#but if i step outside of just us i see all those sentiments of positivity echoed heartlessly and it's just saddening

[dreamyintersexouppy]

i really love positivity for trans women who don't voice train or tuck or w/e like they deserve the positive attention but i always see it loudest from tme people who seem to value the mythical non-transitioning trans woman so highly and sexually that it doesn't come off as anything but fetishization, and then those same people will turn around and say trans women who do seek gender euphoria through these things are 'conforming' like i think you're the one trying to get us to conform, specifically to your fantasy of a brick that tops you and has no opinions or desires of her own

[jabberwock-islanders]

Hajime Hinata System Headcanons? Yes, Please!!

We headcanon Hajime as having some form of dissociative disorder given his struggles with identity, memory issues, and complete LACK of childhood backstory. Like, what was so bad about his home life that not even his PARENTS were mentioned?? At all??? Suspicious. We also generally project onto and relate to Hajime so much that at this point it'd probably be considered unhealthy /hj

A good amount of people already headcanon him as being plural because of his merge with Izuru post-game, but I wanna take it a step further. I want to give him more headmates than just Izuru, and I want to talk about what I think Izuru's role would be!

Before we get to that, lets talk about Hajime himself.

Hajime would be the system's host and most frequent fronter. In fact, he's in front so often that he needs to be physically dragged away from front when he's under too much stress or in some sort of danger. He's very uncomfortable with leaving front, especially since I can see this system not having much of an innerworld. To him, not fronting is equal to not existing at all. You can see why this puts him in a state of distress.

Hajime's experience with system discovery would certainly be... messy. He likely wouldn't make that discovery until post-game, which makes the process of healing after the tragedy insanely hard for him. How is he supposed to create his own future when he isn't even himself sometimes? How is he supposed to function with all these different identities that are just as much parts of him as he is a part of them? Will he ever have full control over his life and the future he fought so hard for? In the moment, it's all too much.

On a more positive note, I could see this being something that brings Hajime and Nagito together. While it's not near comparable, Nagito also struggles with a lack of control over himself because of his dementia and various other mental health issues. He also understands Hajime's distress in regards to his memory issues and amnesia barriers. They're both suffering in similar ways, even though the causes of that suffering are vastly different. Whether this causes them to get closer in a platonic or romantic sense, that's up to interpretation.

It takes quite some time for Hajime to get used to his headmates. At first, he resents them. He wants to be normal, he wants to have full control over his life and choices and decisions. Because of that, he ends up keeping himself fully front locked for months on end. It takes Izuru forcing his way through Hajime's walls and forcing him out for Hajime to start accepting their situation. He'll never truly accept being a system, but he'll accept the help and comfort his headmates offer him and do his best to return those sentiments when he can. He appreciates them, despite it all.

Now that that's over with, it's Izuru's turn!

As mentioned before, Izuru is the one who forces Hajime to take that very first step towards acceptance. Izuru doesn't have a set role, but he'd be best described as a mixture of protector and gatekeeper. He's the only headmate who's able to break through Hajime's front lockdowns, and is usually the one to pull Hajime out of front when need be.

Izuru's relationship with Hajime is rather complex. He feels overly protective towards Hajime, but expresses that feeling as him just doing what he needs to in order to keep the collective functional. The two engage in harmless banter more than they have genuine conversations, but they have a strangely close bond. Hajime understands Izuru better than anyone else does, and Izuru is the only member of the system Hajime will (mostly) listen to. Aside from that, Izuru doesn't have many connections or relationships with other headmates.

Outside of the system, Izuru is rather fond of Fuyuhiko and Peko. He has a sense of mutual respect for each of them, and sometimes asks Fuyuhiko to help him get through to Hajime when he won't listen to Izuru directly. While Izuru talks to Nagito, he has very mixed opinions on him. Nagito's unpredictable nature amuses him, but he also has a mild distaste for Nagito because of how much stress he unknowingly causes Hajime on occasion. Any of Hajime's other friends are simply background noise (other than Sonia, who spends time reading in the library with Izuru sometimes). Izuru isn't really interested in becoming close with all of Hajime's friends, so he mostly talks to Fuyuhiko and Nagito when he's feeling particularly social.

Time for the borderline OCs that are gonna be more headmates >:]

The first headmate I wanna talk about is the system's main protector. For the name, I'm going with Tateto (spelled 楯土). This spelling of Tateto has the meanings "shield, buckler" and "soil, earth, ground" (sourced from japanese-names.info). The reason I chose this name for him is to reference the act of protecting someone as well as being a well-grounded person who's able to help ground others.

Tateto is a masculine-presenting headmate, and helps with a lot of Hajime's various struggles in his day to day life. Hajime is having an anxiety and/or paranoia spike? Tateto is there to calm him down. Hajime is getting frustrated with something? Tateto is there to help him through it. Tateto is also the very first one to take charge if the system is in a physically dangerous situation.

Tateto is pretty well acquainted with Hajime's friends, and likes quite a few of them! He's really close with Akane in particular, and the two consider each other best friends. He's also really close with the other survivors, though him and Kazuichi don't always get along. Tateto gets along surprisingly well with Mahiru in particular, though the two don't interact very often. They respect each other, and are willing to help each other if need be.

------------------------------------------

The next headmate I want to discuss is the system's main caregiver. I'm naming her Akari (明伽里), which has the meanings "bright, clear, obvious", "companion, caregiver, helper", and "village, hometown, birthplace". These meanings connect to her bright and vibrant personality, her role as a caregiver, and the home-like feeling of comfort she brings to everyone around her.

Akari has an extremely close relationship with the other survivors, but she'd consider Mikan to be her closest relationship. A lot of the medical knowledge Akari has learned came directly from Mikan herself, after all! Mikan taught her how to do stitches, how to care for someone when they're sick, all the works.

------------------------------------------

Next up, I decided to give this system a little because of the fact that so much of Hajime's childhood is completely unspoken about in canon. It wouldn't surprise me if he didn't have much of a childhood and this headmate split to help relieve the stress of Hajime's adult life.

This little's name is Kusa, named after Hajime's favorite food! Sometimes the others will also call them Mochi! Kusa doesn't have a specified gender, as they're a little too young to grasp the concept of gender fully. Kusa is typically around 7 years old, but can slide to be as young as 4. Their agesliding is influenced by stress, meaning the more stressed out the collective is the younger they'll appear to be.

Kusa loves all of Hajime's classmates, and views them as family! Mahiru, Hiyoko, and Ibuki are especially close with Kusa, and all three of them have been dubbed "Big Sis". Kusa is also very close to Gundham, and he lets them hold the Devas when they're in an old enough headspace to do so.

(Bonus note: Kusa calls Izuru "mama" because of his long hair and motherly protectiveness of Hajime. Whenever Izuru is scolding Hajime, Kusa will often say "ooooh, mama's maaaad")

------------------------------------------

The very last headmate I'm gonna talk about is the system's trauma holder. This headmate actually doesn't have her own name, but Nagito has started calling her Chai because of her biggest comfort being chai tea. It's often hard to differenciate Chai from Hajime, especially since she only fronts after one of his episodes. Chai has an extreme attachment to memories of Chiaki, and will spend hours playing various games she liked whenever she fronts. Aside from Nagito giving her her own nickname, Chai will often break down into a panic attack if anyone else calls her a name that isn't some variation of Hajime's. Nagito was one of the first people Chai grew close to, so she trusts him far more than Hajime's other classmates.

Not much else is known about her, even by her other headmates.

[ficto-confessions]

I find it so weird and exhausting how people act like being ficto is a choice. Like if you watch reaction videos on people who talk about being in love with fictional characters, it's barely ever a positive reaction. It's all "go outside", "get fresh air", "go get a real partner". And I've heard similar sentiments from the aroace spaces too. I get it, ficto identities are currently very small and not many people know about them. But I feel like a lot of people say things like "the aromantic/asexual spectrum is completely valid! Every aroace identity is valid and should be respected!" then when a ficto person comes in all of a sudden it's 'everyone's valid and acceptable except you'. They might not use the same words, but they're just as exclusionist at times.

It's just... they don't treat ficto identities like LGBTQ labels, like it's an attraction that people can't control and are born with like ever other identity. I didn't choose to not find real people attractive, I didn't choose for my fictional crushes to not be lighthearted little jokes. I didn't choose to spend months at a time stressing and second-guessing myself because I didn't want to hear those exact words of unacceptance. I tried to like real people, I honestly did! I put a lot of thought and focus into planning for my future real partner. But at the end of the day the label caught up with me, and I ended up finally accepting that part of myself. So to go through so much struggle and then hear "go get a real partner"... it really really stings. I can't drop my fiction partners, I love them very deeply and they bring me so so much comfort and joy and make me feel so loved. And I couldn't like real people even when I tried.

I feel like I have so much more I want to say but that's basically it. Ficto stuff is usually all put under the "you can't get an irl partner so you're gonna be a basement creep who dates pictures of fake characters" stigma. And as someone who struggled with my ficto-ness a lot, it really hurts to see people acting like I can just choose to get a "real partner" anytime and acting like I'm just someone who got rejected too many times (never have, I've never even asked anyone out, I've never liked people like that). It's.. well.. a part of my identity. It's who I am. Not something I can just suddenly drop and then magically find an irl partner to be with. It's not a choice, a fad, a recuperation from rejection, or a "basement dweller" thing. It's an identity on the aro/ace spectrums that needs to be respected as much as the more well-known labels are

Yeah.

I think they're rather jealous,cuz whats nice of having an irl partner that u have to get by basically manipulating them to like u, relationships aren't forever plus they're capable of horrible things or that nowadays ppl don't even have standards in dating & just take anyone or think that being w someone w common sense is the most important trait?.. Like no shit,u wouldn't want to be w someone that hurts you & they way ppl describe dating makes me cringe since what they often describe is basically just friendship w extra steps.

And average relationship lasts for a few years, so whats the point of doing the same scenario w someone when u know it's gonna end anyways? Also irls are disgusting when it comes to anatomy & overly boring, so.

You can also count victim blaming. Cuz what if you went through abuse? According to them you're supposed to go through partners & just decide to pretend like it never happen & never give up on this vile species despite them not deserving any of it. And it goes w other types of relationships as well.

They want fictos to suffer cuz they want them to experience the unknown of not knowing how the relationship's gonna go and end. They call this shut exciting, but its more like a torture,why would u make a dumbass of urself just to get someone to like you? And especially if you socially struggle,its hard to get someone to urself and by that logic, you'd need to have zero standards if u wanted to get at least w someone.

W being ficto,you can have high standards & have thousands of different kinds of f/os. Like do u like anime characters? There are thousands of animes. Do you like cartoon characters? There are hundreds of cartoons. Or just any nonhuman characters, like in fantasy games,movies,series etc. Or just create ocs that fit your standards. You also know how they act so you know what you might be dealing w. And its not the same w irls.You get basically "same" looking millions of copies of several races or nationalities & characteristics with face structures. Are they pleasing to look at? No. Do you know what they're capable of? Also no.

Like why the hell would I change my f/os, that not only are amazing looking facewise, but they're also nice & chill to be around, or just having pleasing voices, that would never do the same damage irl ppl did/ would do to me, to a mf that might hurt me, wouldn't fit my standards & I would have zero choices in choosing? It's illogical. But I also personally never found ppl hot or something.

It's just the victim blaming and overwhelming jealousy & the desire to see others to have the same struggles in finding relationships since how dare u not to live the same way they do.

[yukidragon]

Girl, help.

I actually saw with my own two eyeballs someone trying to say that "If you, a fanfic writer, find offense in a reader commenting 'Update plz' (and nothing else) then that is a YOU problem".

And they tried to defend it by saying that readers will get tired of waiting and will move onto something else?

I am FUMING.

I bet this person has never written a single thing in their entire life outside of assignments for school.

It's those sorts of comments that make me very disheartened, especially as someone who often winds up taking prolonged breaks from my writing due to various reasons, most of them health-related.

Content creators, whether they write, draw, or make any other type of art and share it online, are already painfully aware that, in a sense, we have to compete with the entirety of the internet at all times. It often pushes us to keep producing more and more and more to our own detriment, because we're made to feel like we "owe" our fans constant entertainment... and if we don't deliver, then we're a failure. It makes us feel like if we don't constantly perform, everything we worked hard for out of love will be rendered worthless, and we'll be left forgotten.

It's not wrong for a writer to feel a little offended if the only feedback they're getting for their work is just, "Update plz." The grand majority of us aren't getting paid for our work. Our "payment" comes in the form of positive comments letting us know that we're doing a good job and that our readers are engaged with the story. If all we get are demands for more from us and nothing else, it makes us feel as though we're only seen as machines that produce content and not people, just as disposable as any AI bot out there.

Invalidating a person's feelings can be so, so damaging. We're not machines; we're human.

I can understand why some readers make those comments though. So many readers simply don't know what to say. That's why so many people wish that they could give a story multiple kudos on AO3. Words can be difficult. Leaving comments, giving replies... It took me a long time to learn how to use those words effectively and be more talkative in public settings like these.

Maybe the person who wrote that comment about writers is someone who would respond, "Update plz," to stories in the past. Maybe they were feeling defensive upon learning that their past actions were taken as a negative thing. No one likes to feel like the bad guy, after all.

People who leave those sort of comments typically mean it in a positive way. They like the work and want to see more of it. It's a nice sentiment, but sometimes good intentions can cause damage if the execution is flawed. It's not wrong for writers to gently point out a better way to give feedback that doesn't make them feel so pressured to constantly perform for little in return.

Writing is hard. Art is hard. It takes countless hours to improve at it. I've been writing stories since I was 5 and I'm 41 now. My current skill level is due to thousands upon thousands of hours of writing and self-improvement. People who get to read the end product will never see all the work that goes into making my stories. To them, it appears into existence one day like magic. This can make the art seem easy, effortless. This is why way too many artists and writers undersell their work.

That's why I go out of my way to leave positive feedback as often as I can, and thank those who do the same for me in return. It means the world to me and it reminds me why I love sharing my work with the world.

I think the person who was making those comments about writers could benefit from taking a step back and really examining why those sorts of comments are taken negatively. Maybe with a little empathy and understanding, they could better understand why what they wrote was even more offensive than the, "Update plz," comments themselves.

[sleepy-aletheas]

Tipsy rambling about Ratio

For someone who tried to catch Nous’ gaze, he really thinks less about the Genius Society. He seems like the person who thinks their smarts are wasted by being so selfish and self-absorbed about their ambitions that cost other people their well-being when they could achieve so much and help so many more people.

It’s interesting that his character stories are told through outsider perspectives. We don’t know what he truly thinks in those moments, in those moments in his life that seem to be so important that we are told about them. Sometimes I think about the story how he created the anti-planetary-weapon-thingy and how it’s told through the perspective of his assistant. He got a letter and let out a weary sigh. I wonder if that is where everyone got the idea that he wants to get into the genius society so badly, even till this day. Cause it could have been a sigh of someone disappointed in another’s disinterest. He is a doctor and someone who tries to help people (in his own ways, but ultimately not to seriously harm), so him building such a weapon could have been him testing the morality of others and be disappointed that even geniuses can be so fucking stupid like any other person. (Disillusionment of grandeur of someone you idolize can leave you questioning yourself for a long time)

I love his delivery of sentiments. It’s so harsh and sarcastic and demeaning, he sounds exactly like me when I try to get on others’ nerves to rise a reaction that they would usually avoid, so I could map them out better, except he does it earnestly. Which is so much funnier to me. Like yes, step over other’s feelings like a tipsy elephant, Veritas. This is a great character flaw to learn to navigate (not necessary fix, because there is a certain charm to it, and also I think, if monitored properly, it can be handled in a delicate manner; maybe I’m just projecting my own lack of societal takt, I don’t really care)

Him being caring with the sandpaper treatment is the funniest thing to me. Like, yes. Insult everyone and yet (im)patiently wait until they use their brains to think about something deeper than the surface. There is something about rough intelligent characters with a genuine hope for the better that make me go feral. Maybe it’s the juxtaposition, or maybe a projection on my part (again, I don’t care which one it is)

His love for rubber duckies is something I feel on a spiritual level. All hardass characters need to have a cute quirk. And a weird eating habit. And a “are you serious” type of sleeping position. And a silly side that makes them do ridiculous poses of statues with their own selves. (But that is once again a purely me thing)

I love how he insults Aventurine and yet it’s a thinly veiled compliment at moments. Best example is when you brute force the nightingale puzzle and along the lines he says Aventurine should join the Intelligentsia Guild. Which can be read as a joke (which probably was meant to be portrayed in-game for Sunday), but it’s not an insult all things considered. Veritas is in the Intelligentsia Guild. They would work for the same part of the IPC. If it was meant as an insult, then it would insult Veritas too, cause the sarcasm on the Genius Society was that if Veritas can’t get into the ranks, Aventurine absolutely couldn’t. And there was no specification on it being sarcasm either like the Genius Society bit.

Also I love him texting the Trailblazer, it’s so fun. Him asking if they want to pursue any schooling and in what major. Recommending them getting to learn more about debate. Wanting to unwind, so asking the Trailblazer to give him anything to think about and then be fascinated in the cutest way. He can be soft, but in the roughest way possible, and I respect that.

Even the whole playing-chess-with-himself bit is so goofy, why is he like this?? And him basically testing everyone to see what they would do, mainly the geniuses. He probably wanted to feel out the Trailblazer and in a sense also Asta (who is more of the keeper of the space station that Herta, imo), but it was a bigger test to see what Screwllum and Herta would do, and his disappointment just made me think maybe he doesn’t wanna even be in the Genius Society anymore, cause if being callous and selfish and self-absorbent is the genius quality that Nous is seeking, then he will rather be in the Intelligentsia Guild and call himself a Mundanite, cause he wants the whole universe to step up and move forward, not just a select few that leave others in the dust to die.

Simply put, he is the most infuriating character I wanna toss into the ocean whenever he opens his mouth, and I love him so dearly, my teeth itch to chew on him. The cute aggression is real with him around, and hoyo knows what they're doing. And I thank them for it.

[cherryfairytwist]

RickFic Ch8. AstriOid Belt

(Tags: minors dni/ substance use/ stalkerish behavior)

—- HELLO —-

—- INITIATING DOWNLOAD SEQUENCE MEMORY CLUSTER #8 —-

—-PULLING UP EARLIEST ASSISTED MEMORY RECORDS —-

—- NARRATION SIMULATING NOW —-

The gang had just gotten back from an adventure, now chilling outside of the garage on the drive way next to Rick’s ship. Both Rick and Astrid stood leaning against the ship sipping on beers while Morty and Summer sat on the driveway munching on some hors d’oeuvres they had stolen from an alien party they had all crashed while adventuring. 

“Did you see the look on those bouncer’s faces when we crashed through their ship’s hull?” Summer laughed while continuing to stuff her face. 

“H-honestly I thought m-more people partying on deck would have noticed something was going on.. but I guess they w-were too drunk..?” Morty also chuckled thinking back on it. 

“T-That was some smart thinking back there Astrid. K-knocking out some those unsuspecting guests and changing into their outfits. Priceless! We got to party for free all nightttt!” Rick emphasized in amusement. 

“Well I mean.. you said we had to try and keep those bounty hunters off our tail for a while..we had already crashed so why not have some fun waiting it out?” She snickered and took another swig. 

Earth Beth poked her head out of the garage door and asked, “oh there you guys are, dinner will be ready soon do you kids want to eat? Dad….?” She looked at all of them before her eyes landed on Astrid. “Oh um.. hi! You’re their teacher’s….assistant? From school..?” She asked trying to remember Astrid’s face from in passing. 

“Hello Mrs. Smith. Yes I’m Morty and Summer’s teacher’s assistant… we’ve met before I’m pretty sure.” Astrid said politely but awkwardly. 

“I remember! I didn’t mean to make that come off weird sorry… I just didn’t want to mistake you for….” She glanced over at Rick implying she didn’t want to assume Astrid was one of Rick’s one night stands, “… anyways.. would you like to join us for dinner?” She said with an awkward smile. 

“I would love to…” she glanced at the kids and then quickly at Rick, “but it’s getting a little late. I might need to head home to start grading papers sadly.” She used an excuse feeling as if she might be over stepping her bounds. 

“Oh we understand! I hope the kids are paying attention in class for you.” Beth commented. 

“Oh Mrs. Smith you have wonderful kids. They are both extremely smart and hard working.” Astrid said positively. 

Rick started to scoff before Astrid shot him a glare. 

“Oh that’s such a relief to hear! I worry they aren’t doing so well in school.” Beth peaked over to see what commotion Rick had made. 

“See mom! We’re doing just fine. We take after you and grandpa!” Summer shouted over to her mother. 

“You’re right honey… could you come help with dinner? Oh you too Morty.” Beth asked. 

“We’ll say goodbye to Astrid real quick just in case she doesn’t come have dinner. Be inside in a second!” Summer replied before her mother turned to head back inside. 

“Thanks for covering for us like that Astrid.” Summer said with a smile. 

“I didn’t cover for anything. You and Morty are smart hard working kids. Just because you’re not making straight A’s doesn’t mean you two aren’t smart.” Astrid replied honestly. 

Summer looked down at the ground with a shy smile. 

“T-thanks Astrid.. you’re a great teacher..” Morty said awkwardly before standing up. 

“Thanks for coming on adventures with us, it’s always really fun having you around. We hope you have a good night if we don’t see ya in there.” Summer said playfully but with a hint of sentiment while turning to head inside.

“Y-yeah.. you’re awesome Astrid..! See you at school.” Morty choked out before quickly running after Summer inside. 

Astrid stood there for a few seconds just smiling and looking at the garage door. It made her really happy to know the kids liked having her around.. she also really enjoyed seeing them do so well. She then chugged the rest of her beer and looked up at the dark night sky. The thought that she was still standing alone next to Rick slapped her back to reality as she tried to sneak a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. Still leaning up against the ship next to her she could feel the weight shift as he also chugged the rest of his beer. He turned his head to look down at her and then tossed his empty beer can into the garage. 

“A-Alright.” He pushed off of the ship and grabbed Astrid by the arm. 

His grip was stern but held no malice in it as he guided her around him towards the passenger seat of the space ship. Astrid looked up at him with a calm yet confused look. He ignored her face while opening the ship door, he then lightly pushed her into the seat and shut the door behind her. He then turned to go grab a pack of beers and a liquor bottle from the garage. He returned and got into the drivers seat, setting the drinks down on the floor next to her feet. Astrid felt her nerves jolt a smidge so she rummaged around in her pocket for her communicator to start playing the next song in her cue. She pulled out one of her earbuds from her pocket and put it in the ear facing the ship window. 

“So are you giving me a ride home or….?” She asked trying to cut the agonizing silence. 

“Y-yeah I guess you could say that. But first I want us to have a little chat.” He said emotionlessly while starting up the ship and pulling it up into the sky. 

Astrid felt the awkward silence hang in the air between them. She sat quietly and looked out the passenger window. The Sun and Earth started to look like marbles the farther they flew out into the solar system. She felt the temperature drop in the cabin around them, small wisps from her breath hung in the air after every silent exhale. Did she ever notice how cold it felt when they were flying in the ship before? Or was it that she had gotten used to the body heat of all four of them being in the ship at the same time? It felt like there was so much empty space between her and Sanchez. Why did it still feel like he was much too close for comfort still? Calming herself she pressed the play button, “Space Junk” by Wang Chung started to play in her ear. 

“W-what you listening to…?” He asked pointing at the device in her hand. “You should play some of t-that out loud so it isn’t so awkward in here.” He stated while handing her his equivalent of an all adapting aux cord. 

Astrid compiled and plugged it in. As the music began to play out loud she pulled her ear bud back out and put it in her pocket. She gave a curious glance at Rick, looking for any signs to pick up on, but nothing of note showed. As he started to slow the ship he motioned for her to grab him one of the beers on the floor. She pulled it out of the plastic and cracked it open for him, handing it off. He took it and started to steadily sip from it, still keeping his eyes in front of him. 

“You can have some more too obviously… you got any more of that weed?” He asked. 

“Uh yeah…” Astrid pulled out her bowl and grinder from her pocket. 

“Nice.” He said plainly. 

The silence and random songs seemed to continue for what was about only 15 minutes, but it had felt like forever. Astrid had already downed her first  two beers and taken a few hits from her bowl. Rick had tossed back three beers already as well as having taken some hits from her bowl. Finally Rick eased up the ship to a stop. The ship now silently floated adrift right outside of what looked like an asteroid belt. They sat there for a few moments silently sipping.

“So is this the part where you take the dog out back to the shed and shoot it…? And to save the kid’s feelings you tell them it ran away.” She joked cutting through the silence. 

Rick looked at her surprised and then laughed saying, “HA! No.” He smiled and then gave her a side eye, “Jesus y-you still came with me thinking that m-might have been a possibility…?” He let out a chuckle. 

Astrid didn’t reply and side eyed him curiously waiting for him to keep up the conversation. Which he did, 

“I also figured this would be a perfect opportunity for y-you to shoot me in the back of the head if you had planned on trying to kill me.” He said less amused but with a smug face eyeing her. “We are alone.” He stated. 

“Oh and you still brought me out here thinking that could be a possibility?” Astrid copied him in a mocking tone. 

They both rolled their eyes at each other and looked out their corresponding side windows. The silence hung back over them as the music continued to play. Until Rick broke the silence once more, 

“I didn’t know you could move like that… I knew you were fast but I-I had no idea you knew how to dance.” he mentioned referring to their adventure earlier that day where they had crashed the party. 

He thought back on earlier that night, impressed having seen her ballroom dance and perfectly execute other types of alien dances unfamiliar to Earth. She had moved in such a way it was simply captivating to watch. 

“You just assumed I couldn’t dance…?” She chuckled looking back at him scrunching her eyebrows playfully. 

“You’re not Human. There isn’t any way you are!” He suddenly blurted out slightly raising his voice in frustration. 

“Is that a question or are you making a statement?” She replied annoyed back. 

“Come on!” He demands letting go of the anger but a hint of frustration remained. 

“I guess you could say im not exactly from around these parts.” She tried joking in a perfect southern accent. 

He laughed and relaxed a little while rolling his eyes again, leaning off to his window side. 

“Hold on Rick. I know  it’s not like you’re going to share things about yourself with me.” She laughed. 

“That’s fucking different.” He insists. “You’ve probably already heard plenty of things about me.” A slight sting came in his voice. 

Astrid let out a sigh, “Fine… let’s play a game. We’ll call it Pinocchio because it’s like a truth and lies thing. I will answer questions if I feel like it. I’ll only show one “tell” if it’s a lie… you’ll see what I mean once we start playing.” She stated.

He arched his eyebrows and grinned curiously still leaning on his window, “Alright, I’ll bite. Let’s play.” He said shifting to lean on his knee while pointed in her direction nonchalantly. 

“How long have y-you been living on Earth..?” He cut straight to it. 

“Over all or recently?” She asked to clarify.

“Both.” He stated. 

“Well.. I’ve probably lived on Earth for a handful years.. I left but I’ve only been back for about a year now.” She shifted in her seat slightly uncomfortable but finally feeling relaxed knowing she was getting it off her chest. 

“Why are you here now?” He asked still intently eyeing her.

She replies, “sight seeing” and suddenly her nose popped out elongated a slight bit, much like the Pinocchio cartoon. 

Rick let out an amused laugh realizing she had lied. While eyeing her nose curiously, he quickly chugged another beer in entertainment. 

“W-why were you on Earth in the past?” He asked more exited. 

“For work.” She answered shortly knowing she still had to tread lightly. 

“Are you on Earth for work now..? A-And I don’t mean that “teacher” bullshit.” He said trying to skate her around using that excuse. 

“Not really….it’s complicated. But I’m “stuck” here for now.”  She paused feeling a sadness creep up on her. 

“You’re stuck..? Like crash landed?” He asked confused. 

“No.. I’m just supposed to be here for a while.” She huffed, “ I’m supposed to be on “vacation” but that’s not what it feels like.” Noticing she said a bit too much she snapped back into it. 

Shifting gears she sassily stated, “You’re running out of time!” 

Internally her heart was racing, why did she want to tell him so badly? This had never been a problem for her before with keeping secrets. 

“Jeez I didn’t know we were on a timer!” He joked and motioned for her to pass him the bowl. 

He sparked up and took a few more hits and then handed it back to her. She too hit it some and then sat it down on the dash. She looked down at the floor to see they had both drank through all the beers so she grabbed the liquor bottle of jack that Rick had brought. Astrid opened it and took a few swigs and handed it over to Rick. He took it and then looked back at her face,

“Are you human?” He asked once again wanting to hear her say it, searching her eyes for a sign. 

“Yes.” She lied with a smug grin lowering her gaze as her nose grew again humorously. 

“So what do you do? What are you?” He asked back to back trying not to chuckle. 

“You’re waisting your time.” She said sharply not looking up from packing the next bowl. 

Rick huffed and moved on, “Okay then. So you have heard of me?” He asked, not being able to help himself. 

“Yes Rick. I heard of you before I met the kids. But I didn’t think much of it, until we officially met.” She rolled her eyes and smiled knowing he was looking for an ego boost.

This relieved her knowing this one fold of his would help later if things got risky.  

“So what’s the verdict?” He asked cockily. 

“That you’re a crazy old man causing trouble.” She twirled her hair, “Definitely never a dull moment around you.” She replied with attitude. 

He laughs at her mockingly slow and leans back in his seat seeming to drop all signs of humor, “I’ll go a head and get right to what I wanted to chat about.” 

He pauses and glares right into Astrid’s eyes, “Have you been planning to hurt the kids?” 

Astrid felt as if daggers had been sent through her chest, “I’m never going to hurt your kids Rick. As for you though, that depends on how well we get along.” She quickly joked at the end in an attempt to lighten the mood but still be honest. 

“Oh yeah?! You think you can hurt me Hu…?” Rick joked already riled up a bit but calming down feeling as if she was being truthful to his questions. 

“Yeah of course. How many good years do you have left on you anyway?!” She said flirting not being able to help herself, hoping to further distance Rick from his suspicions. 

“Oh don’t you worry about that. I can stay young forever. You just haven’t seen me use my reverse age inventions.” He said crossing his arms behind his head and setting his feet up on the dash pleased with himself.

“Wait so you choose to stay looking at this age…?” She suddenly asked seriously, she couldn’t help but feel like she felt the same way but for her own human passing form. 

“Uh yeah…? What about it?” He arched his eyebrow at her confused by the change in emotion. 

“Do you do it because it just feels familiar or do you like how it looks…?” She asked almost searching for her own reason as to why she liked her default human form. 

“I-I don’t know.. I guess because it feels familiar..? I guess because I don’t like how it looks.. because it’s a reminder.. it seems natural looking to the family..?” He said searching for an explanation himself. 

He then quickly snapped out of it and wanted to know why she would ask that, “W-why do you ask? Are you age shaming me right now..?” He said pretending to be offended to cover up his actual feeling of embarrassment. 

“I don’t know! Ha! Sorry I’m just a curious person…? I mean you said you made something that can reverse your age!! So you just don’t use it that much? I mean seemed like a pretty basic question.” She laughed as well trying to cover her discomfort for the shift in the atmosphere.

Rick starts chugging some of the liquor and then slams his fist down on the dash, “f-fuck it! You wanna blow up some asteroids…?!” He said now trying to help lighten the mood. 

They sat in the ship taking turns targeting the hurdling rocks. As they both got more intoxicated they started to amp up their shared appreciation for destruction. Astrid thought about how pretty the moment was watching the ship light up after each explosion went off.  After what felt like hazy minutes of belligerent arcade like fun, Rick checked his watch and seemed to sober up a little. 

“Damn I-it’s late. I totally lost track o-of time. Sorry about that, w-we’ll head back.” He said trying to make up for taking up her evening time after she said she needed to get home.

“Ha, it’s fine. I’m glad we got t-that sorted out.” She said with a goofy buzzed smile. 

“You sure you’re not trying to kill me? Now’s your chance.” He pauses and then said, “We are alone.” In a slightly more suggestive tone. 

“I told you already Sanchez…” Astrid looked away pretending to be annoyed but catched her own eye in the window reflection feeling her face flush. 

They headed back mostly riding in silence enjoying music or commenting on random things they saw while flying. They got closer and closer until they slowed down right in front of her apartment. Rick slowly started to lower the ship but then Astrid, in her oblivious state, popped the ship door open. She hopped out and turned to say goodbye with a smile. Rick awkwardly smiles back embarrassed she didn’t wait so he could  have gotten the door for her. 

“Uh.. night Astrid.. h-have a good evening.” He said not quite knowing what to say. 

“Night Sanchez!” She said with a grin, patted the side of the ship and then turned to head towards her door. 

“Also I-I told you already! D-Don’t call me Sanchez!” he playfully joked in hopes to get her to call him that again. 

“Whatever Sanchez.” She said back jokingly, just like he had hoped. 

Once Rick was sure Astrid had made it inside, he pulled the ship up at rapid speed. He hurdled the ship past the block between her apartment and the Smith house. The radio now playing some random alien channel after Astrid had taken her communicator off the aux when leaving. He allowed himself to smile only for a moment before landing the ship and sprinting out of the door and into the garage. He punched in his secret code to the hatch door in the floor and jumped down into the upper part of his basement lab. He went to his elevator and punched the floor number for his super computer room. Once there he ran to it quickly punching in all kinds of commands and running all types of searches. His mood went from pleasant to maddening as he tried to piece together any information he could find on Astrid. Cursing and mumbling to himself as he kept playing back loops of footage he had gotten of her fighting when they had gone to rob the bank. Over and over the loop of her snatching out the fire alien’s eyes played in one corner. In another was the footage of her kicking the bug cyborg into the bank counter with incredible force. In the last corner he played the footage of her dancing that night from the party they had crashed. He watched all of them intensely while waiting for other searches to come back.  

“Of course she’s not fucking human, I mean look at this shit… but who are you..?” He muttered to himself rubbing his face in frustration. 

He mulled it over for a second and muttered, “are you a shape shifter..? Someone with Elasticity powers…? But then how are you so fucking fast and strong too…?” 

A few hours had gone by at this point and he had almost entirely sobered up by now. In his frustration he had thrown randoms items around the room while still searching for an answer. He had all the data from the hunting adventure they had gone on up on screen. He had all her school file information up, and even random footage and notes of her from previous times she had visited the Smith house. No DNA matches, no other records of her on earth previously to her starting work as a teacher’s assistant. 

“Who the hell are you Ms. Du Pont ?” Rick read her supposed last name from the school’s file. 

He sat back in his chair and pulled out his flask,

“Let’s just go ahead and find out.” He said confidently while activating the tracker he had planted on her arm when taking her to the ship earlier. 

“It’s the size of a flea so I doubt you’ll notice for quite a while.” He grinned watching her location pop up on his computer’s map. 

Rick sat looking at the tracker dot still at her apartment’s location. He took a swig from his flask and spun around in his chair lazily. After a moment of double checking, nothing else in his search had popped up. He sighed and then headed upstairs to his room for once. He turned the lights off and flopped down onto his cot. For the first time in a long while he felt like actually getting some sleep. He rolled over onto his side and opened up his watch’s screen. He sighed again knowing his computer search would take a while since not having that much information o

to go off of. He pulled up an image of Astrid’s teacher photo to look at. Rick let out one last long breath before closing his watch and eyes to sleep. 

Back at Astrid’s apartment she sat on her den floor grading papers while listening to music. Her mood had taken a turn for the better after feeling like she had made progress with Rick that evening. Her communicator buzzed as a few incoming messages popped up. She glanced down still a little tipsy from earlier. Seeing the name Reagan pop up from the notifications, she held her breath in disbelief and scrambled to open up the messages. With her eyes glued to the screen she started to read the various messages, 

“Hey Astrid” 

“Been busy at work…..”

“Sorry for ghosting you” 

“Could you come by this weekend when there isn’t anyone at the office?”

“We could catch up” 

Astrid read the massages from Reagan silently to herself. 

“Holy shit… okay.” She exhaled nervously while grabbing for her own flask she left under her coffee table. 

She sent a reply back and then laid down on the floor. 

“Here we go.” She said looking up at the ceiling now feeling exhausted. 

—- PART EIGHT COMPLETED —- 

—- SHUTTING DOWN —-

—- GOODBYE —-

[lyssiesleakedmemos]

Getting started in the industry

TW heavy topics such as Sexual abuse

Real life story

Not erotic but adult themes

Trembling, stomach in knots, only a bra and panties away from being from being completely exposed.. and even that small security blanket was going to be ripped away momentarily. "Breathe" I instructed myself. I braced for the impact of potentially the worst mistake of my life. And clicked, "Go live."

How did I get here?

It feels like a lifetime ago, only taking my first steps of adulthood, already weighed down with the pressure of coming up with a plan. I didn't have money for college, doubted every skill I had, and was recently taken off the medications that may have been the push I needed to be a whole lot more productive job hunting. I had been a legal adult for nearly a year, I was "running out of time." A sentiment I can't even wrap my head around today.

Hurry hurry hurry.

While panicked about my entire future prospects, I did manage to find time to embrace the new freedom and independence that suddenly felt abundant. My upbringing was certainly not strict but days and nights of making my own choices without so much as asking permission was a fucking rush. Party after party. Run from the cops. Repeat.

But it wasn't until the relationship that consumed my life the 4 years prior came to an end that I truly felt the world open up in front of me. Despite adoration from our peers who only saw the best of us and despite my limited experience convincing me that this must just be how some men are.. the truth is I was lying with a monster. It took time to see it for what it was sexual and emotional abuse. But even then, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders leaving. No longer would I be under his control, no longer would my body be close enough for him to touch after repeated pushing him away, no longer would I be the person he came to with his sick confessions of disturbing crimes he'd committed or sought to commit like a burden he gladly gifted me and he'd never have the opportunity to ignore my pleas or break the promise of "I'll never do that to you again."

With the heaviest of shackles broken, everything I CHOSE to do became liberating and quickly that became exploring sexuality on my terms. I started dating Walter, who, for all his flaws, wasn't a monster and was actually quite supportive of exploration and seemed like he was on a journey of his own. More on him later.. but when I came to him with the crazy idea to start Webcam modeling, he not only encouraged me, but he offered up his house as a work space.

I wrestled with the idea for awhile, likely made a pros and cons list if I know myself

Pro: Exciting

Con: Scary

In no time, my account was set up, and I was hyperventilating at my laptop. The first account I used was sketchy, one of those where you had a "manager" who would call you and demand you stream more (which for the record I thought was completely normal). This guy was a character, vulgar, crass, and unprofessional, even for such a profession at the time. He'd come into my streams and beg for free shows or call me and complain about other streamers. It was only a minor bump in the road, and it took no time to get comfortable performing, especially when I made the switch to a different platform. I think I even liked it.. for a job. My days were never short of interesting. My stories were plentiful, and i always felt connected to a world outside of my day to day life. Even the idea of being an adult performer gave me a sense of pride that I think most people in those days couldn't understand.. hell, if modern-day reception to OF girls is any indication, I'd say many still don't. Countless times, I found myself defending my choices in this era, something that may sound like a waste of time but went positively more than you'd expect. The truth is, regardless of your own preferences, most people can't argue with someone doing what they want to do because we all more or less fear losing the freedom to do so ourselves.

Now, the industry has been a part of my life off and on for over a decade, and I can honestly say I get that it's hard to get. There have been moments where I reflect on how much time I've spent solely catering to the male gaze or questioning the line between liberation and objectifican. It's not a simple equation, but I think I learned what the answer is for me.

Walking through life, especially as a female, means guaranteed objectification, leering men and societal pressure to look fuckable. Before ever signing a contract, making a cent or making a CHOICE, someone I was meant to trust took something from me.. so believe me when I say that when people use the menu I've provided for a mutually beneficial service, that difference is clear. Not to mention the power of the freedom to decline and, of course, the block button.

This expectation exists that trauma should make you cower from sexuality moving forward, and sometimes that's what we have to do, but in the end, I gave myself the gift of reclaiming someone that was always mine. I am every bit as sex positive and open as what some might interpret as a marketing scheme, I have built myself a life that allows me me to explore that as one big exhibition.

Someone somewhere is rejoicing in the stroking of their confirmation bias because I followed the often assumed trajectory of Trauma -> Sex work. I used to dispute the comparison because I knew many examples that weren't that case as I met other creators, but rather, the more important point is who does the fault than lie on? To say "this" is a product of "that" is to blame "that" and not "this." You've agreed the problem is abusers and I think that's a good place to start the conversation at least.

I don't regret stepping foot into this industry. Retroactively, I would have told my younger self to wait, learn, and heal more first, but I think I would have always ended up here. Despite everything that more directly brought me here, I'm at my core an entertainer, and if their is a stage, I was going to find it.. who knew it would be a mattress?

[herohikara-wol]

FFXIV Write 2k23 - Day 15

Portentous - Emperor AU

“That sentimental old fool is supposed to be keeping you too busy to interfere.” Lahabrea snarled moments before Thordan’s betrayal. Hero didn’t know who he meant, but it hadn’t been the first nor the last time he’d heard of someone who was supposed to be tugging at his strings.

Before Lahabrea had been Titus, who’s attempted assassination wasn’t exactly unexpected. Titus, like Varis, was supposed to be one of Solus’ heirs. Where Varis chose to become his supporter and give him the full might of the military, Titus tried to undermine trust in his position. Titus was the voice of the nobility, who saw Hero as a commoner, an outsider, and a child with no concept of how to rule. Worse yet, Titus openly considered him a usurper, despite Hero never having asked for his role.

It was little surprise Titus chose to duel him in public, claiming he’d been given a boon that could bring Hero low and make him a footnote in Garlemald’s history. Titus forced Hero’s hand, refusing to let the young Viera show mercy or kindness to his rival. Considering it a grave insult that Hero wanted to let him live, he instead forced Hero to kill him, and dubbed him the prince-slayer with his final words.

Varis spit on his coffin when none but Hero and Regula were around to see it; but Hero offered his apologies to Titus’ only son, Nerva, in private. Nerva mentioned that his father had been chasing a crown that was never promised to him in the first place, and that he’d witnessed his father allowing a black-robed man with a red mask over his face into his office a week before the challenge.

At the time Hero thought it was a normal overlord, but then they caught Illberd on the wall several moons after Lahabrea’s death. He failed in his summoning attempt, yes, Varis stopped him before he could sacrifice himself and finish the ritual. His words were chilling though. “I got the eyes from your predecessor, so you could learn what happens to those who betray their kith and kin for an imperial collar. Your gilded cage won’t protect you from him.” Varis blanched, and Regula reflexively raised a blade to silence the man, but Hero stayed deathly calm. 

The Emperor before him was an Ascian. 

Worse, he was an overlord. 

The empire was created by Ascians.

Those thoughts swirled in his head as he tried to comprehend what he could possibly do about this. What control did he really have? How could he face this threat knowing that at any moment the old Emperor could return from his grave and strip away all the changes he’d made for the good of the people. Hero was dedicated to making the Empire work for the people who lived in it, instead of using the people to enrich himself, and little by little he was making changes to do that. If that was running counter to the plots of the Paragons- they’d make removing him a priority.

What was this summoning attempt on his soil supposed to be, except a message? 

Hero took a deep breath as he poured the second glass of wine and set it across from his seat, then waited. “You know, you could have just talked to me. I may belong to Hydaelyn but I like to pretend I’m not the stab-first-talk-later kind of man.”

A hand reached from the void to delicately take the glass, followed by the rest of the man as he stepped forward to put it to his lips. The spitting image of a young Solus zos Galvus, based on the portraits of him still around the palace. “Mmm, disappointing. A good vintage, yes, but not even a hint of poison.”

Hero chuckled a bit and tapped the bottle with one of his long, near-clawed nails, “I didn’t think the Paragons were susceptible to poison.”

“We aren’t.” Solus sneered at the Viera before him, “however, I came to recognize the taste during my tenure as Emperor, and relished the face of my would-be assassins when they realized their plot had failed.”

“Ah, well I’ll remember that for next time then. I don’t like it much myself, the aftertaste ruined apple cider for me for weeks after the attempt on my life in Ishgard. All it gave me was a bad hangover and a forced echo flashback though.”

“Clearly Ishgard has the inferior poisons then, the ones here you’d barely notice at all. Odds are you’ve ingested several already and shrugged them off as merely feeling under the weather. You’re not as popular in the capital as you’d think, Hero.”

“Oh I know I’m not popular in the capital, that’s why Varis keeps getting upset I refuse a food-tester. He doesn’t understand why I’m willing to risk my life just to protect a hypothetical man from a hypothetical toxin.” His eyes moved from the sneer of the ascian to the room around him. “I don’t belong here, but I’m doing my best.”

Hero didn’t see the Ascian’s face soften, his lip quiver, or his eyes cloud from the memory of a boy with a kind heart and open mind. A black mask on his face as he looked around an office both too big and too small to contain his light. “You were chosen for a reason.” The words came out soft and gentle and kind before the Ascian remembered himself, and that he was not talking to his son from twelve-thousand summers ago, but his shade.

Hero laughed lightly and turned back to him with his trademark grin, “I know I was chosen for a reason, but only you can elaborate on it. You did choose me after all. I can guess why though, it keeps me isolated from the scions. From my friends. You put me in a place where I have to rely on people who ought to want me dead to survive, and I’ve been thriving just enough to become a problem, haven’t I? Illberd was a message, telling me to learn my place and behave.”

“Well if you have it all figured out, why do you need me here? You know what you have to do.”

“I needed to tell you, to your face, that I heard your message loud and clear. However, I am choosing to ignore it. I refuse to be a useless figurehead, I am the Warrior of Light and I will do my duty.” The conviction in his voice reminded the ascian again of another, Elidibus. Then again, Elidibus too was so much like his long lost son in little ways. The pair would debate, and discuss, and fight, and occasionally be found in the Convocation hall closet with hair and robes far too messy to have been innocent. Just alike enough that summoning Zodiark broke them apart forever.

Instead of telling Hero that just looking at him broke the old man’s heart in a million different ways, the ghost of Solus turned his back on Hero. “Then I’m afraid I’ll have to work harder to keep you struggling to hold onto your crown, until either you break, or the world does. The Empire has been so good at invoking calamities to aid the rejoinings, I’d hate to lose a good tool just because a child can’t be taught to utilize it correctly.” The portal opened and the Ascian left, dropping the wine glass to the ground behind him.

“Fuck.” Hero leaned back into his chair and drained his glass, closing his eyes as he let the weight of the exchange settle on his shoulders.

[theengguy]

Demonic Pursuit: A Chaotic Escape

Just another ordinary day unfolded before us. My closest companion, the person I'm engaged to, and I decided to take a leisurely walk outside the bustling city. Out of nowhere, my fiancé nudged me and pointed, "Hey, do you catch that? Over there, some guy's hanging around, giving us this big creepy grin."

I glanced in the direction he indicated, reassuringly chiming in, "Hey, don't sweat it, Fiancé. Probably just some stranger goofing around. What harm could they possibly stir up, especially with you by my side you hunky man of you?" As I spoke, I sealed the sentiment with a gentle peck on his cheek. Time ticked on, but it became evident that the man hadn't budged an inch; he stood there, still fixed on us, that same peculiar expression plastered on his face.

I narrowed my eyes, mimicking the expression of a senior with failing sight attempting to make out the finer details. I squinted at the guy, my mind racing to identify if there was any familiarity in that face. And then it hit me, like a bolt out of the blue, "Hold on a sec, could that be Logan Paul?"

His eyebrow raised, "who the hell is Logan Paul?" I shrugged, "I dunno Jake Paul, either, but I think they're the same person."

Suddenly Logan started sprinting to us with something in his hands. "HEY GUYS DID YOU HEARED ABOUT PRIME HYDRATE?!?!?!?!?!" he said in a eccentric way with a big grin in his face while shoving that bottle in our face.

It only took my fiance two sword swipes to take down the man lunging toward us, bringing a smile to our bloodied faces.

The moment we turned around to keep doing what we previously planned, when he suddenly jumped up again placing his head on my shoulders and telling me in a breathy and heavy way "We even have now Prime Energy that will give you the extra kick into the start." I couldn't move its like my whole body is in a sudden state of fear. When I thought to myself "What is going on? Whats this guys problem!!"

With no viable options left, my fiance's sword flashed again as he impaled our assailant. He was then dragged to a nearby tree, where the sword was plunged through as well. "Oh good, he's been impaled." We called for guards with rope and, like, a ton of knives, and stuck those in for good measure (and for stress relief).

When we finally breathed a sigh of relief to end this horrible situation once and for all, something unexpected occurred as we were about to step back into the city. "Oh no, my dearest Fiancé, this is an earthquake! Please hold me tight." I exclaimed in a dreamy voice, leaping into his arms. He replied with a smile my attempt to hug him. However, what we didn't know was that this wasn't a normal earthquake – it was the impaled Logan Paul, screaming in agony and despair. His voice grew more and more demonic as he became larger, grabbing some of the guards and devouring them. As he tossed the guards into his mouth, all we could hear were their screams echoing from the bottomless pit that was his stomach.Locking his gaze onto us, I moved closer to my fiancé in fear, hoping he could protect me. Logan advanced toward us, his gigantic head looming, and he spoke in a demonic voice, "Prime costs only $9.99 and is available in all local stores in North America and the UK." Trembling in fear, we fell to the ground on our rear ends.

Rear ends now in a defensive position, I shakily held my hand up. "C-can I hold the bottle? I'd like to see for myself." Jake or whatever grinned a wicked grin, placing the bottle in my hand. I began twisting off the cap, and my fiance looked at me in horror. "Dearest, no," he whispered. "You don't have to do this." He had placed his hand on top of the bottle, eyes pleading. "Cap?" I shook my head, "no cap." Tears sparkled in his eyes, "Frfr?" I nodded, "Ong." I winked both eyes at the same time to make him double sure that I was alright. I looked the beastly demon in front of me, new-found resolve in my soul, as I poured the drink directly into the dry soil below. I grabbed my partner's hand. "Run."

The moment we started running, the beast jumped up in the air and screamed in a hateful manner, "MY NAME IS NOT JAKE, BUT LOGAN!" We both ran into the city, hoping to hide there and that the town guards could deal with it. We somehow managed to outrun the beast as it continued screaming that its name is Logan. After a few minutes, my fiancé and I reached the city gates and begged the guard there to close them because there was a terrible beast in front of the city. After a while of begging, and oddly enough, the guard demanded that he could cuddle with my fiancé for a few minutes. He then ordered to close the gate. Just as the gate was closing, we heard the demon Logan running on all fours toward the gate, screaming in a demonic and horrible way, "CONSUME, PIGGIES, CONSUME, AND LET CAPITALISM DESTROY YOUR FUTURE." When he reached the gate, there was suddenly silence. However, a moment later, an aggressive knocking on the door began. It was so loud and terrifying that we all recoiled in fear. The knocking grew louder and more aggressive, the kind of intensity only a demon could create. "Shit, what are we gonna do?" the guard screamed in fear. "We need to alert the Queen so they can save her. Yes, that's the right way. You two try to hide somewhere while we try to hold it back as long as we can," he said to us, even giving my fiancé another kiss on the lips, which was oddly peculiar. I looked at my fiancé with a weirded out look and asked him why the hell he had even embraced it, and he just shrugged it off.

The two of you huddled close together, several barrels and boxes hiding your shaking frames. "Darling, I'm frightened. Frightened by Logake... Jagon?...Paul??... I don't fucking know, it's the same guy, so it really doesn't matter... wait... what was I talking about?" Your fiancé looked back at you with empty eyes, "What? I wasn't really listening, I was wondering what to have for dinner." "...I don't think this is the time for that." My face hid nothing of my confusion. "What do you mean?" He tilted his head. "We have a lot of uninterrupted time right now. We keep having meatloaf I've noticed. Like, I don't mind meatloaf, but it's been every week lately." Your jaw dropped. "Well that's news to me! What, were you just going to pretend for the rest of your life?? I thought you loved meatloaf?! I don't know who you ARE anymore!!" Your voice echoed throughout the room, sealing your fates. Claws raked against the door of the left side of the room, as the previous guard burst through the right door. "Thank god I got here in time! We must hurry!" The guard waved us over, but I shook my head. "My good sir... I must ask you to take on a horrible task." The guard's eyes widened, an audible gulp rising from his throat. "You must sacrifice yourself for the good of this country. For my safety." The guard stared at me, appalled. "The fuck?Jakaul is going to keep relentlessly making me drink that shitty, overpriced drink for the rest of my life! Why the hell would I do that?!" "I'll give you this meatloaf-hating asshole of a fiancé," your tone was flat, but your offer was firm. "BET." And with that, the guard launched into my ex's lap, and they got comfortable as the last of the door was being raked down. I ran through the right door, thankful to get rid of 3 weirdos in one transaction.

As I stepped out of the door, my heart raced with a mixture of fear and determination. I could hear the sounds of chaos behind me as the guard and my now ex-fiancé dealt with the monstrous demon Logan Paul and his Prime Hydration. But for now, my focus was on escaping this nightmare and finding a way to end this madness once and for all.

As I walked through the city streets, my mind was racing with thoughts of what had just transpired. I couldn't believe the bizarre sequence of events that had led me to this point. The encounter with Logan Paul, the demon transformation, and the desperate escape with finding out that my fiancé was gay for the guard – it was like something out of a surreal nightmare.

As I wandered through the city for a few hours, I found myself drawn to a quieter part of town. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm golden glow over the cobblestone streets of this town. My heart was still pounding from the adrenaline, but a sense of calm started to wash over me. I needed a moment to collect my thoughts and process everything that had happened.

Lost in my contemplation, I suddenly heard a gentle voice from behind me. "Are you alright?" I turned to see a woman standing there, her greenish-hazel eyes filled with concern. She had a warm and caring aura about her that was both comforting and familiar.

I took a deep breath, my voice shaky as I replied, "I... I think so. It's been a strange day." She gave me a reassuring smile, stepping closer. "I understand. Sometimes life has a way of throwing us into the unexpected." Her words resonated with me, and I couldn't help but feel a connection to her.

Ana's appearance had a timeless elegance to it, her white hair cascading around her are like a waterfall of wisdom. The lines on her face told stories of a life well-lived. Despite her age, her eyes held a youthful spark that was both captivating and reassuring. I could easily forget myself in them.

"I'm Ana Amari," she finally said, extending her hand toward me. "And you are?"

I hesitated for a moment, then took her hand in mine. "I-I'm Dearest. N-Nice to meet you, A-Ana." Our hands lingered for a brief moment longer than necessary, and I felt a strange sensation in my chest.Ana's smile widened, and she gestured toward a nearby bench. "Would you like to sit and talk for a while?" I nodded, grateful for the opportunity to share my experiences with someone who seemed genuinely caring.As we sat down, Ana listened intently as I recounted the events of the day. I could see a mix of sympathy and understanding in her eyes as I spoke about the strange encounter with Logan and the chaos that had followed. Her hand reached out to gently rest on mine, a gesture of comfort that sent shivers down my spine.

"It sounds like you've been through quite an ordeal," Ana said softly. "But you're safe now." Her words had a soothing effect on me, and I found myself opening up to her in a way I hadn't expected. As the evening sky turned into a canvas of soft pastel like hues, our conversation flowed effortlessly. We talked about life, our experiences, and our hopes for the future. I learned more about Ana's strong sense of responsibility, her caring nature, and her unyielding belief in protecting loved ones.

Ana's stories were filled with a ton of wisdom and insight of a well lived live, and she spoke about her daughter, Pharah, with a mixture of pride and fondness. "My daughter has always been a source of inspiration for me," she said, her eyes glistening with emotion. "I've always hoped that she would follow in my footsteps, albeit in a more peaceful way."

As the night grew darker, Ana looked at me with a soft smile. "You know, sometimes the most unexpected situations can lead to the most meaningful connections, Dearest." Her words resonated with me, and I found myself leaning in slightly, our faces now just inches apart.

Suddenly in that moment, time seemed to slow down for me as our lips met in a gentle and tender kiss. The sensation was electric, sending a tingling warmth through my entire body. As our lips melded together, I felt the soft press of Ana's fingers against my cheek, her touch gentle yet firm, as if she was savoring the moment as much as I was.

The kiss deepened, our mouths moving in a slow and synchronized way. Ana's other hand found its way to my hips, her touch sending shivers down my spine. Our bodies pressed closer, and I could feel the steady thump of her heart against mine, a reassuring rhythm that echoed in the silence between our breaths.

As we continued to kiss, the connection between us grew stronger, as our bodies instinctively gravitating towards one another. Ana's lips traced a path down my jawline, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses that sent a rush of warmth to my cheeks. Her hands explored my form with a tenderness that only comes from a lifetime of experience, her touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

When we finally pulled away from that session, our foreheads pressed together, our breaths mingling in the cool night air. I could see the desire and affection in Ana's eyes, a reflection of the emotions swirling within me. As her fingers gently brushed a strand of hair from my face, I couldn't help but lean into her touch, craving the closeness that had blossomed between us.

Ana's smile was a mixture of contentment and anticipation, a silent promise of what was to come. "I'm glad we met." she whispered, her voice carrying a depth of emotion that resonated within me. And then, as if unable to resist the pull any longer, our lips met again in a passionate embrace, a silent affirmation of the connection we had forged.

Our bodies molded together, the warmth of Ana's embrace melting away any lingering traces of fear or uncertainty. Her hands traced the contours of my body with a reverence that sent my heart racing, her touch igniting a fire that I had never experienced before. Each caress, each brush of our bodies, felt like an unspoken promise of the intimacy that was building between us.

As the night grew darker around us, our bodies found solace in each other's arms. Ana's aged body carried a wisdom that was palpable in every touch, every whispered word of affection. And as we held each other close, I felt a sense of completeness that I had never known before, as if all the chaos and uncertainty had led me to this very moment.

Hand in hand, we walked back through the city streets, our hearts intertwined in a way that felt both exhilarating and comforting. The journey ahead was uncertain, but with Ana by my side, I knew that I had found someone who would be there to protect, care for, and love me – just as she had always hoped for her loved ones. After a while of spending time more time together with Ana we decided to offically start our relationship. Everything works perfectly and I really hope that she will one day make me her wife.

The End.

[tornad001]

yeah fine i Guess u can take care of urself (if ur WEAK or something) but u better not talk about it on the "talk-about-your-mental-health" website. better not publicly discuss internet hygiene, or u might upset the ppl who aren't doing proper internet hygiene - their lack of internet hygiene makes them jumpy and defensive

legit tho, 95% of the time i hear this sentiment it's from the people most brazenly and obviously harming themselves with empathy. ur not some special kind of person for being upset, that just makes u not an unfeeling monster. however ur inability to understand urself as someone who MUST continue to exist and live and thrive regardless of what's going on in the world outside ur sphere of influence is concerning (or even within it tbh, tho this is understandably more difficult to negotiate)

our lifetimes r gonna suck. we're gonna see some of the most revolutionary technologies created and hoarded for the benefit of the bourgeoisie. we're gonna see climate wars and crises and refugees and scientists r estimating at least 1 BILLION humans will die from completely manufactured issues that our governments chose not to address or plan contingencies for back when there was time to do so. and in the imperial core, we'll be better off than basically everyone else, and it won't be our fault. the world is gonna be full of blood and misery and each and every one of us, privileged or not, is gonna have to live their lives seeing this shit happen from afar, from a position of safety. even the dispossessed will be overrun with news of all the people out there who're dispossessed Even Worse. those who're only refugees and not being conscripted into the war they're fleeing, those who only lost their house to a natural disaster but not their lives, etc. we're gonna have to let go of the self-judgement and the survivor's guilt if any of us are gonna stand a chance of making it through this life happily

and if anyone ever tells u it's wrong to feel happy when terrible things r happening? fuck them, they don't understand yet, but hopefully they will. wait until they're having a happy moment watching something or video-calling a loved one and ask them which slaves their technology was built by. much as we might like, being upset and horrified isn't a constitutively viable option for living, but neither is not caring. u have to acknowledge the horrors and feel your feelings and let them motivate u to action without letting them overwhelm u. someday you'll be handling some new horror well yourself and some fucked up freak is gonna rant at you about how u don't actually care cuz if u did you'd also be debilitatingly upset. and i only hope when that time comes, you don't take it to heart and are able to handle it with the compassion and understanding of someone who really gets their pain and how they're suffering. and sometimes you'll be that asshole that's really struggling with news of the latest 14 massacres/famines/etc. and as a result u find urself lashing out at people who're handling it more healthily. and there i can only hope you're dealing with someone who's likewise compassionate and understanding of ur pain, even as you fail to understand theirs.

life is hard and ugly and it's only gonna get uglier over our lives. it's actually good and healthy to discuss compassion fatigue and ur need to take a step back. because its a skill we're all deficient in, especially given how much we're gonna need it in our lifetimes. feel your pain, be unreasonable with it if that's what it takes. but try to understand that people talking about compassion fatigue DO care. they wouldn't be fatigued if they didn't, and your getting upset at them for taking care of themselves only serves to highlight the degree to which you're failing to care for yourself. the point of taking a break is to facilitate caring in a more productive fashion (or at least a less self-destructive one). in order to keep caring forever, caring has to be a sustainable act. if u let it break u down, you'll just stop caring

Stop making a huge spectacle of having to take a step back from tumblr because of "compassion fatigue" or for your own mental health. Just keep your mouth shut and do what you need to do. Stop expecting people to pat you on the back and tell you to take care of yourself. Realize you have the luxury, the fucking privilege to be able to turn your eyes away from an ongoing genocide.

Meanwhile, people who are facing genocide don't have that luxury. Every day they lose loved ones, face death, starvation, illness, displacement. And you expect people to give a shit about your mental health? You expect people to trigger tag for you? Grow a spine. People are DYING. No one cares about your "compassion fatigue". Just keep quiet if you MUST look away.

[jokertrap-ran]

[スタオケ] La Corda d'Oro Starlight Orchestra Mikado Ukiha Cast Story Chapter 7 Translation

*Starlight Orchestra Masterlist | Mikado Ukiha’s Personal Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Mikado's Route Tag will be #Ukiha’s Star

Postman: Are you the new housekeeper? Here's the mail.

I was entrusted with the mail.

It was addressed to “Mikado Ukiha”, and the sender went by the name of “Takasaki”. 

Ukiha: Sorry to keep you waiting.

Ukiha: Oh, is that a letter? How rude of them to have treated a guest as a servant…

Ukiha: …!

▷Choice: Is there something wrong with the letter?

Ukiha: No, it is nothing… Ukiha: Come on, let us head inside. We will only catch a cold by standing around and talking outside.

Ukiha: Here, please have some tea. Are you not tired of having to practice daily by holding streetside performances for days on end?

Ukiha: Hehe, you're alright because eating sweet stuff has helped rejuvenate you?

Ukiha: Good thing I prepared manjus then. Please, feel free to take another.

▷Choice: Are you not tired?

Ukiha: Thank you for your concern, but I am fine.

▷Choice: You need the sugar more than I do

Ukiha: Oh, do I look that tired to you?

Ukiha: It is much more satisfying to watch you eat them, so please feel free to indulge yourself.

Ukiha: It will be the opening performance soon…

Ukiha: There is not much time left. After all, time flies when you're having fun.

Ukiha: Especially so during practice sessions and live performances. Let us cherish each and every moment now, and welcome the upcoming performance with positivity.

Ukiha: “It will definitely be a success”, you say?

Ukiha: Haha, you are always so positive. Seeing you that upbeat cheers me up too.

▷Choice: You'll soon be one of us in due time, Mikado…

Ukiha: Perhaps the day will come when I can finally step foot into the esteemed Magnolia Hall that I have heard so much about.

Ukiha: I have heard rumors of there being graffiti left by seniors of the past as well.

Ukiha: I am sure it is a wonderful building where you can feel the tangible history of the Starlight Orchestra.

Ukiha: I can write something too if I want?

Ukiha: Hehe, whatever shall I do? I am honored, but what should I write…

▷Choice: How about Japanese poetry?

Ukiha: Haha, that sounds good. How about a love poem then?

▷Choice: Maybe something like “Mikado Ukiha is here!”

Ukiha: You often see graffiti like that in tourist spots. Ukiha: I have always frowned at it, but who knew that it would finally be my turn to do something like that one day. Ukiha: But simply writing my name is pretty lackluster. Hmm… Perhaps I should write a love poem.

Ukiha: There are many such poems in the Manyoshu and the Hyakunin Isshu.

Ukiha: It is pretty nice to be able to carve words of my own amidst the passionate words that my predecessors have left behind.

▷Choice: How romantic

Ukiha: I am glad that you approve. Ukiha: However, rather than borrowing the words of my predecessors, I will have to compose my own poem to meet those expectations.

▷Choice: To whom are those feelings directed to?

Ukiha: Curious, are you? Ukiha: For now… I suppose we can say that it is my love for music.

Ukiha: Though, is it really alright to carve such frivolous sentiments onto such a sacred music institution? I feel like I am letting my seniors down in doing so…

Ukiha: …Hehe. But still, it is fun just thinking about the many possibilities.

Ukiha: What would you write, if you were in my shoes? Do share. 

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Ukiha: We have been talking at such length that it looks like time has escaped us. Allow me to call a taxi to take you back to the hotel.

As I walked down the corridor facing the garden, I heard the faint sound of a piano being played.

Ukiha: Is something the matter, (L/n)-san? The exit is this way.

Ukiha: …Huh? The sound of a piano?

Ukiha: Oh, we had the piano tuner come by today to tune the secluded piano.

Ukiha: That being said, however… We can tune it all we want, but I doubt anyone would play in either way.

Ukiha: In the past, I used to often bother my father to play the piano in that room.

Ukiha: It was foolish, really. To play that song, of all things… Anyway, come, let us move on.

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Ukiha: …

Ukiha: (The Starlight Orchestra is a beautiful dream filled with hope and joy.)

Ukiha: (However, I cannot throw myself into something as uncertain as a dream…)

Ukiha: (I may not be able to join you, but I will still pray for you. I pray that you will attain that bright and dazzling dream of yours…)

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

A few days later, the concert being held at the Kyoto Art Concert Hall ended with a great success.

And at the end of that performance—

Mikado withdrew from the Starlight Orchestra…

☆ ━━━━━━━ ∘◦♬Ukiha’s Star♬◦∘ ━━━━━━━ ☆

Previous Part: (Chapter 6) Next Part: (Chapter 8)

[scaranation]

༊*·˚ 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄

Pairing: Alhaitham x GN!reader

Content: Modern AU, childhood friends, mildly suggestive

In which you reunite with Alhaitham, the nerdy scruffy kid you’d used to tease in middle school - except now, he is neither awkward, nor quite as small as he used to be.

“Are you coming to the reunion?” Your friend’s voice over the phone was excited, almost imploring.

“I’m not sure, should I?” You were sprawled across your bed languidly, phone tucked into your shoulder and laptop balanced precariously over your knees.

“Yes, please! I heard even Alhaitham’s coming to this one!”

“… Alhaitham?” You paused your typing for a moment to readjust your position.

“You two were assigned seats next to each other throughout middle school, weren’t you? I remember you always complained about it.”

“Oh, yes.”

“You should really come and see him. I’ve heard he’s now a prolific researcher. And Nilou finally got into the dance academy she wanted as well - oh, just turn up! It’ll be fun to meet our class again.”

“Ah, I’ll make an effort to come.” You replied, hanging up, although your mind was elsewhere. Alhaitham… That was a name you hadn’t heard in a long time.

You’d been distraught when you were forcibly separated from your friends by the woes of a middle school seating arrangement. Even more so when you realised that your desk partner was none other than Alhaitham, the hilariously awkward nerd who seemed to be physically attached to a book at all times. He was a scrawny kid - shorter than you at the time, hence the fond memories you had making fun of his height and mockingly peering down at him.

Coincidentally, the two of you had been forced to sit together for many classes over the next few years - leading to a casual sort of friendship. Or, that’s what you saw it as. You loved to tease Alhaitham, watching in glee as his neck and ears turned red. Looking back, he probably despised you now - you were quite mean back to him back then, taking advantage of the fact that he had a crush on you. Occasionally, the two of you would hang out outside of school, and although there was no dismissing how difficult it was to hold conversation with the boy, you grew to become fond of those times. Fond, to a certain extent.

Perhaps it was your own denial, but you preferred to remember it that way - merely sentimental fondness for pleasant times between friends.

In high school, you had decided to pursue humanities, whilst Alhaitham had gone down a different route. And so, the two of you inevitably grew apart, with you never rarely ever seeing him again. You were simply too busy - following your devious shenanigans in middle school, you’d decided to turn over a new leaf and engross yourself in academics to compensate for your former rowdiness.

-

On the day of the reunion, you were late. At least twenty minutes late, for sure - and that was if you could even get your car started. Drowning in student loans, you’d only managed to buy a third hand car that barely clung to life, and you were now suffering the consequences of its senile engine.

“Fuck!” After turning your key in the ignition again in exasperation, you got out of the vehicle in defeat, slamming the door shut and resorting to calling a taxi.

Fuming, you left your apartment block and waited out on the street, a frown fixed across your face. That frown was only further perpetuated when the most obnoxiously high end vehicle swerved, wheels skidding through a puddle and spraying you in filthy city water.

Almost too stunned to move, you glared into the heavily tinted car windows as the vehicle slowed to a stop by the curb. The driver’s side door opened, and a man stepped out.

Broad shoulders, ridiculously tall, muscular build and a tight fitting dress shirt… You craned your neck upwards, and almost recoiled.

“Alhaitham?!” You stumbled back.

“So you’re done staring at my pecs?” The former victim of your relentless bullying bent down mockingly to be eye to eye with you, a smirk decorating his face.

“They were right at eye level! Fuck, it’s not my fault you got tall.” You recovered from the shock quickly, remembering that you were furious at the man once again.

Alhaitham had definitely changed. His jawline was stronger now, and his gaze was different - the awkward tenacity of his preteen years was replaced with cut calculation, cold despite the playful gleam that occupied them. Catching yourself gawking again, you defaulted back to your scowl.

“You got me wet.” You accused.

“Oh, did I?” Alhaitham quirked a brow, grinning suggestively.

“Not in that way.”

“Do you want it in that way?”

“Stop trying to change the topic. The issue is, I’m soaked through with puddle water and about half an hour late to the reunion.” You snapped. Oh, how the tables had turned - now you were the one being teased, your face flushed and your fists clenched by your side.

“Alright, I get it. I apologise. Do you want my coat?” Alhaitham shrugged, looking down at you now in concern.

“Yes.”

“And a lift to the reunion as well, I assume?”

Archons, how much you hated him in that moment. His wry, mocking smile was back - although you were grateful for the warmth that now settled across your shoulders from his coat. Begrudgingly, you agreed, and Alhaitham ushered you into the passenger seat.

“Careful, watch your head. Don’t want you hitting it on the roof, because you’re just so much taller than me, aren’t you?” The man chuckled from behind you.

“Shut up, it was ten years ago.” You retorted, only to be met with another condescending laugh as he buckled your seatbelt for you. Alhaitham then climbed into the driver’s seat, starting the engine smoothly before pulling away from the curb - only pausing for a moment to shoot you a smug smile.

-

The reunion was pleasant, albeit mundane. Much to your annoyance, Alhaitham was the centre of attention - the gleaming golden child who’d had a glow up and dominated whatever lame industry he’d decided to get into. Despite this, he was remarkably different around others. A stoic expression was settled on his handsome features as he mostly kept conversations short and blunt, refusing alcohol.

You, on the other hand, had lost count of your glasses, relishing in the feel of liquor searing down your throat whilst you brooded from your seat next to Alhaitham.

“Alhaithaaam, why don’t you have a drink? You’re… no fun…” You mumbled, pushing your glass against his lips as you rested your head on his shoulder. It was warm, and broad - how pleasant it would be, to just rest on it.

“I have to drive you home, remember? Speaking of which, you should stop drinking now. It’s not healthy.” Alhaitham pushed your hand away, although he kept hold of your wrist to prevent you from pouring another glass.

“Just one more drink…” You whined, frowning and slamming your free hand over Alhaitham’s mouth upon sensing he was about to spew some medical fact about the effect of alcohol on the body. That was one thing that hadn’t changed about him.

“Alright, time to go. It was pleasant meeting everyone.” Alhaitham pursed his lips, pulling your hands away and tucking his arms under your shoulders to hoist you up.

“Nooo, I don’t wanna…” You flailed, vaguely making out the mirthful expressions of your former classmates before Alhaitham grabbed your legs and carried you out of the restaurant bridal style.

“Put me down!” You hit at his chest, which probably did more damage to your hands than it did to him, and kicked your legs to no avail.

“Shh, you’ll thank me for this in the morning.” Gently, you were set down in the passenger seat - hearing the click of the seatbelt buckle and the clink of the door shutting. Alhaitham readjusted his jacket around your form so that it covered you like a blanket, sighing and turning his attention to the road.

“Mm…. Do you have any wipes?” You rifled through Alhaitham’s glove box, before your fingers brushed over something. Pulling it out, you realised it was an old photo of you and him standing outside the school gates. A wide grin was spread across your face, one arm propped up on his head, a vastly less amused expression occupying his smaller features.

“Alhaithaam, what’s thiiis?” You snorted, delighting in the way Alhaitham’s adam’s apple bobbed at seeing the photo clutched in your hand. Finally, he’d broken his infuriating demeanour - even if it was only for a second. You decided to prod it further to get more of a reaction.

“Hmm… Maybe… You stiiill have a crush on me?” You smirked, although you put little thought into your words. There was no way the stoic, cold Alhaitham could maintain his former-

The car stopped with more force than necessary at the immediate red light. You weren’t sure if it was the reflection of those lights, but Alhaitham’s face appeared flushed. His hands gripped the steering wheel to the point where his knuckles turned white, eyes fixed on the road with searing intensity.

Oh?

“No waaay.” You turned to Alhaitham incredulously. Perhaps it was the liquor. The alcohol churning in your veins. After all, what other explanation could there be for your racing heart?

And, more importantly, did his heart race like yours?

The answer was in the abrupt stop of the car by the side of the road. In the cold, lithe fingers holding your chin. In the push of Alhaitham’s lips against yours, tasting like sweet mint. The answer, breathless, was muttered by your childhood friend as he finally pulled away.

“So what if I do?” Alhaitham’s voice was barely more than a whisper, his face close enough to the point you could feel his breath. His eyes were so beautiful, opulent green flecked with glowing amber. They searched yours desperately for a reply, for reciprocity.

You were confused. Drunk, both on alcohol and the taste of Alhaitham’s lips. So many feelings gushed around your head like the liquor you’d drunk earlier, sloshing nonsensically. As if to deflect the restlessness of your own heart, you leaned in again for another kiss - for that was the only certain reciprocation you could give.

And under the streetlight, amidst flushed cheeks and wandering hands, you found the Alhaitham you’d known from middle school again. The Alhaitham that blushed at your words, and shot you yearning looks. Chuckling between shallow breaths, you cupped his cheeks in your hands - smiling at the familiar face of the boy you’d loved.

[cdroloisms]

honestly, i think some of the problems plaguing current dreblr is because of the lack of meaningful disagreement, the more i think about it? dreblr has always had some problems about being conflict averse, truth be told, but when the greater fandom was more active a lot of conflict invited itself to our door anyway. at the same time, though, i think there was a sort of sentiment that evolved that because we were the only ones "in our corner," so to speak, we should agree with each other as much as possible and limit infighting. and i mean, to be clear, infighting kind of sucks. but disagreeing about analysis shouldn't be considering infighting, and for the meta scene to like, exist, we have to have room to actually debate, yknow?

like, when i see takes i dont agree with, i want to comment my thoughts ... mostly bc i am the fucking yapper LOL. i love talking about this server and c!dream and when im posting about them it's largely bc i just, want to talk abt the dsmp and c!dream. that being said, i also don't want to step on toes, which i think has prevented me more than few times from posting the meta i want to write, which is another symptom of the problem i feel?

outside of dreblr being a place for a more /pos reading of c!dream, there isn't any other "required" consensus (the "c!dream /pos" requirement only existing bc that's the point of dreblr, lmao, not that every dsmp fan ever has to be c!dream positive) -- but i think there's a sort of social pressure both bc of the history of this fandom and bc of how certain bloggers may be perceived that makes people feel like there's a "correct" way to think about c!dream on dreblr, and that the more everyone here agrees the better. and honestly i think this has a ripple effect that kinda sucks for everyone, across the board -- definitely for newer fans, who don't feel like they can post anything when it's not "in agreement" with the consensus, but also for those who get kind of seen as 'authorities', who then feel like they have to watch what they say lest people react badly about them having a differing opinion.

i do think that personally, i also prefer direct debate -- mostly bc i, once again, am the yapper, and will take any excuse to dump thoughts about c!dream anywhere, and other people's arguments are thought provoking and often inspire thoughts of my own so i generally would like to see them! that being said, i also completely understand why vagueing happens and why people prefer to do it; a lot of people feel much more comfortable about their own blogs as their "personal" space where they're able to set boundaries for what they feel is acceptable/unacceptable behavior. just as an example, if someone made a vaguepost about something i wrote saying that they feel [xyz] language i used was inappropriate (ex. I think it's problematic when people write meta describing c!Quackity as sadistic--), even if i stumbled onto that post and drew the conclusion that it was about my own meta, it's a fair enough opinion for them to put on their own blog. if they replied to me with that directly, though, i'd probably roll my eyes at the tone policing. does that makes sense? imo the etiquette when you jump onto someone else's post and make your own vaguepost can be pretty different, but that's my own personal judgement, so obviously it differs person to person. never mind the complication that exists because of tumblr asks.

all of that being said, tumblr is a public space and posting meta/analysis, in general, is kind of fandom academia lite. which circles back to my lack of real feeling on how to "solve" the problem of vagueing, bc i don't think any meaningful limits can really exist as long as people aren't doing things like encourage their followers to attack someone (which is another reason why someone might vague, though the actual efficacy of such a strategy kind of varies -- some people may make the judgement call not to directly reference any one blogger they disagree with by name/rb them directly in order to prevent their followers from going on crusades on their own) -- it's a source of natural conflict and friction, especially within a small group such as this one, but especially when we're talking about meta analysis i do think it's a format of disagreement that will continue to exist and kind of has to continue to exist. at the same time, though, i don't think people should feel "punished" for writing meta, which can be what it feels like when there's an overwhelmingly negative response by others in the group.

more open disagreement in the meta scene here would probably be good for everyone, honestly, imo? i can think a take is bad/wrong/incorrect but that doesn't mean the take shouldn't exist, and it also doesn't mean that i should feel obligated not to share my opinions in the part of dreblr that is specifically meant to be about sharing opinions about the work, and the same goes for everyone. i think having more open discussions might also lessen the feeling of being more personally attacked or targeted, or feelings of "disrupting the peace" or "rocking the boat," when it's more openly acknowledged that people here won't always agree and that the disagreements are more obviously talked about. i think direct conversations are probably more productive in that sense than vagueing, truth be told, but is vagueing still going to happen? well, yeah, and i don't think that that's a bad thing necessarily -- nor do i think it's something that can be excised from the fandom without an uncomfortable amount of policing what people do in their own spaces.

i don't want to come off as just saying "don't take it personally when someone calls you an idiot for your take," because i mean, it's hard not to take it personally when someone calls you an idiot for your take. but meta and other fanwork, while obviously often in conversation with each other (oh 7y being a riff of the fandom, never not hilarious to me), definitely play by different rules. but i'm not gonna act like it doesn't get awkward either, bc yeah it gets awkward 😭. i feel like a lot of the problems right now come from there being not enough conflict so that everyone reacts a little too strongly when there is any (when meta + analysis conflict should be restricted to being about the work moreso than being about any particular blogger) and that more obvious diversity in opinions would probably be good for everyone here, but that doesn't exactly eliminate the fact that the ways that people disagree and react to said disagreement are still a source of discomfort and friction -- and i still don't really think there are any easy answers.

thanks for the thoughts elm !! :D i hope that having a more active discussion ig might help with the issue, or at least help people to feel that the issue is being acknowledged ... ? and obviously im just one person saying my own thoughts, i don't expect everyone to agree with this

a little ramble about dreblr, meta, and the ever evolving nature of this fandom, i guess?

i don't mean to soapbox, this is mostly just going to be vomiting some thoughts into a post. some recent stuff and a post or two have had me thinking about this fandom and how different it is from when dsmp was ongoing. it's,, pretty obvious that the fandom is quite a bit smaller and less active than that time, and there are generally a lot fewer people actively posting meta and such every day--which isn't necessarily a bad thing, and is natural obviously considering that the dsmp ended almost 2 years ago, but does mean that the culture around (?) meta and such has shifted, as well. it's one of those things too i think that is felt so much more obviously in dreblr, which is an even smaller group within this fandom that formed in response to uhhh being very much considered unwelcome by the greater fandom at the time.

that being said, as is the nature of all fandom, dreblr is still a community of people who are largely strangers who have gathered together because of one commonality: very strong feelings and often very strong opinions on the dream smp and c!dream. and i think when the fandom was more active, the entire fandom felt a lot more like a "pvp enabled" zone, lmao -- it was every other day when there'd be some new batshit meta about c!dream or some stream to react to and analyze and fight people about and whatever. since then, though, with the dsmp gone, the fandom has become quieter -- which i think has allowed some of the variation in opinions within dreblr become more and more obvious? and also become a sort of source of friction.

again, this is normal for any fandom. i'm certainly not here to agree with everyone about c!dream always, lmao. but the vagueing of takes is always more awkward on both sides when it's someone where you share more of the same circles. at the end of the day, it's up to each individual blogger's discretion to choose what they will or won't post on their own blog, but at the same time ... when it comes to the community, just speaking for myself, i don't want a super high barrier of entry when it comes to people feeling like they can't join this fandom unless they've got [xyz] experience or [xyz] takes.

when it comes to actual analysis of the source material, though, keeping meta a safe place for people to say "no, i don't agree with this take because of [xyz]" is important as well, which always raises the question of how said disagreements should be handled. and again, i'm no authority, i'm not here to tell people what to do. personally, when it comes to my own blog, i don't like to post very much directly about any one blogger, but I know I've definitely written posts inspired by specific takes before as well as screenshots of takes from the fandom's heyday, etc. i don't necessarily feel uncomfortable with this ...? but at the same time, i know that vagueposts can be a source of discomfort, especially if they're about your take in particular (speaking from experience) -- so it's you know. not the easiest line to draw, I guess, especially when we're talking about a community where different people are going to have different levels of comfort with what they post on their own blogs and what other blogs do in response to their takes. and whatever.

vagueposting, i think, has been common in the tumblr dsmp fandom for a long time, and especially in dreblr -- direct engagement in the past errr usually went badly, so a habit formed of keeping everything we did kind of within our own spaces (hence why many of us don't even tag c!dream or even dreblr on most of our posts; keeping everything untagged, or keeping the tagging system restricted to our own blogs, limited the possibility of trouble). that being said, vagueing within dreblr has become more common, i think, as disagreements within dreblr have become more and more obvious in the time since the dsmp ended. (just for the obvious example: i think it's a bit of an open secret that i, personally, strongly disagree with much of the common depictions of c!drunz in this fandom. i've written some meta about this before, as well as some responses to meta--which i enjoyed greatly, believe me--but i've also noticed (perhaps coincidence) an uptick in c!drunz positive meta every time i or someone else makes a post that maybe skews more negative. which is normal, don't get me wrong, but also a pattern i've noticed. i'm also very aware that someone the arguments i may bring up as counterarguments or structure my posts around arguing against are based on actual arguments i've seen while in this space, which i'm aware is an easy source of friction within dreblr.) and it's easy to say "don't take it personally when it's just metaanalysis," but that's easier said than done, lmao, especially depending on the tone of the vaguepost and a myriad of other factors.

i'm not saying that i have the answers. or, for that matter, a single answer. the boundaries i set aren't going to be the same as the boundaries other people set, for one, and i have no desire to police what other people do on their own blogs. i do miss, sometimes, the more collaborative and discussion-based meta experience of this fandom when it was more active--i might try to more actively reblog posts (including those i don't necessarily agree with) to discuss this server and these characters, bc at the end of the day that is kind of why we're here. personally, i've always drawn a pretty sharp distinction between fanwork and analysis -- i think it's pretty bad form to criticize people's AUs In General (not that i've not. been guilty of it in the past, but i try at least to keep it to criticizing more general patterns within fanwork; look, i'm not going to claim a moral high ground, i love bitching way too much and should probably get a handle on that but asj;lkfdsaf) but when we're talking meta about the source material, barring shit like. you know, harassment and otherwise abusive behavior, i do consider it more of a free-for-all. at the same time, i know that these standards can lead to newer fans feeling like they're going to be booed out the door for sharing their thoughts, which, i mean, isn't great 😭😭😭 fresh eyes can bring a lot of really cool new insights, and it'd suck pretty damn bad to miss that because they don't feel welcome, yknow?

anyway, this is a very inconclusive post, but i thought i'd just throw some of my thoughts out as someone who has been here for a decently long time. and if you want to discuss w/ me, inbox and dms are always open :)

[doomednarrative]

I do resent the assertion that Jacket is a protag who loves destruction and violence and does what he does because he likes it.

Jacket is a war vet who never received any help after coming home, and who had his prejudice against the Russians (both for his friend Beard’s death in the San Fran nuking and due to almost killing him in the war too) manipulated and used by 50 Blessings for their own agenda. Like that other post I reblogged before said, if Jacket really liked everything that he was doing, would Richard and Don Juan and Rasmus even exist and be questioning him? They’re all figments made of Jacket’s coma addled mind while he tries to reckon with everything that’s happened to him. If Jacket really liked the violence and death he caused, rather than feeling like it’s a way to get revenge for his dead friend and deal with that grief, why would his mind be questioning him on his actions, telling him he’s done terrible things and that he’s a bad person?

Hell, you can see from the way he deals with other people outside of the mafia that he really doesnt like hurting and killing people! The homeless guy he kills in the beginning of the game makes him vomit right after committing the act, and he’s clearly upset with/sickened by what he’s done if that’s anything to go off of. When given a chance to kill Girlfriend, he doesn’t! She’s entirely in a vulnerable position and if he was really doing everything because he enjoys the violence, he would have just killed her straight off. Instead, he helps her. He brings her home, lets her live with him and get herself back together, and eventually they have a relationship. Richter of course is the biggest example of this whole sentiment though, seeing as he’s the one responsible for Girlfriend’s death. Jacket went to the station with the intent to get info out of him, and seemingly Did go to kill him! But he had a change of heart in the end, maybe feeling bad considering what Richter said about them being similar (being forced to do things by 50 Blessings) and lets him go.

If Jacket really was a guy who Enjoyed all of the violence and the killing, I don’t think he’d have done Any of that. He’s not like Martin, who easily expresses that he has a desire to hurt and kill people, or like Jake, who revels in his deeper prejudice and hatred and takes it to extreme levels. And that’s not to say Jacket is a Good person either, he’s clearly very morally complicated and does a lot of horrible things!! He signs up for 50 Blessings himself, he clearly has issues with his own hatred of the Russians and doesn’t mind the violence when it’s against them specifically.

But the thing that sets him apart from other main characters of this narrative is that his motivations and drive to commit those acts are Focused, rather than being broad all encompassing hatred. His goal was to get revenge for the death of a dear friend that he lost due to a Russian nuke, and because he himself had almost died in the war from them, and would have if Beard hadn’t saved him. Jacket’s Whole motivation for what he does, despite the ripple effects it does cause, were Very very focused and due to his grief and war trauma and he had those feelings manipulated further by 50 Blessings so that he could be a pawn in their long spanning agenda of political unrest. That’s why Jacket ending HLM 1 with tossing the photo of he and Beard off the balcony is so significant: it represents an end to his fight. He’s achieved what he considered his goal in revenge, and he’s done with trying to keep enacting out violence or killing people. That’s why he doesn’t participate in the prison riot like Richter does either; he’s done and he’s given up.

Jacket’s such a multi layered character, and it feels like such a disservice to other parts of his narrative, particularly that he’s a war vet with clear trauma, to reduce him to a guy who did Any of this because he liked it. Every single step in his story points to the answer of the question “Do you like hurting people” to not be so clear cut as to say just Yes or No. It’s more than that, and that answer deserves nuance in order to clearly understand Jacket and the effect his actions have on the story at large.

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

I Want Us Both to Eat Well

Ao3

Summary: Remy might not be great with self-care, but they've got the 'taking care of Logan' thing down to a science. And Logan can work with that. Content: Overworking, mentions of poor eating/sleeping habits, caretaking, it’s pretty soft overall, nonbinary remy Pairing: Losleep

~

Despite what some may think, Logan didn’t have the most demanding of jobs within the mindscape. He wouldn’t call his work a walk in the park, of course, but when he was largely tasked with matters such as scheduling and memory allocation, versus such things as emotional processing or idea creation, Logan had no plans on complaining.

And Logan’s most complicated job? Even less complaints to be figuratively filled, given it was his favorite.

See, for a good while now, Logan had been dating Remy, a figment of the Imagination created by Roman for a one-time vine gag that somehow managed to get enough permanence for themself to function as their own being. For a bit, they had simply wandered about, teasingly flirting with not only the sides but Thomas himself. Something about Logan must have held their attention however, because soon enough he was the only side being ‘bothered’.

It didn’t take long for the feelings of ‘botherment’ to morph into amusement, which furthermore transformed into affection and soon even love. Remy had made a bad attempt at celestial flirting, and despite the inaccuracies, Logan had greatly appreciated the sentiment.

Appreciated it enough to allow “I love you” to escape both his thoughts and mouth, an acknowledgement that had left the two of them in similar states of shock for a whole ten seconds before Remy was in Logan’s lap and doing their damndest to kiss him breathless.

Remy only became more cemented in the inner workings of Thomas’s mind after that, likely a consequence specifically of how much time they were spending in Logan’s room. They were still a figment, but they were rapidly gaining actual responsibilities, things they had to do or else Thomas would directly suffer. Most were connected to sleeping- making sure the sides were rested, bullying Thomas to bed when needed, lining up memories as appropriate to be saved and stored during REM- but some were simply random, the misc assignments settling onto the not-a-side.

Usually, Remy could manage it all without much issue. They would complain heavily, sure, bemoaning the days when they were a free-spirit with nothing to do, almost sounding like Roman when they spoke of the cruelty of fate that such was the price of love, but as long as Logan was there to hum sympathetically and play with their hair, they were good.

Occasionally however… it was too much. Too many late nights and sleepless mornings convincing others to rest, too many memories to pick between and sort, too many tasks all piling up. Remy would get overwhelmed and end up overworked if no one stopped them in time.

Luckily for Remy… they had Logan.

Figuring out that Remy had hit their breaking point wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, the first step of Logan’s ‘job’ therefore being the most difficult. Remy, for all their bellyaching, didn’t want to be perceived as a slacker or irresponsible with their job. With sunglasses, coffee, and their devil-may-care attitude, they could normally fake being alright for a day or two past actually being alright.

But the facade always cracked in the end, and as soon as it did, Logan was there.

So, the second step, taken once Logan recognized those cracks: eat a good and filling breakfast. This step was especially important, and made the list to remind Logan that a coffee and crofters-covered bagel wouldn’t be sufficient.

Next, Logan went about assigning Remy’s usual tasks to the other sides. To Virgil and Patton, enforcing Thomas’s bedtime. To Janus, memory dealings. To Roman and Remus, whichever various misc tasks Remy had at the time. And top it all off with a lecture to the lot of them to sleep well.

(Logan always expected some resistance on this step, and was always surprised to find none. “If you say they need a break, they need a break.” Virgil said one time with a shrug. “We want to help where we can.”)

Then there came the final step: convincing Remy to take a break. To most, this would be the hardest step. Even when all their work was attended to, Remy would insist they had things to do, that they couldn’t just take a break, especially not one as long as Logan would suggest.

Logan wasn’t ‘most’.

Before Logan entered his room (or, more accurately, his and Remy’s room, the figment not having a place outside of the Imagination and therefore opting to move into Logan’s), he double checked that everything was ready.

Breakfast? Eaten.

Time? Well past noon.

Work? Distributed.

Tie? Loosened.

Shirt? Untucked.

“Hotel? Trivago.” (vocabulary cards!)

Logan let himself into his (now shared) room. Remy was sprawled across his (now shared) bed, flipping through their own notecards- the form memories took when viewed within the logical side’s room. Their sunglasses were set aside on Logan’s (now shared) desk, making it easy for Logan to spot the dark bags beneath their eyes.

They glanced up when Logan entered, cocking an eyebrow as they took in his appearance. “You’ve looked better, babe.” Remy commented lightly, though Logan could hear the concern in their voice. “You here to crash? I can move.”

Logan didn’t answer right away, instead walking over to stand in front of Remy. Before his partner could guess what he was doing, Logan had grabbed the memory cards they were sorting, easily willing them away.

Remy’s eyebrow only raised higher. “Alright, yeah, someone needs to take a nap.”

“And that someone would be you.” Logan replied. “Or, more appropriately, someone needs to take several days to rest.”

Remy chuckled. “You sure about that, sweetheart? I wouldn’t think you’d want me falling behind on work, especially for Thomas’s sake.”

“Your work is being handled, Thomas will be fine.” Logan assured, taking a moment to tenderly tuck some of Remy’s hair behind their ear. Remy’s expression softened at the gesture. “I have taken care of everything for you, save one thing.”

“Oh?” Remy prompted, looking vaguely amused by Logan’s approach. “And what’s that one thing, doll?”

With a smile, Logan settled himself in Remy’s lap, arms wrapping lightly around the back of their neck. “Myself.”

Remy’s brow furrowed at the answer, their concern returning full force. “Log-”

“I have not eaten since breakfast,” he neglected to mention it was a large enough breakfast the lack of lunch hadn’t truly affected him, “I am stressed,” he ignored that the stress was Remy-based, “and my appearance is unkempt;” he pretended this was not a very conscious choice, “therefore, I should be resting, and yet, I am not.”

“You do seem tired…” Remy murmured, one of their hands moving to rest steadily on Logan’s hip while the other gently cupped his cheek. Logan appreciated the moment as long as he could, lazily leaning into Remy’s touch while the overworked figment searched his face for more signs of exhaustion.

Then they squinted at him. “Wait. This isn’t some ploy of yours, is it? ‘Cause no offense hun, but this feels a bit too easy. Normally you go running when I try to stop you from working on bad days.”

“I admit I am usually more… difficult about such matters, but I assure you, my love, this is no ploy. That would imply only I benefit from this situation. I think we both would.”

“Oh? How so?”

Logan’s fingers traced random patterns on Remy’s upper back. “You prefer to see me in good health and enjoy taking care of me. I prefer to see you in good health and know that letting you take care of me will subsequently lead to you being taken care of as well.” He kissed Remy’s forehead. “We both benefit, for the sake of not only ourselves, but each other as well.”

Remy sighed, their attempt at annoyance falling rather flat, in Logan’s opinion. “I can tell you’ve planned this out, babe.” Their hand on Logan’s cheek slipped into his hair, lightly scratching at Logan’s scalp.

The logical side involuntarily let out a content hum at the motion, briefly letting his eyes close as he pressed closer against Remy, their hand now supporting more of his head than Logan was. “Mhm, the plan of self-care? I think it’s a good plan.” Logan partially opened his eyes to catch Remy’s gaze. It was fond and sweet, Remy having clearly been swayed by tired Logan. “Do you think it’s a good plan?”

“Yeah.” Remy agreed softly, Logan grinning as he realized he had ‘won’ (really, they had both won, seeing how desperately Remy needed rest, but for the intents and purposes of this particular situation… Logan had won). “It was a great plan, angel.”

Logan allowed his head to be transferred onto Remy’s shoulder, happily nestling it into the crook of their neck. He could feel as Remy shifted their position, clearly going to lay Logan down on the bed. However, the bed alone would not be enough, Logan locking his arms behind Remy’s neck when they tried to let him go.

“Oh, come on, sugar, I can’t- I need both my hands- oh, alright, fine, if you’re gonna be like that, I’ll make it work.”

It took a couple minutes longer than it might have if Logan had allowed Remy to let go of him, but soon enough Logan was being deposited in a proper pile of blankets and pillows, all packed in together and arranged in the corner of the bed that lined up against the corner of the wall. He released Remy this time, comfortably sinking into the heap.

“I’m happy you’ve deemed this arrangement of your bed more acceptable than the one you yourself made, sweetheart.” Remy teased even as they worked on tucking the pile closer around him. “I’m going to grab lunch now, alright? Don’t go anywhere.”

It was an unnecessary request, given that Logan’s master plan of self-care wouldn’t benefit from him making Remy hunt him down, but the familiarity of it made Logan snort. The blanket-pillow lump had a one hundred percent success-rate with dissuading Logan from escape, no matter the circumstance, but Remy’s consistency in reminding Logan to stay put was endearing every time.

Remy returned within a few minutes, carrying a plate filled with ham and cheese cubes and some bunches of purple grapes. They placed it on part of the bed not overtaken by the plush pile before carefully climbing over it, cautious to not make a mess as they joined Logan. They slid into place behind him with practiced ease, shifting Logan to be more in their lap and against their chest before tucking the blankets back in around them both.

Logan leaned back against Remy as they settled, resting his head at a tilted angle so that he could keep his eyes on Remy. Noticing this, Remy smiled softly, pressing a kiss to Logan’s forehead.

“Alright babe who hasn’t eaten since breakfast, time to eat.” Remy said, tugging the plate closer to them before picking up one of the cubes and offering it to Logan. He let Remy pop it in his mouth, swallowing it while Remy grabbed another morsel of food. The motions were easy and repetitive, and soon enough nearly half the plate was gone.

Breaking the skin on a grape, Logan caught Remy’s wrist as they went to offer him a ham cube. Remy raised an eyebrow. “Darlin’?”

“You need to eat too.” Logan explained, nudging Remy’s hand towards their own face. “I know how you get when you’re busy.”

“Well now you’re not even being subtle.” Remy teased even as they accepted their redirected ham cube. Alternating between themself and Logan, Remy returned to their work of emptying the plate, quickly finishing off what remained of it.

When there was nothing left on the dish, Remy gracelessly pushed it off the bed, Logan well aware they’d pick it up later but still rolling his eyes at the laziness in the gesture.

“Shh, I can hear you thinking, love.” Remy trailed a few kisses down the side of Logan’s face, their arms wrapping snugly around his waist. “It’s my mess, I’ll clean it up later. Don’t worry about it.”

“You could take care of it now though.” Logan argued weakly, already once-more melting into Remy’s hold.

Remy chuckled, peppering more kisses across his chin. “Then I’d have to let go of you, my lovely Lo, and I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon.”

“Mmm, fair point.”

“Plus,” Remy went on as they began to slide into a more horizontal position, laying Logan down with them and briefly releasing his waist so as to move his glasses from his face to the bedside table, “it’s naptime. Someone needs their rest.”

“You.”

“Which one of us is taking care of the other again? You’re the tired one.”

Logan laughed quietly at Remy’s rebuttal, rolling over and nuzzling his face into Remy’s neck. He wasn’t sure when the lights in the room had turned off, but he was fairly certain it had been Remy’s doing. “Fine. I am very tired. So tired I have completely forgotten what to do now. Remind me how to sleep.”

“Dramatic-ass.” Remy’s tone was too soft to match their words. They pressed their cheek against Logan’s hair, their breath as they spoke close enough for Logan to feel its warmth. “You’ve just gotta close your eyes and stop thinking about anything that isn’t your wonderful partner and their wonderful fluffy pile of comfort and relaxation.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Logan dropped a kiss on Remy’s collarbone. “I could do this for days and days and-”

“Shhhh, starlight. Rest.” Remy slowly ran a hand up-and-down Logan’s back, successfully distracting him from his poorly-veiled (but loving) jab at Remy. “Bully me later.”

Logan didn’t respond verbally, opting instead to hum in contentment and snuggle up closer to Remy. There was no way they’d be able to slip out of bed without Logan noticing- not that they’d try, not now, but Logan appreciated the assurance of proximity. Despite not truly being tired, Remy’s warmth and Logan’s relief at knowing they would finally be resting themself were enough to make his eyelids heavy, the idea of sleeping peacefully with his partner too tempting to pass up.

So, yes, Logan did have some difficult duties to attend to, the caretaking of Remy the most complicated of them all. But drifting off happily in Remy’s arms, Logan remained firm in his stance that it was his favorite duty.

[writefightandflightclub]

Right behind you:(Bodyguard!Santiago “Pope” Garcia x M!Celebrity!reader)

This is my offering for this week’s #writerwednesday from @autumnleaves1991-blog, which this week is joint with @flightlessangelwings’ Jey’s Pride celebration! 🥳

The verbal prompt was: glitter and/or “I’ll always be by your side.”

The visual prompt is the photo below.

This gave me the idea for a very quickly written one shot with bodyguard!Santi and male celebrity reader! I hope you like it!

Warnings: food mentions; mentions of panic attack / hyperventilating. Mentions of sensory overload. One mention of Santi “sucking off” reader. Language. TYPOS, undoubtedly.

Rating: mature for mentions of oral sex but no explicit / actual smut.

Gender stuff: he/him pronouns / masc! terms of endearment used for reader. Implied that reader is a penis owner - no other physical descriptions besides reader wearing a suit and some make-up.

Genre: angst then mainly fluff and happiness! Hurt / comfort, I guess.

ALSO: BONUS CAMEO FROM ANOTHER OSCAR CHARACTER. Did you spot him?

You perch on the couch in your suite, taking steadying breaths and trying desperately to ward off hyperventilation as your bodyguard grips your trembling hand firmly in his. The air is quaking in and out of your lungs and you can no longer help the tears which spike in your eyes and spill over on to your cheeks.

He gives your fingers a squeeze as he crouches before you, and you can’t help the surge of guilt that this is so far outside of his job description. He’s meant to protect you, not comfort you. His work centres on your physical well-being, but you can’t count the times he’s bolstered your emotional well-being too. Then again, this is the only time he’s done so quite as blatantly in front of the rest of your staff, perhaps.

“Oh no, don’t you dare cry, sweetie,” your make-up artist - who will not be getting rehired you decide suddenly- flaps around you, attempting to fuss over you with a tissue. Her panic about her work being ruined at the worst possible moment is plain as day, and it only makes your chest constrict further.

“This isn’t helping” is the only thought blaring loudly in your mind, but you cannot for the life of you push the words out right now. You shut your eyes in an attempt to block it all out. To subdue the sensory overload.

You are thankful that your bodyguard intuits that sentiment on your behalf when you can’t, and you hear his voice is coming from a different angle now, his head whipped sharply sideward and up towards the offending MUA.

“For real? Ffff....” you close your eyes and hear Santi bite down on a curse. You’d laugh if you weren’t so preoccupied, trying desperately to focus on his voice amidst the chaotic, intersecting hubbub of the room. “Ma’am, could you please back the shit up?” He bites. Apparently he can’t stifle the cursing entirely.

Your limp hand travels along with his as he waves his arm around emphatically. “In fact. Out. Everyone out. Now. Please.”

His request slices through the nervous air in the room, his words deep and commanding and delivered with an authority that you doubt anyone would dare question. This man must be obeyed, and in the back of your mind you congratulate yourself for your decision to take a chance on hiring this moody ex-soldier with creaky knees. When he needed to he could certainly clear a room. And on top of that, he offers you a whole lot more besides.

Indeed, here he is, going above and beyond, kneeling on said creaky knees for you. Protecting you, and comforting you too.

Your eyes are still closed as the room gradually quietens, until it is so still you could hear a pin drop. Until you can hear the steady rise and fall of Santi’s breath. Until you can hear the delicate wet noise of his lips parting so his tongue can skim his lips. You can hear him swallow.

As you hear the sound of the final remaining person shuffle out, and the door gently click closed behind them, you are finally able to peel open your eyes. You are able finally able to release your bottom lip from the grip of your teeth, an indent having formed where you have bitten down so hard you have threatened to draw blood.

Santi is as still as death as he waits, and as soon as he hears that final click, he is moving. Only then, does he allow his (thin) veneer of professionalism to collapse. He allows the flats of his palms to snake up your thighs, rubbing reassuring shapes into you, and you feel the familiar heat and press of of him through the luxe fabric of your suit trousers.

“Look at me, cariño,” he soothes, in a deep, fond tone, entirely different to those bitten off commands reserved for the rest of your entourage. “It’s just you and me now. Look at me, baby.”

You do. You look into his big brown eyes and you and he could be the only two people in the world, never mind the room. You sniff, and you fumble away a stray tear before settling your palms on top of his.

You slow your breathing and Santi flashes you a small, proud smile. “That’s it, honey. Nice and slow. Just like that.”

Then, he flinches, his head leaning to the side as though he could physically retreat from whatever angry voice is no doubt blaring into his ear. Then, he makes a point of taking the earpiece out altogether, letting it hang over the collar of his white shirt.

He tugs in a huge exhale too, letting go of the tension he held in his body through his concern for you, although his eyes slit flit around your face in residual concern.

“They’ll be mad you did that,” you warn, with a nod to his earpiece.

“Whatever. It’s not my job to get you to the red carpet on time. It’s my job to look after you.”

“Your job? Hmm? That all I am to you?”

He flashes you a lopsided smile as you tease him. “I’m a lucky man. My job happens to be a thing I love doing outside of work too.” You lift your palm to his face, the familiar texture of his stubble beneath your fingers. “Now, honey. No rush. But do you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

You look away from him then as you realise he won’t let you distract him enough to avoid the true issue at hand, but his hands are still languidly smoothing your thighs, and you know he won’t make you do anything you don’t want to before you’re ready. He might dole out some tough love, eventually, but not until he is sure that you can take it. He lets you fumble until you find the words. “It’s... even the thought of it, Santi. This is the biggest thing I’ve ever done. All those cameras. All those eyes on me, I...”

Santi shushes you, as he hears the resurgent panic creep into your voice, even as your fingertips idly trace over his handsome features, a self-soothing unconscious thing, as he continues to kneel before you.

But while you may be panicked, he’s smiling. Looking up at you earnestly. “You deserve all those eyes on you, hermoso.” You don’t mind at all that when his voice comes out now it’s both fond and a just a little dirty as his own, very attentive eyes sweep over you.

“I don’t know...” You nibble on your lip again.

“Baby. You deserve this night. You’ve worked so hard for this. You’re so talented. And holy shit. You look so fucking hot in this suit I can barely function.” You let out a small, tentative laugh, which Santi seems pleased by, his own eyes creasing at the corners in return. “Besides,” he continues, tone more earnest now, his thick brows raised as he hammers his point home. “I’ll be right there. Just a few steps behind you, okay, mi Principe?”

You take one more deep breath, expelling it slowly and steadily through the “o” of your mouth, and Santi can’t resist your pursed lips a moment longer. Yet, for all his comments about how hot you are, his kiss is not as devouring as you might expect. It is a soft, tender thing, barely skimming your lips, and yet even so it appears to inspire a reverent heat in him, his eyelashes fanned on his cheek as his eyes remain closed a moment longer. As he expels a gust of disbelieving air at how you make him feel from this alone.

“Or,” he proposes, his voice breathy. “We could sack this whole thing off? We could order chilli cheese fries to the room and I can suck you off until you can’t think straight?”

You kiss him again, this time giving him just a hint of tongue, even as you laugh musically into his open, increasingly eager mouth.

“Appealing as that sounds, my love, I probably shouldn’t miss this...” you nod your head towards the door “...lil thing.”

“Yeah. Probably.” Santi concedes with a fond, lopsided smile, his eyes flashing with adoration, until he reluctantly schools himself back to something resembling professionalism. He gives you a few moments to gather yourself, and for his... eagerness to subside, before asking “You ready?”.

You nod. “Ready as I’m gonna get.”

“There he is. That’s my man.” Santi gives your thighs one more squeeze before he stands, and you swear you hear his poor knees creak; and then, he is replacing his ear piece, his face becoming all business as he presses two fingers to his ear. “Kolpakov? We’re ready to move out. Everyone in position?”

He awaits the response before turning back to you, practically gasping as he sees you stood there in all your glory for the first time. His eyes sweep up and down the length of you. He shakes his head incredulously, switching his mic off for a moment more. “Fuck me. You look like a fucking dream.”

“Not so bad yourself,” you respond in a loving, flirtatious tone, dancing your fingertips across his chest as you sweep past him towards the doorway and he turns with you as if in your thrall.

As you prepare, taking another deep breath and gripping the handle, Santi reaches for your arm, delaying you for just another moment. “Santi,” you laugh. “We can do the chilli cheese fries later, I promise.”

But that’s not quite what he has in mind. He looks at you intensely, and he cups your face in his broad palm. “Don’t forget. You deserve those eyes on you. But if you get overwhelmed, know that my eyes are on you. Wherever you go, I’ll be right behind you.”

The sentiment and sincerity with which he says this makes your mouth fall open in shock. Makes your chest constrict with happiness rather than nerves - but you aren’t afforded the opportunity to respond. In the next moments, the door is flung open, and your entourage is flooding you, barking directions and whisking you down the staircase and out on to the red carpet.

You are pulled away from Santi, and you don’t get to be near him again, besides a quick, surreptitious whisper into the shell of your ear as he follows you out the door “we need to talk about your ass in these pants because holy shit” - but that is all you can steal.

True to his word though, wherever you go he is right behind you. He is there with a firm arm to form a protective wall should a photographer come too close, or a fan get too handsy over a barrier. He is standing, stern and formidable to your rear as you provide sound bites to the tv stations forming a line up to the venue (and, trying very hard not to ogle your ass in these pants, probably).

He’s right behind you, designed to fade into the background in every sense. For all his charisma, he’s good at it. Not drawing attention. Even his suit is designed to be non-descript.

But... that’s not where he should be, you realise.

And, when you are almost at the end of the carpet, you stop in your tracks. You hesitate, and you turn around, your gaze instantly finding him in the crowd. He looks concerned, alarmed, as though you may have gotten the jitters again and like you might be about to do a runner.

But that’s not it. That’s not it at all.

In fact, you are more calm and sure than you have been all evening, looking at his befuddled, deer in headlights expression as all the attention suddenly falls on him. He has some big talk and a tough exterior, but the centre of him is soft, and you love that about him.

And so, a cautious smile blooms on your face as you settle firmly on your plan of action, and you walk determinedly in the “wrong” direction, going against the stream of attendees and making a beeline for your love, as he, for once -your man of action- stands frozen in confusion.

Then, when you arrive at him you stop, placing both your hands flat on the lapels of his suit, smoothing them down.

“What are you-?” he begins to ask, but you cut him off.

“Santi, my love. This is ridiculous. I don’t want you behind me. I want you by my side. Where you should be. So, fuck it. Will you do me the honour of accompanying me to this premiere?”

He answers with a smile. With sparkling eyes. With his arms flung around your waist. With the press of his curved lips against yours, and a slip of his supple tongue. “Baby. I’ll always be by your side.” His hands slip a little lower. “Or - you know - sometimes right behind you.” He winks at you. God, you adore this idiot.

So, you wrap your arms around him, guffawing fondly into his neck before kissing him again, more deeply, not caring who’s watching. Your face splits with a beaming smile as you break from the embrace and link your arm into his, proceeding to walk up the carpet again: together this time.

“Fuck me though, honey,” Santi leans over to confide in you as he straightens up his tie, as if suddenly noticing the photographers for the first time now that they are noticing him. “You could have warned me you were going to french me on the red carpet, I would have put on a better suit.”

You laugh warmly as he continues to babble, and you reassure him that he looks perfect.

You know he’s doing his best to mask it, but he’s the nervous one now - you can tell. “Don’t worry, handsome,” you reassure. “Just you and me, remember?”

No-one else in the world.

“Jesus. How do you do this?” he asks, balking at all of the camera flashes going off in his face, his voice choked.

Luckily, Kolpakov - his second in command- figures out what’s happening and takes the cue to intervene, shifting the line back just a little to give the two of you some space. A good job too as you see beads of sweat forming on your love’s brow.

“How do I do this?” you ponder. “Well, I always have you to protect me, right?” You squeeze his arm tenderly. “And I’ll protect you now, my darling.”

This- having him by your side? You have no doubt that this feels right. It is where he has been all along, albeit only in the shadows. In private moments. But tonight, as he encouraged you into the spotlight, you realised how little you cared for hiding. You need him with you.

“Jesus,” Santi chuckles, looking around and trying to take everything in. “The boys are gonna have a fucking field day with this one. I didn’t even tell them we were dating.”

“What the hell, Garcia?!” you chide fondly, mouth open in a shocked “o”, before beginning to chatter and banter away with him as you easily fall into step together. Distracting him from his nerves like he always does for you.

With Santi by your side, you no longer care about all of the other eyes on you. All of the camera flashes. The crowds. Those watching at home.

You’re proud of your achievements. You’re proud of your relationship. And besides, the only eyes on you which you pay any heed to are his. Santiago’s gorgeous brown eyes, which, right now, shine with nothing but pride.

Yours shine right back.

You think he is the one who deserves all eyes on him, tonight.