#but i was OBSESSED with this show & still am to an extent

[readingwriter92]

rewatching the night of the doctor eight times in a row single handedly making me want to listen to all the mcgann BFAs bc good lord i'm obsessed.

I gotta look around bc genuinely i kinda do want some like. before he joins the time war era shit. It just- the line alone of like. "I'm one of the good ones" "Who can tell the difference anymore" shit like FUCKKK

[chocolate-cream-soldier]

-.-

[iheartbookbran]

like, I still think it’s sort of weird that Shonda Rhimes bought the rights to the Bridgerton novels, did a mediocre job at adapting the material and also kinda ruined one of the most popular pairings from the books in the process, and then proceeded to hyperfixate on her own OC to the point of creating a spin-off in which the central romance is about two members of a very white, slave-owning, racist and imperialist institution that could only maintain power through the exploitation of people of color all over the world, but now the protagonist is a black woman who’s about to end racism in 1700s Great Britain through the power of Love

[mauve-hickeys]

#e

Extraordinary You: Writer as God and Masterlist

“The fact that this is a world of comics. Depending on what the writer intends, this romance comic can suddenly turn into a dreadful one. Even main characters can become extras in the blink of an eye.” - Lee Do Hwa

EoY or July Found By Chance, is a show where Eun Dan Oh finds out that she’s living in the world of comics, as an extra with a terminal illness. She, with the help of Haru, a nameless extra, decides to change her fate, and ultimately the story they live in, for the better.

While the show’s set-up itself is amazing, it doesn’t stop there. The comic book world extends as a metaphor for our real world. It portrays the Writer of the comic as an all-knowing all-seeing entity like God, and asks-- if our world was, as monotheistic religions believe, controlled by a God, can we really change our predestined fates?

As the story progresses, the show plays more with the concepts, asking us-- can we really win against an omniscient entity? If our actions and motivations were created by the entity, are our feelings real? Are our motivations real? Can we escape the curse of History? Can we break free from the cycle of birth, death, and rebirth? And, most importantly, is our fate important enough to risk our very existence?

While I’ve seen metas that explored the show partly, I haven’t seen a full analysis anywhere, so, despite the fact that it ended a while ago, I’ll be doing a full series on this show.

This is the Masterlist Post for all of them, which I’ll keep on updating as I write more. (you can reblog if you want to be tagged in further posts!)

Worldbuilding and Themes in EOY

Free Will and how “Trumpet Creeper” reinforces it.

Eun Dan Oh: Changing Her Fate

Haru: Love Is A Revolution

Baek Kyung: The Writer’s Stand-In

Yeo JuDa- The Wildcard

Shoes Over Flowers: The Subtext of these two

Three Romances and Three Fates

The Brilliance of the Ending and the Show’s Message

Theories Part 1- Self Awareness

Theories Part 2- Trumpet Creeper a BL?

Link to EoY Discord Server

Fanart part 1 part 2

[amazinglyashy]

Hi hi I just found your blog like an hour ago and I’ve been scrolling and am obsessed with the way you write for the l&ds!! ❤️❤️ if you don’t mind I love a little angst and was wondering if you could write the boys reacting to MC showing up at their doorstep heavily injured from like a fight with a wanderer.

Oh my gosh thank you!!! And I don't mind at all, my friends make fun of me for how much I enjoy hurt/comfort and angst :'D Thank you for the request!

LaDS men react to you appearing on their doorstep, injured and bleeding

Xavier -

If you end up at his door, it's more than likely because your unconscious decided to hit the button for his floor rather than your own. You just wanted to get home, not bother anyone, but he's stood right there. Having just come home from grabbing a late night snack from a nearby convenience store, you stumbled out of the elevator right as he's unlocking his front door.

He drops his keys and his bag.

It's a good thing too, because your legs gave out right then, so it's much better for him to catch you if his arms are free.

He's calling your name, and while you're still conscious, you're not really processing anything anymore. You're in too much shock, and you've lost too much blood by now.

He'll get the door unlocked and rush you inside his apartment, setting you down on his couch as he runs for a first aid kit, calling the association for emergency services while he does so.

"You're going to be okay. I promise. Just continue to breathe, alright?"

Xavier doesn't know if he's saying that to comfort you or himself, but he also isn't stopping to think about it, as he rapidly administers first aid to your wounds to at least slow the bleeding until help can arrive.

It's three in the morning but he's wide awake sitting next to your bed at the hospital, something unnatural for someone so sleep deprived usually.

He can't bring himself to shut his eyes though.

It's not work the risk.

Not until you wake up first.

Zayne -

It's like his brain splits into two the moment that he sees you standing there.

One side is his medical knowledge rushing forward as he moves to catch you as your feet stumble beneath you, trying to impossibly assess the extent of the damage before even getting to see it all. It's the half that's taking you to his kitchen table, because it's the easiest workspace for him right now. The one that's pulling out his doctor's bag from the closet in the hall, and the first aid kit from the cupboard in the kitchen as he cuts your shirt open.

The other side?

Oh honey, his heart is breaking.

If you think there's a day at work where he doesn't pray to any existent or nonexistent god that he doesn't see you today, spread out on a gurney or operating table without warning due to your unconscious state, then you'd be painfully wrong.

It's amazing how well he works while panicking on the inside, his skilled hands patching your wounds after meticulous sterilization, any sutures needed placed perfectly even through your pained groans tugging at his heart.

He knows he needs to get you to the hospital, even though he's taken good care of you in his own home. But he needs to sink to the floor for a minute, his back dragging against the wall as he heaves a deep sigh. It's a heavy toll feeling the stick of the dried blood on his hands- your blood on his hands.

With all his knowledge, he knows you'll be okay. He knows he himself will be okay. But right now-

He's not.

Sylus -

The N109 zone is beyond dangerous, mostly due to the criminals and leeches lurking in the dark shadows, but there's also no shortage of Wanderers, including ones that have been genetically altered to be even worse than they normally were.

So when Sylus sees you stumbling at his doorstep, bloodied hand reaching for the knob as he glances at the camera feed, he's not sure he could say he's ever moved so fast in his life otherwise. "Sweetie-" He breathes, as he catches you, scooping you up and rushing you inside as quickly as he possibly can without aggravating your already extensive injuries.

Luke is already running for first aid, and Kieran is already contacting the doctor. Mephisto is shrieking in the hall as he follows Sylus to his bedroom, protesting the fact that Sylus had needed him for surveillance of a target today instead of watching you.

Sylus knows.

He knows this is his fault.

If he had had someone keeping an eye on you, this wouldn't have happened.

His eyes are glued to your barely conscious form in his arms, the guilt in the recesses of his heart digging deeper with every slather of red that painted your skin.

Sorry to say, you're going to have your work cut out for you when you wake up. It's going to take a lot of heavy lifting on your part to convince him that he's not at fault for what happened to you.

And you will be waking up.

Sylus will make sure of that.

Rafayel -

Don't make his nightmares a reality.

Not again.

He's catching you before you can even begin to sway, and he'll be lucky if he remembers to shut the door behind him, his body melding against yours as he picks you up and runs down to his car.

"No, no no no. You stay awake, cutie."

He's definitely breaking at least a dozen laws just trying to get you to Akso hospital as quickly as he can. His mind is racing as fast as his car is moving down the streets, wondering what could have happened to you, what he should be doing right now, if he should have administered first aid to you before taking off-

But he's there so fast, it would have been nearly identical on the clock regardless of him still choosing to rush you to the hospital, or run to get and administer first aid for you from within his home.

He's there until you wake up- wide awake no matter how long it takes. It could be minutes, hours, days- he can't sleep. The image of you dying before him- the image of you standing on his doorstep as well- etched on the back of his eyelids every time he tried to close his eyes.

He talks to you even when you're not awake, stroking your hand, your cheek, the side of your neck- trying to make sure you're as comfortable as he can make you.

When you wake up again, he has to hold himself back with everything in him from squeezing you too tightly. He doesn't want to burst your stitches or harm you, but his body and arms are all-encompassing on you as he hugs you firmly, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

He really doesn't need you to see him cry.

[missfertileandferal]

lowkey super anxious to post this but im missing you guys so much <3

i plan on a solid return soon! i just wanted to get off my chest whats been going on:

Earlier this year, I dealt with an awful situation of my kinky stuff leaking into real life. My insane coworkers found my content and as I was serving on the clock, proceeded to show my customers and all the staff. then i was fired. Im traumatized to say the least but I over came it.

Come mid summer, I planned so step back for a little bit to move apartments no more than a couple weeks. What happened was both my job (i worked with close family friends so stressful) and a really bad situation with a companion found about my kink stuff. i never expected or was prepared for the humiliation, deception, and pain that would come from my fetish journey

My last job was such a loss. I had been blessed with a cute job as a medical office assistant without any credentials (i wasnt doing anything out of my capabilities of course) it was so peaceful and perfect compared to the drama of my last gig plus working with familiar people felt just like home honestly. Then I got covid. I was out for 2 weeks, at the same time i was moving into my new place. I tried calling them back to let them know I was cleared and ready to get back to work. I received a humiliating text. I was dismissed. That turned into a crippling anxiety of them confessing to my family what I do in my past time

The following week I was met with more disappointment. Ive said this before but I dont have many people in my corner. It used to suck to admit but I stand with pride now knowing those who are around me love me 100% regardless what I do or dont do.

One of my dearest dearest friends, who I had previously communicated what I do (not to a full extent they always respected it) called me very dramatically only a week before I planned to see them (they live across the country and we ALWAYS visit each other when in our cities) It still doesnt feel real tbh, the call only last 40 seconds. I was informed that “I was going on the wrong path” and could no longer be associated with. That’s alls that happened. 8 years down the drain

I was informed by outside sources that my hometown opps had gotten hold of my content (who my ex friend still associate with but I despise bc they’ve always been obsessed with me but in a bad way) and they had confronted him about being my friend. he pussied out and cut me off. they also mass reported my last instagram account😡🤬

I had to take some time back to seriously debate if these loses were worth it. I was swallowed with so much anxiety knowing that an uncomfortable amount of people in my zip code knew what ive been up to. its already complicated being into this and while at the same time not being in a plus size body. thats another conversation tho

That debate has turned into me accepting these events as the universe weeding out people/things that no longer serve me. This has shown peoples true colors, if I am not to be associated with because of my sexual freedom, body acceptance, and undoing of fat phobia then PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE.

Im recovering ❤️‍🩹 but my heart and hedonism can’t be helped. i love being a kinky lil gut slut. its helped me grow in so many ways from acceptance to living an esoteric dreamy life. i love all the hot girls and guys that i see on my timeline. they hype me up and vise versa. i love this little corner of the internet. my fellow freaks keep me going. i’ve been so on and off online but every time i come back to the sweetest words and support. thank you guys for your patience and consideration

my anxiety is to the roof as im typing. its crazy that these privacy problems havent been within the actual community. funny. if your still reading this I love you extra. ill be streaming on ig on my comeback day!

new ig acc @missfertileandferal💘

[sk3tch404]

Yandere Donnie Darko Hcs

A/n: I finally came around to watching Donnie Darko while I was styling my hair this morning. It was so good and omgg HIS CHARACTER!!! Love it 💜 What he voices in where he rebels against authority resonates with me in the most honest and straight up sense, it's crazy.

CW: Characterizing of psychosis without research (I am in no way claiming this is how individuals who suffer some psychosis or with schizophrenic symptoms act or feel like. This is simply a work of fiction and how I see Donnie's mental state affect the scenario), Donnie is actually very tame here except for his obvious criminal record and acts of violence, and YALL HES A MENTALLY ILL TEENAGE BOY so he's a lowkey soft okay. Y'all see him with Gretchen? So caring and passionate ugh, love him sm. <33 I try to write as close to canon as possible, but sometimes that leads to really soft yans and I kind of doubt my writing. Despite that. I like to think that not all yanderes need to be possessive killing machines in order to fit into the troupe. Everyone's got their own way of dealing with obsession, and so I think I did decently with this one lol.

Proof read a few times, so sorry for wordy/run on sentences and possible wonky grammar.

I feel like Donnie is very observant and patient with his darling. He's quite analytical for a teenage boy which leads him to take time to consider the variables that weigh within your possible relationship.

Donnie is still an awkward kid, so dont be surprised when you accidentally find him staring at you for a considerable period of time in class. In school, he doesn't approach you, seeing as the setting is already suffocating enough. He'd try to catch you after school or when you two have a little bit of privacy.

He's kinda shy and clumsy at first glance--- too talkative in his speech and self-aware of his minor fuck ups. Over time, he'll be more open to what he wants with you. Donnie might not really understand how to handle love and all of its complexities, but hell try really hard to make it work.

Yeah, y'all saw how fast he dived in for that kiss in the film?... Embarrassing, but it's true that he's quite excited to show his affection for you. He'll be "so chill with it," and he is to an extent--- not too clingy at all--- but when he's around he gives you guard dog privileges. Stays at your side and defends you from any brain rotting comments made from the guys around the neighborhood. Donnie isn't much of a fighter, but he's damn well capable of planning and executing a crime if it calls for it. One count of arson, another unaccounted for, severe property damage, and murder? Don't doubt it for one second that he won't consider further acts in the future to come.

His psychosis affects him directly when it comes to you--- as it also does with most things. He already feels so shitty with how things are going in his life, Frank voicing the many thoughts he has about you day to day stresses him further. Sometimes Donnie is scared Frank will convince him to hurt you as the countdown progresses. Despite that fear, he can't keep away from you.

This distress causes Donnie to rebel more often. As he spirals down the rabbit hole Frank keeps digging for him, the anxiety that follows with what will happen to you once the world ends lingers late at night in his bed.

Donnie's main love language is quality time. He walks with you from school and chills with you pretty much wherever. He's pretty book-smart, so he'll pitch in with your projects and homework assignments. His parents don't really seem like they care what he does most of the time, so if he's given the chance, he'll crash at your place for a few before they think he's off sleepwalking or some shit.

Donnie already knows he's slipping off the rails, placebo medication or not, Frank stays to stir the pot. He's almost scared, scared to death that you'll think he's an insane lunatic and he'll scare you off. But at the same time, why be scared if it's the truth? He has evidence, the book, and his own visions. That anxiety doesn't go away when he rambles on about the six-foot-tall bunny rabbit and how that thing has led him to the method of time travel.

You're just left there dumb founded as he stares on at you with that deadpanned look. Too late to back out now. World's ending and you don't got a boyfriend. Well, you got Donnie... and Frank's there too sometimes, but either way, you're all each other's got. You don't want to be alone do you? Donnie knows he doesn't.

He trusts you more than anyone else. Yeah he's on meds, and sure he's loony, but everyone knows that already; not that they seemed to care too much anyway. He feels like he can just exist with you around. All that pent up frustration with the looming guilt of his actions festering inside can be washed out like waves on a cold shore. Of course, it's not a cure-all, but it's damn nice compared to the bone headed friends he got and the tense dinner table back at home.

He has scratch paper in his drawers that are just filled with messy sketches of you. Not sure if he'd be the type to use sketchbooks, but he is pretty organized in his own room. Donnie just finds you so easy and beautiful to draw. Art block has nothing on this boy. He hates it when his sisters barge into his room and see any unfinished piece of you lying around. They tease him so bad about it, he wishes they'd just leave him alone.

"Ooo, is this the girl you're always wasting your time with?"

"No, gimme it. It's none of your business, and get out of my room."

"Geez, fine. Not like that's the freakiest thing you got in here anyway."

Donnie wouldn't be the extreme stalking type, but if he caught a glance of you, he wouldn't be able to look away. He'd also take into account what your daily patterns are as well as your likes and dislikes. He notices your little habits like if you constantly apply too much pressure to your mechanical pencil, making your lead break. He's always have had a passive opinion on the school uniform, but you made it look good, great even. Donnie likes it even more seeing you in street wear. He takes note on your style and even thinks of taking some inspiration from it to feel closer to you.

He's sensitive in places a teenager would be in most. He's irritable and closed off much of the time, even to you if it gets bad enough. Of course, it's not your fault usually. It only makes sense to be defensive in the case of anything he may perceive as a threat, even if that means any possibility of you breaking his heart.

Donnie may be a bit shy in his advances, but what he isn't is hesitant. He's quite bold in his thoughts and feelings. While he is afraid of your judgement in particular, he doesn't mind doing many things in front of you. Your collar is crooked, so let him just fix it up real quick. Talk about something that's got him thinking? He's letting his thoughts pour out like it's happy hour. He sees no issue in doing what he wants to, so if you're feeling unsure or nervous about something, he'll be the one to do it for you. Not many questions asked unless it's got his serious attention.

Kisses are passionate and deep. (Tbh when I first watched the movie I was like, "DAMN dont eat her face- shit.") I dont know if Donnie has had previous experience or not, but he's definitely got the enthusiasm. He tries to match your rhythm if you seem to have trouble following. Not too much tongue, but best believe he's devouring your lips like it's the last 6 hours in the universe. His hands are roaming around your body, feeling the dips and curves so cautiously because Jesus, you're just rocking his fucking world. If you tell him to slow down, he will. Donnie never wants to force you to do anything you wouldn't want to.

Words of affirmation aren't really a thing for him. If he says something to you, it was probably on his mind anyway. If you say "I love you" to him, he'd be almost stunned but wouldn't have a problem reciprocating that energy. He just felt like that connection between you two was already clear enough. No need to say it so directly. Although, it's nice. He really loves and cares for you. Would take a bullet for you--- cross his heart till he dies, all that sappy shit.

If you reject him, let's just say Frank and Donnie will be speaking more often. It pushes him off the edge. Frank isn't in Donnie's head just to do evil shit, but it's not like his presence doesn't perpetuate Donnie's behavior further. He wouldn't go on a killing spree or anything excessively violent like that. He'd be hyper-focused on the time travel aspect of his situation and become more forceful in his methods. He'd demand answers to make sense of all of it. To cope with the fact you didn't want him like how he needed you. Why didn't you like him enough? What didn't he do? Actually, what did he do? His mind feels like its on the brink of breaking as he tries to rationalize all the negativity in his life. He's already done too much, his world feels like it's collapsing in on itself before the actual day could even come. You were a majority of that world, and now it's just broken.

Donnie is so distraught and confused about his adolescent experiences, he almost doesn't know what to do. The only thing to do from then on is to focus on the countdown. Time travel, and how to fix it all. Otherwise, not only would he be left alone, but you would be too. Donnie wouldn't want that for you, not ever. Even with all the pain and frustration stowed away inside his still beating heart, he would never wish to hurt you; one of the only people on Earth who didn't suck so much as everyone else did.

[dropoutconfessions]

It makes me incredibly angry when people say "Riz is canonically aro/ace" and act like you're a horrible person if you ship him with people. Like. Nowhere in the show is it ever stated that he's aro/ace. The conversation people reference as him being "canonically" aro/ace is just him expressing his lack of very specifically sexual attraction, and even then the response from his dad (and by extension Brennan and the show as a whole) is that it's okay, and that it's specifically unclear whether he's ace or whether it's just not something that's happened for him in specific yet. It is intentionally vague as to whether he is ace or not, and there's genuinely zero indication in the show that he's aro other than that he doesn't have a love interest which could be completely unrelated.

Right so I'd like to share my opinion on this for a brief moment. I am still fully here to give people a voice, but this is just, an issue that kinda hits close to home since I'm demiaro.

The most annoying thing in a lot of media is when representation is shoehorned in as a list of labels and buzzwords we're given. Queer people should not have to turn to the screen and say their full identity in order for them to be canonically queer. That's what subtext is for. That's what good writing does. Is not spell it out for you when it's not necessary to do so. They do not need it to be spelt out for it to be very clear that he's ace/aro.

I am going to assume ignorance here instead of assuming malicious intent. The idea that the reason he isn't ace, is because "it's not something that's happened for him in specific yet", is an extremely common thought process behind asexual erasure. I'm sure that's not what you intended, but that is something to reflect on in general.

Both Adaine and Riz have yet to have relationships or display crushes (not counting junior year since most of the evidence comes from sophomore year) . Adaine hasn't gotten an entire nightmare sequence / arc around dealing with here friends all finding partners and leaving them alone. Adaine hasn't expressed or had conversations about any lack of sexual or romantic feels to the extent Riz has. Adaine is headcanoned as ace/aro by some people. Riz is more than that. Riz is very much canonically ace/aro if you do the slightest bit of character analysis. There's accidental coding and then there's Riz Gukgak.

List of every single Riz trait that is hella ace/aro coded

A lack of sexual and romantic attraction to other people (I'm not counting the time where he said he was kinda into Sexy Rat, that whole scene was a bit, and absolutely insane)

Making up a partner/crush in order to fit in (I have 1000% done that and so have a lot of acespec and arospec people)

A fear of being left behind by his friends because of a belief that they will find partners and move on from him, largely caused by alloromantic culture's insane emphasis on how the most important relationship is a romantic one

The fact that almost every other fantasy high pc has been in a relationship or a crush (kristen had tracker and gertie, gorgug had zelda, unit, and mary ann, fabian had aelwyn, ivy, and mazey, adaine had oisin and possibly zayn depends on your interpretation, and fig has had ayda and a string of professionals in a variety of fields across seasons 1 and 2) with only riz as a single character

The fact his sophomore year arc was entirely about his lack of sexual/romantic attraction and fear of being left alone because of it

Like not even a joke, it was that and his dad, that was the whole arc

His junior year arc was also about his obsession to stay together as a friend group, which like I mentioned above, is very clearly based in his asexuality and aromanticism

I am not going to stop people from shipping characters ever. If you want to rewrite character sexualities, that's fine by me, I'm a big believer in "Don't Like, Don't Read". I am not gonna pretend like characters are not their sexuality in canon so that people feel justified in writing their stories. People who rewrite character sexuality can do so without making everyone else assuage their guilt for them. I know I'm on the "piss on the poor" reading comprehension website, but it's not hard to tell Riz is ace/aro in canon, and pretending otherwise doesn't help your case.

[dangermousie]

Now that I’ve checked out enough of all three newly-ish cdramas: Fangs of Fortune, Love Game in Eastern Fantasy and The Story of Pearl Girl, the results are kinda surprising.

I am, as you can tell, OBSESSED with Fangs. That is unexpected because while the trailer was gorgeous I couldn’t really figure out much that would make me obsessed from the summary and all the actors except TJR were either ones I am indifferent to or downright dislike normally. And now I love them all. I don’t know what’s the biggest surprise for me - Cheng Xiao, until now literally my least favorite actress from any country’s dramas, giving a good performance that makes me invested or HMH who I remember thinking of as so handsome but so bland but is now just utterly on fire and has entered Dylan in CLJ “you had THAT in you? How?” territory. And the story and the themes and the visuals! I haven’t seen a drama catering this hard to my personal narrative and character preferences since Novoland Eagle Flag.

Eastern Fantasy is even more of a surprise tbh. At least I was interested in peeking at Fangs for the visuals. I almost didn’t even check out Eastern Fantasy at all. I enjoyed the novel but that is never a guarantee of anything with adaptations (and it was never a major love of a book anyway), I like Esther a lot but not enough to watch stuff just for her. DYX is someone I have a soft spot for but not a single drama of his worked for me in years to the extent I kept joking he’s cursed. I hated all the trailers and posters - they looked kooky and not in a good way. Plus my track record of liking it when shows try to go for funny is abysmal and the whole thing seemed targeted to an audience that is so young they are still in middle school.

Only checked out because I had some time and omg it’s funny and clever and darling and the performances and characters and dynamics and the vibe are all on point (and so is potential for angst.) Soooooo good!

And now Pearl. It was by far my most anticipated of the three - trailer was cool, love the leads (and the fact that they reunited!) etc etc. But now? It’s a solid enough drama and enjoyable but it’s my least favorite of the three. A lot of it is genre viewer mismatch - I don’t really like “woman makes her name in trade with a side of hot scary man who eventually helps her” (see 2022 A Dream of Splendor - a well acted big hit that left me utterly cold.)

I just don’t care about the mechanics of trade or Horatio Alger stories even if Horatio in this case is a beautiful young woman. ZLS starts talking about cuts of profit for selling jewel waste products and my brain shuts down. It doesn’t help that while I find LYN character realistic for who he’s supposed to be, their dynamics so far do not make me ship them in the least and in fact I want her to lightly stab him (I genuinely don’t see how it will switch to her liking him.) It’s the same issue I had with Dream as well - just as here the chemistry was great but it was not a shippy dynamic that does it for me.

Oh well, that’s why it’s fun to watch new things, you never know…

[bri-cheeses]

Fiercely and obsessively (wrapped around your finger) — Part 10

| Rosekiller Soulmate AU | Previous part is here | Word Count: 1,210 |

-

At first, Barty didn’t understand what he was seeing. Surely he would’ve noticed it before now if Evan had met his soulmate? He’d had plenty of opportunities to see Evan’s mark since his birthday, so how did he miss this?

“Oh,” Barty said, but it came out all strangled and high pitched. Because he’d just realized the true extent of what this situation meant—if Evan’s soulmate mark was no longer black, that meant that he had a soulmate.

Evan had a soulmate.

Barty was hit with such a strong wave a jealously that it left him somewhat breathless, but he still managed to choke out the words, “Who is it?”

Was that why Evan had been acting so strange around him? Because he didn’t want to be as close to Barty now that he had someone else?

Evan’s voice tore Barty’s attention away from his arm and to his face, where he was looking at him strangely.

“You don’t know?” Evan asked. He sounded confused.

“I—should I?” And then, a horrible thought struck him. “It’s not Reg, is it?”

Evan’s laughter caught him off guard.

“What?” Barty asked frantically as Evan doubled over and wheezed uncontrollably. Surely that hadn’t been that outlandish of a question, had it?

“You thought it was Regulus?” Evan gasped with tears in his eyes.

“Well, I don’t know! All I know is that one second you’re crying into my shoulder and the next you apparently have a soulmate and I don’t know what’s going on!”

“Barty,” Evan said, finally calming himself down. “Look at your arm.”

Why Evan wanted him to look at his arm was lost on him, but after several seconds of confused silence, he did as he was told.

“No, Barty, not that one,” Evan said a bit impatiently. Barty sighed in defeat, then looked over to his left arm.

And froze.

Because there on his upper arm, exposed for all the world to see, was his soulmate mark, alive and bright with swirling colors.

Colors that matched Evan’s.

A series of images flashed into his mind. His fist in Evan’s shirt. Evan’s hands, shoving him backwards. The way they had fallen, Evan’s hands reaching out to catch his fall, and the inside of his arm grazing Barty’s bare bicep as they went down.

Oh, he thought.

And slowly, ever so slowly, he looked back up at Evan.

Evan, his best friend of six years. Evan, who he had loved fiercely and obsessively as long as he had known him. Who he had always felt differently about than all of his other friends, who he never wanted to be separated from, who he was in constant contact with because he simply couldn’t help himself. Who he had always gravitated towards, no matter the circumstances or company.

Evan, who was looking at him nervously and waiting for his reaction.

Barty took a step forward so that he was standing in Evan’s personal space. Evan winced slightly, but he didn’t move back. Not even when Barty reached a reverent hand up to cup his cheek and hold his gaze steady on his, eyelashes fluttering just slightly as he stared at Barty with parted lips.

“I am going to ask you about so many different things later,” Barty said, “but right now, I think I might actually die if I don’t kiss you somewhere in the next three seconds.”

Evan breathed out a soft “Oh”, but that was as far as he got before Barty’s crashed his lips into his, effectively cutting him off.

Evan hands came up to rest on Barty’s waist, pulling him in eagerly, and all Barty could think was “Yes, this is right.” How he had missed that before, he had no idea, but here with Evan’s lips moving against his, Barty could think of no place he’d rather be.

Evan pulled away first, gasping for air. Barty would’ve been worried except for the fact that his eyes were bright as he looked at Barty and nowhere else, seemingly drinking in every last detail of this moment.

“You,” said Evan, still breathing heavily, “have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Barty grinned.

“Then show me,” he said, and Evan did just that.

Hours later, after many kisses and long conversations, Barty was starting to feel like everything in the world was suddenly making sense.

Apparently, Evan had been in love with him for years, ever since the first year of school when Barty had helped him out with a difficult spell in Charms.

“At first,” Evan had said, “I had just written it off as a harmless crush. But you’ve got a real way of wrapping people around your finger, you know that?”

“Not people,” Barty had responded. “Just you.”

That had earned him another kiss.

And then Evan had explained why he’d been acting so oddly for the past few weeks, saying that he had been hoping for years that Barty was his soulmate, and the stress of soon knowing whether or not that would turn out to be true had eaten away at him. And once he had finally gotten his soulmate mark, he had avoided touching Barty because he hadn’t wanted to touch him and not have their marks light up, proclaiming them as nothing more than friends.

”Good thing the universe was smart enough to overcome all the obstacles you threw in its way,” Barty had laughed.

That had earned him a shove.

On Barty’s end, there was a lot of confusion. When he had fallen in love with Evan, he didn’t know, because now that he noticed it, it felt like something that had always been there, lurking just below the surface. And why he hadn’t noticed it until now, he couldn’t say either—just that he hadn’t.

But it had been apparent in almost everything he did, from the way he acted around Evan to the way he became jealous whenever anyone else showed interest in him. It had always been there, he just hadn’t been aware.

“Good thing the universe was smart enough to overcome all your stupidity,” Evan had parroted.

Which earned him a shove as well, followed by another kiss.

Overall, it was a much overdue conversation, and when they emerged form the woods to go find their friends, they couldn’t stop the happy and satisfied smiles they wore as they walked close together.

Dorcas had noticed first.

“Thank Salazar,” she had breathed, looking back and forth between Evan and Barty. From Regulus, Barty could’ve sworn he heard an exasperated, “Finally”, and really, had they all been waiting for this moment?

His confusion must’ve shown on his face, because Pandora had laughed and said, “Yes, we all knew, and we were all tired of it. Which is why we staged a slight intervention.”

“Intervention?” Evan asked, and then seemed to realize something. He looked around in betrayal. “You purposefully left us alone together, didn’t you?”

Dorcas nodded gleefully.

“That we did, and don’t even pretend that you’re not grateful for it.”

And really, how could Barty argue with that, when thanks to their meddling he had found his soulmate?

And judging from the way Evan blushed and leaned in to peck Barty on the cheek, he felt the exact same way.

-

(The End!)

[3liza]

I'm trying to figure out how to communicate instructions to other people about how I almost completely escaped my crippling adolescent body dysmorphia and anorexia but the thing is I don't really know how it happened. it was like one day I woke up and didn't care that much.

i still had all the central psychological dysfunctions but it was like I had decided to ignore them because I had finally internalized that I was acting crazy and acting crazy, unlike being crazy, is a choice. unless you're experiencing psychosis or delusions. and the body dysmorphia is a form of delusion certainly but it's a form you can still sample against reality and see that it's not matching up. you can't do this with actual hallucinations but you can do it with stuff like obsessive thoughts about how ugly you are and how everyone hates you and how ugly people have no value etc etc. that kind of stuff is observably false and integrating constant reality checking into your obsession loops will derail a lot of the delusional obsession. your brain will fight back with arguments like "it's fine for her to be ugly because of magical reason I made up but it's not fine for me because of another magical reason I made up" but these arguments can also be quickly reality checked into irrelevance even if you still *feel* they are true. you may FEEL that the obsessive delusions are true but you can, to a certain extent, make a decision to KNOW and more importantly to ACT as if they are not.

so the new thought loop could go something like: "I'm so fucking ugly. so what if I'm 'ugly'. it doesn't seem to matter when I look around and reality check my level of ugliness to the success and affection people uglier than I am seem to experience. there just be something else wrong with me. but that doesn't make sense because actually a lot of people do like me and care about me. i have proof of that in the form of messages and memories. I'm so fucking ugly. but I'm looking closely at this unfiltered Getty image in incredibly high resolution of a celebrity on the red carpet. and she has terrible skin. her skin looks just as bad as mine does in the brightly lit bathroom mirror because there are no filters on this brightly lit professional journalist's photograph. that's really interesting. i bet I can see the same level of ugliness in everyone else that I see in the mirror if I really look"

i don't think you can fix yourself to be not crazy. i don't think that's a thing that happens. i think most therapists are useless or MLM subscribers who want to try out their latest hype word MLM technique on your because they paid $3000 to be "certified" in Hidden Dream Cousin Interrogation Biodynamics, which will test 2% better than jingling keys in front of the control group in two papers on PubMed until crumbling to replication crisis in three years.

i think what you can actually do is add additional systems checks to deal with how fucking crazy you are and always will be until you stop being able to fuck up as much with it. like an airlock system basically. i think good therapists are able to show people how to do this and maybe get them meds that tamp down some of the nasty things the craziness constantly causes to happen. but they're so rare I've never actually met one lmao

[munnmolads]

"Who are you?" - Rafayel's Nightly Stroll Theory/Headcanon

My thoughts about Rafayel's jabs about forgetting MC during Nightly stroll and theory on what might have happened before the game events. Spoilers for Nightly Stroll, Under Deepspace main story and Rafayel's story branch.

Recap from Nightly Stroll - Rafayel gets injured and gets into the hospital. He calls MC to visit him in the morning, and she arrives there late at night. Angry at her lateness, Rafayel pretends to forget MC.

Later in the story we learn that this is a jab at MC actually forgetting him. They met much earlier as kids and made a promise to meet again the spot next year.

Only later in the story branch MC gets to know about her forgetting Rafayel.

Something I want to point out with the branch relating to their meeting even if it's slightly off-topic, their meeting happened 14 years ago, so MC was around 7-8 years old, and Rafayel was 10. I believe MC is referring to the experiments that we can read more about "Sealed in Dust" World Underneath story, and her age during those experiments was specified in Under Deepspace Chapter 5-1. MC still doesn't know the full extent to her experiments and doesn't connect yet that those memory losses are related to them.

While Rafayel says that he didn't ACTUALLY wait for her, he still seemed to hope that they would meet again. As if this isn't heartbreaking enough, I have wondered one thing... How he knew MC truly forgot about him?

In main story chapter 2 when they meet "for the first time", he doesn't seem to be surprised about the fact that she doesn't recognize him. He seems like he already knows she has forgotten about him, and keeps up the facade of not knowing who she is. Only after chapter 7 he shows how bitter he is over it.

Then going back to him mentioning "settling a score with her"... While I feel that we might never know what that actually meant, I feel him "forgetting" MC back is one of his ways to get back at her, in a very specific way. In addition to Nightly Stroll, he very momentarily pretends to forget MC again because he's angry with her. If you don't log in for 30 days, you will get a new interaction with the guys in the cafe, he will say this:

(thanks to SORAII for uploading a video of it, I am way too obsessed with this game to do this)

While this moment is shorter than in Nightly Stroll, it has the similar theme: He asks who MC is, and mentions that she looks kind of familar. I don't know about in other languages, but in EN voiceover he also raises his pitch a teeny bit here, and in Nightly stroll it's obviously higher.

Here is where my theory/headcanon comes in; MC has said those words to him. They met again after MC forgot everything, and ironically, has forgotten about it. And he's mocking her for it.

I imagine Rafayel did approach her after finding her - being ecstatic that he finally found her, only to hear those words. It also makes sense considering how convoluded his methods of trying to involve himself into her life have been but still never approach her until the main story starts. Also, considering how bitter he is about it and how he sincerely wanted MC to use the bond to make him not to hold a grudge anymore.

And for her, she thought she just met some guy who mistook her for someone else.

[blackholeunderyourbed]

So I just finished watching the second season of Heartstopper and I’m just as obsessed with it as the first season if not moreso, and there’s so much I could and want to say about it, but if there’s anything I am really pleased with how they handled, it’s Ben.

I love the comics, but something that bothers me about them is the way Ben sexually assaulting Charlie doesn’t really come up again for the most part. The incident is cited when Charlie’s therapist is talking about all the things that have happened to fuel his need to find control via eating, but it’s more or less forgotten otherwise and not really treated as a major thing that happened even though it absolutely was.

Although last season did an amazing job showing the impact of Ben’s treatment on Charlie’s self-esteem and mental health, it also didn’t touch much on the assault and more or less brushed it off. I was really glad that this season Nick directly referred to it as an assault and it was given more weight.

Even with that though, I was a bit afraid that when Ben admitted that he can’t come out to his parents, he would be forgiven to an extent, and I really should have learned from my fears during last season to trust the process. The abuse Ben put Charlie through, both emotionally and the assault, is given proper weight, which I’m grateful for. Even after Charlie stood up to Ben last season, it was still so so satisfying to see him recognize in the moment how Ben was still trying to manipulate him with his apology, which like all the apologies before has only been about himself.

One of my favorite elements about that confrontation, though, was Ben admitting that he did genuinely like Charlie. Given how he tried to tear down and maintain control over Charlie by denying liking him in the first season, I believe that that at least is meant to be genuine, even if he’s only seeking forgiveness for his own consciousness and not because he’s learned anything, wants to make things right, or is even sincerely sorry. I appreciated that note of honesty specifically because Charlie’s response illustrates the very important lesson that the weight of how someone feels about you pales in comparison to the weight of how they treat you. If the behavior of someone who feels love for you is indistinguishable from someone who doesn’t, those feelings mean nothing. 

It’s just another brilliant moment of the big theme surrounding the dichotomy between Nick and Ben: it’s not about being out or having everything figured out, but about the treatment, and only one of them every treated loving Charlie as something they needed to do.

Love is a verb.

[lovezbrownies]

Lauren with a reader that acts similar to Julie?

Oomf... i feel like i cooked too hard in this.. not as silly as i usually do, i am also lowkey insecure with this one idk if its good or bad lesakjn ;;

Cold. (Yandere!Fem!Bully x GN!Reader)

Lauren's Masterlist - General Masterlist.

Synopsis: Lauren's mother never expressed emotion, yet she still loved Lauren. Would it be the same with you? Lauren's crush who is just as unfeeling and cold as her mother? Or maybe even worse.

Lauren McCanister x GN!Reader

Warnings: where do i start. Again, mean reader, kind of a manipulator lowkey. Lauren used to be a manipulator, she is now the manipulated.

Lauren McCanister had spent her entire life shaping herself into an intellectual force. She excelled at everything, from academics to manipulation, carefully constructing a facade of control. And yet, none of it prepared her for you. You were nothing like the others—aloof, cold, distant. Your reactions—or rather, lack of reactions—drove her to the brink of obsession. Every sharp word she threw at you slid off like raindrops on glass, and it enraged her as much as it intrigued her. How could someone like you remain so detached?

She had long since given up on eliciting anything from you verbally. Her jabs, insults, and teasing always fell flat. No matter how sharp or cruel her words, you never flinched. It only made her dig deeper, press harder, desperate for some kind of response—anything that would give her power over you. But you remained unmoved, expressionless, analyzing her words like they were data to be sorted and discarded. It was maddening.

It wasn’t until Lauren discovered a small, delightful chink in your armor that she felt a spark of triumph. When her teasing turned physical, she finally got what she wanted. The slight widening of your eyes, the furrowing of your brow, the minuscule flinch when she pinched your side or tugged your backpack—those were the moments that thrilled her. Watching you, the unflappable you, suddenly thrown off balance by a simple tickle or a light shove made her heart race in ways she couldn’t explain. The look of surprise that briefly crossed your face before you quickly masked it again was like a drug. She loved it. You hated it.

And that only made it worse. The more you recoiled from her touch, the more she sought to invade your space. It wasn’t enough to merely watch you work from afar or sit beside you in silence during class. Lauren needed to get under your skin. She needed to feel your presence bend to her will, to watch your carefully constructed walls crumble—if only for a second. But even then, after you’d jerk away or give her a startled look, you’d retreat right back into your composed bubble, as if nothing had happened.

For you, it was all so calculated. You were fully aware of her growing obsession and had long since factored it into your life. Lauren McCanister was a variable, one that you could predict with startling accuracy. Her teasing, her bullying, her constant presence—it all fit into a pattern you’d mapped out. You knew when she would approach, how she’d attempt to provoke you, and you knew how to dodge or deflect her efforts. But while you could avoid her words and resist her psychological games, her physical intrusions were more challenging. You’d caught onto her fixation, her fascination with your reactions when she touched you, and it irritated you—not because of the touch itself, but because it broke the flow of your usual, calculated responses.

The unpredictability of physical contact was something you hadn’t fully accounted for. It threw off your mental algorithms, disrupted your focus in ways that frustrated you more than you’d ever admit. But you didn’t show it. You remained the same cool, detached individual, offering her no more than the occasional blink or a calculated word, knowing full well that your lack of emotion was only feeding her obsession.

Lauren, for all her intelligence, had yet to recognize the full extent of your indifference. She misinterpreted your silence as another layer of mystery rather than the simple truth—you did not care. Not about her taunts, her presence, or her obsession. To you, Lauren was another factor in your pursuit of long-term goals, and in that equation, she was useful.

You observed her with cold detachment, analyzing the potential benefits of indulging her obsession. Her intelligence was undeniable, and her genetic lineage is impeccable. A relationship with her could yield favorable outcomes. The idea of manipulating her feelings for your own gain wasn’t off the table either. In fact, you had already begun to calculate the potential benefits of leveraging her obsession for your advantage.

For Lauren, however, the dynamic was far more chaotic. Every interaction with you left her heart pounding, her mind whirling in frustration and excitement. She couldn’t understand why she cared so much, why your calm, unfeeling demeanor pulled at something deep within her. It was like she wanted to break through your walls, not out of malice anymore, but out of a desperate need to see some emotion, to know you were human. The more she failed, the more her obsession grew. You had become a puzzle she couldn’t solve, and that terrified her as much as it thrilled her.

The moment she found out that you had invited her over for an experiment, her heart leaped in a way it never had before. It wasn’t about the science or the experiment itself—no, it was the idea of being in your space, of seeing a part of your life that wasn’t cold and distant like the walls you’d built around yourself. She spent hours planning what to wear, imagining how the evening might unfold, oscillating between fantasies of you opening up to her and the fear that you’d remain as unreadable as ever.

When the time came, and she arrived at your door, her nerves were on edge. She had rehearsed what she would say, how she would act, but all of it fell apart the moment you opened the door with your typical, expressionless gaze. Your monotone greeting sent a shiver down her spine, not because of any warmth or affection, but because of how cold and detached it was. You weren’t just cold—you were calculating, analyzing her every move even now.

“Hello, Lauren. Come in,” you said, your voice devoid of any inflection.

Lauren hesitated, her heart thudding in her chest. She stepped inside, expecting your home to reflect the same cold, sterile environment that you embodied. But instead, the warmth of the decor took her by surprise. The soft lighting, the earthy tones, the subtle scent of lavender—it was all so inviting, so… unexpected.

“You… live here?” she asked, her voice barely concealing the disbelief.

You nodded, walking ahead without turning back to face her. “Yes. I purchased it 3 years ago. A logical decision. My parents' residence did not accommodate the necessary space for my research.”

Lauren’s eyes widened, taking in the realization that you, of all people, had bought a house—at fifteen, no less. It was a shock that rippled through her carefully constructed image of you. She had always known you were brilliant, but this? This was something else entirely.

“And… the decorations?” she asked, still grappling with the contrast between you and your surroundings.

You shrugged, as if it were the most mundane detail in the world. “Warm environments stimulate brain activity. They improve efficiency and productivity.”

That response sent a jolt through Lauren. It was so you—so perfectly logical, so devoid of any personal attachment to the concept of “home.” But to her, it felt like a glimpse behind the curtain, a small window into the way you functioned. It should have made her feel closer to you, but instead, it left her feeling even more out of place. For all her brilliance, for all her attempts to get under your skin, you were always five steps ahead, unbothered by her presence.

You turned to face her, finally acknowledging her with your cold, calculating stare. “Lauren, I invited you here for two reasons,” you began, your voice steady, precise. “The experiment, of course. But also because I am aware of your feelings for me.”

Lauren froze, her entire body tensing as her heart skipped a beat. “What? What do you mean?” Her mind raced, panic bubbling up in her chest. How could you know? How much did you know? Had you seen through her all along?

You took a step closer, your gaze unwavering. “Your obsession has been noted. I’ve analyzed it thoroughly. I have concluded that engaging in a romantic relationship with you will be beneficial.”

Her heart pounded in her ears, the blood rushing to her face as your cold words hit her like a slap. “Beneficial?” she echoed, her voice shaking, a mix of hope and disbelief filling her chest.

You nodded, your tone flat. “Yes. Our combined intellect will produce offspring with a high probability of exceptional intelligence. The genetic benefits are clear.”

Lauren’s breath hitched, her entire body frozen in place as your words washed over her. Was this really happening? You weren’t rejecting her, but… this wasn’t what she had imagined. There was no warmth, no affection, just cold, hard logic. And yet, despite the lack of emotion, her heart swelled with a strange mix of joy and confusion.

You stepped closer again, this time reaching out to her with the same precision you used in everything else. “As per societal norms, I will now engage in a romantic gesture.”

Before she could respond, you leaned in, pressing a brief, mechanical kiss to her cheek. The gesture was clinical, devoid of passion or warmth, and yet, it set her skin on fire. Lauren’s breath caught in her throat, her cheeks burning as she stared at you, wide-eyed and speechless.

You pulled back, your expression unchanged. “This marks the beginning of our relationship.”

Lauren could barely breathe, her mind spinning. You—emotionless you—had just kissed her. But it wasn’t the kiss she had always imagined. It was methodical, planned, like everything else you did. And yet, it meant everything to her.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, her voice shaky, her confidence shattered.

“There is no need for further emotional response,” you replied, stepping back with your usual detachment. “This relationship will serve its purpose. That is all that matters.”

Lauren stared at you, her heart torn between elation and a deep, gnawing sadness. You had given her what she wanted—or at least, what she thought she wanted. But now that she had it, she realized that it wasn’t enough. Not like this. You were still untouchable, unreachable, wrapped in your cold logic. And even though she had won, it felt like a hollow victory.

But she wouldn’t let that stop her. If this was what it took to be with you, then she would take it. She would take whatever pieces of you she could get, even if they were cold and calculating. Because at the end of the day, Lauren McCanister wasn’t just obsessed with breaking down your walls—she was obsessed with you.

You turned away from her, heading toward the table where a complex array of scientific equipment lay waiting, a soft hum of electronics filling the air. “As for the other reason I invited you here tonight,” you said, your voice as flat and methodical as ever. “I require your assistance with an experiment. Your expertise in certain areas will improve the likelihood of success.”

Lauren blinked, her heart still pounding, but the abrupt shift in conversation caught her off guard. Of course, to you, this wasn’t a night of emotional revelations—it was a continuation of your work, and she was merely a useful tool in your grand design. It stung, but she quickly pushed that feeling aside. You needed her. That was enough for now.

Stepping closer to the table, she looked over the experiment you had prepared, her eyes scanning the intricate setup. It was a daunting task—calculations, measurements, and variables that all needed to be meticulously balanced. One wrong move, and the entire thing could fail. And the thought of disappointing you, of failing to live up to your expectations, made her palms sweat.

“I assume you’ve read the documentation I sent you,” you continued, your eyes never leaving the equipment, even when you weren’t looking at her you made her heart skip a beat. “Your role is crucial to this experiment. A miscalculation on your part could result in catastrophic failure.”

Her throat tightened at your words, and her fingers twitched nervously as she glanced down at the tools she would be using. Catastrophic failure. Those words echoed in her mind, amplifying her already racing thoughts. She had always excelled under pressure, but this was different. This was you. She couldn’t afford to make a mistake. Not here. Not now.

“Yes, of course,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady, even though her nerves were fraying at the edges. “I’ve studied it all. I know what to do. I think I also did this with my mom when I was younger.”

But in truth, her confidence was wavering. She had spent hours poring over the documentation you had sent her, but the reality of being here, in the moment, with you watching her so closely, made her doubt every decision. What if she missed something? What if she miscalculated? What if—?

“Excellent. Then begin,” you said, handing her a delicate instrument, your gaze focused and emotionless. “I will monitor the variables.”

Lauren swallowed hard and took the instrument from your hand, her fingers trembling slightly. She forced herself to focus, to push aside the swirling storm of doubt in her mind. This was her moment to prove herself to you, to show you that she could be more than just a pawn in your grand plan. She could be an equal, someone worthy of your attention—your admiration. But what if she were to disappoint you? Would you forgive her? Would you comfort her? Lauren could only wish.

As she began the delicate process of measuring and calibrating, she felt your presence beside her, your eyes watching her every move. The weight of your scrutiny only heightened her anxiety, but she forced herself to keep going, her breath coming in shallow, nervous bursts. She had to do this. She couldn’t fail. Not with you standing so close, your cold, calculating gaze bearing down on her like a spotlight.

The minutes stretched on, each one more tense than the last as Lauren carefully navigated the intricate steps of the experiment. Her hands shook slightly, and she cursed herself internally for every small tremor. She couldn’t afford any mistakes. Her entire body was wound tight with nerves, her heart racing as she made each delicate adjustment.

But then, just as she reached the final step, disaster almost struck. Her hand slipped, the instrument wobbling precariously in her grip. A small gasp escaped her lips as panic surged through her chest. She could already imagine the failure, the disappointment in your eyes, the cold dismissal that would surely follow.

But before she could spiral further, she steadied herself, forcing her hands to stop trembling. Focus, Lauren. Focus. She breathed deeply, centering herself, and carefully, painstakingly, she corrected the error. With a final, precise movement, she completed the task, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest.

“There,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the equipment. “It’s done.”

You approached the experiment, your eyes scanning the results with your usual calm detachment. You checked the readings, ran a quick calculation, and then nodded in approval. “Adequate,” you said, your voice as cold and neutral as ever. “You have performed as expected. The experiment is a success.”

Lauren felt the tension in her chest release all at once, a wave of relief crashing over her. She had done it. She hadn’t failed you. She had proven herself. I’m so awesome and sexy, they have to love me soon. But before she could fully process the moment, you stepped closer, your gaze steady and unreadable.

“Good work,” you said, and before she could react, you leaned in and pressed a quick peck on her lips—a gesture of reward, as emotionless and calculated as everything else you did.

For a split second, Lauren’s world stopped. The brief contact of your lips on hers sent a jolt of electricity through her entire body. Her heart skipped a beat, her mind went blank, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. It wasn’t the passionate, romantic kiss she had dreamed of, but it didn’t matter. You had kissed her. You had touched her. And that alone was enough to send her mind spiraling into chaos.

But as quickly as the moment came, it was over. You pulled back, your expression unchanged, your gaze still cold and detached, as though the kiss had meant nothing to you. And for you, it probably hadn’t. It was merely a gesture, a small acknowledgment of her success. Nothing more.

Lauren stood there, staring at you in stunned silence, her lips still tingling from the contact, her heart racing in her chest. Inside, she was a whirlwind of emotions—elation, confusion, hope, fear. She wanted to scream, to cry, to laugh, all at once. But outwardly, she forced herself to remain composed, to mirror your calm. She couldn’t let you see how deeply that simple kiss had affected her.

You turned back to the equipment, already moving on to the next phase of your work, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “Prepare the next sequence,” you said, your voice as steady and emotionless as ever.

Lauren blinked, trying to regain her composure, her mind still reeling. She had to remind herself to breathe, to focus. You were already moving forward, and she needed to keep up. But as she turned to follow your instructions, her thoughts kept drifting back to that brief kiss—the first and only sign of affection you had ever given her.

Her heart pounded in her chest, the thrill of the moment lingering long after you had already dismissed it. For you, it had been nothing more than a calculated reward, a logical action in response to her performance. But for her, it was everything. That tiny, fleeting moment of contact had sent her spiraling, her mind spinning with thoughts of what it could mean, what it could lead to.

She knew, deep down, that you didn’t feel the same way she did. You never would. But she couldn’t help but hope—hope that, maybe one day, you might see her as more than just a useful tool, more than just a variable in your equation. Maybe one day, you might feel something, anything, for her.

But for now, she would take what she could get.

[freeuselandonorris]

would simply expire to read your take on mechanophilia, free choice pairing but i feel like it fits mark?? <3

🙏 thank you r one thing about me is that if i am prompted to write carfucking i will. really run with it.

mark webber/his porsche 918 spyder. one interesting thing about these cars is they have a top pipe exhaust design, where the exhaust pipes are either side of the rear window instead of at the floor.

Maybe he’s a silly, sentimental old fool, but Mark loves his cars. More than some people, if he’s honest with himself, although he’s sensible enough not to admit that in public. It’s not that unusual, in his line of work. They’re all obsessives, to some extent. They all love their cars.

It’s just that for Mark, it’s physical.

He spends time with them all. Runs his hands over the sensual curve of a headlamp, down the arc of a door panel. Presses his stomach against the 997 Turbo S, smoothing his cheek against the spotless cool of the window architecture. He’s half-hard already, nudged up against the seam of his jeans. He breathes a cloud of mist across the pristine enamelled surface, wipes it with the cuff of his fleece.

The Spyder waits for him, resplendent in red with her Salzburg livery glowing faintly in the dim light. Mark’s cock twitches as eagerly as it had for any woman he’s ever bedded.

“Hello, beauty,” he murmurs, reaching out to touch her bonnet.

He’s doing the thing properly today. The weather’s been fine and dry, no rain or muddy splashes to mar her paintwork or dirty the windscreen. Took her out for a spin after lunch. She’s warm, still.

Mark groans, lets his hips roll forward. His jeans are digging in now. He burrows his hand beneath the hem of his fleece, pops the first button on his jeans, then the second. His cock flexes as the cool air hits him through his boxers.

This is almost the best bit. The thrill as he glances back to check the garage door is locked, cups himself through his boxers, showing the heft of his cock to his waiting car. It makes him feel like a dirty flasher, somehow, showing himself off like this as the Spyder waits to take whatever he gives her.

There’s a sticky wet patch over his cockhead already. He’d been horny just driving her, letting the rumble of the engine soak through his tensed thighs and tickle the soft skin behind his balls. Foreplay, his hand curved around the gearstick, rubbing the smooth shaft while he idled at a traffic light.

He tucks a thumb beneath the waistband of his boxers, tugging them over his cock. It bounces jauntily once it’s freed, sticking right out from his opened jeans.

“There you go, girl,” Mark says, soft. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Mortifying, really, but Mark’s always talked to his cars. Why should it be any different now?

He cups himself in one hand, steps in close. Presses the spongy head against the unforgiving edge of the door trim, tracing the aerodynamic curves and undulations. There’s a chamois in his back pocket to clean things up after. He’s prepared.

His cock fits perfectly into the depression meant for his fingers to unlatch the door. He rubs himself against the smooth dip, jacking himself until a few droplets smear across the pristine surface. Anointment complete, he moves on to the air inlet notched above the wheel trim, pushing his cock into the small gap so hard it hurts, faintly. He’s never been afraid of the pain his cars can cause.

He’s breathing fast already, thighs shaking and hands fumbling. The perils of middle age. He’s not got quite the endurance he might once have enjoyed; less still when he’s with his favourites. He needs to be canny about it now, spend his limited pleasure only on the parts of his girl most worthy of worship.

He gets to his knees. His jeans are a bit tight for this, really, but he likes to stay fully dressed for this.

It’s a terrible angle, but if he shuffles sideways, he can rub the length of his cock, more or less, against the channel that runs along the bottom of the door. He’s come into this channel more times than he can count, watching his semen paint the deep red white.

But that’s not what he wants today.

He fumbles the condom out of his back pocket with uncooperative fingers. It’s heartbreaking, really, that he has to suit up for this bit. He’s wanked about it endlessly, imagining his seed working its way inside her, mingling with petrol and engine coolant. But he can’t risk messing up her insides, never mind the health of his own manhood.

He stands on wobbly legs, walks his way around to the back of her. She’s resplendent, open and waiting for him as he toes off his shoes.

The biggest act of sacrilege is when he climbs on top of her. Every time, he’s terrified he’s going to leave scratches, or worse. But she’s tough. She can take it. That’s why he loves her.

He’d wanted to fuck her from the minute he saw her. The twin exhaust pipes mounted on the rear assembly, three or four feet off the ground, stirred him the same way a dirty magazine would. There’s something obscene about her, holes open to the world. She wants it.

It takes a bit of awkward manoeuvring until he’s in position, but once he’s settled into place, it’s like he’s made to be on top of her. Knees nestled into her dips and curves, socked feet braced against the rear spoiler.

She’s hot inside when he slides into the waiting exhaust pipe. He breathes out, shuddery and grateful, resting his forehead against the curve of her roof. The condom is lubed, and he slips in right to the hilt without resistance, the machined edge pressing into his swollen balls.

“Oh, girl,” Mark breathes, and presses his mouth to cool metal. She tastes of wax and metal.

He moves his hips, careful, and she groans beneath him. Her suspension bounces as he fucks her.

He presses his cheek to the wet patch his mouth had left, traces her body with his hands. He fits perfectly inside her, like she was built to take him. Cold exterior, hot as any wet cunt inside, a secret space meant for him to worship.

It doesn’t last long, but she doesn’t mock him for it, doesn’t sigh and make a barbed remark. He gasps sweet nothings into her grilles, drives his hips into her as it builds and builds until he’s cresting, emptying himself inside her.

As he comes, he prays the condom snags on some poorly machined burr of steel and splits, spilling his tribute into her, but of course there isn’t, and it doesn’t. She’s too well-made for that.

[haveihitanerve]

Okay so theres quite a bit of Batcest hate out in the world- and I do have to admit, I view the Bats as family too, which is why I can understand, but there are certain ships that i understand, after all most of them are not related biologically at all, and are under no obligation to each other to be so, bruce literally says in one comic "Whether or not they're brothers is no matter, they're both my sons" or smth along those lines, pretty much his children may all be his children but that in no way has to make them siblings anyway im getting away from myself here, a list of batcest shippings i understand and my reasoning for why people might ship them together, if you don't wanna, don't read any further🙃

Bruce/Dick: Brudick is an old ship, actually, originally they were created as a gay couple, not openly, but heavily implied, and a way for people back in the day to "legally get married" was through adoption... Anyway I like BruDick when I see it because it just works Dick understands Bruce in a way no one else ever will, he was the first one, the original, his grief and experience mirrors Bruce's in a way that makes them so similar and yet so different, he is the light at the end of Bruce's tunnel, and theres just so much that can be written about them, angsty or fluffy, whether romantic or platonic

Jason/Tim: this one I also understand, to an extent, Tim needs someone who cares for him, Jason needs someone who understands him, Tim looked up to Jason, not as much as Dick but enough, he wants Jason to come back into the family, wants Jason and Bruce to forgive each other, he sees the good in Jason when no one else does, hes stubborn in his desire to mend their relationship- Jason on the other hand once he stops trying to kill Tim actually genuinely cares for him in a way he doesn't for anyone else in the Batfam, appreciates Tim's knowledge and perspective and I do believe, I honestly am not too sure on this, but he works with Tim first before anyone else??? i'm probs wrong on that one but I think... anyway I do like their pairing- it gives a nice contrast and they usually tend to love each other wholeheartedly, almost obsessively in the fics i read, which they kinda deserve, someone who loves them so much

Bruce/Jason: this one I get, but only after the pit. They're two sides of the same coin, Jason is only more willing to go for the final step and Bruce isn't, theres just so much of their morals that collide and snap, this honestly could just be a fic/pairing i like because of the angry smut and all, but yeah i like them, I feel like romance between them would make it easier for Bruce to get his point across about why he can't murder and why its wrong, and also vice versa

Dick/Jason: the two oldest, the ones who dealt with Bruce's shit the longest. Idk but something about them, they had almost personality flips, Jason was the happy go lucky one, then he went pit mad and now hes angry and snaps and Dick was the angry one hell bent on vengeance and now he's smiling and happy and trying to keep the fam together and all that, idk jason would let dick be angry again if they're a couple and let him release all the pent up anger/repressed inside and Dick would cool Jason's anger, bring back the joy in him, etc etc

Bruce/Tim: this one I'm still a lil on the fence about, I like it because it offers another side of Bruce and Tim's relationship, and it adds another way for Bruce to show he does actually care and appreciate and love tim and wants him in his life, and its another way for tim to soothe Bruce and bring him back from the edge and etc etc... don't have too much to add bc again im on the fence but yeah

so those are all that i got for now, yeah hope that maybe explained things better, probably just made things more confusing but i just had to get it out at one point :p overall i steer away from batcest in my fics and dont like to use it like that, theyre family, brothers sisters, parents in my heart, but sometimes theres just scenarios where they fit better as romantic partners... anyway thats all