now.

You let your stern look slip and come back to a smile, avoiding his face now. 

“I suggest a new drinking game!” Thor brings to the talk, “I want to see how you fail at lifting Mjolnir. If you manage to lift it up, I'll drink all the alcoholic drinks you all are drinking. If you lose, you drink a cup yourself.” He explains, Loki can't help but lay on the couch with an annoyed sigh.

“This pompous bastard will do anything just to be the center of attention. Wanting to spread his 'worthiness' that's made up by Odin's standards.” Loki says.

“I feel like Loki would enjoy the party way more if his brother wasn't here.” Said the nurse, Chloe, that was glued to Thor's side.

“You got it right.” Loki answered, you sat on the couch with him. 

“Don't bring the party down.” You say, “That's not much to your spirits, is it?” you smile knowingly, “You usually are so sociable. Thor's just trying to bring some entertainment.” You take the time he's focused on you to rest your hand on his thigh, his thighs were spreaded apart on the couch.

“For him, yes.”

“But if he fails, then imagine what his face would look like.” You look like you're up to something, Loki snapped his head to look at you, for a moment you thought he truly just stopped and…looked at you.

He gives you a smile and quickly tries to hide it, you both share a look and agree to play. All the heroes go first whilst you and Loki just observe the scenes.

First Clint, then Tony, then Cap. Your eyes darken as you see the way it slightly moved, and Thor's face changed for a millisecond at that, but it did nothing else.

Loki pretended to be disinterested but you could feel his anxiety spiking through your body, almost infecting your own emotions. 

You truly believed you were both weakening each other by staying together. You could make him feel stronger, you could stop some punishments, you were the reason he felt tired, but now, it feels like the humans are showing you something new. 

It wasn't supposed to be this way, it makes your heart sink to your stomach, filling it with dread.

But who cares for now? You can just pretend as you watch them, and worry about such concerns at a later point, until you have to face them again. You turn to look at Loki and wonder if you're being too emotional, or if allowing yourself to drink was a mistake.

“Loki?” Thor calls his brother, offering the hammer. Loki moves in his seat, unquiet, only you knowing of his rushing nervous heartbeats.

“I'm not sure I wish to be part of it,” he gulped, ignoring everyone's eyes. You took his hand in yours, and he pulled it away in a rush.

“If there's anyone in this room you can be certain is unworthy, that person is Loki!” Clint boomed a laughter and made a whole bunch of people laugh with him. 

Humiliation ran through the god's veins in such an uncomfortable amount you could feel it within yourself, or perhaps you're just too close to him by now. And you shouldn't be.

“I want to try next.” You say with a blank face, their laughs slowly dying out. The silence opens space to new sounds of quiet mockery. 

“I'm actually a bit scared now,” said Thor, visibly shivering a little, “I know I've agreed on everyone playing but…demons? Feels like cheating! I'm aware you can cheat anytime.” He said, curiously looking around him seeking some agreement, and everyone was on his side. A poor trembling guy, that was clearly drenched in cold sweat, couldn't stop nodding his head at Thor's statement.

“We said we'd play, right?” You said, “Loki can go after me, as an obligation, or if I fail. Nothing to prove here, and I don't need to cheat.” As likable as you were, Thor had to admit you get scary frighteningly quickly.

“Ok, rules are rules!” He gives you two a tight-lipped smile, not looking very genuine, not only thinking about his uniqueness of being the only one able to lift Mjolnir but also of losing the bet he had made. 

You stand up and get a hold of the hammer, not even needing much effort to lift it up in your hands. Honestly it even surprised yourself.

The room got quiet to cricket noises, only the loud music filling everyone's eardrums. Then suddenly a loud cheering could be heard so loud it could make anyone's ears bleed.

People were clapping, Tony was just still flabbergasted, trying to tell everyone he must have moved it a bit for you. Clint was telling them how it was indeed just a scam and a trick. Thor yelled “Cheater!” very loudly, pointing an accusing finger to you.

And Loki, Loki didn't know if he wanted to pull you into his arms and suffocate you or if his envy would consume him. It was such a mix of emotions you swore you could almost feel the tears coming to your very eyes. 

His hands trembled as if he wanted to grab you by your legs and pull you into his arms and keep you there, but he also was lost in allowing you to have this moment, before his head would get filled with childhood sour traumas of not being good enough, not being worthy.

Other than this sour feeling, he was proud it was you. He would just never admit it.

Thor took a good time open-mouthed in shock and accusing before casually laughing in nervousness, trying to act casual again, saying things like “that probably didn't count”, as he said before, you're a demon, but “for the sake of keeping my word, I'll do the dare,” and asking as much people as possible how much they had to drink —the ones that could remember it, and the ones that could just guess.

Quick equation, and Tony made sure to bring as many glasses of various drinks as he could, even asking others to bring more. Thor wouldn't deny the challenge, but he felt the shame of losing.

Your grip on the hammer made you stop and analyze it for a second. It came from the heart of a dying star, it felt just as cold as one can imagine. Uru metal. You moved it from one hand to the other, the hammer seemed odd in your hands.

“What does it feel like?” Loki asks, and a human probably wouldn't have listened to his question, but you did.

“Quite cold.” You answer. He's silent for a moment.

“That's never what I thought it'd feel like.” He gives a cuffed fake-laugh. You look at him.

“I would offer something but…” Your words traveled as you lost yourself in your thoughts. “I like that you're not worthy to Odin's standards.” You shrug. Look around, everyone's focusing on Thor. You come back to focus on Loki.

You clear your throat and lean closer to his ears, one leg lifting up on the couch for support of your body. He allows himself to touch your thigh, with a certain passion for reminder of what you felt like, he held your dress with his fingers.

“I cheated.” You said, ever so, so quietly, he could wonder if you said the two words telepathically. His eyes sparkled in amusement looking up at you, even if it's against his will, he couldn't avoid it.

He brought his hands up to cup your cheeks and bring your face down until your faces were on the same level, his cold breath now smelled of the just-discovered mead. He touched his fingers on your lips and your eyes fell to look at his. 

And he leaned to kiss you again, different from the first time, now it felt as calm as a wind. Just supposed to happen, like it's all right. You present yourself more so he can slip his tongue further, grabbing your arms now to bring you closer, he seemed to like that a lot.

And of course, with all the lack of privacy you can have in the tower. Clint interrupted with a fake cough.

“I can endure your stay here just no mingling in the couch we're sitting on” He gestures to the couch while he says so.

“We're not mingling,”

“You're making out!” Steve said, “I–It's not…shouldn't be allowed.”

“This is a party, come on, it's not like it's unexpected, I mean look at them,” Nat said and pointed to the two of you. You turn to face Loki again and give him a cat-like smile as you lift yourself off his lap, making him pout.

“Now my lap is cold.” Still pouting.

“Oh no, what a horror.” You jest, still smiling. One hand grabs Mjolnir again, throws it in the air, seeing what it's like. Then the other hand goes to grab a drink and swallow it down in one go.

You can feel the fuzziness but just assume it does nothing to your organism. Choosing to induce in your study and drink a lot more too, everyone was having a blast from ingesting too much alcohol, it surely wouldn't hurt.

Thor gives you a drink he was having, saying it's one that came almost too close to affecting him, or maybe he was already incredibly drunk. You accept it with a fun grin on your face. Loki doesn't comment on your drunk state, he's allowing himself some more mead himself, he trusts your nature of keeping control at all times.

Thor's hand suddenly touches your hips to move your way and Loki's eyes widen and he gasps, funnily to you, standing up and taking his brother's hands off of you. Which makes you smile just so much, his jealousy was amusing you.

“Not her, you're not allowed to touch her.” He says, still too calm for his attitudes, Thor puts his hands up in a sign of defeat.

“I wasn't trying to do anything.”

“Yeah, dude, that's too possessive,” Clint says, staring at you. “And I thought she was going to be the only possessive one.”

“Oh…dear,” You laugh and almost lose your feet, having to keep yourself up. “Dear entities of all Hells help me keep myself up, oooooh no, oh dear...” You lost your composure again, eyes falling shut a bit, watching everything through cluttered eyelashes.

Then you lift yourself up with energy effort, and bring the drink up too, obviously too drunk.

“And I dedicate this one to...” You lift the luminous drink in your hand, traveling your words off a bit, casually becoming the life of the party.

You could feel the stare of possibly three people, their blood rushing to a very noisy rhythm. One of them just mumbled a lot of prayers unstoppingly, clutching his crucifix for dear life. Your mind questioned how his hands didn't burn or mark themselves from grasping so tightly, or maybe it did, and he was okay with letting it bleed for his prayers if it meant they would be answered.

“I dedicate this one to Loki!” You lift the glass higher, trying to ignore the guy bothering you, you just felt something happening, you didn't know what.

Loki held your hand and brought his glass to yours, clinking it and everyone cheered together, then he refrained and happily went to talk with someone else.

“You're…” The guy says, too quiet for anyone to notice but you know he's talking to you, and the music is too loud it's muffling his words to the others. “You're not supposed to be here, creature of Satan.” He spits and points at you.

You give him a false look that resembles a kicked puppy, pouting your lips and then changing your expression to normal again. “Are you going to cry to your God?” You ask just as quiet, trying to keep it just to him. “I'm in the presence of two and I don't see you praying for them.”

“T–T–they're no–t…they're not re–real go–god–gods…” The poor trembling guy couldn't stop stuttering and sobbing from his silent weep, the time spent with enjoyable humans made you momentarily forget how pathetic the humans could truly be. But his prayers were hurting your ears.

“So you think God will save you?” You gloat.

“He always does. If not him, then he'll send his angels.”

It's almost comical how coincidence can be, at the same moment that you're about to complain there was Tony trying to keep the reporters outside and denying them further private information. You soon enough grasped it was about you, or more specifically, you and Loki. Of course.

Reporters, paparazzis, multiple media-related people craved to enter the party and seek a piece of what it is about you and Loki that needs to be talked about. You were unaware, during the entire party, of how much they've been accusing the heroes of supporting a murderer that claims to have the role of a 'god', a being that most of all is supposed to protect others. It's one being they pray to.

And even worse, how they were supporting a blasphemous entity, shaming the image of God. Them, the heroes they trust their lives with, opening their arms to a creature from the underworld and sharing it to the news with a party.

“Tony, how did you not think about this?!” Steve asked in a screaming tone, wanting to bring Tony's attention to him. Pulling his shoulders to face him. “You had to give a parade to our most problematic hosts.”

“You know, that's what I hate so much about you, you pretend to be Mister goody two-shoes and forget that you weren't on the good side either! You didn't even comment about this possibility before when not seeing it happening in front of your eyes.” Tony snapped, pointing at Steve. They had to find every situation to fight?

“Don't you two ever do something else?” You ask quite bored, thoughtlessly playing with the end of your dress.

“You shut up, it's mostly your fault.” He accuses, his tone nears a bite.

“Excuse me?” You cross your arms. Loki —surprisingly — puts himself in front of you.

“I bet you've gotten what you wanted, rockstar,” he says to Loki, “You probably got to fuck her, because now you can't even keep yourself away from her. Look at that.” He chuckles dryly. “Whatever you gain from this outcome, if it's more than getting your dick wet, if it's something harmful, it'll be something you deserve.”

“Quit it, Stark. You're making it worse.” Nat's being the voice of reason.

“My affairs should be of no matter to you, you should be dealing with something else,” Loki says, moving to look at the furious people outside the huge giant window. “You're the head of the public, the people love you, fix this.” He finishes, in a sarcastic tone, moving back to wrap his arms around you.

“Loki,” you call, or likely whispers out. His eyes flicker to you.

“We should enjoy it,” his eyes carried his glint of mischief through the chaos, “we should drink some more.” You were unsure of how many glasses he had broken just from drinking, Thor just the same.

“You're just going to ignore that?” Stark asks.

“It can be our problem tomorrow,” Explains Clint, closing his eyes as he sank down to the carpet.

“Oh he's definitely throwing up on the carpet.” Nat shook her head, “I might be too sober for this.”

Loki took you with him to grab some more drinks, and a blonde man—a blonde hair resembling white, pure moonlight hair, — came from the entrance.

You proceed to scramble a bit on your feet to hide behind Loki, the man looked around the room but you hid, as best your drunken body can.

“What's wrong?” Loki asks genuinely worried now, seeing as you're practically glued to his body.

“Not him.” You say groggily from all the alcohol, damn you inducing the humans and their temporary pleasures. “Not…ah,” Your blood pressure fails you, “is my human body weak? Fuck's sake.” You complain loudly to the air.

“Calm down. I'm here.” He keeps supporting your body, gently touching your scalp to keep you grounded. Giving you a forehead kiss, probably the fault of the alcohol on his system. “Tell me, tell me,” He begs softly.

“My…” You tremble and vomit on the living room's carpet. “Oh, oh, the bloodiest of all Hells. The Devil should just take my body now…. I'm dying of embarrassment.” You put your hand on your temple.

“Darling.” He whispers kindly, and as softly as he can muster to keep you safe. “The humans are way worse, it happens to them all the time. Calm down, please. I can help you,” He lifts your body up and tries to carry you away but you keep trying to get out of his hold. “I'll wash your face for you, I'll do it, I'll help.” He repeats.

The blonde man seeks the crowd, and appears in front of you unexpectedly, “Sister?” He asks.

“Sister?” Loki echoes, as if not believing the man's words. “Is he your brother?”

You could throw up again if your stomach wasn't so empty. You feared you'd only display the gagging sounds, the attempts.

“Two demons?” Someone randomly muttered among the humans. The praying guy smiles gratefully now, kissing his crucifix with bright tears covering his vision.

“Oh, no. I'm an angel.” He gives a bright white smile to the people, and you throw up once again, this time on Loki's shoes.

[bungoustraypups]

@daught3rsofcain i made a separate post for this, btw, to respect creantzy and (try to) keep any more unnecessary fighting off of their posts, however i feel this needs to be addressed given how it caused issues over on twitter and i wanna make my stance clear as well as make it clear that this kind of comment is unacceptable

tl;dr for anyone who doesn't wanna/can't/doesn't have time to read my whole rant/already agrees with me and doesn't need to be convinced on why you should shut the fuck up if you see fanart/fanfic/other fan shit you dislike or that mildly bothers you but is otherwise harming no one online: curate your online spaces, block liberally and without question, do whatever you need to do to be comfortable, but never demand that other people bend to your will just because you personally think something is disrespectful to you

i'm gonna keep it brief: don't say this shit on someone's art.

you might think it's disrespectful and "disgusting", but that doesn't actually make it so. i implore you to do a little googling into the history of romantic jesus depictions, because if you do, you'll quickly find that people have been doing this very thing for literal centuries.

yes, they had pushback even back then, as most artists who make any kind of art esp religious art often do no matter what they're depicting, but obviously the fact that people continuously do it and that most christians either don't give a fuck or at the very least ignore it and move on.

if you were truly so incensed upon seeing silly fanart of bsd fyodor dostoevsky and a very historically inaccurate depiction of jesus christ based off of leonardo da vinci's gay lover (yes, that is where this very popular depiction of jesus comes from, while there's some debate over who exactly was the muse as leo had a few gay lovers, most people agree the depictions of white or fair-skinned jesus today that are similar to the ones da vinci made are based off of someone he was in love with whether they were in a relationship officially yet or not) you simply could have blocked OP or the post or simply ignored it, and yet you chose instead to do this, which is why i bothered responding

people threatened creantzy on twitter and sent death threats to them over this, for much the same reason as you claim to have left this thoughtless, hurtful comment. even if creantzy doesn't care and can brush it off, which is a fair and valid response, the way people online feel entitled to force everyone they interact with to only produce material they personally agree with is childish, immature, cruel, entitled, and quite frankly, shitty behavior.

it would be one thing if this artwork depicted, for example, a marginalized religious figure, but considering Christianity is not just a major global religion, but is the current dominant global religion with approximately 2.4 billion followers worldwide, and most countries have no discriminatory laws against the practice of christianity or against christians themselves, when the same cannot be said for literally every other religion on the planet right now to varying degrees (if you live in the USA, for example, we may not explicitly forbid the practice of other religions, but hate crimes are rising, especially antisemitic and islamophobic hate crimes, and the perpetrators of those crimes are largely either atheists who were formerly christian, or current christians; and almost all of our major holidays are centered around christian religious holidays, even if the marketing no longer reflects this, that doesn't make it less true)...

basically you're causing a fuss over a non-issue. my grandma is very christian and thinks this art is pretty and even though she doesn't get it, has no real issue with it considering christians themselves have been doing this for... almost since christianity began, arguably. your opinions don't dictate what people should or shouldn't post online.

block, move on, and live your life. stop harassing artists.

[lycankeyy]

Since I'm following the fnaf sun and moon tags I've been seeing some discussion of Sun's characterization in HW2 and while im a lurker I HAVE been sitting on thoughts on the DCA since SB dropped so I might as well put down my two cents (also spoilers for the secret ending)

It's been my opinion since literally SB came out that one of the primary effects of the "virus", should it exist, is that it exaggerates negative personality traits. It's honestly been rly fun seeing people also come to this conclusion over the past 24 hours LMAO. While I think it's primary focus was to corrupt the animatronics' security protocols so they would attack people on sight, the personality altering was an added side effect. (Added note: this is also my explanation for why Sun isn't aggressive in SB, Sun's security protocol is Moon)

So while Roxy's low self-esteem has turned into her being so obsessed with attention she'll kill you if you don't Stare at her, Monty's rocker attitude has devolved into constant destructive rage, and Chica's obsession with food has gotten so bad she's now attacking people over it, I believe we're finally seeing more of how Sun was affected. I don't think he wasn't affected in SB - the way he grabs you and refuses to let you go anywhere, the fact that he can't even handle a small mess when he literally works at a daycare. It was subtle but there was some corruption there.

I think HW2 elaborates on this. Again we see his fixation on not letting you move, his hatred of messes (to the point of threatening or actually committing violence this time and destroying the art you make when its clear from his living spaces that he usually keeps art made in the daycare). He also gets very angry at you for taking a while to do things or getting things wrong. He actively discourages creativity. While this could be laughed off as Fazbear Ent being shitty per usual, we know that Sun actually was good at his current job at some point, so this is probably further alteration. I also think this minigame takes place some time before SB given how casually he threatens to set Moon on you if you annoy him enough LMAO. Clearly still a little freaked out by him but not enough to be completely terrified of transforming.

I also think worth noting is the probability that we're playing as an adult, specifically a technician (whether it be Vanessa or Cassie's dad). If Vanny has been tinkering with Moon for a while by that point (given the secret ending, it makes it clear that their relationship is one where Moon is Vanny's sentient tool to be used), I think Sun has very good reason to be sassy and passive-aggressive with technicians at this point, considering its heavily implied Moon hasn't always been the way he is now and also less-heavily implied that Sun enjoyed his other half's company at one point.

Long story short I think the virus (should it exist) is exaggerating Sun's traits of perfectionism and being controlling, likely leftovers from when he was a stage animatronic. And with or without that explanation, his behavior also makes sense if you assume he doesn't like technicians or adults in general.

But thats just a theory a personal interpretation theory like comment suscribe 👍

[staysuki]

the high school effect. | teaser

"I feel like puking."

"Do you want to get smacked in the head? Because this is how you get smacked in the head."

pairing: bestfriend!han jisung x reader x popular boy!minho genre: crack, fluff, love triangle | loosely inspired by the netflix series "never have i ever" (just very very loosely though, not a lot—moreso just the love triangle and quirky narration part) | university au warnings: none atm. synopsis: you thought you were finally done with everything remotely immature especially now that you were in college, but boy oh boy did lee minho strike something in your heart that got you acting like a lovesick high school teenager— thankfully, resident sweetheart han jisung is here to save the day and help you become the best chic and mature version of yourself so that you could confess to your long time campus crush.

a/n: this is supposedly just a short and sweet quote fic as requested by my lovely anon, but i ended up liking the concept so much that i'm going to make it a long fic instead! (p.s. this short blurb might not be a part of the main fic, just a quick preview to the characters, so if you want, you could definitely just read this drabble as a standalone instead!)

comment, reblog, or send an ask if you want to be reminded!

"jisung..." your best friend looked at your direction, specifically on the ground where you sat, knees held close to your chest as you tried to make yourself as small as humanely possible. "i feel like puking."

"y/n~ what did i tell you? confidence is key! minho won't be able to notice you if you keep hiding away from his line of sight— repeat after me: i'm the best view." he said, making you scrunch your face as he so adamantly tries to get you to keep referencing a specific meme.

"i feel like puking even more now."

"just try and say it!" he insisted.

"no <3."

"but you're my best view." he pouted.

you feigned a gagging motion and he rolled his eyes at your dramatics, trying to pull you off the concrete. you stood on wobbly legs, trying to balance yourself on the heels that he graciously bought you to enhance your mature look.

"you know even the most formal business ladies wear sneakers too, right? i don't have to walk in these."

he gave you a cheeky smile and a small pat on the back, "well, yes, you're right. but hurrah to woman empowerment and whatnot."

"that doesn't even make any sen—"

"oh hey there minho!" your words got cut off at the act of your best friend calling the attention of your crush.

you would try to say that it's such a nice coincidence that he's walking in your path but no, jisung planned all of this, not that you could complain though. seeing him within 3 feet of you feels like a dream, his cologne mixing in with his natural scent permeating the air, making your legs feel like jelly.

you swore you were going to fall down when he flashed you a sweet smile. "hey, what's up?"

"ah nothing much, just walking around." jisung waved off casually as you stood there astonished that you're interacting with lee minho— well, jisung is. but you count as association.

"oh? this isn't anywhere close to your campus buildings though? aren't you both in the arts department?" he tilted his head in mild confusion, making him look like a puppy. your heart felt like bursting out of his chest at his cuteness.

"y-you know where we are?" you blabbed, feeling stupid at the phrasing but hoped you got your question across.

"of course!" his smile growing even wider, "you always hang out at cafe 808 right?"

you didn't know if it was possible to fall for someone even harder, but you just did.

"oh— uhh.. yes, i definitely do that, yes." you stammered, trying your best not to trip over your words which your best friend probably noticed because after a second, jisung cleared his throat at your side.

"ehem. what y/n is trying to say here is that she would like to come hang with you at cafe 808 some time whenever you're free."

your eyes were as wide as saucers as you looked at your bestfriend who had sent you to your doom— or probably heaven, depending on minho's answer.

"sure! i'll catch you there when i have time then." he smiled at you, and you tried your best to return the gesture, though the best you probably mustered was a pained grimace. "i have to go now though, nice talking to you both."

"yup!" jisung responded and you just waved, unable to form even the most basic of words at the moment.

"oh, also, you look different today, y/n. it's nice, you look good." shooting you another one of his best smiles, you watch dumbfoundedly as his figure slowly disappeared from view as he entered the college building.

you were wrong— this is where you fell even harder.

he has rendered you speechless, and quite frankly, out of breath. with just a single compliment!

your heart's beating so fast that you really do feel like puking.

"well that went well, didn't it? what did i tell you?" jisung nudged your arm, pulling you out of your stupor. you were about to thank him but then you suddenly remembered the predicament he put you in.

you smacked him repeatedly, him shouting as he tried to shield himself away from you. "do you want to get smacked in the head? because this is how you get smacked in the head."

"you're already smacking me— what— yah! y/n, what hell?!" he protested and you just huffed.

"han jisung?! are you an idiot? why would you set up something like that?? what if we hang out and he realizes that i'm not really that cool, or what if he doesn't like me, or even worse, what if i embarrass myself?!" you buried your face on your hands, wanting to cry out the frustration. "ugh this is stressful."

"oh come on, y/n. isn't this the whole point of what we're doing? to get you closer to minho? or are you gonna tell me that you're satisfied with just staring at him from a distance like the weird creep that you are." you glared at him.

"yes!" he rolled his eyes, feigning disappointment with your answers.

"i believe in you y/n. besides, what could go wrong?"

[jb2856]

I wrote a little something!!

Although this is an original piece and no beloved characters will make an appearance ( I imagined Fransisco morales as our mystery man in this.) I wanted to share this with someone :) and I decided throwing it out into the void was better than keeping it to myself. SO enjoy if you will!

Asks, helpful comments, suggestions, and tips are always welcomed! Inbox is open :))

Titled : The Invisible Kind

Rating: maybe Teen? It’s kinda depression heavy.

Tags/warnings: None

For as long as I can remember, I've always felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness.

I can be in a room surrounded by people, but I'm still alone.

When I was younger, I had people in my life who I was meant to trust, they would act as if I wasn't there.

They do not care to notice me,

I'm not exceptional.

Even in finding love,

that loneliness lingers,

a constant shadow consuming all that I am or once was.

That ache in the middle of my chest, that rears its ugly head.

I find solace in my dreams,

and in the literature I read,

escapism a mastered art.

———————————————————————————

A woman stands, her screams unheard, her fists silently banging against an invisible but solid barrier. No one can hear her, no one cares to see her. Her image is just out of sight.

Her world is painted in a sorrowful blue, stuck in a loop. Waiting for someone to come along and see her. Her life is reduced to an invisible pain, stuck in a box she cannot escape.

A man hurriedly walks alone, in the direction of distant screaming, bumping past people walking in the other direction. He turns his head about, concerned why no one else is listening to the insistent pleas of this woman. His yellow colored world echoes the hope he feels to help her.

Eventually her screams give out, like clockwork she sinks to her knees, quiet sobs still escaping her throat.

Meanwhile he is still searching for her tirelessly. An irrevocable need to find her, her screams he'll never forget. Afterall he was once like her.

She lived in this cycle for years, waiting for someone to notice her, to speak to her, to see her.

She did, until one man broke the cycle.

He sees her first.

He calls her name.

She doesn't hear him. After all, who would be speaking to her?

He knows it will be hard for her. But she has to listen, just like he did.

He puts his yellow palm against her blue one, shattering the invisible glass between them and all around her.

Shards rain down between them, in a twisted form of renewal.

At the feeling and contact, her wet eyes whip to his. Blinking in astonishment, she stares up at him.

“You can…see me?” Her blue subtly starts to fade, turning a pale shade.

The man smiles wide, “of course I can.”

The woman looks down to where their hands are touching, his radiant yellow leeching the sorrowful color from her fingertips.

“How…how is it possible?”

“Well it's simple isn't it?” She shakes her head, the confusion still clear in her expression.

“I just…saw you.” he says simply, shrugging.

She blinked once, then her lips started to wobble, sobs overtaking her once again. This time though, the tears were good natured, the sorrow slowly drained out of her.

She once again glances at their hands, she sees that her hand has started to fill with a radiant yellow, washing the blue away. She swallows hard once, working her throat, then slowly looks at the man and smiles.

She then takes in her surroundings, looking around, her world painted in a new light. ‘Thank you.” She mumbles.

She doesn't know how, but he has helped her see clearly.

He could see her.

And now she sees herself, through his eyes.

He smiles back at her, pulling her into a hug and whispers, “I knew you could do it.”

[deleteddewewted]

Incel!Shinsou Oneshot: "Why are you acting like that?”

To keep busy I just thought that a oneshot of Shinsou getting self conscious/needy would be cute since we already have his redemption arc rolling in. The next part of the Incel!Shinsou series (Part 3) will have him proving his worth at the Sports Festival. So in thinking of how he will prove himself to you I thought of how will all of those people affect him, especially you. ( This oneshot takes place pre changes, so Shinsou is still his disgusting self but he's figuring out how to woo a woman, especially of your caliber.)

Incel!Shinsou Series:

Part 1: Incel! Shinsou x F!Reader

Part 2: Incel! Shinsou x F!Reader

Incel!Shinsou Headcanons

"I know what you're doin' here. Made your intentions clear. Oh you, you terrible thing, you. Terrible thing, you. Terrible thing, you. Beautiful thing"

TW: Strong Language, Mild Sexism

People were never an obstacle when it came to the things Shinsou wanted. He’s aware that others would do anything for him if he played his cards right. The right words with the right question did wonders for him. So why the fuck couldn’t he have what he wanted when it came to you? You drove him up the wall with the kindness you showed him. He didn’t deserve it and you’re existence almost felt like a punishment from whatever deity that existed out there to make him suffer. You guys were suppose to be studying for your upcoming project that required a poster, a slide show, and one influential person that would help prove your projects point. You left him running circles within his own mind as to how you were so willing to challenge him. He wanted you to obey him not see through his bullshit. It wasn’t like you didn’t listen to him vent, or didn't give him attention, but he wanted to hold you under his control. To be the person you listened to.

In class you where both seated on the extreme ends of the room on opposite sides. You never realized this (you do), but his head would periodically turn towards your direction to look at you, to figure you out (liar). This time, you managed to catch him do it.

“What are you doing?” You asked plainly. You honestly didn’t care that he was staring, everyone does when you dress like you're attending an MCR concert in the middle of autumn.

“You look different....today.”

“Nice.” It was difficult to care. Shinsou was just some guy in your class that you had to deal with. Nothing special really....ok, maybe it wasn’t fully true. You didn’t really know him all that well or anything (Unless it was mocking and belittling everything you did, that was normal behavior for him so it wasn’t surprising to find out he was like that outside of campus.) but he wasn’t all that bad? If he cared for himself a bit more, hygiene wise he would be considered handsome or at least a competent human being (you weren't going to call him a man, men don't act this childish. At least the ones you knew.) Maybe then you would take his opinion seriously, but for now you’ll ignore his...interesting comments he's been throwing towards you today.

“It’s rude to ignore someone when their talking to you, you know?” The neutral face he had now possessed a frown and a furrow to his brows. You still couldn’t process how he took the time to make sure his hair stayed purple but didn’t care for his body odor. (This man dyes his hair purple yet cant bother to shower or use deodorant for once in his life.)

“I’m not ignoring you, I’m just not interested in anything you have to say.” With that you get up and take your things and leave. There was no point in wasting time on someone who couldn’t even look at you directly and had to also sneak glances at you. "Do I really look that unbearable?" you thought to yourself. In the end you didn’t care anymore, everyone was entitled to an opinion and the last thing you need is feeling self conscious because of your out of place classmate.

Shinsou was fuming. How the fuck did you just get up and leave his ass while he was trying to complement you. You should have been more appreciative that he was giving you his attention for once. A bitch like you wasn't even worth it so he doesn't understand why he even tried with you.

He never goes directly home after school but instead to the local theater. It was one of the few places where he could be around others and could genuinely be himself. It was weird, he didn't feel like himself when he was speaking with his "friends", friends that he's never spoken to verbally, never seen, and never would meet. He knew that he didn't deserve this, to have a safe haven when he acts like an ass, yet here he was.

"Good morning Shinsou! How are you? Are you ready for rehearsals? You did remember to read your lines, right?" Shinsou rolls his eyes at his theater mates antics. Monoma never seems to stop but he does know when to tone it down and when it comes to Shinsou he tones it down a bit. (Because Monoma is canonically considerate of others, look back the Sports Festival and the Joint Training Arc.)

"Im good man, yes i did read and memorized the script, dont worry about it." What an odd friendship, the most chaotic gentleman like man out the bunch with the quietist incel in the group. Shinsou should have seen it coming when he was adopted by Monoma but he's running on 2 to 4 hours of sleep so he doesn't really care.

Believe it or not Shinsou does take showers (only for theater) but very quickly and with no care (no shampoo or soap, fucking why man.) Theater means more to him and so making his character look the best they possible can was his first and foremost priority. He puts on his costume, gets to makeup (the minimum, because it's "gay" for him to wear makeup and since the world is unfair and cruel he has perfect skin for a greasy headed asshole.)

"Everyone get a move on! Kodai, Tsuburaba, and Awase! Go to stage left! Light techs, how's it up there?" One of the tech heads shouted out. Shinsou and Monoma got to their positions on the stage and the rehearsals began.

Love, the play was about love. Love that wasn't rejected but also not accepted. He didn't understand the concept fully. Was it romantic? Platonic? Familiar? Admiration? He loved his dad, but he mostly admired him. He worked long hours and middle resents him for not being there for him, yet he realizes that his dad works to give him the world, a home with all the things he wanted. He never had a mother so he never had parental or familiar, again his dad was there but he wanted a parent that would hold him when he came back from school everyday. He didn't have a girlfriend, so he doesn't know romantic. So far all of his characters where villains, or evil in some way. He was starting to get sick of them. Shinsou wanted something more, wanted to play a character that wasn't how everyone saw him as on his day to day life. He wanted a challenge, he wanted....affection. Just to show it. He wanted attraction. Just to abuse it. He wanted...love. To just...maybe...feel...enjoy...understand it.

"You terrible thing you. My love, you're so cold. You've left me hanging on every one of your words. You've made me loose my self, lose my self-control because of you!" He pours everything into his performance, his loneliness, his regrets, his experience. He's been told by his co-performers and directors that he has a great future in the arts, in theater. If he just took care of himself more he would be an amazing actor, not only incredibly talented but also attractive. He would have the world kneeling, bowing to him just from his words alone. He could have anything he wanted just because of his existence.

" You've made me do things i don't want to do...for you." Kodai stands there looking horrified. He's covered in blood, the blood of her lover, the one she left him for.

"No, i-i didn't-"

"YOU MADE ME-MADE DO THIS FOR YOU! You terrible, terrible, terrible thing! You beautiful thing, I've done this for you!...and you still cant and won't love me." He doesn't see Kodai anymore. It's not her face he sees, nor her voice that he hears.

Its you...its your voice. You. You looking back at him while he slowly lowered himself to kneel and crawl towards you. It's you who backs away from him as he starts to cry and hiccup.

"You wreck me, you made me. You leave me in your wake, please let me go!" He sees you and feels you grabbing his wrists back, pushing him into himself.

"Don't you ever let me go...."

You terrible beautiful thing, you.

And here we are again. This was a lot fun to write since it feels more concrete when it comes towards his personality and his full thought process. In many cases people like Shinsou just want attention or some sense of validation, which there is nothing wrong with wanting those things but it's more about the manner you go about it. You shouldn't pressure or force others to spend time with you, but there is always someone out there that will like to give you those things.

Tag list: @blossominglark

[brideofcthulhu10]

Alright I know, another unrelated post but humor me here, I need to get this off my chest.

I know this won't seem like a huge deal, but knowing this is a show for little girls it just feels so frickin' wrong for so many reasons. Hopefully this can be a warning for other parents/guardians/older siblings as well. Keep in mind I've never ever been a "cancel culture" type person just because something minescule bugs me, nor have I ever been some cliche Karen-style parent bitching to a company about "this is inappropriate so its your fault my kid was watching this!" Rather than take responsibility. I am the parent first and foremost, and yes, once I recognized the inappropriate nature of this I changed it immediately. At first I even thought maybe I was overreacting, I kept watching to see if maybe I was misreading the situation and I found it only got more uncomfortable. So yes, I did turn this off. However, it doesn't excuse that this show is still made for and marketed to little children, particularly little girls (I'm talking between 2 and 13). The purpose of this post is just a warning to other parents or people with younger siblings who may come across this show.

So today, I decided to put on a show called "Flowering Heart" on Netflix for my 3 year old daughter.

Keep in mind when I found this, it wasn't in the teens or adult section, it was on Netflix Kids. Specially the Netflix Kids page. I grew up on anime since I was little, so naturally I wanted to find some cute magical girl shows to introduce to my daughter (pass down the nerd torch).

Granted it appeared harmless enough. A cute magical girl anime from Korea about 3 best friends who meet a magical Prince from a different world, and together through the power of magical makeup compacts and friendship they work together to give people hope and fight the "hopeless energy". Seems cute enough, and I really wanted to introduce my daughter to magical girl shows, a lot of them are great for little girls. So it started off pretty good, even I was warming up to it at first.

AT FIRST.

To give you a little clarity about why I grew to dislike it rather quickly, first of all, the main character is a 5th grade little girl. A 12 year old. Now in some other animes they do have younger children as their leads. Magical Do Rei Mi, Glitter Force, Little Witch Academia, even Ghibli films like Kiki's Delivery Service or Ponyo, that's really nothing too unusual. But here is where I had a huuuge problem:

Her romantic interests? They are two teenage boys.

Yeah. I'm not talking a grade above or something. Supposedly the two male leads are 14 and 16. Even her rival? Also a 12 year old little girl, Shuela, who just so happens to be engaged to one of the magical princes (literally named Prince Trump) and is in love with him. The main character, Ari, joins her two best friends Suah and Min fight the unseen meddling of Shuela trying to create "hopeless energy".

By transforming into fully grown women.

Yes, you heard right. These twelve year old little girls are able to transform into fully grown, adult women who take the power of whatever makeup disguise they use (ie police officer, stewardess, life guard, pop idol, etc.) that varies based on the emergency of the episode (mostly situations like a figure skater who lost her motivation, or her friend is having a hard time babysitting).

This also includes several romantic interactions with our lead Ari, and her object of affections, Prince Trump.

Prince Trump, mind you, is completely aware that Ari is secretly this "adult". He knows she's a 12 year old, and actively flirts with her.

At first I thought it was a little weird the boys appeared older than the girls. I thought maybe it was just a style choice, that they were closer in age than I thought- nope. Teenage boys. I mean they don't even try to hide the age difference by making them shorter or making the girls look older like Sailor Moon (who was 14 at the start). No.

These girls look and act like 6 year olds, including their very childish outfits to make them appear even younger- despite being 12. Meanwhile these boys act, sound, and appear to be in their twenties.

Maybe I could just ignore it, suppress the utter nasty of it all and just enjoy them kicking butt as magical girls if the romance itself was an after thought. Oh no no no! You see, this is the main focus of the anime!

A love triangle (er, square) between two ALMOST ADULT MEN and two 5th grade girls (and yes, they do clarify these girls are in 5th grade and that these boys are 17).

This extends to the other male love interest, Prince Chess, who jumps from being a chubby blue hamster dubbed "Tubby" who lives in the main leader's bedroom, and a very attractive teen boy. Now he is no better, including blushing when he holds hands with Ari, and being jealous of his brother Trump when Ari goes on the ferris wheel with him. Even commenting his cotton candy didn't taste sweet anymore because she had a crush on his brother. This wasn't "he met her in her magical girl form and fell in love but doesn't realize she's a child". Both boys met her while a child, and both boys are aware even in this magically made adult body, she is actually an underage girl.

Its just-EUGH! The more I watched it the more the situation dawned on me how nasty it was. They don't play it like a cute crush or just a fling (like how in Kodocha, Sana thought her bodyguard was in love with her, but he made it very clear he's an adult and that's not appropriate). Again wrong. This is portrayed as a serious romance.

I seriously don't get why they didn't make them late middle school or high school age?! Why a bunch of elementary students are being romantically shipped with high schoolers?! It really is a shame, because the art is very cute and pretty, hell most of the characters are pretty likeable with decently done voice acting. (Granted the plot drags on for a while) But I seriously cannot get past these underage children being romanticized with teenage guys. I'm amazed that's even on Netflix and Amazon Prime! So yeah, take it with a grain of salt if you'd like, I know there's gonna be some who disagree with me because the reviews have been very split down the middle (some adore this show, others say it's obviously inappropriate), I myself am still very mixed about it as it was a good show up until this main issue (I didn't even get to the love rival almost letting a child DROWN so she could collect the "hopeless energy"). If you disagree and enjoy this show, more power to you I guess(?), this is really just to give a heads up if you or someone you know have kids and were thinking about putting this on. My advice? Just opt for Magical Doremi or Hamtaro instead.

[franki-lew-yo]

I really hate 2d purists. No, not 2d animation. Not 2d animators.

2d purists.

The sad thing is it’s gotten to the point that I really cringe hearing any pro-2D sentiment at all. I hate the arguments I agree with because how often they're misused and weaponized by idiots.

Let me make my stance here clear - 2d is NOT appreciated and 3d is used for everything! The layman Karen-mom who doesn’t have an artistic bone in her body looks at stupidsmooth 3D Grubhub ads and assumes quality cause it “looks more real” (aka ‘rendered’). I know as much is true because I literally have a member of my family who told my sister and I that she thinks 3d is better (and also that she “tolerated THOSE movies for us kids”. Touching words. My sister was taking an animation course by the way). Combined that with the studios either using 2D for cheap stuff or finding good 2d animation too “costly”, I get it and I’m not even any animator. I'm just a worm an illustrator.

but holy HELL -

There’s a backlash from the artistic community that's it's own kind of insufferable and deserve to be addressed.

“(insert2Danimatedfilm) is better BECAUSE it's 2D!”

followed by: "Animation is a visual medium and the quality of the art affects how much the story means !!!!”  

Yes. Totally. Animation is a visual medium and the look and style is important. Sadly, people use this excuse to really obnoxious ends, insisting that design being pretty is '' everything ''. When you treat a movie more as a special effects demo I get why you talk about the artistry at hand; but I’m sorry, visuals are not the only thing important and it’s why I’m also getting sick of the sameElsafacesyndrome rants too! There’s this attitude that's reads as "but it LOOKS better fromaproductionimage/teasertrailerwhichapparentlyisindicativeof all themovieactuallyis so it MUST BE better".

-“3D should only be used to make things look realistic!”

I think I know the logic this criticism is made in response to, and that’s the Sony + Illumination films which look just as good in 2D as they do in three dimensions. I know it feels like people are twisting this medium to try and make it like a classic cartoon when by all means people can and would love a classic cartoon being a classic cartoon. That I get- From the unsung 2D animator’s perspective, that’s more than valid !

But it’s a huuuuuuge slap in the face to 3d in saying it should only be used for "realistic animation" because

1: It’s not like realistic animation could age badly or look uncanny in the next few years. It's almost like technology is constantly improving, which I guess 2d animation never did and it was always the same technique and quality as every film that came after it.

2: The industry does treat 3d as a magic-moneymaker for this reason. Just listen to these people call the 2019 LION KING “live action” as if they’re embarrassed to call it animation. It IS animation! It would be impressive if you acknowledged that what it is, but like the CATS, you basically are treating it as just a neato tool to better your live action and not it's own artform - which it is!

3: By this “three-deeonly gud when real liek in da toystories” non-logic I guess 2d should ONLY be for flowyflowy SPACE JAM cartoons and maybe some Disney*. Just that though. You can’t do anything more with 2d. It’s never supposed to be realistic I guess. Good thing Richard Williams only did 'toons' and just toons that’s why we need 3d in the world I guess.

Wait no - that’s stupid.

"I HAVE to see the “Land Before Time 14″ when it comes out! I mean it’s a 2D animated film!"

Lost in the aether that is Youtube comment chains removed from kid's videos is a stream of this very VERY stupid argument supporting the buying of the 14th LAND BEFORE TIME film because it’s supporting 2D. My sister and I can be found on that chain arguing against this stupidity. All you have is my word, but trust me: it really did happen.

I’m sorry but...no.

Unless you have a friend or a family member who worked on these movies there’s no reason to see this and ESPECIALLY no reason to insist it’s a win for the 2D community if you buy up this crap - and I'm not judging if you do like it, but come on! LAND BEFORE TIME 14 isn't where your money should go if you really like this medium.

What’s so infuriating about this argument is you can tell it’s made by nonanimators. Real animators will tell you to support their movies cause they want some respect for their artform which is why there’s such a push from the PRINCESS AND THE FROGcrowd that you SEE and LOVE every 2d thing out there, regardless of how good it is because any recognition for it is k i n d o f what they're after!

Kiddy sequel schlock isn’t even in the same ballpark as KLAUS or WOLFWALKERS; these films DID have very limited theatrical runs (Klaus so it could be nominated; Wolfwalkers in places where theaters opened up after Covid) and should have been supported because they were labors of love made by people who love animation.

As other people have already pointed out, one of the reasons for the lack of interest in 2000sera2D animation is that the only films released alongside critical+financial 3D hits were cheaper 2D films that either coincided with daytime tv shows or should have been just direct-to-video. It’s not to say art couldn’t come out of these flicks, but dayum if it wasn’t abused as much as the texture software that era's CG used... Point being, should the world ever go back to normal: If you hear about an out-of-town showing an acclaimed 2D animated film, make time to trek out and see THAT!

Don’t give your money to see yet another made-for-tv movie on the big screen because all that tells the studio is: “yeah 2d IS cheap and only good for cheap stuff let’s just keep it cheap. Only 3d is important 8D 8D 8D !!!"

“I don’t understand how it works. So it sucks.”

This text is from an ANIMATOR btw.

“I don’t understand how it works” and “it’s just some computer rendering” is the exact same wave of logic the people who prefer cgi use.

The plebian Karen I mentioned earlier? She understands the basics of 2D animation as much as you did from one of those cruddy flash classes you took in middle-school. She 'understands' the basics cuz she watched how it was made on the DVD features or maybe back on the WONDERFUL WORLD OF DISNEY. To her, the illusion is broken and she’s not impressed by 'just some drawings on paper'. You, an animator, know the process is more complicated and is intrigued by knowing how it’s made - not bored or disinterested -

Neither you nor Aunt Karen have really good cg-animation software at your house and unless you ARE a 3D animator you probably DON’T know all the ins-and-outs of how these movies are modeled, rendered, and animated.

Aunt Karen is bedazzled by them cause she doesn’t know how it works and the technical aspect makes her brain hurt so it might as well be magic and she can feel like a cool kid sharing Minion-memes. Aunt Karen is the nonartistic type who just wants to feel safe. You're not. You want to feel challenged.

I get it: you’re pissed off cause you’re in a field no one, including Aunt Karen, appreciates; told to work in cg which it's an artform you didn’t devote your life to and told to learn it cause THIS style sells! 3D is everywhere and is starting to look like 'garbage' even if you don’t animate 3D models yourself you just KNOW, I guess. Besides, you know all there is to know about 2d!! You know all there is to possibly know about this artform and have to fight this 'war' against "r e a l" animation! And I mean even when 3d software is there to use, it's not like you can actually make anything worth while in it, especially not anything that transcends the medium. Right Worthikids?

TL;DR: This argument is basically just " BWAAAAH I’M NOT GONNA USE IT I HAVE STANDARDS (a chip on my shoulder cuz art should be what I deem it to be) "

“PRINCESS AND THE FROG is-”

There’s a reason I can’t say I truly like PRINCESS AND THE FROG even though it's not even a bad movie! Like, stop reading this and watch PATF if you haven't it's good. It's my 'FROZEN', in that; I see a lot of potential in it I just think it needs some serious rewriting and that bugs me. Always have felt that way, tbh.

I dislike this movie because the response from the animation community seems to be it was perfect and the Academy was just Pixar-crazy with UP ((ftr, the Academy IS Pixar’s bitch and I personally advocate a sequel be made to WAKING SLEEPING BEAUTY about Mike Eisner’s sabotage of the 2D department at Disney which is still in place now!- but that’s a story for another day)). I’m sorry but UP was just a better story. So was CORALINE. So was FANTASTIC MR. FOX. Honest to god it feels like poor PATF is brought up as just a talking point and never for it's own worth as a labor of love - which it was! I'd like to honestly know: had PRINCESS AND THE FROG come out now and been cg if it would have even half the defenders for it because now it doesn't "look" like how a Disney movie "should" look...

If you like PatF more than the currant Disney lineup because of it's culture, it's music, it's feminism, it's black representation? Awesome. Great. Those things should be appreciated and I never want that taken away from you. But if you seriously think PatF is better just for how it was animated and looks - I lowkey may hate you.

“ALL OF DISNEY’S LATEST MOVIES SHOULD HAVE BEEN 2D! THEY ALL LOOK AWFUL IN 3D!! ALL OF THEM!”

TANGLED, FROZEN, and MOANA? Yeah. Sure. But um, e x c u s e y o u- WRECK IT RALPH sooooo doesn’t work in 2d! It could have used different between the various worlds but it’s about hopping through different video games. I’m also of the opinion that ZOOTOPIA and BIG HERO 6 are fine the way they are. Their 3d is awesome.

The latest fairy tale Disney films are really big on their place alongside the 2D canon esp in marketing. They keep trying to mimic 2D to varying results though I don't think it works as well as the movie's I'd previously mentioned. Me personally, I would love a mix of 3D and 2D technology, like if the backgrounds in FROZEN still got to be 3D but the characters were handdrawn and shaded ala KLAUS ((sweet sigh)). But even then are they truly unwatchable just based on how they're animated to you?

MOANA would have been incredible in 2D but for the record - I don't think it feels out of place in it's style. It reminds me more of a Pixar movie with the heart of a Disney classic which is it's own just as good.

“2D is the oldest form of animation and it’s being replaced.”

Actually, if we’re talking animation in film, stop motion is the earliest form of animation. The stop motion animated THE ADVENTURES OF PRINCE ACHMED and TALE OF THE FOX predate Disney’s SNOW WHITE. And yes: stop-motion IS still a form of animation even if it’s a serious of pictures taken of real life things and not drawings, so don’t you dare come at me with the "but that's not animated"/"Technically it’s LIVE ACTION" crap or I’ll envoke the spirit of Sandman to get you at night.

“Every animated film would look better in 2D! Even PIXAR would look better in 2D!”

Again, Stop Motion.

No, I mean it.

Lemme ask: Would ISLE OF DOGS or FANTASTIC MR. FOX carry any of the same effect if they were generic 90s toons? I know NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS wouldn’t. Christ, don’t even get me started on Svankmajer!

Sometimes the problem is that a movie is envisioned with a specific artform in mind. Pixar started out with toys and bugs for a reason and that’s cuz they were always gonna be a 3d studio and they needed to first overcome the placisity of the models. Over the years they’ve gotten really good at effects and blending unrealistic proportions with real textures (and also not so much- ONWARD and THE GOOD DINOSAUR really needed some different character designs and yeah, I do think would have looked better with a 2d artstyle, but not the ones they had in their films. THE GOOD DINOSAUR needed more realistic-speculative looking dinos and ONWARD needed a grittier HEAVY METAL/BLACK CAULDRON appeal to its designs.) My point being that the problems with these movies aren’t even inherently the animation as much as it is a problem of style. As someone who runs a group speculating different styles and designs for movies and tv shows I’m all for envisioning a 2D ZOOTOPIA or Bluth-inspired FNAF. That’s amazing!

But that’s also the talk of fan artists and nerds and not the professional artists working on visualizing their stories!!

Since I ate, slept, and breathed NIGHTMARE in my youth I’ll use it as an example: All the concept art ever done for TNBC was on paper and 2D was used in the final film. However, even when Tim Burton was thinking of making it just a tv special it was always going to be stop-motion. NIGHTMARE’s puppet cast do work very well in two dimensions, believe me, but the film was made as a love letter to Rankin/Bass and the art form of stop-motion. Skipping to another Henry Selick-helmed project (haha), JAMES AND THE GIANT PEACH was also always envisioned as a multimedia film to give it a truly dream-like atmosphere. If you know anything about Henry Selick you’ll know he’s 1) a perfectionist, and 2) loves mixed media and different types of animation and puppetry at once. That’s why he was the perfect pick to direct TNBC at the time, why JAMES AND THE GIANT PEACH and CORALINE are so beautiful and why MOONGIRL, his only fully 3d film, doesn’t have the same appeal.

As for what films I couldn’t imagine NOT being 3D? Probably; 9, Padak, Next Gen, Soul, Finding Nemo, the Toy Story films, Wreck-it-Ralph (as previously mentioned), Wall.E, Waltz with Bashir, Robots, Inside Out, Arthur Christmas, The Painting, Happy Feet, Shrek, Enter the Spiderverse, Megamind… just naming a few here.

“I want a traditionally animated film [and by that I mean a 90s-Disney/Don Bluth looking movie] of ‘x'-popular live action/stage thing!”

Okay I’m cheating a bit but it’s my blog and so I’m gonna stick this one in because it’s related.

When I see musings about wanting live-action or CGI shiz to be in 2d again a lot of the time this argument actually boils down to " I want this to look like a 90s Didney movie ". Or, if it’s about animals - " I want it to look like a Don Bluth film! "

Like...there ARE other styles of animation out there...you know that right?

Frack, Disney themselves tried different styles throughout the 90s it’s just that the peak of the Disney renaissance films (LITTLE MERMAID, BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, ALADDIN, THE LION KING) and the many imitators that followed tended to have the same look to them where only film/animation nerds kept watching into the era that was TARZAN, HERCULES, and ATLANTIS along with the kids. Aunt Karen wasn't singing Part of your World in the carride with you every day.

The Don Bluth argument is especially irritating because...what exact feeling do you WANT from a movie if it looked Bluthish? Each of the four ‘quintessential’ Bluth movies (NIMH, AMERICAN TAIL, LBT, and ALL DOGS) have such a different feel to them that’s complimented by that style; SECRET OF NIMH is a drama about wild animals trying to understand humans; LAND BEFORE TIME is even more squarely about an animal’s perspective as there’s literally no humans around; AMERICAN TAIL uses animals stowing away on the ship to tell a story about refugees; and ALL DOGS GO TO HEAVEN is ALL DOGS GO TO HEAVEN.

What the frack are you even asking for with that because I think there’s a certain flavor to the Bluth-styled oeuvre as well as the 90s Disney catalogue that would clash too much stylistically with some films.

Also come on! Like some Bluthian-style 2d would really fix THE SECRET LIFE OF PETS or SCOOB!, bite me.

I think this fixation solely on these two hand drawn styles and nothing else is based on nostalgia goggles, refusing to step outside the norm and discover different films and feelings than Disney and Bluth, and just preference. Goin back to NIGHTMARE there will always be a special place in my heart for Henry Selick’s stop motion, but I couldn’t imagine CHICKEN RUN or ANOMALISA in it's unique style.

Also I’m tired of every time there’s a "lets make an animatic to ‘x’ musical theater song" it’s reliably just Disneyesque or realistic. WHY envision an animated version of the show at all if it doesn’t have A STYLE to it??!?! I’m sorry but 90s-Disney does NOT fit CABARET!

“3D is so CHEAP now! Why can’t they just do 2D again?”

I think - on the cusp of the 2020s and the Grubhub hatedom, there ARE changing times ahead for 3d and 2d. The general public are starting to get tired of the same looking 3d films and wanting some 2d back, but they don’t have the best resources or opinions on animation to know what it is they want. Meanwhile, the animation community + industry is trying to figure out what to do and you have a lot of turmoil between the monopoly that is the industry, the high standards of the artists, and the mixed wants of the animation fanbase deciding what art needs to be.

It’s a tough business. And in the spirit of that tough business - maybe DON’T act like the means of a film’s production is solely your control, that you know best, and know definitively what the artists should have done....cuz you don't. Sorry my fellow criticalfanomanalysist-folks we DON'T and in an age of standom where fans and critics think it's okay to hackle indie animation studios about not getting their pitched cartoon out fast enough - we need to reserve these discussions to our circles and not treat them as gospel.

3d animation and 2d animation have to share this world. Stop acting like they’re either interchangeable in terms of budget, means of production, or artistry or that one has to be superior to the other.

The industry already says one art form is better (spoiler: it’s always live-action), we don’t need anymore of this purist garbage. Just stick to what you like while trying new things on the side. Be critical while also being compassionate. And remember:

[spectrumed]

5. sleep

It hardly gets dark in the Swedish summers. Between dusk to dawn, you’ve got about an hour to fall asleep before the sun rises again. If you struggle to fall asleep that fast, you can invest in some good window blinds. Or you can do as I do and place one big pillow over your face. Then the birds start singing around three o’clock in the morning. You can practically hear the sounds of Edvard Grieg’s Morning Mood playing at around four o’clock in the morning. Around five o’clock in the morning, it is as bright as midday. Did you have a good time sleeping? Or did you pace around in a circle having one hell of a panic attack? I thought you took some of those sleeping pills you got prescribed, they should have helped you fall asleep… wait, you did take them? They didn’t work? Oh, they did work, you just felt your body falling asleep while your mind stayed awake? That sounds terrible, real terrible. Very well. It’s morning now. Want some coffee?

You could form a religion out of sleeping. Let’s have sermons where we fill a whole auditorium full of beds and have our congregates take a big collective nap. Sleep for the sleep god! Pillows for the pillow throne! Sleep is a billion-dollar industry, there’s a plethora of handy products you can buy that promise to send you on a luxury liner to dreamland. Pills, mattresses, dreamcatchers, whatever your snoozy heart desires. You can go to a proper doctor and they might help you, or you can settle for the placebo effect and go to some fraudulent quack, instead. He might make you swallow some pills that contain arsenic, but hey, arsenic is a naturally occurring element. It can’t be all that bad for you if it is natural. And you do want to sleep, don’t you? If you take this pill in your mouth and swallow it with a glass of water, I promise you, you will sleep for a very long time.

The esteemed former president of the United States of America, Donald Trump, claims that he only needs four to five hours of sleep every night. While Mr. Trump is well-known to be a paragon of honesty, I do doubt he’s telling the truth. No, I actually do believe him when says that he only gets about four or five hours of sleep each night, I just don’t believe him when he says that is all he needs. He doesn’t look very well-rested, does he? And Margaret Thatcher, the similarly adored former prime minister of the United Kingdom, claimed that she also only needed about four hours of sleep every night. Yes, while researching the sleeping habits of famous monsters, I’ve come to the conclusion that amongst powerful individuals, not getting enough sleep has become a proper badge of honour. The belief is that if you don’t get enough sleep, that must be because you are living such a vibrantly successful life, and are so career-driven, that you simply haven’t got enough time to sleep for the full eight hours. People who sleep for more than four hours are lazy liberals. Go-getters like Trump has got to be out there, working, making decisions, raping women, and showing daddy what a good boy he is. Sleep is for the weak. But maybe I am weak. I sure like sleeping.

It’s the cultural hangover our society has had since the 80’s. Back when the yuppies wearing jackets with obscenely padded shoulders would happily chuck down eight to ten espressos in one go while A Flock of Seagulls was playing on the radio encouraging everyone to go running. And to be fair to them, with the constant fear of the doomsday clock hitting midnight, they really had no reason to think that they’d survive the decade. The new millennia, it seemed, would have no cities, no nature, no humans, only radiated mutants scouring the rubble that remains of civilization for cans of preserved something edible. Self-destructive behaviour was in. It was fashionable. Doubt people got enough sleep back then, between snorting coke and wondering if the next pandemic that hits the night clubs would start killing as many straight folks as gay folks. Well, here we are in the new 20’s, and we’ve got a pandemic that does appear to kill people regardless of sexual orientation. Sure, the looming threat of nuclear obliteration has been lessened dramatically, but we’ve largely come to exchange that anxiety for the fear of total environmental collapse, instead. No wonder 80’s nostalgia is a big thing right now. History doesn't repeat itself, but It often rhymes, said Mark Twain (supposedly.) I wonder how much coke Mark Twain would snort if he lived in the 80’s.

I notice a palpable difference in my mood and mental state when I’ve been getting good amounts of sleep. Lack of sleep results in lack of clear thinking. Caffeine, though it is something I am chronically addicted to, does not help fix a sleep-deprived mind. There are no tricks of revolutionary “life hacks” one can employ to get out of sleeping. To recover from depression, one has to sleep. Sleep often and sleep well. I cannot understate the importance of being well-rested. You cannot process information if you are tired. I am reminded of my teenage years seeing friends of mine who’d stay up all night, then come into school shuffling like agonised zombies. They got so frustrated when the teachers reprimanded them for snoozing in class. Well, dummies, it is your fault for drinking several dozen cans of Red Bull every day! I know that sleep does not always come easy. I know the terror of insomnia. But, c’mon! At some point, you’ve got to realise that sleep is essential. Maybe most of your problems stem from the fact that you refuse to get enough of it? Here’s where the tough love comes in. If you wanna get better, kiddo, then listen to me. It’s bedtime. Yes, I know you’d rather stay up late playing monopoly with your friends, but I’m confiscating your dice and I’ll only give it back to you when you’ve gotten some good sleep. Okay? You hear me, missy? You listen to your daddy now, and go to bed. No ifs or buts about it, princess, I’ve made myself clear. I know what is best for you, and you know that I am right. I’m your daddy.

But what if I can’t seem to fall asleep? Normally, it takes a long time for me to fall asleep. It is not uncommon for me to stay awake for two hours, maybe more, before I finally begin to sleep. Fearing that I won’t fall asleep gives me anxiety. That anxiety keeps me awake. I turn my body. I try lying on my side. First my left side, then my right side. I then try to lie on my back. I’ve got a song stuck playing in my head. Not even the whole song, just a ten-second segment of it. It’s playing over and over. I’m worried about the future, will I ever find security, will I ever find a wife, will I get to grow old? I worry about death. I keep hearing the music playing, it’s grating. I rearrange the pillows, in hopes that will make me feel more comfortable. But no, I keep tossing and turning like a fish caught on land. I’m getting frustrated. If only I could shut off my brain. I’m constantly thinking. I turn to my side again, but now I notice I’ve moved arounds so much that now the bed has shifted away from its position next to the wall. There’s now a gap between the bed and the wall. I almost fall down that gap. I get up and I push the bed back against the wall. I lay down in bed. The song is still playing.

How am I ever going to become a successful businessman if I am wasting so many hours just trying to get to sleep? This is the time I should be spending on the phone, yelling at people and making inappropriate sexual comments to my female employees. That is what good executives do. I need to get my life in order. I need to exercise more. I should practice mindfulness. I should get a life coach, a personal trainer, a stylist, an accountant, an assistant, a trophy wife, and a mistress. I need people in my life to take care of me. It’s funny how rich people create the sort of environment around them where people will take care of all their needs, effectively infantilising them. These people don’t even get to decide how to dress themselves. They’ve got fancy apartments, but they don’t choose any of the furniture. They’ve got art on the walls that they don’t like, but the art looks expensive, and that is all that matters. They’ve got kids, but they don’t raise them. Their spouses are cheating on them, but in fairness, they are cheating on their spouses. They don’t really even know what their jobs entails, as they’ve gotten promoted so many times that they’ve ended up in a position that is totally outside their realm of expertise. But they’re so powerful that no-one is able to fire them over their pretty blatant incompetence. They’re successful. They’ve made it. But they still can’t sleep at night. They only manage to successfully fall asleep at night after swallowing a fistful of pills along with a swig of vodka.

It must be easy being a self-help guru. Well, what I mean to say is that all you really need is charisma, which is something you need to be born with. But you don’t need to do any actual studying, any real research, or any kind of soul-searching or deliberation. All you need is to state what is obvious. You go on stage in front of an anxious audience, mostly composed of middle-class salesmen and miscellaneous white collar ghosts. You smile, show off your eerily bright teeth, and they clap. You tell them to go take care of themselves, to eat more healthily, to take walks, or go swimming, and love their partners. You tell them to drink less, or maybe, if they feel like it, they could drink more. I am sure you could spin alcohol as a positive or a negative, depending on what crowd you’re talking to. Tell them to appreciate family. Tell them to appreciate others. Live, laugh, but most of all, love. Tell them to go clean their rooms. Tell them to remember that if they’re on an airplane that is about to crash land, they need to put their own oxygen mask on before they can help others put theirs on. If you don’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else? Now, go to bed!

You know all this stuff. Me telling you that you should sleep more doesn’t really help you. You know that you should sleep more. It’s not like as if you’re too dumb to realise that. And it’s not like as if you’re too dumb to realise that it is better to drink in moderation, and that you should smoke less weed. There are many small little things you can do to improve your life, to stop being a terminally unemployed slacker. It’s like your grandpa who tells you stories about life after the war when you could walk into the biggest building in town, slam your fist against the table and demand to be given a job and a house and a wife and a couple of kids, and that was all you needed to do. He can’t comprehend the fact that society doesn’t work like that, any more. Most people my generation have given up hope of ever owning a home, at least if they happen to live in the vicinity of a larger city. It seems that, no matter where you live, the cost of homes has risen to an impenetrable degree. It seems just as likely that you will be able to afford your very own genetically-engineered pet dragon before you will get to be a house-owner. It’s the fault of those damn boomers, why bother changing your ways, when the boomers are still in charge? Others may accuse you of wallowing in your own depression, but you are perfectly aware that this is exactly what you are doing. You are self-aware. But self-awareness on its own is not enough to motivate anyone. You still can’t see the point in doing anything constructive with your life. Life just feels so aimless. It’s easier to sit, smoke weed, and watch cartoons.

Pop psychology is problematic. To say the least. Take all those self-help gurus suffering from their messiah complexes and put them through the shredder. Don’t buy books thinking that they’ll offer you the kind of treatment you would get from an actual psychiatrist. I know that, depending on where you are in the world, treatment can get very expensive, but you’re not going to get better reading the book of some self-aggrandising narcissist’s collection of wishy-washy platitudes. Dr. Phil has done great evil pretending to be a therapist on the TV, and Jordan Peterson (despite having once been an esteemed scholar) has turned a generation of young internet-savvy zoomers into proto-fascists obsessed with the monogamy of lobsters. Pop psychology has become a guise for cult leaders to reap new followers. Getting treatment should not feel like joining a new religious movement. Maybe I’m just one of those annoying atheists, but I dare say, psychiatry works at its best when it's secular. You should not look at your psychiatrist as a prophet speaking to God. They’re just a doctor, and you need treatment.

I do not aspire to create a self-help blog. I do not promise that reading this blog will help you in any way. I would be overjoyed if someone came up to me and told me that I had inspired them to seek help. You may tell me that reading my words have made you feel less alone, knowing that others have gone through all these things that you are going through. When I felt at my worst, I remember reading the memoirs of people I admired who had similarly struggled in their lives, and I felt less alone. But none of those books pretended to exist principally to help others. Those books did help me, through the candid descriptions of struggles that I thought I was alone in experiencing. Knowing that some people had pulled through, managed to find a light at the end of the tunnel, it made me think I could one day be like them. The books didn’t seek to fix me, but they offered me a perspective that came to be very valuable later on, when I started going to therapy, and when I later started taking medication. Sometimes that is all you need. Not someone standing over you and telling you to go to bed, or to clean your room, or to stop drinking. You know all that, already. What you really need is the reassurance that things can indeed get better. Sleep will come.