#but imagine if i was wrong! i would not want to come out of my cave ever!

[biteyoubiteme]

okay okay okay!!

txt vs no nut november! and maybe single / with a partner and regular sex life

like, would / wouldn't participate (and why), how long it would take for them to lose (if lose at all, I look at you taehyun), why they would lose (idek, forgot, were too stressed, too horny, etc)

would there be a member who would be like "I'll cum at 0:01, november the first, and will enjoy the whole month looking at you all suffer, losers"?

ahhhh now I think of requesting yeonkai x reader about nnn...

txt v. no nut november

warnings: 🔞!!! gn!reader, mentions of masturbation/sex, cockwarming, edging, prob forgot some sorry

wc: 0.7k total

an: hiiii @apeachty you're my favorite because you can read my mind on exactly what I want to write next lol I don't know if I got everything you asked for but I hope you enjoy!

[m.list] [1kevent m.list]

taehyun .ᐟ

if you didn't think taehyun was winning I don't know what you're on but it's just known that he would hold out the longest. If he did lose it was because the clocks had just turned to midnight when he finished effectively ending his need to even participate in a game he knows is arbitrary. This does not mean that he doesn't still try because he loves a challenge. Will spend more time in the gym because of it but he will never complain. The guys will make fun of him saying he's not even in the game anymore seeing as he failed first, will actually go on into the first week of December just to prove a point.

beomgyu .ᐟ

Now I don't think beomgyu is very competitive about most things and if he is it's only because of teasing and needing to prove people wrong. But November is his time to shine. He will actively encourage the other’s partners to tease the boys just so that he can ‘win’ the bet. Will make it through the month but the end is an absolute struggle, suddenly he's getting boners left and right like he's a teenager again. The last day of November is the day he breaks. Technically all the other boys have already lost if you look past taehyun going past November. This is his excuse and doesn't even make it through the morning before he's cumming. By the end of the day, he is three orgasms down and doesn't even care about winning the title besides the fact he can joke about it until next year.

yeonjun .ᐟ

He tries so hard and wants to beat beomgyu because he is his only real competition. Actually masturbates a lot and just edges himself because he likes teasing and the ache it gives him. Avoiding his partner as if that will help anything, his imagination is just well enough. Only makes it a little more than halfway through the month before he's given up. He's not able to stay away from his partner and needs them too much to stop himself. Although he tries to just edge himself again, cockwarming only works until he's absentmindedly thrusting, cursing when he accidentally finishes. Just shrugs and goes another round this time without even feeling sorry. 

kai .ᐟ

Doesn't even remember that he's not supposed to be having sex, and doubly doesn't remember not to cum. He lasts a few days max and only because hadn't been near his partner. But as soon as they come near he's a needy mess, begging to get off because he just missed them so much. Remembers the last second about the group chat and the threats of having to pay for everyone's dinner if he's first to lose. Feels like a failure for only a second before shrugging just glad he doesn't have to worry about it anymore. Promises to win next year even if it's the last thing he does.

soobin .ᐟ

Talks big talk about winning but forgets exactly how often he finishes in a month. Will put himself into a bad mood and it's only been a few hours into November 1st. Has to avoid opening certain apps because he knows his feed will be evil and show him exactly what he wants to see but can't use to get him off. Surprises himself by even making it through the day only not really because he's got his hand down his pants only an hour before midnight. Cums multiple times and doesn't even bring it up that he's lost, actually lies about still holding out until he confesses to Kai that he too did not last long at all. “No, it was actually torture, the only thing I could think about was getting off and wondering exactly where you guys would pick to eat and if it would be that crazy to just send my card info in the chat to get it over with,” 

He and Taehyun have a full back-and-forth that lasts longer than it should about who should give their card to the waiter. The very serious debate ends after the laughter from the other boys is so loud people are looking their way. Soobin grumbles as he pays but knows it's only fair because he technically did lose first. He also knows that he was only a minute shy of actually finishing at midnight before the day even started for their competition and would have ended up paying anyway because unlike taehyun he would not have just continued the competition but would have just given up without even trying. 

taglist 🏷: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty want to be added to the taglist? check out my rules to see how to join! want to be taken off the taglist? send an ask!

[starberry-cupcake]

We're back! again, if these silly recaps help lift your mood in any way, it makes me very happy ♥ I baked chocolate chip cookies for this so imagine I'm sharing them with you 🍪

previously, in harrowcita del 9:

this happened

also @unexpected-tigers linked me to an official house quiz and I did it so, if you want to know what I got and how I answered, I'll add it under "read more" after the recap

CHAPTER 44

listen, I need to start listing things I got right and things I got wrong but I forget at this point what I said

you're gonna have to remind me if I got something right and I didn't catch it because I remember what I got wrong more easily than what I got right

such is life

I'll do my best to try to tally but

I got wrong the narrator, I assumed that, because they were insulting harrow, it might be harrow too

but I forgot about gideon also being a pro at insulting harrow so, guess what?

IT WAS GIDEON

WELCOME BACK, BABE, WE MISSED YOU

CRYING TEARS OF JOY

of actual joy, not mercygirl-joy

to be fair, the narration was very different from gideon's perspective, to account for 1) the twist and 2) the fact that gideon's gideon-ness came out more and more as she got closer to the surface of perception in harrow's body

something she kind of explains later

but yeah, I got that wrong

however, I did get the purgatory situation of canaan house somewhat right and I forgot to mention it last time

ANYWAY, BACK TO GIDEON

CUE 'I AM THE BEST' BY 2NE1 IN THE BACKGROUND

someone stabbed harrow from the back, which is very shitty behavior from whoever it was

so gideon comes back into the real world with the immediate danger of her vessel, necromancer and partner in crime having been stabbed

and she was "left behind" because harrow is back in her canaan purgatory river bubble

with her ghostie ghoulie friends

gideon immediately finds out that harrow can't fight for shit

she's determined to kick the stabber's ass but it's gonna be hard when she's used to her massive guns and ninja warrior disposition and she's inside the body of a baby kitten

gideon's very eloquent commentary is "Fuck. Oh, shit. Oh, fucking hell. Help. Yuck. Aaaargh."

it's so nice to have her back :')

she's talking to harrow in the second person, as she's been doing all this time unbeknownst to those of us who didn't catch it

"which proves that you can put the swordfighter into the necromancer but you can't, wait, hang on"

god, I missed her

gideon is also coming to terms with the fact that harrowcita has regenerating abilities now

she is very angry at the awful state in which her two handed sword is

if you knew, gideon, about the relationship between harrow and your sword and how layered it was...

"Harrowhark, I gave you my whole life and you didn't even want it"

so gideon starts taking control of the situation because the beast is chasing them

absolutely no chill over here in the emperor's bolthole

and by "them" I mean gideon and harrow because idk where the everliving fuck everyone else is

I know the emperor is hiding in weenie hut jr but the rest are supposed to be fighting

except for whoever was going around stabbing people

and idk where not!dulcinea is at this point either

maybe someone's using her to stab harrow idk, I'll never stop blaming her for things, even indirectly

gideon is doing a great job with what she has available because she's "a good girl and you're an evil nun"

she's also still going on about harrow leaving her behind and saying "you never got rid of being so absolutely fucking goddamn sad"

chisus christ gideon, tell us how you really feel about her

gideon looks at herself in the mirror and sees harrow with her eyes and her expressions, which is very uncanny valley

"This was your shell, but it was all filled up with me. God, the double entendres were hard to resist"

yandere twin would appreciate that one, I think, maybe

gideon proceeds to taunt harrow to come back by using her voice to say things like "Oooooh, Palamedes. I am measurably less intelligent than you. Put your tongue in my mouth and I'll flop my tongue against it."

"Ohhhhhrr, Gideon. I was so dumb to think a tub of ancient freezer meat was my girlfriend. Please show me how to do a press-up. Also, I'm very obviously attracted to y—"

no no, by all means, go on

please, gideon, go on with that idea, let's see where it takes us

in other important but not as spicy events

gideon cuts the beast thing in two with her own sword

but now we've got the heralds to go through

"Don't worry, honey. I'll keep the home fires burning."

same energy as

CHAPTER 45

we're back in hotel california canaan house au river bubble

I'm sure that description makes it all super clear for anyone reading

abby and her hubby are taking harrowcita to the secret hideout of the lost boys aka the room behind the tapestry that is now untouched by the body horrors going on in this version of canaan house

and where all our ghostie ghoulie friends are hanging out

it was a person's room, says harrow, and I think we all know it was alleged gideon's aka ortus, but we'll get to that

I need to point out the fact that harrow says she always thought not!dulcinea showed signs of "suppurating ego" but that she could never convince gideon to "see past the appealing eyes and softly clinging dresses"

I KNOW, GIRL, IT DROVE ME FERAL TOO

apparently harrowcita's invite also got to the kids of the fourth but abby sent them back to the river with a kiss in the forehead and their lunch packed

because she had adopted them, as we all know

she said "if only Silas had asked me, what has happened to his soul worries me horribly"

of course I didn't remember that silas was mayonnaise uncle and had to do math for a while in my head

maybe he's out there looking for duracell bunny nephew's soul that is still travelling through the river

abby learned a way to send them back into the river but everyone present wants to help deal with this haunt situation harrow's got going on

honestly, props to martita for hanging around, judith is a lot less cooperative

abby also thinks there's something wrong with the river and that the emperor is unaware of it because he doesn't know about the river beyond

she has studied a lot about it

and that the fact that the "beyond the river" concept has been looked at with scorn by everyone for so long has made the potential studies of it stagnant

I love her a lot at this point

I mean, I'm still 100% a camilla girlie, I'm putting camilla's photo in one of those glittery clear files and covering it with heart stickers, don't get me wrong, but this woman is fierce af

abby, you know more than the emperor, you're more worthy than he is, please murder him

NOW IT'S TIME TO GET EMOTIONAL

GRAB YOUR TISSUES

IT'S ORTUS TIME

man, ortus won me with this chapter, he's great, let's keep him

let him be happy in the infinity of time with his fifth polycule

harrow tries to tell him that he doesn't have to apologize to her, that she owes him for crux murdering him and his mom

(interlude for "her unconscious gracelessness to Camilla Hect; a girl whom, in reality, she should have taken by the hands and thanked her profusely for every time she tried to save her cavalier")

(glad we're in agreement there)

they talk about how gideon died and ortus tells harrow that gideon never did anything without intent

"she had been outplayed by Palamedes Sextus, outgunned by Cytherea the First, undone by Gideon Nav"

damn, harrow

LISTEN TO THIS PART YOU FOLKS

"I should have offered help. I should have died for you. Gideon should still be alive. I was, and am, a grown man, and you both were neglected children."

ORTUS, MY MAN

THIS MADE ME SO EMOTIONAL

"she and Gideon had become women before their time, and watched each other's childhood crumble away like so much dust. But there was a part of her soul that wanted to hear it —wanted to hear it from Ortus's lips more, even than from the lips of God. He had been there. He had witnessed."

"I will hope better for heroism in my death"

ORTUS I'M HOLDING YOU TIGHT AND CARESSING THE TOP OF YOUR HEAD LIKE A PUPPY

harrow finds the "g&p" note

GUESS WHAT

GUESS WHO WAS RIGHT ABOUT THAT

ALLEGED GIDEON IS ACTUAL GIDEON THE FIRST

AND HARROW THINKS OUR GIDEON WAS NAMED AFTER HIM

I mean I had trust in my alleged gideon theory BUT I CAN'T BELIEVE I CALLED THE OTHER PART MAYBE TOO???

sixth house please accept me

she also finds another note, similar to the rant notes she had been finding, which reads: "the only thing our civilisation can ever learn from yours is that when our backs are to the wall and our towers are falling all around us and we are watching ourselves burn we rarely become heroes"

are the letters clues on the angry spirit that's haunting harrow?????

does it relate to gideon???

but when harrow is about to ask ortus about gideon ("less like tragedy and more like carelessness" 👀) abby interrupts

abby, interrupting me again when I'm getting to the good stuff

but I can't be angry at her because she says she'll exorcise the Sleeper

YOU GO ABBY, YOU LORRAINE WARREN THAT STUFF

And that's where we leave it for today!!! my willpower is strong and I know I can't make these too annoyingly long. Which is why, if you wanna know how I did with the House quiz, look after "read more". If not, see you for the next one!!! Super soon!!! Sending you all hugs in these difficult times ♥

So, this is the quiz that I did, the official author-made one.

I GOT *drumroll* A TIE BETWEEN THE SIXTH AND THE FOURTH

The author said that, in the event of a tie "Pick the House descriptor most like yourself, or most like the person you secretly wish you were, or with the colours you like best."

We all absolutely know where I'm going if I'm left to pick between those two.

To be totally transparent, I'm gonna show you my very messy notes, which I wasn't initially planning on showing, so I apologize for them not being neat and tidy. I added the skull I have in my desk as aesthetic compensation for the messy handwriting.

I picked 1st the pen and flimsy because, if I'm doomed and this is it for me, I want to go out writing. The bottle, because I considered a vessel for separating things or for keeping something in safely would be useful. The rapier, because I always take a swiss army knife in my purse with my keys and the rapier was the closest thing to that. The flare gun, because I might as well try to signal somehow, at least some of us could get saved. And the raft not to try to escape, like the answer said, but because if we're more than one person in the boat, having more space, even if somewhat leaky, could help out for different situations.

I did consider every potential option that could be turned into food but I'd rather die of something else than food poisoning of any kind.

I got the Fifth in second place, and I wouldn't have minded if I got the Fifth, honestly. In 3rd place I got Seventh and Eighth as a tie, I'm not gonna ask about that. The Second got fourth place, the Third got fifth and 0 points for the Ninth, I'm so sorry.

You should have seen my face when I saw a portrait of the Emperor was an option to take with you lmao

[oceantornadoo]

pockets of possessiveness (john price x lieutenant f!reader)

you knocked on his door with your pillow in hand, feet freezing on bare tile. after a second, you heard a gruff “come in”, and pushed open the door to the sight of your captain smoking a cigar with paperwork spread around him. he looked up at you syrup-slow, eyes dragging up and down your body.

“whose clothes are those?” you peeked down at the oversized tee and boxers you wore. “mine.” he grunted. “y’ make it a habit buyin’ shit that doesn’t fit.” you rolled your eyes, stomping over to the couch you came for. “yes, actually. i like to buy oversized shirts and men’s boxers are extremely comfortable and cheap.” his hat was off, which meant you could see the slight rise of his eyebrows, disbelief in his vision. “‘s long as they aren’t johnny’s.” you took a while to answer that, instead dropping your pillow on couch and making yourself comfy, taking out the blanket he tucked away in a box underneath. “‘m not dignifying that with a response.” a small smile tugged at his lips, fond affection spreading slowly. he turned his desk lamp away from you so the harsh glare was no longer in your eyes. “g’night, sweetheart.” you closed your eyes. “night, cap.”

it was way too early in the morning for someone to be bothering you on your day off. you felt a presence standing over you and groaned, hand reaching out to push him away. “go back to sleep, sweetheart. was jus’ sayin’ bye.” your hand landed on his bicep, tugging him down to crouch before you. blearily, you opened one eye, watching the movement of your hand travel to his neck, wrapping around the strands with his hair. he understood you immediately, moving closer til your foreheads touched. you sighed on contact, his smell of cigars and pine seeping into your skin. “got to go, baby. i’ll lock the door so y’ can sleep ‘s long as you want.” you whined a little, then acquiesced with a nod. “‘m not sleepin’ with johnny.” he let out a big sigh. “i know.” you were both silent for a bit, breathing in each other’s presence. for a second, you could imagine it was under different circumstances. with no ranks between you and only lazy sundays like this. instead, you dropped your hand and he rose up, pinching your hip in goodbye.

“y’r not goin’. it’s a suicide mission.” you huffed at his attitude, crossing your arms over your chest so he couldn’t see your hands trembling. “but it’s made for my skills, cap. why else would they assign it to the team?” you looked to the rest of your task force around the room, making eye contact with them individually. “anyone?” gaz tried to speak and you shut him up with a look, already knowing he was going to take his captain’s side. johnny was oddly silent, eyes tracing patterns on the floor. “captain’s right. ‘s yer death if y’ go.” ghost’s voice was low and gravelly in the silence of the room. that was it - overruled by your fellow lieutenant. with him on your captain’s side, you had no shot. “fine. i’ll just not do my job.” you avoided john’s gaze, instead staring a hole into the side of simon’s face. the idiot turned and faced you, cocking his head in silent argument.

i hate you

no you don’t

you’re wrong

you know i’m right

whatever. you’re still on my shit list.

the meeting ended and you beelined for the door. despite your fervent strides, john caught up with you, tugging you into the nearest room (your quarters), before you could run away. you unlocked the door without acknowledging him, letting him follow you into your sacred space and locking the door after him. “‘s for your safety, sweetheart.” you whipped around, pushing him into the door with a finger on his chest. “no, john, it’s for you. you not trusting me, not trusting my skills.” he grabbed your finger with his hand, dwarfing it in his rough warmth. “‘s not that i don’t trust you. i don’t want- i can’t see you killed.” somehow in the darkness of the room, you could see his eyes pleading, an unusual vulnerability for your captain.

“you can’t be this possessive and still not fuck me, captain.” you mocked him with his rank, pointing out the one big problem between you. “y’ know it’s more than fuckin’, sweetheart. woulda done it a while ago ‘f it was jus’ that.” oh. oh. you had guessed, slightly, but to hear him say it was…new. “next time, can you tell me that before going all caveman in front of the team?” his grip on your finger had loosened, his hand spreading out your own so he could link the two together. your palms were over his heart and you could feel its heavy beating calm slowly. “y’ didn’t know?” you shook your head, eyes focusing on the sight of your hands intertwined. your left hand to be specific, his fingers rubbing your ring finger absentmindedly. “don’t want t’ see you hurt because i care for you. and i don’t mind using my position t’ ensure it.” he leaned in, and for a heart stopping moment you thought he would kiss you. instead, he kissed your forehead, lips resting for a second. “we okay?” you nodded against him, feeling the scratch of his beard. “yeah, john, we’re okay.”

john was two seconds away from tugging you off the dance floor, ripping off the scrap of fabric you wore, and taking you in front of the entire club. you had begged the team to go clubbing after the mission, and with gaz and johnny on your side, your prayers were answered. you’d found the perfect thing to wear in a local shop - a scrap of a dress in your favorite color that showed off almost all of your skin. of course, you’d done shots with gaz and johnny, and now the three of you were on the dance floor, dancing the night away. “gonna break that glass, captain.” ghost nodded towards the tight grip price had on his whiskey, knuckles white and strained. he loosened slightly at his lieutenant’s words, gaze never leaving your figure. “fuckin’ hell.” ghost muttered, tracking the figure of his captain’s obsession. johnny had joined you from the back and gaz from the front, the three of you grinding like there was no tomorrow. johnny’s fingers gripped your waist while kyle’s brushed your shoulders, occasionally running up and down your arms. “cap-“ but he was already moving, glass empty and dropped on the table as price made his way to the dance floor.

“‘m cutting in.” your captain peeled his two sergeants off you, sending them scampering and snickering with a glare. “didn’t know you danced, john.” he didn’t, just stood unmoving with arms akimbo and possessiveness flaring in his eyes. “come on.” you grabbed his arm and dragged him through the crowd, finding a dark corner for the two of you, away from the team. “took you long enough to come get me.” you giggled. he raised an eyebrow, resting his hands on your waist as you swayed to the beat of the music. “y’ sayin’ that was all for me?” you nodded, biting your lip in anticipation. instead of replying, he flipped you around, tugging you into him until there was no space between you. you started grinding, not the false imitation of what you were doing with johnny and kyle, letting the beat move your hips. “a worse man might take advantage of you, darlin’. so pretty an’ willing f’ me.” he was right next to your ear, beard scraping your soft skin.

“doesn’t make you worse, john. it makes you human.” huh. he’d never thought of it that way, that he was just a man instead of a captain. he contemplated it, that gray area, as you moved one of his hands from your waist to your lower stomach, pressing it above your core. “‘s not taking advantage, john. i’m not drunk, just tipsy.” he pressed harder against you, drawing out a moan in the darkness as you felt that familiar coil of arousal. you could feel the outline of his cock through his jeans, the thin material of your dress barely a barrier. “don’t want our first time to be in a filthy club bathroom, baby. when i fuck you, i’m goin’ to take my time.” he grinded his palm into you, noting the hitch in your breath as he found your cunt, hidden behind two layers of fabric. it was building up, your nipples hardening and scraping against your dress. he was rock hard now, hips loose and all yours. you couldn’t quell that one voice in the back of your mind, though. “will it- will it just be once? when you fuck me?” he shook his head, spinning you around until your back was to a wall, your captain pinning your hands up and looking down at you with a hungry gaze. his hips were still pressed into yours, cock rubbing against your cunt. “y’ gonna get it through your head. you’re mine and i’m yours.” his eyes were searching yours for confirmation that he hadn’t been grasping at straws. you nodded quickly, wrapping a leg around his waist and tugging him closer. “mine. yours. when are you gonna kiss me, john?” you whined that last part, turning on your biggest puppy dog eyes. he almost growled at it, you so helpless under him. the invisible limits he had on himself, on a relationship between a captain and lieutenant, broke easily under your heady gaze. he leaned in slowly, cupping your jaw and running his thumb over your lips. and finally, finally, he kissed you.

it was slow and soft and john, the taste of whiskey rushing through your mouth. you were in a bubble, tugging your pinned hands out of his grip so you could pull him closer. his hips slotted further into yours but his lips told a softer story, biting and licking, exploring yours. you never wanted to stop, content to lie here forever and never let him go. “y’ taste like my dreams, sweetheart.” he whispered, just for you. he tasted like your future.

[hellsitedotcom]

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

*·˚ FIRST KISS HEADCANONS : PART ONE *·˚

ft. Aventurine, Moze.

My brain doesn't work properly, which means I ain't happy with anything I write when it comes to prompts/longer drabbles, so here's another round of Headcanons 'cause, uhhh, I had a random thought. (Unfortunately cursed to have those) EDIT: This...escalated a tiiiiiny bit, buuuut (as much as I hate my writing) I don't rlly mind.

*·˚ warnings/info: well, there's obviously going to be mentions of kissing; mentions of alcohol/drinking (Aventurine); Sunday's escalated so much, I had to make it a separate post lol. *·˚ english isn't my native language!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

⭒˚｡⋆ Aventurine ⭒˚｡⋆

⇢ I'll be frank: It probably happened while you were both drinking, just ''unwinding'' and ending up having a rather good time. You were sat at a bar way longer than you should've - the employees really just wanted to get home, but you two just...weren't leaving.

⇢ You were sat further away, obscured by room dividers, only your voices audible to anyone else. Aventurine had been teasing you since you agreed to go drink something with him, and now you were both at a point at which he felt like...taking risks.

⇢ He had asked you for a simple game of poker, winner gets granted a wish - but the loser will only find out what the winner wants after the game; were you in, or were you out? And you, slightly drunk, agreed after only a few seconds. What could possibly go wrong?

⇢ And he won - of course he did. What else did you expect? But you were laughing, joking how you had nearly beat him; still in a good mood, you waited for him to tell you his wish - his ''demand''; and he did, your eyes widening for mere seconds, before you granted it.

''Royal Flush,'' Aventurine triumphantly laughed, displaying the cards on the table between you, ''I win, sunshine.'' You just groaned, though you didn't hide the amusement in your expression, ''Oh, you definitely rigged that. There's no way, come on.'' ''Well, at least I almost got you,'' you added more quietly, chuckling while he collected all the cards you had used. ''I simply don't lose,'' he countered, smirking at you as he leaned closer, a motion you followed curiously, ''I thought you would've noticed by now.'' You merely scoffed, rolling your eyes without hiding your smile, ''Sure, sure, Mr. Gambler.'' ''You just got lucky,'' you hummed in a teasing manner, leaning further across the table, ''So, what's your wish?'' Aventurine held your gaze, unwavering, and even in the dim lighting of the bar, you could tell that he was thinking. A part of you wanted to regret agreeing to this, but the other part - the louder part - only grew more intrigued. For a moment, his eyes dropped to your lips - so quickly that you thought you had imagined it - before his lips parted, your eyes widening the slightest bit at his words, ''How about a kiss?'' You could feel your face heat up, a wave of different emotions momentarily taking over your expression before you collected yourself again. ''Just a kiss?'' you repeated, making sure you had heard him right. ''Just a kiss,'' Aventurine confirmed, slightly tilting his head, ''Only if you're comfortable, that is.'' Silence settled after that, your mind still processing his wish. Despite how lost in your thoughts you were, you could notice Aventurine grow...unsure? No, that wasn't really it... You were taking too long, and the man was beginning to wonder if you would back out. And just as he was about to repeat himself, making sure you knew that you didn't have to kiss him if you didn't want to, you crossed the space between the two of you, your lips crashing against his. You weren't even thinking, merely acting on instinct...on a feeling deep inside you, an urge you had been fighting for months. The second your lips had touched his, all your restrain had vanished, and Aventurine didn't seem to be feeling any different as he reciprocated your kiss, a hand coming up to rest on your neck, pulling you even closer. Neither of you could get enough, your hands resting on the table between, but all good things have to come to an end, don't they? As you tried moving even closer, breathless from the things he was doing to you, a loud buzzing noise interrupted the two of you, making you pull apart. ''The IPC...'' Aventurine groaned, visibly annoyed as he stared at his phone screen. He had to take the call, you both knew it. And, before the man could decide if he was willing to take another risk by pressing on decline, the bar staff came up to you, informing you that it was time to leave for you anyway...

⇢ You didn't sleep much that night, or the nights that followed, your mind too busy replaying that kiss over and over again. The next time you saw Aventurine again, neither of you mentioned the night at the bar, though from the way he looked at you alone, you knew you weren't the only one unable to forget it.

⭒˚｡⋆ Moze ⭒˚｡⋆

⇢ This came to me in a prophetic dream (listening to music & daydreaming), and I am a firm believer that your first kiss happened...on accident, almost. In a situation that...how did it even come to that?

⇢ You were sat beside him, hiding in the ''shadows'' away from everyone else while Moze was patrolling the area. There...wasn't really a need to do it, but it was Moze, so you didn't really question it. And while he was taking all of this seriously, you were just...laying in the sunlight, having a wonderful time.

⇢ At one point, you had just started talking, asking brief questions or sharing thoughts with him, which he - though somewhat reluctantly - replied to. Eventually, you'd even gotten him to learn over to you, and as you held his gaze in that moment, it just...came over you.

⇢ Maybe it was the fact that you were having a good day, the sunlight making you feel so alive and full of energy. Or, maybe it simply was the man's captivating presence, making you feel like you were admiring a painting. Regardless of the reason, the urge to learn in had taken over.

''I mean, I guess I just don't understand it,'' you rambled, emphasizing your confusion with your hands, ''Why make everything so much more complicated than it has to be, you know? Artisans can be a really odd bunch.'' You were lying on your back, staring up at the sunny sky as waterfall after waterfall of thoughts fell from your lips, when Moze suddenly leaned over, allowing his arm to rest beside your head. ''You talk too much,'' he huffed expressionlessly, making you fall silent as you dragged your eyes up to meet his gaze. ''Maybe you just don't talk enough,'' you quipped back, your lips twitching in amusement, ''Besides, if it bothered you, you wouldn't have stuck around me this long. We both know that.'' The man just grunted, focusing back on the crowd underneath you, ''Just try to be more quiet. I'm not helping you if we get spotted.'' ''Of course,'' you hummed, not believing a word he was saying, earning you another discontent grunt from him. Your smile just grew at that, eyes still glued to the man standing beside you. ''Just admit it, big guy,'' you teased, slightly tilting your head to get a better look at him, ''You enjoy my company.'' That made Moze turn back again, violet eyes boring into yours as he leaned over once again, making a swarm of butterflies awaken in your stomach, ''Is that so?'' His face was mostly obscured by shadows, hidden by the hood he always wore while you laid in the sun, yet her gentle warmth was entirely forgotten as you held the man's gaze, ''Tell me I'm wrong?'' Moze was quiet, just watching you wordlessly. You couldn't tell what he was thinking, but you realized the longer you stared at him, the less you cared about his answer to your counter. You were too busy getting lost in a daydream, drowning in his eyes, when a sudden urge came over you. What if you just-? Your inner voice didn't even need to finish the question, your body moving on its own as you propped yourself up, not even giving the man any time to react as you pressed your lips against his. Moze seemed to freeze under your touch, unmoving at first, until you felt his hand rest against your chin, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. His patrol all but forgotten, the man's lips began moving against yours until you pulled away to catch your breathe, your heart racing. ''I-'' You wanted to say something, but your mind, despite the hurricane of thoughts tormenting it, couldn't form a coherent sentence, so you just continued staring at him, eyes searching his expression for anything - any sign that this meant something to him. But you never got that answer as the man took a step back, letting go of you, Moze's expression as blank as a canvas. He was still looking at you, watching as your previously cheery expression began to falter, yet he remained quiet as you struggled to find the right words.

⇢ You didn't get any reaction out of Moze that day, nor did you ever calm down enough to actually say something to him in that moment. Eventually, Moze merely continued his patrol, telling you he needed to move to the next location before disappearing without waiting for a reply.

⇢ Since then, you've been...well, on one hand you've been trying to avoid him, but on the other hand, you still hoped you would catch a glimpse of him regardless of where you went. And, while you thought he probably never thought about the moment you shared, Moze felt the exact same way as you.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

[centrally-unplanned]

(Link embed not working? Okay)

Okay a bit surprised at this one! Back during the July Crisis I had a very clear logic in mind. I thought Kamala was a weak candidate, she was a very bad pick in 2020 for all the wrong reasons and being BIden's VP was bad baggage. Biden stepping down and having a process where a strong candidate with none of the Biden stain could emerge seemed ideal to me - US campaigns are way too long anyway, it being "rushed" could be a blessing in disguise.

However, that was impossible - the Democrat's org structure is just too sclerotic to throw that together. If it hasn't been approved by eight committees over the course of two years of debate, it can't be done. So in practice, Kamala was the only bet. She is the VP, that is literally their job and why they exist, so we could all default to Kamala, throw Biden into an early grave, and sail off into the tail end of Brat Summer to go down actually putting up a fight.

(And she did better than I expected! Props to her, pity about that last bit)

What all this means is that my assumption was that Biden endorsing Harris was something everyone was on the same page about! It was the only option, and so who would bother dissenting? But now Nancy Pelosi is out here telling me it was a fait accompli and she was actually discussing having an open primary? Was that really in cards?

So Pelosi is definitely a bit of a schemer, so I wouldn't be shocked if this is a bit of a white lie to burnish her rep. Still, she is also very much a schemer, and so maybe she actually could have pulled off getting the DNC to commit to an open primary? My respect for her would go way up in that case - way to really understand the problem at the critical moment.

And my respect for Biden would go way down. We all know Kamala was a mistake at this point as a VP choice, the entire logic behind it was backwards (Why was the candidate earning the overwhelming support of black voters feeling compelled to choose a black woman to double-represent them? Oh, she didn't, she represented the white vote? Uhhhh). But it was a mistake of the past, and so you had to deal with it. Now, though, it comes off as doubling down on that mistake! Just not acknowledging the political errors of the past four years.

Which is a recurring theme of this year - constant whining from the Biden camp that their record wasn't being "sold hard enough" to a voting public that fucking hated him. I can almost imagine it as a moment of stubborness - fine, you don't want me? Then you get my VP; my choice, *I* get to decide.

I don't want to read too much into one article of course, but it is one more datapoint for my already strongly held prior that the Biden team just completely lost the plot in 2024.

[francesderwent]

it seems to me that our task—as Christians but also just as people who care about this country and don’t want to see it like this—is to step outside the us-versus-them, black and white thinking which elections love to encourage, and begin imagining our neighbors more generously and compassionately.

our politicians have spent the whole election cycle appealing to the very lowest common denominator—but that does not mean that when we picture our political rivals we must imagine the lowest common denominator. it does not mean that that lowest common denominator defines everyone who voted one way or another. the people who voted for the worst possible reasons do exist—people who feel genuine hate for those different from them, the crass and the vitriolic and the cruel, the power-hungry and the callous. these people are all real, and our politics has undoubtedly given them a voice. but again: I think we must challenge ourselves to hold in our minds a version of the “other” who is more human and more complicated than that. our principle should be built off of “innocent until proven guilty”—we should consider people as being politically thoughtful and well-meaning and conflicted, until we are beyond a doubt proven wrong.

the objection, at this point, would be the objection I’ve seen all over the internet: “okay, maybe people had better reasons in mind, but voting for a rapist wasn’t a dealbreaker for them.” and that’s a powerful bit of rhetoric. but, first of all, both sides were using the same arguments leading up to the election to dissuade people from voting third party or sitting the election out: “you’re not supposed to vote for somebody perfect, you’re supposed to vote for the lesser of two evils/the policies you most agree with/the party you think will most support your interests and the common good.” so it’s hypocritical to then turn around and accuse your political opponents of voting for someone who’s personally (understatement of the year) not perfect. and second of all, the notion of “maybe they didn’t like such-and-such policy or quality, but it wasn’t a dealbreaker” is actually exactly my point.

every voter has to weigh for him or herself which issues are going to be regarded as most important. as long as I’ve been alive, people have been pearl-clutchingly scandalized that others have weighed the issues differently than themselves, so the moral panic certainly is not new. but despite that, this is literally what our country is founded upon: there is no set-in-stone hierarchy of values. we all get to decide for ourselves what good is worth pursuing. note: I’m not saying this is a good thing; I think what we’re seeing now is precisely the problem with that system. but the point remains that you cannot insist on the importance of a democratic election and then be horrified that democracy will sometimes vote in favor of a good that you think is subordinate, to the exclusion of a good you think is foundational—that’s democracy for you! that’s the system! you might view it as despicably selfish and shallow to vote based on the price of eggs—but for someone who is very poor, that reasoning might appear far more serious than it does to you. what would be a dealbreaker for you might not be a dealbreaker for someone else.

everyone has to determine for himself or herself what the greatest possible good is which can be achieved by the federal government, and what the greatest evil is we should avoid. at the end of this determination, everyone ends up with his or her own little hierarchy of values. the horror of two-party politics is that unless your hierarchy lines up point by point with the platform of one of the main parties—and it almost certainly doesn’t!!—your vote will either not align with the hierarchy you believe to be right and just, or it will not have the power to put that hierarchy into practice in the real world. this is where imagining people generously and compassionately comes into play: perhaps someone’s first priority in casting a vote for the republicans was the price of eggs. now, instead of jumping to the conclusion that their second priority was expelling hated foreigners from the country or making it so gay couples lose visitation rights at the hospital, imagine that their second priority was something you agree with, something compassionately-motivated and understandable, maybe even something that wasn’t a part of the republican platform. now imagine what priorities they might have that weren’t presented as an option by either of the main parties—priorities they might share with you.

”but my morality is right!” you might say. “their priorities are misaligned and their hierarchy of values is wrong!” that may very well be true. but American democracy cannot recognize it, cannot give any more weight to the true worldview, because that would be taking sides. if you want a democratic system you have to accept the possibility that the correct and the popular might not line up. you might also say, “but they’re wrong about which policies are actually going to help them! the price of eggs won’t go down!” that might also be true. in that case, it’s sort of on the people with the good policies for failing to convince the voters.

you might feel aghast that other people weighed the things you disagree with them about as more important than the things you agree with them about. it’s an understandable feeling. but the crucial thing is twofold: one, unless you acknowledge their right to disagree with you—both in essential matters of morality and in matters of the relative importance of specific moral issues—you don’t actually believe in American democracy. and two, if we are to move forward we have to start acting as if the things on which we agree are more important to our humanity than the things on which we disagree. even if we voted based on the things we disagree on! when we interact with each other we have to focus on the things we agree on.

we have to believe that people are trying their best. we have to, when we engage in political discourse, engage with a hypothetical opponent who is not the easiest possible punching bag. and when we’re confronted with our genuine enemies—those who hate us and hate everything good—instead of dehumanizing them, we have to love them. I don’t end there as a little glittery good-feeling flourish to smooth over the difficulties, because that is the most difficult part. there is no version of this story where all the hurt and fear and division are erased simply by the “right people” winning elections. there is also no version of this story where all the hatred and sin and despair is solved by good people contentedly praying rosaries in little self-satisfied prayer groups. Our Lord reconciled the world to Himself not by the worldly power of conquest, and also not by kindliness and miracles and convincing people one by one to change their lives, but by His suffering and death. the reconciliation of our world will require our suffering, and our death to self. there is no other way out than through the radical love of the Cross—that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. He asks us to follow in His footsteps. imagining our neighbor as lovable is a good first step. loving him when he is not lovable is the next one, and the necessary one.

[alexthebordercollie]

oooo, if you're taking doodle requests for the dad ford au, i'd love to see something with Ford + Tate and or Stan + Tate.

Ford, cause it'd be interesting to see how he handles being a stepdad on top of Newt and Nick. Stan cause while he'd obviously be fiercely protective of the twins, i feel like he'd understand Tate's motivation the most between him, Ford, and Fiddleford

My long-winded thoughts and more context below the cut for people who are just here for the pictures.

Thank you so much for my first proper ask/prompt. So you asked for Tate with Ford or Stan and I decided to give you both. Ford is a genius but he's not a pediatrician and Fiddleford still insisted on finding a real proper doctor to help with the twin's general medical care. But the person they found willing to help them with their alien babies without freaking out is out of town so these trips are a bit time-consuming and Fidds is the best at keeping the beans calm for their shots. Mostly I just needed to come up with an excuse for Tate to be stuck with the Stan twins for the day.

I imagine this to take place while Fidds and Emma are still in the process of getting divorced. Custody arrangments are still being worked out. This is Tates first time coming to stay in Gravity Falls with his dad's new family and he has a lot of complicated feelings.

Fidds generally is very clingy with Tate when he comes to stay with them. Showering his eldest with affection out of a mix of missing him and feeling guilty. As a result Ford and Stan rarely are put in the position of having to look after Tate and Fidds initially doesn't make much of an effort to actively include Ford in his father-son time with Tate. Again Fidds feels guilty and like asking Tate to give Ford a chance is an unfair imposition.

Ford makes genuine attempts however to get to know Tate when the opportunity arises. At first, Tate wants nothing to do with him. He's overheard his mom occasionally talking about the divorce when he's supposed to be in bed and the bits and pieces he has picked up basis him pretty strongly against Ford.

Emma isn't trying to turn Tate against his dad or even really against Ford. Don't get me wrong she really doesn't like Ford for obvious reasons but she doesn't want to expose her son to the adults interpersonal drama. She didn't mean for him to hear her talking about Fiddleford leaving them for Stanford.

I think you're suggestion that Stan would understand Tate in this situation better than the other two is pretty reasonable. Tate feels abandoned, and maybe even replaced by new babies. Stan knows better than anyone how it feels to be abandoned and he knows enough to reassure Tate rather confidently that that isn't what's happening here. Tate also finds it a bit easier to open up to Stan because he's mostly a bystander in all of this.

[2danesand1cat]

The themes of regret, grief, and guilt have been in my mind lately, particularly regarding my sweet angel child-Damian.

It’s a pretty consistent theme in the comics that Damian believes he is not good enough, he’s a monster, that he’s not like his father or siblings, and that he’s full of uncontrollable anger, malice, and spite.

And while of course each batkid (and especially Bruce) have their own unique experiences with guilt and regret, I can’t help but imagine what all of that must feel like to a kid so young, who is incredibly skilled and highly intelligent, yet also very naive in a way that a child is about the world and their place in it.

Damian is frustrated when people don’t understand his harshness and his intense motivations, as it creates a barrier in the way he relates to his family. Additionally, he is barely able to step out of his own perspective as a child, preteen, and even young teenager to understand other people’s ways and motivations. This would certainly be incredibly isolating, having this drive and intensity you were tortured to develop and that you are now being told is wrong even though that’s all you know. But more than anything, he just wants to please someone, and it feels like they just keep misunderstanding him. This, of course, is not to say they didn’t try. Dick, Alfred and Bruce are his heroes for a damn good reason, but it took a great deal of time and constant redirection.

Even now, as an early teen, he’s still struggling with maintaining all the work he’s done on himself to reframe his self image and control his emotions. YOU KNOW HOW DIFFICULT IT IS FOR A 14/15 YEAR OLD TO CONTROL THEIR EMOTIONS?!?!

Do you know how much guilt and regret that must take, to keep him on track?

His desire to please is so strong because each small bit of praise that he earns reinforces this very feeble idea that, maybe, just maybe, he is good, and is doing something right. Each time he hears these things, it slowly erodes that constant weight on his tiny little shoulders of the guilt he carries everyday.

I can’t help but think of all the times he pleaded with himself and some high figure or something to “please, make me good like Richard. Help me be better. Help me be like Father. Please, please please” as silent sobs gripped his tiny frame and tears poured down onto his pillow.

Or all the times where he is sketching or training or just trying to exist and is hit with a wave of guilt as he has a flashback about his time in the league or even his early days in Gotham. Those are the days when his sketches get crumped because “it’s not worth it to even try to create something beautiful” in those moments. And how he refuses to wrap his hands as he hits the punching bag over and over again, feeling a small bit of relief at every spilt knuckle because “I deserve this pain” is all he can think.

Still til this day, as nightmares come and go, he lies there in bed and repeats to himself that “yes, that was me, i did kill, i did slaughter”, and even though what he just experienced in his dream wasn’t real, it was all at one time very, very real.

There were times when he wouldn’t eat breakfast after he lay up all night, coming to terms with his past self, reasoning that breakfast is for people that deserve it. He must instead punish his body for the its sins. Seeking comfort to placate his conscious was weakness as well. He did his best to hide his guilt and suffering from Dick and Alfred and Bruce, as it was not their cross to bear.

What he forgets, and still often forgets, is that he is and was just a child. And what he is trying to learn is that everyone has regrets, but we are not our past, we are our efforts to create a better future self. It gets a little better each day. He is trying.

At least now, he has given himself the permission to seek out the love and comfort he so desperately craves. When he silently pads into Bruce’s room at night, Bruce understands. They don’t speak, not then at least, but Damian no longer constantly denies himself the goodness that he is learning he deserves.

[ar-cadez]

Negaverse Megavolt concept!

Design notes and personality rant stuff under the cut. Warning. It's long and unreadable.

The purse thing is a generator (Ill probably design it as a prop at some point considering It does NOT look like one but portable generators are hard for me to draw for some reason)

I swapped which eye has the white in it (even though I usually draw it on the wrong side anyway bc idk my lefts from rights..)

I wanted to make the darks very prominent bc the yellows are very prominent in the original

I went with blues bc it's the only other colour usually associated with lightning and electricity.

The teal parts of his outfit are lights! They glow when he's fully charged and fade out when he's out of power.

You can't see it in this pose but his hands have outlets on the back that work the same as megavolt's chest outlet. He can power weapons with them and charge himself without the pain of straight up shocking himself

I wanted to make his hair look like it's thinning out bc of age and repeated electrical damage but I wasn't sure how to do that so it's not really present. Did give him some white hair though.

His glasses are prescription! Can't see nothin without em..

Okay now some personality stuff!

Megavolt is the hardest villain to swap bc his personality is "insane guy with memory issues but is smart" and it's kinda hard to flip that around without just making him boring? Removing his intelligence when it comes to electricity would also negate his whole gimmick which makes things worse. but I do have a few ideas. It's ironic I struggle with him so much considering he's literally my favourite character...

He was popular in high school. He was friends with negaduck and they were both pretty well liked jock types before negaduck started doing major crimes (though I imagine he was always a delinquent of sorts. Just didn't start destroying the city till he graduated) clash reunion is a whole beast on it's own bc megavolt has the most in depth backstory which means a lot of reworking for a personality swap au.

His interests, like dw's megavolt, lie in magnesium, electronics, and engineering. The difference is, despite being Intruiged by these subjects, he didn't go out of his way to learn about the. He was more focused on his peers approval back then. Not to mention the fact that negaduck was an extremely toxic friend and would absolutely make fun of him constantly for it. (He doesn't even actually care, he's just an asshole.)

Eventually after gaining his abilities he began to study electricity and start inventing things. Only.. He's pretty bad at it. Things tend to backfire on him. Quackerjack has a lot more experience than him when it comes to engineering and he tries to help him out but the guy's kinda cursed. I haven't really decided if it's more dt17 gyro where everything he makes ends up turning against him or guy am I from the Netflix green eggs and ham show where everything he makes just kinda explodes. Maybe a bit of both. Either way it's very over the top and is more trouble than it's worth, but that doesn't stop him! (Oh God someone stop him)

I didn't wanna just take away his mental issues completely because the opposite of that is literally nothing. It adds.. Nothing. It just gives him less to work with. And it's already hard enough to do this guy. (Plus it kinda implies mentally ill people can't be heroes and that's.. Mm....) So instead I decided to change how he reacts to it.

He still has memory issues along with other physical and mental symptoms of electrical injury, he just really likes to pretend he doesn't. He completely ignores his deteriorating mental, physical, and emotional health <33

I wanna flesh him out more but I'd only be able to do that if I write with him and I'm fantastic at procrastinating my writing projects <33

[brotherwtf]

I've been thinking a lot about Bucky swooping in to save Gale from *situations* (really anything whumpy)- do you have any thoughts you could expand on this idea? THANK YOU

oh man whumpy situations I'm fucking here for it

I've been threatening this for a little bit but I want to write more canon stuff and this would be PERFECT (idk if you wanted this to be age gap or not, please tell me if I interpreted this prompt wrong)

but I'm imagining an intense mission, at least 10 forts gone and Gale's fort is hanging on by a thread, John wasn't flying with him so he's terrified when he sees the smoke coming from the engines, the flak holes in the wings

but he's even more terrified when Gale's copilot shoots out of the forts belly like a bullet, shouting for a medic, Major Cleven's been hit bad, and John knows he's going to get in a shit ton of trouble for it but he shoves him aside and hops inside the bird, uncaring that they could ground his ass for good for pulling a stunt like this, but he doesn't care he needs to see Gale

what horrifies him is that there's a steady drip of blood coming from the cockpit, spilling onto the navigators discarded maps

"Buck? hey Buck you alright?" John asks and he has to swallow around something horribly thick

he pokes his head into the cockpit and holds his breath when he sees Gale's pale face, breathing heavily as he holds onto his leg, the blood spilling steadily from the giant hole ripped through his calf. John swallows bile and spit, keeping his composure as he shoves himself into the cockpit, firm hand on Gale's shoulder

"what happened Buck?" John asks, squeezing Gale's shoulder to steady the both of them

Gale shakes his head, winces and hisses when his leg shifts, panting as he tries to get up from the seat

"Ah no no no Buck you stay right there we'll get some medics in here after you," John says and Gale only shakes his head again

"it's just flak, Bucky. 'M gonna be fine, don't need a medic," Gale says and he lists forward into John's shoulder, panting heavily again

"Not sure I believe you, Buck, you got pretty banged up up there didn't you?" John asks and he's trying to keep his composure as much as possible

the wound is ugly, torn flesh and deep almost black blood gushing from the slash. If John looked hard enough he could see the bone, his hand on Gales shoulder gets tighter

"Gonna fix you right back up, I need my best friend back, right? Only two B-17's left, it's gonna be me and you Buck," John says and it's mostly to comfort himself

Gale's unconscious by the time the medics come, but even then John refuses to leave his side, holding onto his arm because he can't hold onto his hand, and he hopes, prays, that Gale's going to be okay because he needs him, he might not be brave enough to admit it but he needs him

[wlfchnlv3r]

Heyyy I saw your requests are open! Would you write about teacher and student? I know many people don't like to write about that, that's why I'm asking. Hope you have a great dayyy🫶🫶

I’m not comfortable writing about big age gap, so i just thought about making a fic where he is a new college teacher (around 26 years old) and the reader is NOT A MINOR, so she is an ADULT therefor she is +18 (I’m European you can imagine her being +21 if you feel more comfortable).

Right person wrong time

Studen!Fem Reader x Art teacher!Hyunjin

Synopsis: Hyunjin is your college art teacher… or maybe was?

Word count: 1k

Wearing: none

Note: please like i said over here, THE READER IS NOT A MINOR, so please don’t come at me :) enjoy lovely people ✨

Hyunjin was your art teacher… your young and gorgeous art teacher, he had moved to your university a year ago, and since then he just had eyes for you.

You two started talking after classes and even exchanged numbers… it was wrong but you couldn’t help it.

As months passed, one thing led to another, you guys started dating and everything seems perfect until one day of May, which you remember as one of the worst days of your life.

Hyunjin called you after his class into his office, and you both started arguing because of your “relationship”, you just wanted to be with him, but he said your whole story was wrong.

It was the first and only time he yelled at you, “we can’t be together! Why can’t you understand it?!!” Hyunjin shouted at you before leaning down on his chair.

You were taken aback and just watched him in silence.

"You dont understand! We can't be together because I can lose my job… you're my student... and-“ he said and looked at you while his head was on his hand. He was in pain as he placed a hand on his forehead before continuing “I'm a teacher and you're a student.. and I know we both have feelings for each other... but- this relationship cannot… exist” he mumbled and looked away while his heart was hurting like hell.

You were hurt, everything was… falling apart, your relationship, your plans and everything you two have shared.

You tried to talk back but all that came out from your mouth was a whisper “what?…”.

Hyunjin looked at you again and leaned more on his chair, covering his face with his hands, clearly frustrated.

"It doesn't matter if I like you... We can't date because I'm a Goddamn teacher, y/n, I will lose my job if someone finds out, and you're- you are my student..." he let out a long sigh as he started to watch some papers to distract himself from what was going on.

You stayed silent for a few moments, before speaking with a low tone “it’s- ok” you just wanted to go home and cry.

He slowly placed his hands down on his lap and looked up at you, his face expressing the pain he was feeling “You... you really understand it..?" Hyunjin asked in a quiet voice, almost surprised.

You started to feel a mixture of pain and anger, what he was saying was right, you understood it, you weren’t stupid or something, “I’m not dumb but- damn you knew it! You knew it from the start and you didn’t stop. You didn’t even stop me from feeling something for you.” your voice started to raise involuntarily.

He took a deep breath, his expression turning to guilt “I know, I should've never.. I knew it from the start...” Hyunjin mumbled to himself, his eyes avoiding yours, as he fiddled with his fingers, clearly frustrated with himself.

"I know, I should’ve just ignore my feelings for you and stay professional.." He finally spoke while throwing some paperwork on his desk, his head hurt like hell, and he felt like he was going to throw up.

He looked down, guilt and pain written on his face "But i .. I couldn't.. I just couldn't keep it in.." He almost whispered.

He knew it was wrong to develop feelings for a student. He should've stayed professional in the first place. But it was too hard to hold it in.

You were starting to shake but you just took a breath before nodding.

Hyunjin looked at you again, his eyes filled with pain and contrasting emotions "It's not that I don't want to date you... I do... I really do.." he said quietly, his eyes locked on yours "But it's just... it's just.. impossible... and wrong” he finished.

You wanted to go home, or just leave in general because it was becoming too much to handle “i- i have to go” you said.

Hyunjin's expression changed drastically as you said that you have to go, and he quickly stood up from his chair and walked to you, not wanting you leave. “Wait- just... don't go.." he said desperately, grabbing your wrist to stop you, not letting you leave.

He held onto your wrist tightly, his eyes filled with pain. "Please... please, stay... I-" Hyunjin took a deep breath, his voice cracking a bit "I don't... want you to go.. not yet.." His hand was holding your wrist firmly.

You let out a shaky breath “you said it clear and i understand- now i wanna go home” you were trying so hard not to cry.

He let out an unsteady breath, his eyes watering up a bit, but he knew he had to let you go. But it was so hard to.

He slowly released his grip on your wrist, but his hand lingered over yours for a moment, before pulling away. "O-okay... okay.. go.." Hyunjin said in a quiet whisper, his eyes avoiding your gaze, as he was hurting more and more.

You nodded and for the last time left his office.

Once you were gone, Hyunjin couldn't hold it anymore. He leaned his back against the closed door, and slide down until he hit the floor. He placed his head on his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks, as he silently cursed himself for being so weak for you. He desperately wanted to hold onto you and never let you go. But he just couldn't "Goddammit...".

After a week of not showing up to the lessons you change degree program and just start to ignore his existence, just like he did.

5 years after college (present)

You are walking with your boyfriend in an art gallery, it’s so crowded and you cant help but bump into someone.

“My fault, sorry” you hear a familiar voice and look up before meeting his gaze.

You just stay silent for a moment, a lot of emotions going on inside your head, it’s him.

You boyfriend approaches the man and, the one you think is his girlfriend, “sorry man”

You remain silent like the person you hit a few seconds ago.

Finally your boyfriend breaks the ice “did you two know each other?” At those words you just snap out your mind “no- uhm…nice to meet you, I’m y/n” you fake a smile.

“Hyunjin and this is Kayl… have we-“ Hyunjin stops confused by your words “- met before?” He finally finishes.

“no- I don’t think so…” you lie.

Taglist: @felixleftchickennugget @kiwininja35 @sweetpickledjins @slmnheart @elqivxstxr @catffeinexo-xx @multistancheck @justwonder113 @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @hello-stranger24 @raptorbait529 @cocofia143 @minniesverse @eastjonowhere

(Comment to be added to the tag list🎐)

[crooked-wasteland]

I genuinly want a hh/hb rewrite it would be peak

If I were to write the story from the ground up, I would have focused more on the idea that Heaven and Hell are unimportant. I actually liked the idea of people being sent to either one on arbitrary criteria that exists outside of morality, as I am a moral nihilist.

I would have focused the plot of Angel Dust on the idea that redemption is personal. You aren't seeking to be redeemed by others for them not being able to use you. The idea of owing others is debilitating psychologically. There are consequences to actions and people have a right to their feelings, but you don't owe others happiness or fulfillment. The only person who you should seek to redeem yourself to is yourself.

Psychologically speaking, expectation is the death of happiness. When one expects to receive a gift, they will be emotionally devastated when that expectation isn't met. Additionally, we as a generation (at least my fellow millennials) were raised to deflect negativity inward. What about us is wrong or failing to explain why others don't want to meet our expectations. It's a cycle of demoralization, low self esteem, identity crisis, imposter syndrome, and ultimately poor mental health.

As such, I would have framed Hell as Camus frames the universe: apathetic and uncaring to you, your happiness, your pain, your existence. And Angel Dust would have been my philosophical vehicle to how one would find happiness in the face of that. Because that is what Camus argues for in The Myth of Sisyphus.

We have to be comfortable being alone before we can have a healthy relationship with anyone else.

The best visualization of humanity, person to person, has to be in The Midnight Gospel where Clancy and his mother are visualized as planets. Whole worlds of their own that sustain themselves. And while he loses pieces of himself as she leaves him, engulfed in a black hole, he is still alive and is expected to move forward, for no one's benefit but his own. The idea that he is a planet shows how that expectation manifests. We have pieces of ourselves tied to others, but our ecosystem is self-regulated.

And Angel Dust as a character is the perfect example of someone who is incapable of being alone. He sold his soul to Valentino for some gold plated validation. The appearance of security, that someone else would take care of him for him. And when Valentino shows himself to be a bad actor, Angel Dust does nothing in the main series. He keeps the status quo, at most whining and complaining about how he does nothing, until he has some other person to chase.

The flaw of Angel Dust's character is his personal disregard for himself. His self destruction is a solid trait to focus on, but not validate. I would push Angel in finding happiness in the face of his choices. Learning to be proactive for himself in a way the show actually seems to devalue. Angel Dust is framed as a better person for allowing himself to be taken advantage of, but protecting his friends. But that sort of mentality is no different than him hoping someone will break him or save him to get him out of his choices.

It also leaves people who identify with Angel Dust waiting on a savior that will never come.

Slowing down the narrative and focusing heavily on characters and their wants vs needs is more important to me as someone in my 30s. I would imagine my audience being older teens to young adults who are just realizing that 18 isn't the end. You aren't going to wake up on your birthday and suddenly have it all figured out for another decade, but you are suddenly thrown into a world that has no concern for you. All your protections as children are stripped away, no one is looking out for you. Meanwhile, you have no idea who you are or how you fit into this circus called society.

Especially now with politics and the social climate we are in, I would treat it as a way of educating this demographic on how to care for themselves metaphysically through philosophy and psychology. Stripping the concepts of religion from the idea of a god, because he will never answer you. You will not be saved.

I would have probably designed my story around the idea of Steven Universe, but for adults. Bojack Horseman, but for people who don't understand the existential philosophy surrounding the plot.

And ultimately I think that is where Hazbin fell off at the starting line. It didn't have a concept of why it exists or for whom. It's a show for Vivienne Medrano that offers nothing for anyone watching. It wasn't designed for an audience, and any audience who felt it was is only providing validation to Medrano herself. It is a vapid empathy sink that only cashes back in Medrano's ego when storytelling has always been about more than just the author.

Mary Shelley writing about Frankenstein was one part a friendly competition to see who could write the most scary story. But it was another two parts of Shelley injecting questions of her soul:

Scientific study was on the rise and religion vs science was having a resurgence. For many people in her time, science was a means of replacing God. It isn't a coincidence that Frankenstein was written in 1816 and philosopher Frederick Nietzsche was born in 1844. He would have grown up alongside this work that has never fallen from popularity. The entire 19th century was marked by exponential scientific growth and philosophical recalibration.

As such, Shelley's work tackled many of the concepts philosophers would argue over in the coming two centuries. Especially so early in the era, Frankenstein explicitly tackled the idea "what if God was so horrified by his creation that he abandoned it?" It's why Frankenstein exists not just as science fiction, but existential horror.

I'm posting this picture again, because this will always matter, always be relevant, and always help when formulating a creative idea.

I apologize for not having a real rewrite, as I don't have much desire to think point by point how I would have done the show differently. Mainly because television requires some flexibility in where the story will go, but I have foundational rules and structural concepts as to what is important to tell or why this story exists.

[rita-repulsa-ke]

Death and the Scarlet Witch

"She tried to wreck my life, destroy my family, literally murder me after she thought she'd stolen my power," Wanda says, using her fingers to count off all of Agatha's crimes. "She also tormented me with my past and lied to me. A lot."

That does, Rio has to admit, sound like the woman she loves. Especially the lying part. She can't keep a smile off her face.

This probably makes slightly more sense if you've read Scarlet. Rio goes to visit the Scarlet Witch, during the time Wanda is hanging out in that cabin at the end of Wandavision studying the Darkhold.

This one has warnings for lots of mentions of death, small-d, and also Rio is not always very nice. She is, however, very romantic over Agatha.

Death is everywhere. She is on a Road that doesn’t exist and, in that same second, she is next to the hospital bed of a young man, both of them ignoring the flurry of activity around them as nurses and doctors try valiantly to save a life that has already passed into her hands.

“I wasn’t ready,” he says.

“Most people aren’t,” Death replies. “How was what you had?”

He thinks about it, then gives her a tentative smile. “It was pretty good?"

She offers him her hand. “Sometimes, that’s the best you get.”

In the same blink of an eye, she sits on wet pavement next to woman staring at a mess of twisted metal.

“I wasn’t ready,” the stranger says.

Rio keeps her sigh internal. “Most people—“

An elderly woman in a nursing home. A child swimming where they shouldn’t have been. A man killed in a fight gone wrong.

Death is everywhere she needs to be.

And simultaneously, she is at a cabin in a beautiful, remote wilderness, a cabin that radiates an achingly familiar dark power.

She pushes open the door, startles a woman making herself a cup of tea, and has to hastily deflect the bolt of red energy flung toward her.

It isn't a very good deflection and in her head, she can hear Agatha murmuring, you’re so sloppy. You have so much power, but your technique—

Yes, Ags, I know. Shush now.

“Hi,” Death says. “I’m Rio.”

The woman stares at her, then gives a short, mirthless laugh. “I know who you are,” she says. “You have followed me all my life.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Rio says.

She can’t help but notice that Wanda is beautiful.

Not like that. No one is beautiful like Agatha, frustrating, gorgeous monster that she is. No, Wanda Maximoff is beautiful like an apocalypse. She is the end of any number of worlds, the potential for a sea of corpses the likes of which even Rio has never seen.

It does amuse Rio to imagine how jealous Agatha would be, though, were she here. She always hates when Rio is looking at anyone but her.

Rio never is, of course. Not really.

“What do you want?” Wanda asks, snapping her back to this moment alongside a million others. “Is it—is it my time?”

She sounds so hopeful.

"No," Rio admits. "I wanted to talk."

She isn't sure what she wants, not really. Revenge, maybe, but why should she? Agatha doesn't deserve her fury, would scorn her protection.

Rio wants to protect her anyway.

Still, there are rules. She can't simply take Wanda. And she's made enough exceptions for Agatha already.

Wanda's laugh turns softer and simultaneously more hollow. "To talk. Death wants to talk to me. Why not? I feel at this point we should be good friends, you and I." She sits in a chair that wasn't there a moment ago, and Rio is coming to the interesting realization that Wanda is not entirely well.

Agatha had told her once that the Darkhold broke weak minds. She'd told her that while throwing bolts of dark magic at Rio and crowing over her success in having mastered the Book of the Damned, of course, but the point still stands.

"Lots of people die," Rio says. "You aren't special."

"Aren't I? Aren't I special? The Scarlet Witch," she says the words with too much emphasis, drags her voice over the sounds. "There's a whole chapter on me in the Darkhold, did you know? If that is not special, I don't know what is." She laughs again and there has never been a more humorless sound.

"Riiiight," Rio says. She's starting to think she doesn't need to enact revenge, she can sit back and let the universe take its course.

Feels a little passive, though.

"What more can you take from me?" Wanda asks. "What more can I lose?"

Yeah, I'm trying to figure that out too, she thinks. "I'm not here to take," she lies. If Agatha can do it, so can she.

"…Do you understand grief? Can you?" Wanda asks without prelude, and now Rio isn't sure this broken woman, sitting in a chair that doesn't exist, is talking to her at all.

She's also starting to notice a very interesting similarity between that chair and a certain Road she's currently walking, a Road she always knew wasn't real.

"I do understand grief,” she says, no lies this time. There is something she grieves more deeply than she'd ever thought possible.

Wanda is still talking, still mostly to herself. "I had a husband. I had children. I had everything I ever wanted."

"The ones you made with magic?" It had taken her some time to find Agatha—she isn't sure how long, she's never been good with time—to find the strange little town and the stranger situation her beloved had gotten herself into this time. But find and save her she did, unsticking her from that miserable curse.

Not that Agatha had appreciated Rio sweeping in to save her. She never does.

Still, she remembers Agatha screaming herself awake, sobbing in Rio’s arms, and she does hope there is something more she can take from the Scarlet Witch.

Wanda nods in listless agreement, that family, the fake magic ones.

How fake is suddenly a very interesting question.

"Hey, I want to ask you something," Rio says.

Wanda only nods again, staring vacantly into the past with the expression of a woman who has not fully lived in the present for some time.

"When you broke the spell, you also broke a woman's mind and left her in that place, imagining she was someone else. Someone even more annoying. Why'd you do it, Wanda?"

Now Wanda's attention snaps to her, rivulets of scarlet magic racing up her neck and down her arms, and oh, she is dangerous, all that power with so little control. Rio can picture Agatha's sneer.

"Agatha," Wanda hisses the name. "Is that who you're here to ask me about? Death has come all this way to ask me about Agatha Harkness?"

"That's the one," Rio agrees.

"She tried to wreck my life, destroy my family, literally murder me after she thought she'd stolen my power," Wanda says, using her fingers to count off all of Agatha's crimes. "She also tormented me with my past and lied to me. A lot."

That does, Rio has to admit, sound like the woman she loves. Especially the lying part. She can't keep a smile off her face. "Still. Aren't you supposed to be the good guy?"

"Not that good, I guess," Wanda says, and now even more of her attention is focused on this conversation. Though much like Rio, some part of her always lives elsewhere.

Motorcycle accident. Liver failure. A bad heart. Death deals with all of them without taking her eyes off the Scarlet Witch.

"Agatha did also break you out of your weird sitcom project," Rio points out. "Made you realize that what you were doing was hurting people. Did you know, I wonder? What you were doing to them? Did you know and try to ignore it, in order to keep everything you wanted?"

Wanda comes to her feet, surges like a wave, staggers like a corpse. Her teeth bare with fury, her eyes leak pain. "Of course I didn't! Are you just here to torment me?! Do you think that I don't have nightmares about what I did to those people? Do you know what I lost to make it right?"

Wow, she's dramatic.

"She only did it because she wanted my power. I was in her head. That woman has never done a single kind thing for anyone in her life, not without getting something in return," Wanda continues and Rio can't hold back her laughter, high-pitched, shrill giggles that contain a note of unfettered delight.

"You've got that right," she agrees, and ugh, she wants Agatha, Agatha smiling, Agatha laughing, Agatha complaining about things not happening fast enough, Agatha kissing her—

Agatha whirling her around with a crown of flowers in her hair, her expression that of someone being tortured on the rack. Agatha, laughing too loudly, cheeks flushed with cheap beer, toasting to them both. Agatha, explaining some ritual in intricate detail while she inscribes runes, talking to Rio mostly to keep herself on track.

Agatha, in their bed, lit by the fireplace behind her, head on her hand, looking at Rio like she hasn't in centuries. "I've missed you," she admits, with a sly smile. "I've been thinking. You and I always made a great team. What do you say we get the band back together?"

This isn't right. This isn't how it happened.

"Can you forgive me?" Rio asks anyway, hating how desperate she sounds.

Somewhere a man falls from the top of a building, several stories too high for survival to be a possibility and lives anyway.

"Of course I can," Agatha says. "I love you."

Hah, as if. Even during their best times, Agatha never would have said it so easily. But her hand is on Rio's cheek, and she's so warm, she feels so real. It would be so easy to lean forward and kiss her.

There’s something important she's forgetting.

An ICU has a quiet night, no deaths even among their most critical patients.

"Rio, kiss me," Agatha prompts, and the smile on her lips is so close to being right, a taunting, teasing, tormenting expression. "My love, come to bed."

This is what she wants, isn't it? This is what she's always wanted, Agatha, gentled a little, sweeter, softer, but still the woman she loves.

No, she thinks, this isn’t what I want. I want the real thing. I want the jagged edges, I want the cruelty and the manipulation and the way she screws up her face before she says anything even slightly romantic. I want the way she makes big, sweeping gestures to prove her own power, the way she kisses me like she owns me, the way she sings silly, made up songs to herself when she thinks no one is listening and how she can never sit still, not even for a minute—

I want my Agatha.

A girl falls from her bike, in front of a car and—

Death roars back into the world.

Now it’s Rio’s turn to stagger, as reality reasserts itself. "...You got into my head," she says, and she's still so shocked that she's not even angry about it, only impressed. "Congratulations, no one has ever done that before, not even Ags."

No wonder Agatha went after Wanda. Enough power to, however briefly, divert Death. And suddenly, she's very glad that Agatha, who at least claims to hate her, did not succeed in gaining that power, no matter how much Rio loves her.

"You love her," Wanda murmurs. "You really—kind of creepily—love her."

Rio throws her head back and laughs, a shrill, sharp sound, the squeal of tires on the road, the scream of witnesses. "I do," she admits. "I really, really do."

"I could see you, for a moment. The whole of you," Wanda continues. "All the places you are. All those people. So many, all the time. I don’t know how you stand it." She sags suddenly, leans her weight against the much more real counter. "…Can I ask you something?"

"Go for it."

"When I die, will I see them again? My boys and Vis?"

"Yes," Death says, with absolute certainty. "You'll see them again."

Wanda sinks to the floor, pulls her knees to her chest and shakes with relief, tears rolling silently down her cheeks. "That's all. That's all I needed to know."

"Not yet, though. It isn't your time. You still have things to do," Rio says. "Because you know what, Wanda?"

Wanda only stares up at her, face slick with tears.

"You're right. Death will follow you all your life. In fact, I think we'll be seeing each other again very soon," Rio says, letting her mask drop, and she can see her own skinless reflection in Wanda's widening eyes. "You and me? We are going to have so much fun."

Then, as Wanda starts to form a question, Death is gone. After all, how could she take Wanda now? There is still so much the Scarlet Witch can give her, so many bodies.

Besides, it would be breaking the rules.

But it turns out that there is something of Wanda's she can take. Something waiting for her on a Road that doesn't exist, something she's overlooked, something Agatha, manipulative as always, has been hiding in plain sight.

Rio will make certain that Wanda sees her boys again.

She leaves the cabin, but remains everywhere else.

Somewhere a girl sobs on her shoulder and Death pats her back with practiced movements, perfected over millennia. In that same blink of an eye, she holds an old woman's hand, kisses an old man's cheek, listens patiently to a priest perform his own last rites and guides a protection witch beyond the veil.

Then she steps back onto the Road, hands behind her head, whistling to herself. She's going to go find Agatha. She's already annoyed by all that has been kept from her, and she has no doubt it will be a fight, one where her beloved will probably say something manipulative, cruel or both.

Still, even knowing all of that, she can’t wait to see the real thing.

Want to read something sad? Try Nicky

Want to read something fluffy? Try Flirting

Want to read more Rio thinking about Agatha? Try the thief

[astrasng]

thinking about...

bf!hyunwoo who buys you anything you lay your eyes on, that specific thing already wrapped up and waiting for you on your bed when you go back home after a long day, with a small card on top saying, tell me what you want darling, and I'll get it for you♡

bf!hyunwoo who yaps about his day nonstop while laying in top of you cuddling, his legs and arms wrapped around your body like a koala and casually looks up at you to check if you're still listening to him.

bf!hyunwoo who calls you in the middle of the day when he's having an argument with Junmin about something, needing backup from you but the only thing he gets is a hangup.

bf!hyunwoo who insults you out of nowhere, teasing the shit out of you when all you do is laying on the couch or maybe doing some work at home. He loves humbling you, and then immediately kissing you on the cheeks so you know he's only joking.

bf!hyunwoo but when you insult him back, he's crossing his arms infront of him, a sulky pout on his mouth, already walking towards the bedroom so he can isolate himself. hey babe? if you think I'm up for these comments don't even bother coming in my room. and then he giggles when you kiss his pout away.

bf!hyunwoo who sends you silly pics of himself whenever he feels like, and smiles to himself when you suddenly tell him that it made you smile and more happier. expect nothing less but being bombarded by his photos for the rest of the day. even week.

bf!hyunwoo who literally will lie in your face when playing a card game, saying that he didn't cheat when you basically saw him taking another card out of his deck. babe, who do you think am I? I could never cheat, especially when I'm playing with you! okay fine,you got me.

NSFW

as earlier said, bf!hyunwoo likes sending you pictures out of nowhere to catch you off guard. well, don't be surprised when he sends you a picture of his wet cock against his bare stomach, his mouth barely showing but a small smirk painting his lips.

bf!hyunwoo is the type who would degrade you in public. he doesn't care if you are in company, he will whisper dirty things in your ear to make you flustered, his words getting more and more manipulative to get you where he exactly wants you.

bf!hyunwoo whose favorite part of you are your tits. he loves playing with them while cuddling, flicking them when he's fucking you in missionary, smiling when he hears your cries. you sound so pretty like this for me~

bf!hyunwoo who will put you in your place when you're acting bratty, scoffing at your attitude but in the next minute he has you under him, your hands gathered on your back as he forces you on your knees. keep acting like this and see where it gets you.

bf!hyunwoo who also rewards you when you behave well, his heart swell with proud and warmness at his girl being to obedient, letting you take over control and do whatever you want with him.

bf!hyunwoo who sometimes lose control when you squeeze around him just right,catching him off guard with your sweet sounds and acts while fucking you.

bf!hyunwoo is the type who slap your ass when you whimper you can't take him, shaking his head as he grips your waist tighter and pushing his weight on you slightly. you were able to take me before, so shut it and deal with it.

a/n: tysm for @tmrwsuns for helping me out with this scenerio♡ just in case, i would like to say that i don't have any intention saying or thinking that hyunwoo is toxic, or manipulative, this is all by my imagination so don't take this the wrong way!

important!: this is pure fiction, the act in this story is by my imagination and not based off true events. please do not copy the work.

[brunosaderogatory]

“Alberto has a really deep sense of imagination and perhaps it’s so powerful, it becomes the truth to him.” —Mike Jones, screenwriter

Originally, the post was just going to be that quote and nothing else because I couldn’t really figure out what stood out to me about it or why it kept coming back to my mind for so long, but I think I finally figured it out:

I do not think that this quote is being literal by its use of “imagination.”

We cannot truly say whether or not—nor how often or how vividly—Alberto daydreams because the events of the movie are shown from Luca’s limited and warped perspective. However, we have seen time and time again Alberto’s stalwart optimism at play, blinding him to logic and reality as it truly is. For instance, his inability to think that Luca may betray him on his own accord. Or, his inability to believe in Luca’s parents’ presence in Portorosso. Both of which are simply due to the fact that he doesn’t want that. That’s not in his plan, so it must not be true. He doesn’t think that it will happen, so it will not.

Although, is is extremely interesting to think about this quote as if it truly was literal. What if Alberto truly believed the negative voice was an entity separate from oneself? Or, what if Alberto truly believed the moon was a giant fish, guardian of all the anchovies (stars)? Both of those ideas can have logical reasoning upholding them, when you take into account what Alberto knows and what he is ignorant of. However, Alberto did not defend the identity of “Bruno” when Luca questioned the name, and I believe he is too intelligent (listen, man. you can’t live on an island for well over a year without being of above-average intelligence) to carry on the belief of piscine celestial bodies after someone with much more access to knowledge than you tells you that you’re wrong even if it hurts your ego. But what if?

What if Alberto did truly believe? What if Alberto’s imagination was so powerful that it did distorted his perception of reality, beyond just his optimism? What would the movie have been like, then, if it was from his perspective rather than Luca’s? Would his life have truly been great, as he said, or was that just another lie?

It’s all just very interesting to think about for me, Alberto being a dreamer.

[syndrossi]

resonant ch31 cutting room floor

As promised earlier, the outtakes of ch31, which numbered around 1500 words total (not all of them included here).

None of these are proper scenes, most of them just a few paragraphs, or the start of a scene, or the extension of a scene. Presented in their entirely raw form, with mild commentary.

Jon wants blood

Aka me letting Jon get a little angry. I didn't love either of the variants, so I just scrapped it.

Variant A: Jon allowed himself the bloody fantasy of finding the warlock in control of the candle and burying his bronze knife in him until he screamed.

Variant B: When he found the warlock in control of the candle, he would take great satisfaction sinking his bronze knife into his chest—or stomach. Whatever he could reach.

Rhaegar's lullaby

Cut from the first scene, didn't love it and the scene was already long.

“I had trouble reaching him last night with my song,” Rhaegar said, looking troubled. “I nearly had to shout.” Jon was not quite sure what he meant. The lullaby had been as quiet and gentle as any he had heard his brother sing before. “It did work.” “Eventually.”

Telling Sers Arryk and Erryk?

I opted to move all the "tell the Cargyll twins about the candle" out of the chapter to possibly use later.

Unlike Daemon, Jon reminded himself, his brother would have a knight with him to protect him from anything physically dangerous. Especially if they were aware of dangers other than the mere physical. “Perhaps we should tell Arryk and Erryk about the candle.” Of all the Kingsguard, the brothers spent the most time guarding them, and Jon had come to trust them well enough in that time. “What do you propose we tell them?” Rhaegar asked, sounding more curious than skeptical. “That it was a tool of one of our kidnappers and has strange magic and that if we ever seem drawn to something, they should—” Come get Daemon, Jon had almost said, their father synonymous with protection in his mind. But that could put him at risk now. “Lead us away from it and send for the king.” Viserys would not be his first choice, but their uncle was the one other person who knew the full details of Jephyro, Volantis, and the dragonglass candle’s magic. “Shall we stick our hands in the fire again to convince them?” Rhaegar said with a hint of amusement. Jon’s lip twitched in response as he imagined their likely reaction. “If we must.”

Didn't quite fit, didn't love it. I was a little sad to lose the part about Daemon being synonymous with protection to Jon, though.

The twins debate the hatchlings' positive influence

Cut from the final scene. The hatchlings are not with Daemon currently. I decided it was a little too large a leap for them just yet, though Rhaegar has some thoughts noodling around in his head.

“And you say it was the dragons who stopped him?” Before, it had always been Jon to break Rhaegar free of the candle’s influence. “I think so. I tried to reach him before, but he did not seem to hear me until we were at the enclosure, and Caraxes and the hatchlings drew near.” Caraxes’s presence had settled Daemon yesterday as well, when they had stopped at the enclosure on their way to the barracks. And although Viserys’s admission that he had been unable to find their father yesterday sat uneasy with him, Daemon had seemed himself upon his return to the apartments, after having been with their hatchlings all afternoon. After some discussion, he and Rhaegar agreed that Daemon should keep his hatchling escort, though it did briefly become heated when deciding precisely which hatchlings, with Jon arguing that Rhaegar should keep Qelebrys with him. His brother pointed out, however, that with both hatchlings present, it was more likely that at least one of them would be able to sense if something was wrong.

What else can the candle do?

Cut from the first scene, more musings on the candle's power, hints that Jon is planning to ask Viserys for a sworn shield to watch Daemon. Originally this was the end of the first scene, in fact, before I reworked it.

Except they had no way of arranging that while they had lessons. Could Viserys be persuaded to set a guard on Daemon? It was the king who had lost the candle, after all. Sparing another knight was the least he could do, however much their father had seemed to loathe the notion when Jon had brought it up before. Not Ser Steffon, though. If the knight could not be bothered to look in on them once during their play, no matter what Aegon had ordered, then he was not suited to protect Daemon. “The candle made you hear voices,” Jon said. “Your mother calling for you.” “Yes,” Rhaegar said, his tone more questioning than distressed. “Was that all?” “I think so.” Rhaegar’s shoulders lifted in a shrug, his smile without humor. “But would I remember, if there was?” Jon turned his gaze to the distant wall, tension winding its way through every muscle. I brought that evil here. I will find it again.

Jon wonders if Daemon burns

Cut from either the first scene or the last, I don't recall anymore. Basically Jon trying to figure out what the warlocks want with Daemon. Aka is he a means for gaining access to them, an obstacle to be removed, or someone they also want?

Jon thought back to that nightmarish day outside the Saltpans, when Jephyro had given himself over to that being of flame. It is important that we cannot burn. Jephyro had tested them first, only then offering Crayne his payment. Daenerys had not known if it was a common trait within their family, since the only Targaryens she had known before Jon had been herself and her brother. But her brother had burned. Aerion Brightflame had famously burned, though Jon did not know if even he would survive drinking wildfire. Aegon, their cousin, had been disfigured by dragonflame during the Dance. And both the king and their father had reacted with horror when Jon had thrust their hands into the fire. Was it possible that Daemon did not burn either? His scars from battle had been left by arrow and blade; Jon had borne such scars himself, once. Rhaegar had not known at fourteen that he shared Jon’s resistance to flame. Daemon might not have reason to know either.

Continuation of Daemon POV

Originally, I played around with this scene covering Viserys actually informing Daemon about the sworn shield and his reaction, but it didn't feel like it added much so I stopped early on.

Two kingsguard with him, Jon in hand, and seeking privacy. It felt like a veiled threat, and he nodded, disquieted as he sought its source. Does he already know about Mysaria? He had hoped to delay that conversation until she had provided more substantial information, but if Viserys had learned of it, it might seem that Daemon was concealing his visit for another reason. Jon settled at his other side, grasping his free hand, and Daemon squeezed it gratefully, feeling a tension within him ease now that both were with him. The first half of their turn about the godswood was rife with aimless chatter about the beauty of the trees and the unusually long autumn, which only served to heighten the dread of whatever was coming. “I am assigning you a sworn shield,” his brother announced finally, halting by the towering heart tree.  It was not an offer this time, as it had been in the past. “You do not trust me.” He had not meant to speak the words aloud. “I worry for your safety,” Viserys said, with an edge born of defensiveness. He nodded toward Jon. “As do your sons.”

Continuation of breakfast POV

I also tried out Jon's POV extending a little longer, to Viserys telling Daemon, but it felt like an awkward breaking point and I wanted the unnerving dragon enclosure scene, which this didn't work well with.

Jon convinced Viserys to wait another hour, lest they disrupt Daemon’s sleep, and in return he broke his fast with the king, nibbling at fruit while answering questions about their lessons with the royal tutors, and his progress with learning High Valyrian, and some less than subtle questions about Allard Royce and their time at the Gates of the Moon. The fact that Rhaegar’s hair had been dyed seemed to have raised the king’s ire at their cousin. Daemon met the news of his new protection with about as much grace as expected, bitterly protesting the decision and accusing the king of seeking to control his movements even after Jon had insisted that it was at his own request. Viserys kept to his word, however, informing Daemon that it was not a matter for debate.