#but honestly so much of this is just a personal thing about how you work best

[a-shrieking-cloud-of-bats]

okay so let me start off by saying that when I said "influential" I meant "most influential" because, like, pretty much everything that's put out in front of people is influential, my bad on that one, and I was focusing pretty heavily on mechanical stuff (because I like mechanical stuff in games)!

with that said I still don't think it was hugely influential because most of what it did didn't spread outside of it; this isn't a value judgement on what it did, it's just me saying that it didn't influence a lot of other games heavily.

the dialogue, while good, has a very distinct style and it's largely not left undertale/deltarune, probably because it's difficult to do well without feeling like you're imitating it, story is in a similar position, but there is a bit of influence there, for sure; everhood did it as I mentioned in tags, but by and large I don't see A Lot of it. Again, probably because kill/spare is very derivative of the game itself and you've gotta put in some work to make it, well, work. Deltarune is having a similar "sort've influential" situation with the narrative in there, and I'd put it about where kill/spare landed, but it is definitely more prolific, probably because it's easier to work with (in my opinion, anyway).

Cultural impact.... yeah you got me, it definitely swamped internet culture and continues to! I can't argue that at all.

Undertale inspiring other indie games is almost certainly true, but it's sort've hard to quantify, YMMV, I guess, and yeah, it did probably result in a bump in indie game development, but there was a pretty solid flow before undertale hit, and honestly I don't think it went up That much.

and I don't really view any of these negatives as a bad thing really! Undertale is still a great game and it's one of a very small number of games I've played more then once. I'm really looking forward to future deltarune chapters, I personally think undertale and deltarune are some of the better games I've played, toby really did do a great job and I don't think it's an accident judging by how deltarune is turning out, even if he did get lucky in the marketing department for undertale.

Great games, but not wildly influential in terms of other games. I'm sure this could be argued further, but I've said my piece (and taken way too long doing it, too).

Still can't get over the fact that Toby Fox dreamed up a game ending, but he decided he wanted to make something a little less ambitious first, so instead he made the most influential indie game of all time

[fkinkindagauche]

Somebody Has to Arrange the Matches

This is a prompt fill for @steddiebingo Round One, prompt "Dustin Henderson". Full fic on AO3.

Rating: Explicit | WC: 5,398 | CW: None | Tags: Dustin Henderson parent trap, gay Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington speed runs his sexuality crisis, first kiss, mutual pining, friends to lovers, frottage

Summary: Dustin is adamant that Eddie Munson deserves to find love, after all he's been through. Once Dustin figures out some things about Eddie, he gets to work making it happen.

divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie was being cagey again.

It had become Dustin's personal mission now that Eddie was out of the hospital to get the man a girlfriend. As far as Dustin could tell from his probing questions to the Corroded Coffin guys, Eddie had never had a girlfriend, which was honestly shocking to Dustin. Sure, Eddie could be pretty over the top, but everyone liked him. And it wasn't like he was ugly. So he must just be too shy or something. Dustin wanted to help.

Dustin currently had him cornered in Gareth's garage, away from the rest of the group. They'd just finished a D&D session at Gareth's house, with a Corroded Coffin practice scheduled after. Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Will were waiting for Steve to pick them up before the practice started. Dustin was doing his utmost to get Eddie to go out with one of Robin's band geek friends, but Eddie was resisting all of his attempts.

"Henderson, no." Eddie sounded exactly like Steve did after Dustin had asked for a ride about ten times, trying to get a no to magically change to a yes. "I'm not going to ask Veronica out."

"Why not?" Dustin asked, voice raised. "She's a huge nerd, she flirts with you, like, non-stop, and she's hot."

Eddie sighed. "I'm just not into her."

Dustin groaned, tugging his hands through his hair in frustration. "Are you into anyone? Every time I bring someone up, you shoot the option down."

"Well, I don't like your options, bud. They're not good options."

"That's objectively false!" Dustin yelled. "Most guys would kill for some of the options I've presented!" Why did Eddie have to be like this?

"How can it be objectively false?" Eddie shot back. "It's literally my opinion. The definition of subjective."

Dustin glared at him. He hated when Eddie tried to outsmart him. He hated how often it worked. Steve drove up just as Dustin was opening his mouth for a rebuttal.

"Thank the fucking Lord," Eddie muttered. "Please take this young whippersnapper off of my hands before I kill him," Eddie yelled to Steve when he got out of his car.

"Oh, great," Steve said. "Can't wait to spend the next 15 minutes with a feisty Henderson in my car."

God, they were both such turds sometimes. Dustin sighed loudly and stomped over to Steve's car. "This isn't over, Munson!" he called over his shoulder. Eddie flipped him off in response.

He grabbed the passenger seat before Mike, Lucas, or Will even made it to the car, much to their chagrin. Steve chatted with Eddie for a few moments, Eddie leaning into his space as per usual, slinging an arm over Steve's shoulder.

Dustin leaned over and honked the horn.

"Really, Dustin?" Steve yelled, hands on his hips.

"Some of us have places to be!" Dustin yelled back.

"Where do you have to be?" Lucas asked from the backseat.

Dustin shrugged. "It's the principle of the thing."

Steve spent a few more moments talking to Eddie, probably just to piss Dustin off, then came back to the car.

Dustin gave Steve 30 seconds to adjust, watching the time tick by on his watch. He'd been told off one too many times for immediately starting an interrogation, so this was his compromise with the world. As soon as his watch hit the 30 second mark, he started in.

"So why doesn't Eddie ever date anyone?" Dustin asked, talking over whatever conversation Mike and Will had been having in the back.

Steve glanced at Dustin with a confused expression on his face. "What?"

"From the intel I've gathered, Eddie's never had a girlfriend," Dustin said. "He turns down all of my suggestions for potential dates. But if anyone deserves a girlfriend, it's him. He's, like, a hero. I want to help him find his Suzie."

"Excuse me, what am I? Chopped liver?" Steve interjected. "Why aren't you trying to find me a girlfriend?"

Dustin rolled his eyes. "You've had a million girlfriends, Steve. Give some of the other poor dudes a chance."

"Yeah, Steve. You're kind of hogging the eligible young women of Hawkins," Mike piped up from the back seat.

"I haven't had a girlfriend since Nancy," Steve protested.

"But you do still get around," Dustin insisted.

"Whatever, man." Steve shook his head. "Why don't you let Eddie do his own thing? Maybe he's just picky."

Dustin crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, not responding. Steve was wrong. Eddie deserved his own Suzie. And Dustin wasn't going to give up on helping him find her.

"So I saw this girl the other day at the arcade," Dustin started. He and Eddie were at the trailer, painting some miniatures. It was his mom's night working late, and Dustin had started spending it with either Eddie or Steve on alternating weeks.

Eddie groaned. "Not again, Henderson. Can't we go, like, one day without this shit?"

"But Eddie! I think you'd really like her. She had a mohawk. Dyed pink. And her nose was pierced."

Eddie dropped his head into his hands, smearing some red paint on his cheek. He stayed that way for a few moments, quieter for much longer than usual. Dustin worried for a moment that he might have broken him. When Eddie finally looked up, his face was serious in a way it almost never was. He reached out for Dustin's hand.

"Dustin. I'm about to tell you something, and you cannot freak out about it. And you can't tell anyone else about it, either. Am I clear?" Usually, Dustin would have thought a joke was coming after an intro like that from Eddie. But he seemed completely earnest this time, so Dustin actually considered what he'd asked.

"What about Suzie?" Dustin asked. "Can I tell Suzie?"

Eddie sighed. "Yeah, you can tell Suzie."

"Alright," Dustin said. "I agree to your terms. No freak out, no telling anyone other than Suzie."

Eddie nodded. "Okay." He took a deep breath and looked away. "I'm gay, Dustin."

It took Dustin a second for his brain to parse what he'd just heard. Eddie. Heavy metal band member, dungeon master Eddie.

"I'm sorry, you're what?" Dustin squeaked. He must have misheard.

"I'm gay," Eddie repeated. "Queer, fruity, a homo, a friend of Dorothy, a fairy. I like men. That's why none of your options have sounded remotely appealing to me. That's why I've never had a girlfriend."

Dustin sat back in his chair, stunned. A lot of things were making sense now.

"Oooookay," Dustin said, nodding. So now he had to find Eddie a boyfriend. More difficult, but he liked a challenge. "So what's your type? We can find you a boyfriend."

Eddie barked out a laugh, throwing his head back. He looked relieved. "Are you serious? That's your only question, what's my type?"

"Of course that's not my only question, who do you think I am?" Dustin was a little offended. "That's just my most pressing question."

"I think this is the best response I've gotten so far to coming out," Eddie said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.

Dustin felt pretty good about that. "Well? Are you gonna answer?"

Eddie chuckled. "I should've known this wouldn't make you give up your weird crusade." He pulled a few strands of hair in front of his mouth, chewing on the ends while he thought. "My type? I'm not totally sure, honestly, haven't had much of a chance to find out, living in Hawkins. I guess probably my height or maybe shorter, but not much taller. On the masculine side of things, almost the jock physique. Hairy. Brunette."

Dustin nodded after each characteristic, mentally taking note. "Those are all physical things. What about personality?"

Eddie had to think a little harder about that one, looking into the distance. "Um. Kinda goofy, I guess? Not too macho. Sense of humor." Eddie trailed off and looked at Dustin sharply. "Henderson, if you go around asking the men of Hawkins if they're queer so you can try to find a date for me, you're gonna get beat to shit."

Dustin held up his hands. "You really think I'm that stupid? Give me some credit here, Eddie."

"You have a track record of failing to read the room, man," Eddie pointed out.

That absolutely wasn't true. Dustin was very tactful. He could be quite subtle when he wanted to be. Eddie just never got to see that side of him.

"I'll be careful," Dustin insisted. "I'm not gonna ask anyone if they're gay."

"Alright," Eddie said, but he didn't look convinced. Dustin would show him.

The idea hit Dustin the next week, when he was spending his mom's late work night with Steve. They were out by the pool, and Steve's hairy chest was on full display, with all of its muscles. Dustin had Suzie, and she didn't want him to be muscular, but sometimes when he saw Steve's chest he couldn't deny the twinge of jealously.

Hairy. Muscular jock physique. Something was tickling at the back of Dustin's mind. Brunette. What was that? About as tall as Eddie.

Oh shit. Dustin dropped his Dr. Pepper as Steve yelled "COWABUNGA" and did a cannonball into the water. Kinda goofy.

It was Steve. Eddie had basically been describing Steve. Did Eddie even know? Had he been secretly pining after Steve this whole time? Or was it still subconscious?

Holy shit. But Steve liked girls. How was Dustin gonna make this work? Did he need to find a Steve doppelganger somewhere who was gay?

Steve popped out of the water, shaking his hair. He looked up at Dustin and the Dr. Pepper spilled all over the patio. "Everything alright there?" Steve asked. "You look like you saw a ghost."

Dustin nodded. "I- I'm good. Everything's fine!"

Steve shrugged and dove back under the water.

Dustin did some research over the next few days. If he was going to find a gay Steve doppelganger for Eddie, he needed to understand the culture - where he could find other queer people, the types of phrases they used to identify each other without being too blatant, that kind of stuff.

He tried finding books at the library, but came up empty-handed and probably on some sort of list the librarian kept of degenerates. So he had to resort to asking Eddie where he got all his information.

"Why do you wanna know?" Eddie asked with a suspicious glare.

"I just wanna understand you, man!" Dustin insisted, putting on his most innocent expression. "You're my friend, I wanna know what's going on with you."

Eddie reluctantly handed Dustin some zines he'd picked up in Indianapolis. "None of the raunchy stuff," Eddie said. "I'm not getting arrested for dealing gay pornography to minors."

Dustin made a disgusted face. "You could have just… not told me you even had raunchy stuff."

Eddie shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?"

Dustin spent hours that night poring over the zines, learning the lingo. He discovered an incredibly interesting fact in one of the zines - the existence of bisexuality. You could like both men and women. You didn't have to be either gay or straight.

This fact blew Dustin's mind, and the seeds of a different plan took root. What if Steve was bisexual, and he didn't even know it? That would be the easiest, most logical solution to the Eddie problem. Steve was Eddie's type; so what if Eddie was also Steve's type?

He talked about it with Suzie the following evening. She'd been shocked to learn that Eddie was gay. Mormons weren't exactly accepting of homosexuality. But she'd always played a little fast and loose with certain aspects of Mormonism, so Dustin was able to bring her around to the idea eventually.

"I don't know, Dusty Buns," she said as they were discussing his idea about Steve. "I don't think you can just make someone be bisexual."

"I'm not gonna make him be bisexual," Dustin insisted. "I'm just gonna try to show him that he already is."

"But what if he isn't?" she shot back.

"Then I'll go back to the doppelganger plan," he said with a sigh. "But I have to try. This is the simplest solution. Occam's razor."

"Dusty Buns, you know you're not using that correctly right now," Suzie scolded.

Dustin sighed. She never let him get away with anything.

Dustin paid a lot more attention to Steve and Eddie's interactions over the next few weeks. Now that he knew Eddie was gay, he couldn't believe he'd missed the signs pointing to his crush on Steve.

Eddie gravitated to Steve like a moth to a flame. It was like he had some sort of Steve-related sixth sense, his head immediately turning toward Steve whenever the man walked into a room.

He was a tactile guy with everyone, but whenever Steve was around, it was always Steve that Eddie was touching. Every time Dustin looked at the two of them, Eddie had a hand somewhere on Steve - slung around his shoulders, resting on one of his arms, brushing against one of his legs to get his attention.

Steve didn't seem to mind at all. He leaned into the physical contact, touching Eddie back almost as often as he was touched. They smiled at each other all the time. They got each other drinks and snacks and just in general acted like a goddamn couple. How had Dustin missed this?

He was gonna need to accelerate his timeline. These idiots needed to get together ASAP.

Read the rest of the fic on AO3.

[bubbleggum444]

—LO۷ESTⱤUCK F𐌀N

contents damian wayne x fem!reader, youtuber!reader au, fluff, 2k+ wc. synopsis now that you've started accepting fan mail, damian jumps at the chance to send you something (though, honestly, he’d send himself if he could). pt 2 of "unexpected crush!?" (@liabiamiakiawia hope you like it 🫶🏻)

No. Freaking. Way.

Was this a dream? A hallucination? Some cruel trick of the mind?

There was no way she actually posted her address. But as he blinked at the screen, rereading the words for the hundredth time, the reality hit him like a Batarang to the chest:

"Accepting fan gifts/letters! Address & city number: xxxxx. Can't wait to see what my luvies gift me :)"

His heart stopped. Then restarted at double the speed.

He. Was. Ecstatic.

Well—ecstatic in a very Damian Wayne, son of an assassin and the Dark Knight, kind of way.

A normal person might be pacing, grinning, maybe even screaming into a pillow. But Damian? He just sat there, staring at the screen, his grip tightening on his phone as his brain raced a thousand miles per second.

This was huge. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The only chance he’d ever have to send her something, something meaningful—something that would make her smile.

Immediately, he started skimming through her videos, mind buzzing with possibilities. What did she like? What did she need? What could he give her that would stand out from the rest?

Something perfect. It had to be perfect.

After intense (possibly obsessive) research, he finally settled on three things:

1. A Beauty of Joseon skincare set—not that a face as flawless as hers needed skincare. If anything, the skincare needed her.

2. A cute hairclip set—he remembered her gushing over some in a video. Hers were old, but she hated overconsumption, always mindful of her brand collaborations (another thing about her that made his heart do weird things: her caringness for the planet).

3. Some top-tier Chinese makeup—only the best for her.

His lips curled into a satisfied smirk as he saw the total.Just a casual $1K. Nothing much for a Wayne.

Then again… if she asked, he'd get her the moon and stars. Nothing was ever too much for her. Ever.

By the time he finalized his list, it was nearly noon. And by the time he finished hunting everything down in-store, it was noon.

Now, back in his room, Damian sat cross-legged on his floor, staring at the disaster zone of wrapping paper around him.

He exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling up as he crumpled yet another piece of pink wrapping paper—now a casualty of way too much tape—and chucked it aside.

This was so new to him. He barely ever gave gifts, and even when he did, Alfred was the one who wrapped them.

With a sigh, Damian pulled out his phone and searched, How to wrap gifts (EASY and pretty).

Following the tutorial with painstaking precision, his thoughts started to wander.

It wasn’t like he was an idiot. After a full week of stubborn denial, he’d finally accepted it—he had a crush. A real, actual crush on a girl he’d never even met.

And honestly? That annoyed him. Apparently, there was some illness where people obsessed over their favorite celebrities or internet personalities.

But he wasn’t sick! Sure, there were plenty of things wrong with him—a packaged deal that came with being the son of his parents—but this? This wasn’t an obsession. And he was definitely not a stalker.

He just... really liked this girl.

Pausing mid-task, he set down the half-wrapped package and reached for a pen and paper.

"Dear ___,My name is Damian Wayne. I'm a teen from Gotham..."

Hours passed—writing, re-writing, crumpling papers, fixing the bow on the package that would soon be crossing oceans.

Finally, Damian collapsed onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

He sighed.

Please let this work.

Sitting up, he picked up the now perfectly wrapped gift box, his fingers absentmindedly tracing along the frilly bow.

And then, without thinking, he brought the box to his lips, pressing a light kiss against it.

Oh. Oh.

A wave of déjà vu hit him— reminding him of the air-kiss he tried to catch through his laptop screen a week prior.

For a second, he just sat there, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips before he scoffed softly at himself.

Damian Wayne had officially lost. He liked her. Like liked her.

And now, all he could do was hope—pray—that this box, this dumb little package of gifts, would somehow, someway, connect them.

Maybe. Just maybe. Something real would come out of this stupid crush.

"Tch… emotions suck."

He laughed under his breath, though there was no real bite to his words.

Setting the package on his bedside table, he turned off the light and crawled into bed.

Tomorrow, he’d send it.

And then? He’d wait.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

© — ggυɱi '25

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated

ദ്ദി ≽^⎚˕⎚^≼ .ᐟ

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Sometimes I think about Harry being sent back to his relatives after his 4th and 5th year, and I lose my mind a little. It's bad enough he's sent back at all, but these two summers especially. Like how are you looking at this traumatised, grieving kid, who has been tortured and lived through some truly horrible events, and think taking him to people who hate his very existence is a good idea??? And no adult checks on him in person. They're watching him post gof sure, but no one actually speaks to him. No one tell him anything outside a few cryptic messages, he's left hurt and isolated. It's just crazy to me.

(Crazier that some people complain about Harry's behaviour in ootp. He's mild, all things considered)

I know!

Like, I don't know what Dumbledore was smoking, honestly... like, even if we're being generous in our interpretation of his actions and say Harry really needed to spend some time with Petunia every summer to keep his blood protection going (personally, I don't think it's the case, but I'm being generous), he doesn't need to spend the whole summer there. Like, he could stay there for one afternoon, one day, a week, maybe, max? Why does he need to stay there longer? Why between GoF and OotP Dumbledore plan for him to stay at the Dursleys the whole summer when Grimmauld Place was probably safer?

But, like, after OotP, at least the plan was for Harry to only stay with the Dursleys for a bit, even if longer than I would have left him there (which is none at all), but the concept of just spending there enough time so he could refresh the blood protections before going to the Weasleys is decent, like, I can understand that. Dumbledore came to pick him up on June 12th, a bit later than I would like, but he still spends most of the summer and his birthday with the Weasleys.

What I don't understand is leaving him completely cut off from everyone who cares about him and from all information about the Wizarding World (aside from Daily Prophet propaganda) after Voldemort returned, murdered Cedric in front of Harry, and tortured Harry. Like, what the hell?

I can't fathom how he could think this is a good idea. Like, at all. Between OotP and HBP, I get it assuming the blood protection really works like that or he believes it does, but the summer between GoF and OotP is near unforgivable, man.

I mean, I recently reread the graveyard scene for my fic and that was horrifying. Like, every time I reread it I am horrified anew at what happened there and what Harry went through... just, that whole scene is a lot (and maybe I'll do like a little rundown of it, since I feel like it needs talking about), and, like, damn, you're right that Harry's response is mild compared to how it could've been in OotP.

OotP Harry will always be one of my favorite Harrys (I love him in all the books) and I will forever stand behind his anger being a trauma response and that he isn't actually hot-headed. OotP was Harry reaching his limit, and boy, did it take a lot to get him to his limit. I mean, he's the opposite of a hothead considering just how much he had to suffer to reach his boiling point. I talked about his trauma responses here and his anger in particular here.

[lyricwritesprose]

Here's the thing. A lot of people think of Kelda Wineberry as a joke. Because she is a bard, and her criteria for falling into the sheets with someone are pretty much consenting and moving and that's it, and also she's a halfling wearing a human hat with a huge ostrich plume, which means that the hat, at first glance, appears roughly the size of Kelda and has usually slid down over her eyes. I gotta admit that I've sometimes underestimated Kelda.

Never again.

Because she not only managed to improvise an anti-panic ritual on the fly, she figured out a way to calm down someone who doesn't breathe. Like. Where do you go with that? Take a deep breath in—nope, he doesn't. Let out your breath slowly—he can't. So she engaged his concentration by asking him to list a bunch of things starting with the same letter, and then another list, all the time plucking gently on her lute. I honestly don't think she was spellcasting. He probably would have known, and panicked. It was just a soothing background to what she was saying.

At length, Janis—who was more than a little singed by whatever Dread Isithamar fired into their chest—coughed, and moaned, and then passed out again.

"You see?" Kelda said. "They're going to be okay. Honestly we've had to do this before. They worship the Lady of Dawn, not the Lady of Standing Back And Making Wise Choices. How about you? How did you get—well—in this state, without a blood ritual?"

"I." Isitiamar can't blink, or I think he might have. "Well, the thing is, I really, really like research."

"Yeah?"

"So when my time came to die—my order gets taken personally by the Lady of Sunset, you know—I didn't turn around to see who it was, I just said, 'Piss off, I'm working.'"

"And?"

"And apparently she sort of—did. Now, you people were talking about a scroll? And an eclipse that's going to end the world? You have to understand, we can't have that. My library is in the world!"

It turns out that the lich the adventurers had been hired to slay had never actually killed anyone before until the impulsive paladin of the group swung first. Now, as the healer tries to revive them, the rest have to calm the ancient undead mage down from what is undeniably a panic attack.

[lilhawkeye3]

I wanted to thank you for your breakdown because honestly I'm really new to kendrick's music overall, not like us is what really exposed me moreso to him, and while I did recognize that he was talking about a LOT of things about drake, it was things I couldn't really unpack myself as a nonblack person and understand the depths of (but I still could appreciate that drake was a horrible guy and kendrick was speaking as a matter of ethics, not just a personal diss). seeing the superbowl performance was amazing, but it was so hard to put into words why, and I'm gonna honestly be showing a lot of my friends your post cause it's just that good of a breakdown

Thank you so much! And IMO better late than never because you're still here with us! Welcome to the party lol.

I will say that Kendrick has won a Pulitzer. He is very conscious of his wordplay but also how it has different layers depending on context. Yes of course "Not Like Us" is about Drake, it was directly a result of their feud as to how/when it was released... and he talks to Drake in it lol. But there are a lot of things not about Drake in there too that call out the rest of the industry and the audience as a whole too.

He's a very visual performer as well, so some of this only comes through when you watch his work. I highly recommend looking at some of his music videos, and his performance from the 2016 Grammys. This made white people/the industry FURIOUS. It's incredibly poignant.

[treasure-mimic]

Last night, over 75,000 screaming fans joyfully sang along to the line “Trying to strike a chord and it’s probably A Minor” and I kinda wanna talk about it.

I… think that enough people have talked about the entirety of the show, the meaning in the acting and choreography and song choice, that I don’t feel like I’m overshadowing it by talking about the one big song that everyone knows. And honestly, I think Not Like Us is important. Or, rather, Not Like Us is demonstrably important, you can’t break streaming and chart records and win five Grammys and be unimportant, ya know?

It’s an aspect of the song that I think has kind of flown under the radar, like it feels so obvious that I almost feel dumb just saying it, but for as much as the song is defined as a diss track, a work of haterdom, a petty spectacle that blew up across social media as well as a dissection of Drake’s place in rap culture and black culture as a whole, it’s also, like, a very direct warning? You know, “To any bitch that talk to him and they in love/Just make sure you hide your lil’ sister from him.” I can’t know if there’s any young woman out there who could’ve gotten involved with Drake and didn’t because of Not Like Us and the beef in general, but it’s not impossible to imagine either. In addition to, you know, all those things I called it above, Not Like Us is also just one of the most profoundly effective deplatforming campaigns in history.

That, to me, is meaningful. In a time and place where it seems like the rich and powerful are incapable of suffering consequences, Kendrick was able to hold one to account, to exact some kind of punishment to one’s reprehensible behavior. I guess we’ll see how much effect it actually had when Drake’s next album drops but like, who could be looking forward to it now?

To me the targeting here feels very deliberate. Like, if Kendrick had made Not Like Us about Trump, who is also a horrible despicable person and one who needs deplatforming a lot more than Drake, it almost certainly wouldn’t have worked, he still would’ve gotten elected. By the same token, is there any artist, in or out of the rap genre who could’ve made the case against Drake so strongly and so widespread. Kendrick was very effectively able to leverage his respect and, call it what it is, authority in the rap scene to remove Drake from it entirely.

Kendrick was able to impact more of a tangible, positive change in the landscape of the world, more than thinkers with higher concerns, celebrities with wider influence, and policy makers with more power, and I think that’s something worth noting.

[canisbrutus]

PLEAAAAASEEEE DUMP ABOUT OLSENWIIIICCKKKKK🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

your wish is my command i adore these stupid faggots

Kirby & Trent 🍰🎬

inhalesssssss

these two are incredibly bonded despite everything.

but they damn sure didnt get off on a good start.

following my personal timeline trent had just broken things off with cornelius. and neither of them were particularly closeted or reserved about their faggotry.

so for a good minute kirby didnt even want to be seen talking to his gay ass at all in case it gave him a Reputation.

by some miracle they started talking, or rather, hurling insults at eachother thanks to trent spilling punch on kirby at the jock's halloween party.

the jocks love hosting shitass parties for a number of stupid reasons, you see. and trent likes getting wasted.

after a rough encounter at the punch bowl the two continued taunting eachother every time they made eye contact.

for entirety of one whole week, at least. then trent decided 'hey he's kinda cute when he's angry'

and so began the incredibly arduous task of: flirting with kirby until he stops yelling slurs (and throwing hands).

thankfully this Also took about a week and they moved onto just mumbling slurs inbetween smooches because of how insanely, well, sexually frustrated they were.

these teens are fucking insane but thats just how bullworth is.

trent then worked up the nerve to ask him on an actual date, kirby begrudgingly agreed, jimmy busted them while getting on pinky's good side, aaand trent got his ear chewed off for it.

they fought about kirby's whole internalized homophobia at this time cause he damn sure wasnt the only faggot in school.

(and it was really getting under trent's skin because he was practically hatecrimed out of his last relationship)

they weren't technically boyfriends at that point due to kirby's insistence. but it felt like a breakup all the same.

they got back together at the jock's christmas party though. something something 7 minutes in heaven i dont know and i dont want to particularly put much thought into that.

point being shit was messy for a hot minute but trent showed kirby things about himself he could Not ignore.

so he wanted to try again with him. and this time he chilled out on practically Hating the guy he was macking on.

trent also cooled it with how, well, Bold he could be. actually made an effort to not embarrass kirby in public and whatnot.

things had to be lowkey in order to not be harassed of course.

but trent's mere presence was enough to turn kirby's ears pink sometimes.

in the bleachers, across the cafeteria, walking down the street, etc.

and god help him when they're paired up in class.

kirby loved the rush all the same though. and trent just found him fuckin incredible if i'm frank.

trent spoke highly of him to his friends, and sometimes just outright dragged them to see kirby on the field or in the arcade absolutely killing it on DDR.

they were much more forward in private of course, even if kirby was incredibly slow to open up about most of his interests and genuine self.

trent helped with that from the start; showing him how to be authentic and happy with himself.

same as all actors allow others to Reflect on their performances.

and over time kirby started to see through trent's own act.

grounded him, tried keeping him sober, etc.

if he had to keep it real and face his own reality, well, so did trent.

and honestly kirby wasnt a fan of the concept of getting shitfaced in general. didnt smoke, seldom drank, didnt huff anything.

that being said trent and him Did bake some edibles once or twice.

split one, went to the movies again, trent got shushed by old people several times because he wouldnt stop rambling.

now That was a fun time.

experimenting with formatting, hope this isnt Awful to read thru lol. also fun fact i hate spotify but i hate youtube links more.

[hc masterpost]

[overnightheartbeats]

She only rolled her eyes at his comment, not even worth addressing. Though, the roll of her eyes also communicated her growing annoyance and anger at his lack of a reaction. On the contrary, he was amused? That didn't make any damn sense.

"I don't need to be queen of the university to tell you that you just don't belong. Honestly if you weren't glued to my roommate, I wouldn't even know of your existence. That's how irrelevant you are." It wasn't intentional, her emphasis on my, but she couldn't help it. "Oh, don't act dumb! You know who I'm talking about. Laurel!" Still, as she spoke, she just sounded like a petulant child who wasn't getting her way. And, that really was her right now. Just a child throwing a tantrum. "Unless you already forgot about her," and that, kind of perked her up. Because, if so, maybe she won't have to do all this. "Maybe because you already got what you wanted from her." Laurel hadn't shared anything with her, but she overheard her gushing to her friend. It didn't take much to guess what had happened between them.

"Oh, you didn't say it," humorless laughter followed, flashes of all her classmates going on and on about him filled her mind. "Just everyone else. Like you're god's gift to this stupid fucking place." Laurel raved about him, so did everyone she met. Jenny was sick of it. She completely ignored his quip about Laurel's free will, instead just shaking her head at him. "You're below so much, you're not even close to us," she scoffed at his words. Did he really have such a naive view, just because he didn't come from money? Such a fairytale notion. It's not like Laurel was high up there, not the way Jennys's family was, but she was distinguished enough, she supposed. "I just care about her! In a way you can't understand. I'm here for the real deal, not some college hook up. You're just messing this whole thing up!" Jealousy was not easy to hide.

Her frown deepened at his refusal, a simple no and it had her riled up. "I don't need to ask you for a favor. Just need to get you out of the way, really." Jenny was just talking out of her anger, and had no concrete ideas as to how any of this would work. But, ideas would come soon enough. "No? You're going to regret saying that to me. I'll make her see, just how much of a wrong choice you are. Not worth more time than she has already given you. She's just dazzled by you now, but all things lose their shine. Sooner or later."

Laurel had just finished drying off her hair when she opened his bathroom door. She almost called out to him to ask about dinner ideas when she overheard muffled voices. It didn't make much sense to her, but as she stepped out of his bathroom, the voice became clearer. Jenny? It was her voice, but the things she was saying just didn't match the person she knew. She was quiet as she stepped closer to him, tapping his shoulder to silently ask what was going on? She had heard enough, however. Eli being the wrong for choice was absolutely ridiculous. But, that wasn't what infuriated her. It was the way she was expressing herself about him, and the fact that Eli wasn't saying anything either.

Laurel turned to look at him, confusion washing over her, before she wiggled in between him and the door. Her hair was still damp and a mess when she faced Jenny. Her features were a blend of annoyance and anger, something her roommate was quick to catch on to, because before Laurel even spoke up, Jenny was stuttering and trying to bring in some context to her earlier hateful words. "I...thought you were spending the long weekend at your dad's," she cleared her throat, trying to think of what else to say. "Well, no it's not what you think. I'm just," a nervous giggle fell from Jenny's lips as she tried bringing that sweet side back to the forefront. Harder than it sounded when the object of her sheer hatred stood right next to her. Damp hair, he was shirtless - it didn't take a genius to deduce. "I just, you know that overprotective friend conversation, I owed him that. It's nothing though." The story she was spinning really would only work if he didn't contradict her. And the chances of that happening were slim.

"Save it Jenny. I heard you and I can't stand here and have you spew all of this about him. He is one hundred times better person than you are, and just— you should go. I won't be back, find yourself a new roommate."

Eli chuckled out of amusement, clearly he wasn't even off put by her lame attempt at an insult. "You'd have bigger problems if you couldn't carry your own trash bags." Not that he truly would help her. He had no business with a bully. If he gave her the inch he was sure she'd barge in and make herself at home in his dorm trying to rip him a new one. But, still eyes were on her as she went on.

Surprised eyebrows knitted together as she told him to get lost. "Who died and made you queen of the university, last I checked I belong here. Just because you don't like doesn't mean you get to tell others if they belong or not. Stuck to her? Now, who do you mean?" At this point he was baiting her, he wanted her to be clear since digging her own grave would be her doing not his.

Eli laughed as he shook his head. "I never said I was all that. I'm just a normal human being minding their business. You're the one trying to disrupt that peace." he sighed and rolled his eyes. "It seems to me that you think I'm forcing her to be here. Laurel has got a choice and her own free will. Just because I didn't come from money doesn't mean I'm below you or her. Why do you care so much though is the question?"

"Hmmm that seems more like I'd be doing you the favor and I'm not in the business of doing that for you. So, no." He tried to be cordial given the many insults she had just given him but it was hard standing there taking it. Half of his head turned to see if Laurel had come out yet but also didn't want her hearing this given how much Jenny was talking out of her ass.

[princess-glassred]

Todays been awful so fuck it, IT fandom unpopular opinions! (And they're actually unpopular for once!).

-As much as I hate to say this, I think getting mad at people for not liking Mike Hanlon is shifting the blame from who's really at fault for this and that's Andi Muschietti. Yeah it sucks that Mike is always forgotten by this fandom but this fandom is dominated of fans of the movie and the movie and book are totally different. If some 13 year old has only seen the IT movies I don't blame them for not caring about Mike because he got dicked over by Andi's racial bias. And don't say "well they should watch the mini series or book to appreciate him then" as if being in a fandom is supposed to require homework. A lot of people only like IT 2017 and that's fine, and they're not less of a fan for that. It's okay to not like certain members of the losers, as long as your reasons are valid.

-I wish fanfiction would potray Sonia and Eddie's relationship (and honestly Sonia/Myra) with more depth. I am NOT saying Sonia isn't abusive, she absolutely is, but i have seen A LOT of ridiculous portrayals of Sonia and it bugs me. Even good fic writers often pigeon hole her relationship with Eddie to just being him secretly hating every thing about her with no complicated feelings at all. As someone who grew up in an abusive household, majority of abusive relationships aren't like that. That's why abusive relationships are so sinister in the first place, they're hard to get out of because you convince yourself you love your abuser. Most kids, especially heavily manipulated ones like Eddie, would struggle with feeling pure hatred for their mother. And that's interesting! I wanna see that portrayed in Eddie's character, especially since he struggles with his own identity and feelings about himself quite a lot already. If you cannot handle a portrayal of an abusive relationship being more than just two dimensional awfullness 24/7, i don't think you should be reading something as heavy as IT.

-Similarly, the way people talk about Sonia, Myra, and to a lesser extent Belch is really gross. IT actually condemns fatphobia in the narrative by having Henry attack ben, and i see people complain all the time about how ben lost wait as an adult but suddenly when it's Myra, Sonia and Belch you can fat shame to your hearts content. I have seen so many posts from people, either roleplay accounts or otherwise, calling these three fat bitches or hogs or even fanfics that deliberatly use Sonia's weight as short hand for her being terrible instesd of letting her actions speak for herself. Fat shaming isn't suddenly cool when it happens to someone you hate. Molly Ranson is a real person and that is her real body, there are probably people in this fandom who even LOOK like Sonia out there. This also applies to insulting the appearance of any other actor btw.

-I think Ben Hanscom in the it 2017 continuity is honestly kind of a creep. He kisses Bev while she's unconcious depsite not actually knowing if it'll pull her out of the deadlights (he didn't even have a reason to think it would work at all), he holds onto her yearbook signature in his wallet for 27 years even tho he literally forgot everything, spends most of IT chapter 2 coping and seething that Bev isn't attracted to him, and never says anything to defend her from Richie spreading slutty rumors about her. The only time he defends her from slut accusations is when its henry and shes there to see him do it. If Henry did any of this you guys would be all over him, but because it's Ben and they play sappy music over it it's suddenly cute and whimsical.

-I also think Richie gets away with a lot of shit that if it was done by any of the antagonists the fandom would rip 'em to shreds. People give me shit all the time for sympathizing with Henry Bowers becaude he's racist and mysoginistic but Richie says many mysoginistic and racist things across adaptations and nobody cares. Of course he spreads rumors about Bevs promiscuity, but in the book he does quite a few racist impressions and bits like when he says "You know the worst part about getting AIDS? Trying to explain to your mother that you got it from a Haitian girl.". Hell, at least Henry is 12, practically groomed into it, and so mushy brained from the pills he can't think straight, what's richies excuse? I don't even care that Richie is gay, does being in the closet justify anything? Did being attracted to Henry absolve Patrick of the fact he killed a baby? No? The same goes for Richie. Ofc you can still like him, but i don't like it when richie fans act like he's all pure and ignore his worse moments just to grand stand.

-It 2017 is actually just as ewwy towards minors as the book. Just because you removed a gang bang scene doesn't mean you aren't still weird with minors. Mr. Muschietti still thought it was appropriate to make a scene where young Bev is forced to flirt with a pedo pharmacist, another where she gets kissed unconscious, and one where her friends oggle her in a bra. Yeah it's cool you got rid of the sewer stuff but WHY ADD ALL OF THAT IN.

-The whole "omg what if the ritual was going to work but richie had to sacrifice eddie as his token instead and thats why it didnt work" is kinda dumb. it implies that the native americans who created the god damn artifact couldn't do the ritual right but these random white guys could all along. The movie straight up says the ritual has never worked and Mike saying he believed it would work because of their connection is treated like it's wrong. Maybe Eddie was Richies token but I don't think that's why they defeated IT and I also don't think it would have worked to begin with.

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

Shifty is a delight. I love how baffled and stressed he makes his new friends. I'd love if he met "Dirty Ford" and the rest of the canon crew because I think he'd also make them baffled and stressed (except the stressed is mostly just Dipper seeing this guy who says he's his alternate dimension cousin, an alternate version of the shapeshifter that tried to kill him, his sister, and his friends).

Shifty's just having a great time. His alternate tried to murder his not-cousins. Fascinating. Is this more evidence that nurture has more to do with the morality of shapeshifters, or do shapeshifters work differently in this dimension? Maybe he can track down alternate Marcy, Darcy, and Jon and ask.

Dirty Ford is feeling retroactive guilt about Shifty being sentient. Like he definitely heard Cat Ford mention that but he did not process that until confronted with Cat Shifty.

Mabel's chill and excited about this Shifty. Sure, his alternate scared her pretty bad but he's just a silly guy like Grunkle Ford. He comes from a world where Grunkle Stan turns into a cute little cat. She needs to know all the alternate family tea.

Stan's like that's a bit weird, but he did punch a pterodactyl to save a pig and triangle to save the world, so alternate shapeshifting nibling is just, sure why not. Although he wishes he would stop telling the kids so much about how his alternate self got cursed to become a cat every time he steals (lame). He's worried this might give the kids (Mabel) ideas about turning him into a cat.

Inflicting cat dimension shifty on most other dimensions is like this honestly. Shifty doesn't make it out of the bunker in most cases, but cat Shifty doesn't hold it against his alternate family, because that's not him. He's not frozen in a bunker, and while he might feel bad for the other guy, he's living life just fine.

Which just makes everyone feel more guilty about the whole thing. Shiftys contemplating the differences between nature vs nurture, and how fascinating it is that his alternate self maybe almost killed his alternate parents and cousins. Meanwhile Fords going :( did I freeze a kid? Would my shifty be like this if I gave him a chance? Is it too late? (The answer to that last one is yes, too late to have his shifty be anything like cat shifty).

Mabel starts out uncomfortable, but she warms up pretty fast. Cat shiftys right after all! He is a different person then the one who almost killed her! He's also weird and funny like her grunkle! He's sharing all the fun stories about his family with her! How come her grunkle Stan can't be a cat :(

Dipper spends the entire time trailing him and watching every move suspiciously. He's a shapeshifter! They're evil! C!Shifty just shrugs. Maybe shapeshifters are evil here? He doesn't know! Eventually C!Shifty would win him over with his crazy lore drops. What does he mean he has four parents? Who's Carla? There's a coven in town? Why were you fighting dinosaurs? Dipper would get so lost trying to figure anything out about him and forget to be scared.

Stan is unaffected, except he would rather this guy stop telling everyone about his alternate self. That guy's lame, turns into a cat and snuggles people? Stan wouldn't be caught dead doing that. Ever. He needs his family to stop throwing puppy dog eyes his way about it. It's not happening.

[bibookdemon]

(MDNI WITH THIS POST!!!)

Thinking of cumplane

Please feel free to message me about cumplane AAAA

Need more cumplane mooties

Also if you're afraid to message first, feel free to comment and I'll message you first uwu

A thought for a fic below the cut:

Thinking of a fic where SQH and SY haven't met yet

Wherein SQH is a horny little beast and one of the things he absolutely loves is being degraded. So after he posts a chapter, he turns off his computer, grabs his phone, and disappears to the couch (that folds down into a bed) and waits for a bit, maybe scrolls through his socials or watches some meme videos

And before too long, he hears the telltale ding of a comment, and he knows it's SY because he's turned off notifications for any of the other comments, and besides, SY almost ALWAYS comments first.

And so he opens the comment and he slowly slips his hand in his pants and rubs over himself

And he's so *so wet* even when he's only a couple sentences in because he knows just how much SY 'hates' PIDW (why does he continue reading it???) and despises the author because it's so 'disgustingly written' and that's really fuckin hot

His most-detailed comment writer, his biggest hater (fan) telling him all about his shortcomings. (He honestly rewrote the entirety of PIDW + gave it an actual ending + updates it occasionally when SY comments to add in smth he said - simply to gift to SY. He just hasn't worked up the courage to message him and tell him all about it. Cause he has a big fat crush. He really kinda sorta super wants to ask SY out.)

Anywho, he imagines he's straddling one of SY's thighs - he doesn't know what he looks like but he imagines some nerdy but strangely alluring and somewhat strict-looking guy - and rutting against it as SY types out a comment on his latest chapter

He imagines SY stopping his typing every so often to direct his words and attention to SQH, just telling him how pathetic he is, how his writing is sub-par, how he must be such a nasty-minded person to write such extensive smut scenarios, how SY doesn't even help him get off, just makes him move back and forth until he finally finds his release.

And probably scolds him for making such a mess, but SQH can't help it, he really can't when someone is speaking to him the way SY is speaking to him-

And it's during his post-orgasmic haze that he exits the comment and decides to message SY (I reckon there's a DM feature and while SY has his DMs set to limited, they're open to authors and friends messaging him)

And he gives SY a time and address for a local cheap coffee shop. Not really fancy, but the only place he can afford at the moment. And he just says smth like: 'Meet up with me here, we can work out our differences.' His brain is too muddled to dwell on the fact that he has no idea where SY is from and that his message is honestly so vague and weird that SY is probably horrified.

He falls asleep pretty quickly, and when he wakes up, he sees the message he sent, regrets it, but then rushes to get ready cause HE GAVE A TIME FOR THE NEXT FUCKING DAY?! He rushes to get the alt version novel printed and grabs his best clothes, then he's out.

He probably takes the train, and he's glancing at his phone anxiously every so often, and he's late, but then he's there, shoving the door open to the shop-

He spots SY in the corner, just sipping on a coffee, typing furiously on his laptop, looking like he hasn't slept in a long while his eyebags are so big. Also his glasses are taped in the middle. (I personally think that SY is such a shut-in that he takes forever to go out and get new glasses despite being perfectly financially stable...)

And he sits down in front of him, and he plops his stack of papers on the table. He doesn't say anything, he's honestly really nervous now and kinda guilty about the fact that he's been getting off to this guy's comments but...wow. SY is actually fucking gorgeous. Well, to him. He has a few acne scars, but his face is otherwise clear, and there's the tiniest bit of chub left in his cheeks, yet his cheekbones are still pronounced. His eyebrows are perfect, his hair is short and silky and frames his hair perfectly. And holy shit he really wishes he could get a look at the body beneath the clothes. Because if the rest of him is like his face...he's totally SQH's type.

But he doesn't say anything. And then SQH goes to open his mouth and say smth and SY stops typing and looks up at him and slowly closes his laptop. He looks strict with the look he has on his face currently: Intense, sharp, tired, but focused.

And then he sighs and it all kinda melts away and he actually looks really awkward/anxious as he looks at the table, and SQH can see him fiddling with his hands. And he just mutters: "Look bro, those comments weren't actually meant to be that mean, and I came because I wanted to say sorry, and I'm sure there are reasons for it...idk bro you seem chill? It's your story, and you're human, and it has nothing to do with my thoughts and opinions and-"

And SQH just slaps the stack of papers and slides them over toward SY. "Dude. I know PIDW is crap. I have to pay the bills." And he's not trying to be mean or anything about it, he couldn't care less what SY thinks (but also he's internally screaming BITCH IF YOU DONT KEEP ROASTING MY STORY IM GONNA FUCKING DIE-) he's just pretty straightforward. (I think when he's nervous he goes quiet, and he'll ramble when he's comfy around someone.)

And SY is just like "???" And he flips through some of the papers and his eyes go wide and there's just this SPARKLE in them (SQH thinks it's the cutest thing he's ever seen and he wants to kiss those beautiful eyes) and he's like "Bro, is this what I think it is?!" And SQH nods and SY just wiggles in his seat with this stupidly huge grin and starts reading through it, and every few seconds he points out smth he likes, or smth he didn't see coming, or etc etc. And they literally sit at that table and make conversation about this alt PIDW and SQH is happy and SY is happy. And then SQH realizes it's been a hot minute and he probably should get home and etc etc

But SY looks absolutely upset about this because he NEEDS to rant about this alt version because he's so fucking in love with it and even messaging SQH his every thought isn't enough

So SQH invites him over (totally a great idea. Did he ever clean up the wet stain on his couch from...?) And SY is immediately like NO I CANT IMPOSE + he doesn't want the vibe to change and mess up SQH's writing, so he invites him to the hotel he's staying at and SQH is so relieved and immediately says YES

And they pack their stuff up and go outside and he starts walking in the direction of the train station when he hears a beep beep, and there's this luxurious-ass car that SY is getting into. And he tries (and fails) to hide his surprise because is SY rich?!

Upon arriving at the hotel, yeah, yeah he's rich. They're at the fanciest place in town, and they go almost to the very top. It's a large suite. And then SY apologizes for not getting a larger room, it was just really short notice, and SQH is just 'dobdoavd9svs9acs9svs9vxozv' malfunctioning.

Anyway, after he gets over it, they start talking about alt PIDW. Hours and hours and hours pass like that. It's a long novel, so suddenly it's 2 or 3 in the morning, and they're not even halfway through (SY is a really fast reader holy shit) and SQH realizes it's time for him to go home. So he goes to get up (when did they end up in the bed together, side by side?) And SY grabs his wrist because he doesn't want him to go yet he NEEDS to binge alt PIDW and suddenly SQH is tumbling down, right onto him.

Their noses are just barely brushing, their eyes are locked onto each other, and maybe it's just SQH but are they both red and breathing a bit harder?

And then SY just asks: "Do you like boys?"

And SQH can only nod once, slowly, and then they're kissing, lips smashing together, and SQH is decent at kissing, and SY is...not but oh well, and they're tugging at each other, and they're breathless, and when they break away from the kiss they're both panting and tousled.

SQH: Please tell me that wasn't just me (even when SY very obviously was a happy participant, he's still worried cause holy fuck is he really...?!?!?!?)

SY: Y-yeah. If you wanna? Or is it weird that like- I never imagined you'd be this...hot, Airplane-Bro. (And he's blushing and can't look SQH in the eyes) I kinda always imagined you to be like...idek.

SQH: Well...I'm not whatever you imagined? I guess? ... I don't think it's weird? I mean, you weren't exactly wrong when you typed your comments (he shudders at the thought) about the fact I'm just a...horny little bastard.

SY: Sorry. Heh. About that. But um. I guess it's a good thing you *are*? Right?

SQH: Right. So you're cool with this?

SY: Yeah, yeah. Definitely. Please. Oh! Uh, I just realized, um, names. I'm Shen Yuan.

SQH: I'm Shang Qinghua.

And then they're pausing awkwardly, briefly, before they're kissing again, and then the clothes are pulled off, then they're figuring out what feels great to the other, and they're just setting up a decent rhythm.

They eventually finish alt PIDW together. And SQH, once again brave in his post-orgasmic haze, asks to date SY. And then he also admits he wants SY to keep commenting with as much ferocity as usual. He explains why and SY just goes bright red, but he's so down.

SY does have to return home soon, but he makes arrangements for SQH to move in not long after (a couple months at MOST, which were spent traveling back and forth by SY) - "Look bro, I absolutely need any updates to the alt, any insights, any brainstorming, to be said aloud IMMEDIATELY" - "You just want the great sex and cuddles" (SQH has become very teasing very quickly, and very confident in his sexuality, tho SY is still rather shy about it) - and SY goes bright red as usual XD

If you've read this far, PLEASE MESSAGE ME OH MY GOD. I NEED TO RANT ABOUT CUMPLANE MORE. And also if I do write fics for them I'll send you snippets. :3

And yeah. *thumbs up*

Have I fed you well, gremlins???

One last note: T4T cumplane my beloved

(SQH is on T and has had a breast reduction, SY is on T and has had top surgery but no bottom surgery, which he's still deciding if he wants or not.)

(ALSO - they do get to degrading eventually but SY is very nervous about it at first aha)

[redladydeath]

@storm-ismyusername

The idea that the grandparents are so awful that Sarah & Thomas aren’t horrified when their Dad murders them says SO MUCH. (I guess the kids now know Very Clearly what their Dad went through and how he ended up like that.)

Welllll, it's less that their grandparents were completely horrible to them and more the desensitization to death that all citizens of Hell go through, plus the relief of no longer being stuck in that environment. Tom and Sarah's time with them wasn't torturous, just physically and emotionally exhausting. It was such a sharp pivot from being normal suburban kids to going to Hell and having to work for everything (even their relatives' affection) that any sort of return to normalcy was welcome, even if it came through violent means.

How would Vox find out about this situation? How ENRAGED would Vox be when he found out his parents were reenacting his childhood trauma on his kids?

Honestly, it wouldn't be hard for Vox to find out. Once he starts to break into the entertainment industry, it'd be easy to just happen upon or hear about a little theater that has an act that seems a bit too familiar to him and whoops, it's murder time. Tbh, despite his bad experience with it, Vox actually likes theater (or at least appreciates the skill/work that goes into live performances), so he could've feasibly realized what was going on halfway through watching the show.

Vox is a weird, hypocritical guy. I don't think he's against child labor on principle or would even admit that his own childhood was abusive, but ever since they were born, he's been very adamant about his own kids having "normal" childhoods. Part of it is his obsession with social status/norms (he needs to be The Best = society says that children should grow up in actual homes and shouldn't have to work = his children should grow up in an actual house and shouldn't have to work), but there's also a more human part of him that freaks the fuck out at the idea of his kids having to grow up like he did. He had a visceral internal reaction to his dad half-jokingly asking if he was going to get Tommy into the family business mere hours after he was born. He can't even articulate why that interaction gave him a mini-panic attack mixed with rage– it just did. So actually watching that fear be realized despite his best efforts to prevent it... it's not pretty.

Wonder what kind of role and show Sarah could be in? Does she develop genuine interest in theatre or singing after her experience?

Sort of. She discovers that she does enjoy performing for fun (not for work, though), but because of her experience, she now feels like she should be "earning her keep," even though she's. you know. eight. and in Hell. Vox doesn't really interrogate this new interest of Sarah's very hard, partially because he's not a very empathetic person and partially because it mirrors his own experience so closely that he doesn't even think to question it.

Ondine doesn't have a lot of variation in the kind of roles she plays. She's always a precious little girl of some kind because, well, that's all she can be due to her eternal youth. She's very at-home on sitcoms, although those aren't the only shows she's in. She has a view skewed perception of what life as an actor is like though since she's the producer's daughter and is always treated 1000 times better than any of the other cast members.

Are the kid’s personalities affected by their ordeal?

Not significantly. Ondine's a little more outgoing because of it and Fineas is a bit more introverted.

Wow, Vox’s fragile pride is so enormous that he forces his kids to relive his own childhood trauma. So pathetic and cowardly.

To be fair to Vox, the main reason why he made that choice was because he felt that if he brought his children under Lantana's roof, none of them would ever get out. The "my kids might not respect me anymore if they see me like this" thing was more of an underlying motive. He doesn't leave the kids with his parents for months/years after being rescued by Alastor like he does in the Cannibal Town scenario. He'll allow his kids to eat people in order to protect his ego, but he draws the line at child labor. Vox is a weird guy.

The shared custody situation sounds hilarious, can we explore that more? So would Sarah & Thomas have visitations with Vox every weekend? Would Vox & Helen try and make their schedules fit so the kids won’t be alone in their apartments? Once Vox gained Overlord status would he kill Helen, give her a penitent & stick her in a decent apartment so the kids could still bust her, or leave her on the streets?

I have no idea how this scenario would work, honestly. It's not entirely out of character since this would all be going on in Vox's early days, before he became his worst self, but I still struggle to come up with ways this could feasibly work without taking an abrupt turn for the dark. It's really for the best that Vox and Queenie never see each other again. Neither of them are going to play nice in the long run and it'll just end with the kids even more traumatized than they already are.

It would be funny if Alastor wanted super friendly and nice to Helen to spite Vox.

Oh, 100%. In any scenario where they meet and he knows that she's Vox's ex, Alastor treats Helen like a queen (except for that one RAM scenario where he casually kills her but shhhh).

@storm-ismyusername

Okay, so, the "Vox's kids die as children AU." I came up with the image of Vox keeping his kids in a fish tank first, but upon further reflection, I've realized that it doesn't really line up with the timeline I've established.

Vox's children were 7 and 10 when he died (1957)

Vox worked under an overlord for 3 years after his death before he broke free, started his own business, and met Alastor (1960)

He and Alastor were friends for 6 years until they fell out (1966)

Vox gained official overlord status 2 years later (1968). By the time Vox had the resources for the fish tank plan, his kids would've been 18 and 21.

The only window of time where Thomas and Sarah can die and still be children is 1957-1961, so it would have to happen when Vox was still in the employ of his overlord. I actually think the idea of struggling single dad Vox is really charming, so let's go with that.

With that background, I'm not sure if Vox would feel the need to do the fish tank thing since they went 15 years with nothing going wrong. Maybe it exists, but Sarah and Thomas aren't confined to it 24/7. Everyone already knows they exist, so they're allowed to move around the tower as they please (they are absolutely not allowed to go outside, though).

Okay, with that out of the way, onto the responses. Gonna answer this in parts: this one is the pre-canon stuff, the next will be the canon stuff, and the third will be RAM stuff.

Ondine & Fineas where they die as kids: How does child Sarah and Thomas react to: 1-Dying 2-Going to Hell 3-Reuniting with your dead Dad (who now has a TV for a head) Would any of their Sinner features be different? Is it weird I can see Vox being more fatherly to Sarah and Thomas than he was in his human life? So when Sarah & Thomas die as kids does Vox find them before or after his big fight with Alastor? If before, what would Alastor make of the situation?  How long does Sarah and Thomas fend for themselves in Hell? A few days, a few weeks, a month, a year?  Did someone find the first? Did Vox only learn his kids were in Hell when someone was using them as blackmail against him? Did Sarah and Thomas watch as their father brutally murder their kidnapper in front of them?  Maybe another Overlord (like Carmilla, Zestial, or Rosie) found them and gave them to Vox because they felt threatening children was beneath them and drew the line at hurting kids. Wait what if Alastor found them first? What would he do with them if he did?

Okay, so Sarah and Thomas die somewhere between 1958 and 1959. They still drowned, maintaining their aquatic theming, but I'm not sure how exactly– could've been from their mother driving under the influence and crashing the car through a bridge's guardrails, could've been just regular drowning at the beach or something. Their mother survives, so they land in Hell alone (I have no idea what an 8~9 and 11~12-year-old could've done to get sent to Hell, but let's just move on).

Not sure how Vox finds them. In the main AU, they found him by recognizing his voice in an advertisement and seeking him out, but at this point, Vox is just some random nobody. Let's just assume he got extremely lucky and happened to come across them 1-30 days after they first arrived but before anyone else thought to scoop them up. Vox is horrified that they're dead and in Hell and privately swears to permakill his wife for letting this happen if he ever sees her again. He brings them back to his shitty little apartment and starts trying to figure out how the fuck he's supposed to care for children in Hell.

Despite the circumstances, Vox is actually a better father in Hell than he was on Earth. He has nothing to his name other than a shitty errand boy job, a tiny apartment, and his two small children, who he thought he'd never see again. While the stress of having to provide for them is a beast, losing everything sort of forced him to get his priorities in order. They become far more tight-knit than when they were alive, as Vox is forced to spend more time with them and get creative when it comes to meeting their needs.

It's all quite the adjustment for Thomas and Sarah. Dying and trying to survive on the streets was as traumatizing as you'd expect. Reuniting with your dead dad and having to adjust to living in poverty is also a lot to take in. Every day, they're stuck in a one-room apartment with gunshots constantly going off outside and explicit instructions from their father to be as quiet as possible and not open the door for anyone– very different from the upper-middle-class suburbanite life they were used to. Eventually, their dad will come home with cheap food, they'll spend time together for a while, and then they all curl up together in their singular bed and try to sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat. It's not a comfortable life, but it's definitely more intimate than how things used to be. Thomas starts letting go of some of his resentment of Vox since he can tell he's actually trying now, and Sarah's view of him as A Good Dad, Actually solidifies.

Eventually, Vox secretly kills his overlord, starts his first business, and is taken under Alastor's wing. Things become more comfortable for the three of them, and Alastor becomes something akin to a weird, kind of fun uncle to the kids. Things are looking up for the family as Vox starts to build power and wealth. It's horrifying for the kids when Vox comes home one night without a head and swears revenge on Alastor, but that incident only adds to Vox's upward momentum. After ten years of struggling in Hell, Thomas and Sarah (or rather, Fineas and Ondine) find themselves back in the lap of luxury as their father claims the title of the Overlord of Television.

[hamiltonfc]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆⭒˚｡⋆ MOTH TO A FLAME; JUDE BELLINGHAM (Chapter Two)

➤ Summary: Surprisingly, Jude and Noah seem to be getting on well, until Noah does something to get in Kaia's bad book.

➤ Pairing: Jude Bellingham x F!OC

➤ Warnings: Swearing, Food mention.

➤ Discussion tag: #my works: moth to a flame (if you ever have any questions about the story, release schedule, etc. my inbox is always open.)

➤ Word Count: 3,171

TAGLIST | SERIES PLAYLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

Kaia’s POV

“And this is Jude. My best friend.” Silence hangs in the air for a short while after the introductions. My stomach is tied in a knot while I watch Jude take in my new boyfriend. If it were a stranger perceiving Jude, they’d probably say he’s happy to meet him and that he’s happy for his friend. But I’m not a stranger. His body language, the slight strain in his jaw from the way he’s gritting his teeth and the way his eyes quickly flash to mine tells me everything I need to know.

Jude extends his hand in Noah’s direction. “Hey,” he says while Noah’s hand also leaves the side of his body, grasping Jude’s. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Noah says, quieter than how Jude said it, nerves an obvious thing he’s feeling. The last time Noah came over, and met my family, I knew he had been really nervous, and rightly so because he knows how much my family means to me. But, when it comes to Jude, I had spoken about him so much, about how we had known each other our whole lives, grown up together. Noah knew that Jude meant just as much to me as my family did. However, there was something else about Jude that didn’t threaten Noah, I don’t think (it had threatened other guys in the past), but there was the small fact of Jude being the man in my life. Jude was Noah’s competition, even though I’d told him he had nothing to worry about in the romantic department, and he believed me, Jude’s status in my life was something for Noah, or any other person who wanted to be with me forever, to reach for.

“Oh, hi, Noah,” my mum walks into the room, carrying two plates of food. “Right, these two are for you,” she nods her head at me and Noah so I promptly take my seat across from Jude, as Noah moves to sit right beside me. “Jude, William will be in in a second with your dinner. He’s currently making sure you both get a couple of extra Yorkshire puddings,” Mum flashes Jude a smile. If there was one thing my dad and Jude had in common it was how much they loved my mum’s Yorkshire puddings. Actually, I’m convinced they are the reason my dad decided to marry my mum in the first place. 

“You know me so well,” Jude says and it’s then that I see Jude’s first genuine smile since Noah walked through the door. But it’s no surprise because Jude has always been like another son to my mum, he always has a smile for her.

****

 “So, Jude,” Dad says when we’re all finally seated and eating. “Are you enjoying it in Madrid?”

“Yeah,” Jude brings his hand up to cover his mouth, pausing his speech while he finishes his food. “It’s great, barely any rain, and the football’s obviously amazing.”

“You know,” it’s my turn to speak now. “These two,” I wave my fork between my parents. “Literally never shut up talking about you. “Like God, forbid we ever see someone we know when they’re out in town because they’ll get a good old rant about how well you’re doing and how proud they are of you. No, but, honestly, I’m starting to think they’re prouder of you than they are of me,” I let out a laugh, everything I said in jest.

“Oh, don’t be silly. But, of course, we’re proud of you, Jude, you know you’re a part of this family,” Mum says. It had always been inevitable that Jude would be part of our family. My mum had been best friends with Jude’s mum, Denise, for years before they even considered having children. So when they did eventually have kids, they became like bonus children for both of them. 

I felt, though, when Mum mentioned that Jude was a part of our family, an awkwardness coming from beside me in Noah’s chair. And although I knew Jude appreciated the comment, and knew that he loved my family just as much as they loved him, I could also tell that he was sensing the same thing I was when I caught his eye.

“So, uhm, Noah,” Jude said, clearing his throat, right before taking a sip of his drink, his attention shifting to the man next to you. “How long are you in England for?”

“Oh, erm, I fly back tomorrow,” Noah nodded, shooting a tight-lipped smile Jude’s way. 

Jude nods. “So, did you like working with our Kai, then?”

“Kai?” Noah furrows his brow, turning towards me and tilting his head to the side in question.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “He’s always been the only one to call me that.” I shrug. My whole life everyone had just opted to use my full name, apart from Jude, who had insisted on calling me Kai pretty much since the moment he could talk. “It annoys me when anyone else calls me that.”

“Oh,” Noah squints his eyes, puzzled, but turns back to just nonetheless. “But to answer your question, Jude, it was great working with her.” 

“Look at that,” Jude points a Noah, but shifts his gaze back to me. “You come with rave reviews and everything.”

I laugh, but Noah’s the one to speak. “I feel like everything I saw about her before we worked together was a rave review, you don’t get called one of the best actors of our generation without doing anything great, do you?”

“Well, I could give her a few reviews just based on her personality, and, let me tell you, not many of them are that great,” Jude smirks are you, bringing his arms up to his chest when I reach over the table to smack him. 

“Oi, watch it,” I can’t help but smile at the pair of them as I slump back in my chair. Watching the two of them interact settled my nerves a little. It was almost a given that anyone I invited into my life had to like Jude. Whether it was a boyfriend or a new friend, my loyalty would always be to Jude over anyone, probably until the day that I got married, so it was better to just make sure that they liked him. Why would I want to know someone who disliked my best friend, someone I’d loved my whole life, anyway?

While Jude and Noah got to talking about everything acting and Jude’s football career, I chose to speak to my parents about my next job, which was starting in February, and my summer plans that would follow. Jude overheard the last part of my conversation, “Are you coming to the Euros? You’ll have wrapped by then, yeah?”

This year’s Euros would be Jude’s third international tournament, and seeing as though I had proudly supported him at the last two, I didn’t see why I wouldn’t be going to this one, too. 

“Well, that depends,” I placed my knife and fork together on my plate, signifying that I was done. “Are you going to get me free tickets?” I raise my eyebrows at him. 

“I’ve already added your name to the family and friends list for tickets, don’t you worry,” Jude tried to wink at me but instead ended up doing a confused blink, to which I let out a giggle. “I can also get tickets for you four as well,” Jude nods towards the rest of my family. “You won’t be in the friends and family section, but I can see what I can do.”

“Thank you for the offer, Jude, darling, but me and Will won’t be able to get any time off work, and these two will still be in school. But we’ll be cheering you on from our living room, there’s no doubt about that. And depending on how well we’re doing, we might book some time off for the final, just in case,” Mum winks at him before pressing a kiss to his temple after she’s gotten up to collect everyone’s plates. 

“Don’t listen to her, Jude,” Olivia spoke for the first time since we sat at the table. “I want a ticket to every game, and I mean every single game. I’d do anything to miss a month of school.”

“Don’t be silly, Olivia, you’ve got your GCSEs,” Dad looks up from his phone where he’s most likely scrolling through Twitter looking at Sky Sports News or something in that vein.

“That’s exactly why I want to go, Dad. So Jude, can you get me tickets?” She turns her body fully towards him, exaggeratedly fluttering her eyelashes at him. 

“You know, Liv, as much as I’d like you there, you really should listen to your dad. Even I had to do my GCSEs,” Jude tells her. 

Olivia scoffs, stands from her chair, and in doing so nearly knocks the thing over.  “God, why’s it only Kaia that ever gets to do fun things?”

She’s halfway up to her room before I get to properly reply but it doesn’t stop me from calling her a sore loser. “Perks of being your biggest fan, I guess,” I shrug at Jude, a small smirk on my lips. “Oh, hey, speaking of the Euros, it completely slipped my mind that you’re working in Germany at the same time, aren’t you, Noah?” I turn to look at him. 

“Oh, yeah, I’m shooting that show in Berlin,” Noah nods. 

“So you’ll be able to go to a few games, then?” My dad looks up from his phone, dragged out of his trance and into the conversation. 

“Maybe,” Noah says. “Not sure how much free time I’ll have, but hopefully I’ll be able to get to a couple.”

“If Kaia has anything to do with it, you’ll be going to every single one that’s played in Berlin,” Noah laughs, nodding as he admits defeat, knowing my father is very much correct. It’s a habit of mine to drag people to football matches, even if they’re not the slightest bit interested. 

While my dad and Noah talk some more about his job in Berlin, I notice Jude shuffling around in his seat out of the corner of my eye. I could just take it as him being uncomfortable after being sat down for almost an hour, but the way he’s looking at my dad and Noah through his lashes, his chin practically against his chest, tells me otherwise. 

“Right, why don’t you kids go hang out upstairs or something while I help clean up this mess?” Dad moves to grab the remaining glasses that are left on the table while Jude, Noah and I get up to go upstairs. 

When in my bedroom, Jude immediately goes to sit at my desk, and I can tell that he’s preparing himself for a potentially awkward situation. His hand rests on the wooden surface, tapping away and I know it’s only a matter of time before he pulls a pen out of the pot so he can fiddle with it. 

I go to flop on my bed, grabbing my childhood teddy that I bring up to rest on my chest. Noah claims his spot beside me, in a much more graceful manner. 

“So,” I say, breaking the silence before it could take over the room. “You wanna watch a film or something?” I look between the two guys in my room, a questioning look on my face.

“Um, yeah, sure,” Jude says. “How about w-”

“Stop right there,” I say, sitting up abruptly. “Before you even ask, no I’m not sitting through Pulp Fiction again. Like yeah, Uma Thurman’s hot as fuck, but she’s also only in it for like ten minutes, so what’s the point?”

“Whoah, I wasn’t even about to say that, dickhead,” Jude annoyingly shakes his head at me while he tosses a rubber in my direction, narrowly missing my head. “I was actually going to suggest that Noah picked what we watched, so, you know, it could save the arguing, and then you started yelling at me anyway.” 

“Oh, okay, good idea,” I turn towards Noah. “Is there anything you’d like to watch, Noah?”

“Hmm, that’s a hard choice,” Noah says, a deep-thinking expression on his face. “I think I’d like to watch Pulp Fiction.”

Jude burst out laughing and I feel my face drop in agony at the thought of watching it again. I’m genuinely about two seconds away from punching my boyfriend right across the face.

“Oh, Kai, you should see your face. Nice one, Noah,” Jude’s holding his stomach at this point. 

“What?” Noah says when Jude calms himself down. “I’ve never seen it.”

That’s the moment both Jude and I stop what we’re doing, turning to face Noah with, what I can only imagine are, the most shocked expressions the two of us could muster. 

I let out a laugh of disbelief before finding the words. “You what?”

“Did I hear you right?” Jude pipes up as well. 

I’ve never seen Pulp Fiction,” Noah repeats, causing me to lay back down, simply staring at the ceiling while I try and get over my shock. 

“An actor who’s never seen Pulp Fiction, well I never.” I raise a finger in the air when I’ve had about ten seconds to process the mindblowing news. “You know what I think we have to do, Jude?” I sit up on my elbows so I can look at him properly. “Pop his Pulp Fiction cherry.”

Jude nods as soon as the suggestion leaves my mouth. “It’s only right.”

“Pulp Fiction it is then,” I’m just about to get up from my bed to grab the DVD, when the door of my bedroom bursts open, with a boisterous seven-year-old on the other side.

Leo immediately rushes over to the side of the bed Noah is at. “Hi, Noah, would you like to come and play Roblox with me?”

The look on Leo’s face is adorable. His big, brown eyes look at my boyfriend with so much adoration, even though he’s only met him once before. But Noah doesn’t seem to like Leo as much as the young boy likes him. 

“Oh, I- uhm,” Noah, fidgets, barely making eye contact with him, while I watch on with furrowed brows. “I don’t know how.”

“Well, that’s fine, I can teach you,” Leo bounces in excitement on the balls of his feet. There’s nothing in the world that makes him happier than when he’s playing Roblox.

“Well, I don’t really want to,” Noah says bluntly, leading to Leo’s face dropping, a little pout forming on his lips. 

“Oh, okay,” Leo says sadly and I can tell by the sound of his voice that he’s getting choked up. 

He’s about the leave the room when Jude stands up and walks over to him. Getting on one knee in front of him, he places his hands on the small boy’s shoulders. “Hey, I’ll come and play with you, yeah? we can play that one we were playing last time that you kept beating me at.” Jude picks Leo up, throwing him over his shoulder, causing him to giggle louder than ever. It’s a giggle that can be heard all the way down the hall until they get to Leo’s bedroom. 

My room is silent for a while, allowing me quite a bit of time to think about what I just witnessed. The only thing I can think about, though, is that I didn’t say or do anything while Leo was in the room with me. I should’ve done something to make sure he didn’t get upset, not even a little bit. 

After a little more time, I say, “What the fuck was that?” I turn to Noah, who has barely moved since Jude and Leo left the room. 

“I don’t know, he says, eyes failing to meet mine. 

“That’s not good enough, Noah, you almost made him cry because you didn’t want to play with him. He’d be really upset if it wasn’t for Jude being here,” I let out a sigh. It was bad enough thinking about seeing either of my siblings upset but seeing Leo’s face for that short moment that he thought no one wanted to play with him was heartbreaking. 

“I’m not good with kids, okay?” I have no idea what to do with them,” Noah says, raising his voice a little.

“Then just let him down easily, then, there was no need to be rude. He’s seven, Noah. He only wanted to play with you, you’re never going to get good with kids if you’re never willing to spend even ten minutes with one,” I scowl at him, mad with him for what he did to my little brother. “You know, it’s probably better if we call it a night, I’m quite tired.”

Noah nods. “Okay,” he gets up from the bed. “I’ll see you after Christmas, I suppose,” he leans down to press a kiss to my lips, which I accept, kissing back gently, but he knows that I’m still pissed off at him and that I’m probably going to be like that for a while longer. I shift my body to get off the bed. “It’s fine, I’ll let myself out.”

“Okay,” you nod. “Night. Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah, Merry Christmas,” he says, closing the door behind him on his way out. 

I fall back onto the bed, once again finding peace against my duvet, a sigh falling from my lips being the last thing I remember before I slip into a deep sleep. 

****

Jude: You okay Sleeping Beauty?

Kaia: God when did I fall asleep? Kaia: Also why are you still up? It’s 3am.

Jude: About 7:30ish. Jude: And I’m not tired but I also wanted to make sure you were okay.

Kaia: I’m doing fine. Kaia: Just shocked me a little that’s all. Kaia: Was Leo okay when you were playing with him?

Jude: Yeah but he did ask why Noah didn’t want to play with him so I just told him that he knew I wanted to play with him instead. Jude: But what he did was really fucked up.

Kaia: I know. Kaia: I'm glad he’s not really upset about it though. Kaia: And thank you for saying what you did. I think I’m still going to take him out for ice cream or something tomorrow tho just to make sure he’s okay.

Jude: No problem and yeah that’ll be good for him. Jude: So did he just leave?

Kaia: no I said it’d probably be best if we called it a night. Kaia: I made it clear that I was pissed at him so that’s why I think he was so fine with leaving early.

Jude: You did the right thing he can’t talk to a kid like that without knowing that he did was wrong. Jude: Anyway I’m off to bed. See you on Christmas day. x

Kaia: Yep, goodnight. x

Taglist: @eunoiasgoal @4evermyownmuse

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[satellite-evans]

closure

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x ex!reader

Summary: you don't need Carlos' closure.

Word count: 2k+

Warnings: angst, based on the Taylor Swift song

A/N:

This my third fic for the folkmore series, and it is with none other than Carlos Sainz! This is my first time writing for him so I was quite nervous, please tell me what you think!

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

It arrives in your inbox at 2:17 AM, the timestamp almost mocking the stillness of the night. The world outside is quiet, the kind of silence that fills your room with its weight, pressing against your ribs as if the very air knows what’s coming.

The email subject line is simple.

Just wanted you to know.

For a moment, you just stare at it. The words are innocuous, almost casual, but your heart knows better. You’ve seen that phrase before—at least in the way it echoed in your mind, in the way you tried to convince yourself you’d be fine without any more explanations.

And for some reason, you already know what it’s about. You don’t need to open it to feel the heavy, familiar knot tightening in your stomach. The ache in your chest that had dulled over time, the one you had worked so hard to ignore, throbs with renewed intensity, as if it’s alive and remembering the shape of old wounds. It’s as though your body recognizes him before your mind even does, and it reacts accordingly—a reflex you can’t outrun.

Your hands tremble slightly, the familiar sensation of fear and longing mixing in your veins, but you can't bring yourself to look away. The old ache becomes a weight in your throat, too, and for a moment, you're almost paralyzed by the gravity of it. You know this isn’t just a message. This is a door opening, an invitation to face something you buried deep. But you click on it anyway, drawn in by something you can’t explain, a part of you still hoping that maybe—just maybe—this will be the thing that makes it all make sense.

I just wanted you to know I hope you're doing well. I know things ended messy between us, and I hate that. I really do. I never wanted to hurt you, and I know that I did.

I’m sorry for how I left. For not saying enough. For saying too much. For everything in between.

I hope you’re happy. I really do.

- Carlos.

The words stare back at you, flat on the screen, sterile and detached. They sit there like a sentence of finality, as if they’re not even meant for you, but for someone who doesn’t carry the weight of your history with him. It’s just an email—another digital scrap of text sent into the void of the night. But after everything, after all that’s passed, this is what he gives you? Does he think that you’re just a situation that needs to be handled? A string of hollow words with no breath behind them, no warmth, nothing that even remotely resembles the person you once knew. No, not even that. The person you thought you knew.

It was almost ironic how the shape of his name still spelled out pain. Every letter, every syllable, carried a weight that dug deep, as if each time you thought of him, the wound reopened. It was strange, how someone you once loved could still manage to hurt you, even in their absence. Everything about him—his words, his actions, even his silence—had caused so much damage that it was honestly a little concerning.

You hated him. No, despised him. The anger simmered under your skin like a constant burn, always just beneath the surface, ready to erupt. The audacity he had, the way he thought he could just walk away, leaving destruction in his wake—it was almost unbelievable. He was wrong in so many ways the day he broke up with you. The way it all went down, how he acted like it was the easiest thing in the world, how he twisted every word you’d said into something it wasn’t—it was wrong, all of it. And by the looks of it, he probably knew by now. He had to. The way time had passed, the way people talked, the way you’d changed—he had to know the damage he’d done.

Your mind replays the last time you saw him. You can still picture it so vividly—the way he had stood in the doorway of your apartment, arms crossed over his chest like a shield, his eyes dark with something you couldn’t read. He looked smaller somehow, the exhaustion wearing him down, hanging off of him like a second skin, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet he couldn't find it in himself to care about you anymore. The lines in his face were deeper, like time had been more unforgiving to him than you ever realized. The way his jaw clenched so tightly when you had begged him to just talk to you, that desperate plea falling from your lips like a prayer, but he wouldn’t listen. His silence had cut deeper than anything he could have said. The way he hadn’t looked back when he walked away. Not once. Not a single glance. Like you didn’t exist. That was when you realized he had put a distance between you two ages ago that you were finally seeing—a sea you were too tired to cross.

The door had clicked shut behind him with a finality that shattered you into pieces you weren’t sure you could ever put back together. That sound—the click of the lock—wasn’t just the end of a visit, but the end of everything. The end of any future you thought you’d have together. You didn’t just lose him in that moment. You lost the life you’d built around him. And you’ve been trying to rebuild ever since.

And now, months later, this. This email. A quiet, late-night message, sterile in its simplicity, like he was trying to offer a neat little bow to wrap up the wreckage he left behind. But there’s no ribbon to tie, no neatness to this. What he gave you wasn’t closure—it was a reminder that, for all his talk of wanting to make amends, he’s still incapable of meeting you where you need him.

You slam your laptop shut, too quickly, too harshly, as if the words might physically reach out and strangle you if you don’t. For a moment, your fingers linger on the lid, shaking, the intensity of your pulse drowning out the quiet hum of the city outside. The night has become suffocating, and you can’t tell if it’s because of the email, or because you’re finally confronting what you’ve been trying to ignore for so long. The pain hasn’t gone anywhere, and neither has the ache. It sits with you like an old friend, one you can’t seem to shake.

It’s almost laughable, really. You can’t help but chuckle bitterly to yourself as you stare at the screen. He thinks he’s giving you closure. That this carefully constructed email, this rehearsed apology, is supposed to fix something, to heal the rift that’s been eating away at you for months. That it will somehow mend the fractures in your heart as if it’s something that can be neatly patched up with a few well-chosen words. But the truth is, it doesn’t even come close. No, this isn’t closure. This isn’t even an attempt at healing—it’s just an afterthought, a last-ditch effort to clear his conscience without ever truly facing the damage he caused. And it’s almost insulting.

Closure isn’t an email at 2 AM, casually dropped into your life as though he’s just checking off a box. It isn’t a collection of words stripped of warmth, void of real feeling, written at a distance, with no regard for the time, or the place, or the person it’s supposed to reach. Closure would have been a conversation. A real one. A face-to-face moment where he would have stayed, where he would have stayed long enough to listen, to hear you, and not just walk away the moment it got hard. That would have been closure. But he didn’t stay. He left you behind with nothing but the echoes of your unanswered questions.

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you struggle to steady yourself. You take a deep breath, but it shudders on the way in, uneven and sharp. It feels like your lungs are betraying you, like they can’t hold the air in anymore, and you’re left gasping in the void between anger and heartache. Your throat is thick with unshed tears, but you refuse to let them fall. Not again. Not for him. You’ve cried enough tears for him already, enough for a lifetime. You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this anymore, that you wouldn’t let him be the reason you hurt.

You want to reply. You want to scream, to let him know how deeply he’s failed you, how his absence is still an open wound, festering in the corners of your mind. You want to tell him that, even now, you still wake up in the middle of the night, expecting to hear his voice, expecting to feel the weight of his arm around your waist. You still reach for him in the dark, your fingers grasping at air, and you realize too late that he’s not there. You want to tell him that every time you see red—Ferrari red, that damn red, the color of his car, of everything he used to be to you—you feel like you might break all over again, like all the pieces you’ve tried to pick up and put together have shattered into even smaller bits.

But he's not Ferrari red anymore. He's Williams blue now. You’d probably be a new wrinkle in his life, a person who wouldn’t fit. Heck, you didn’t even fit when he was in Ferrari. You could answer him back, tell him you forgave him, that you both could be friends again. Maybe that would iron everything out nicely.

But you won’t. You won’t give him that satisfaction. You won’t give him the power to pull you back into this mess, into this space where you lose yourself every time you think about him. He doesn’t deserve that. You don’t deserve to let him keep doing this to you.

The frustration, the hurt, the unanswered questions—they all feel like they're swirling in a storm that won't quiet. You crawl into bed, pulling the blankets around yourself as if they could offer the protection your mind and heart desperately crave.

You are fine. Everything is fine. You had your beers, your occasional crying sessions, your candles. You were doing so much better without him. You had to.

It cut deep, knowing him, all the way to the bone. The breakup had been necessary. It had to be. You were healing, getting better, moving on. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

But the ache in your chest and the rapid, shallow breaths you couldn't control told a different story. It was one you knew the ending to but didn’t want to face. His email was oh so unnecessary, cruel even. He had broken up with you months ago, and yet here he was again, trying to reach back into your life. He shouldn’t have contacted you. He should’ve left you alone.

And you definitely should’ve stayed in bed.

Hatred and regret twisted inside of you, each trying to take the lead, but you were too exhausted to figure out which was winning. Still, you knew you had to respond.

Your gaze lingered on the laptop screen for what felt like hours, your mind scrambling for the right words, something that could strike him, something that would hurt, something that would linger with him forever the way he had lingered in your life. But nothing came.

Instead, what you found was something deeper—something far more painful.

Acceptance.

Acceptance was the true winner in the battle between your emotions. It was the thing you’d been running from, the thing you’d fought so hard to avoid. You had accepted it.

It was over.

So, with a steady hand, you typed the final words you’d ever send him and blocked his email so he could never contact you again.

"I don’t need your closure."

[radioactive-earthshine]

Hey idk if you're the right person to ask but can you tell me please if Bart and Hal have met/interacted in canon? If so, what is their relationship like?

Unfortunately, Bart and Hal have almost no functional personal relationship.

The thing is, during most of the time when Bart was in continuity Hal was either 1.) Parallax or 2.) dead.

So Bart didn't get an opportunity to really interact with his grandfather's boyfriend best friend personally. Bart's primary Green Lantern was Kyle.

However, Bart is still very much aware of him, and we do have him interacting with his name, his concept, and his memory on a few occasions.

Here are a few moments I can remember easily, this is not exhaustive, this is just what I can remember right now.

1.) Bart's first MAJOR event ever was Zero Hour! Bart was a part of Zero Hour where he almost was obliterated from existence. I wonder what Hal might have done if he knew who Bart even was at this time because he could not have known about him...

2.) Bart went to Hal's funeral.

Green Lantern (1990) #81

3.) Bart's own little fantasies where he is yearning for his grandfather have Hal as part of them. Look at the note on the fridge, it's small but it says "CALL HAL", so he knows he was close to his grandfather.

Impulse (1995) #46

4.) Impulse: Bart Saves The Universe's entire main plot centralizes on Hal never becoming Green Lantern and Bart's need to put time back together to make sure that happens.

As for them interacting face to face we only have brief professional moments after Hal is brought back to life.

The one I can remember easily is during Bart's Flash run where Hal shows up and he urges Bart to seek medical care.

Flash: Fastest Man Alive #9

Again this is not exhaustive.

Their relationship is pretty distant. They both are aware of each other, they both respect each other, but Hal isn't taking Bart up in his jet, and Bart isn't going on ring-slinging adventures with Hal.

Honestly, they would likely get along VERY well if they got significant time to get to know each other and work together. Hal and Bart both share some strikingly similar personalities and go with their instinct and gut more than planning things out so I feel that Hal would understand him and how he thinks on the job. I also think Hal would extend him more patience and allowance than most do, not just because he would understand him more, but also because he is Barry's grandson.