#but this is stuff more people should hear

[mootmuse]

Legitimately this is exactly how this scene went. And instead of doing the stuff I should be I ended up rambling about that. Here goes:

I managed a rewatch recently and as genuinely funny as it is to talk about, this scene was kind of chilling. Like the way Crozier just Turned as soon as someone who would/could stand up to him walked in. (Or someone who - like Jopson - he associates with feeling good and having his addiction fed.) Like the way he was in one moment like 'oh of course you're right it's dangerous to send the men outside' when Blanky stood up to him, and in the very next moment once Blanky wasn't around to see, coldly ordering Little outside again. And the contrast with how he treated someone (Jopson) who was never in a position to have to tell him 'I don't have any whiskey for you'. Genuinely excellent illustration of how far he'd spiralled to and how bad it'd got.

Like the show doesn't spend any extra time hammering anything into your head, but the way Crozier was at that point lying to the people around him based on whether he could push them around, and how that was all centered around the goal of getting more to drink was very much there.

I also think Little and Crozier's earlier dynamic here is interesting in terms of how people under that kind of stress interact with different personalities. There's more than just this at play but, even without it coming up in terms of words or actions, in the way Little and Jopson both speak and carry themselves it's obvious that one is a much stronger personality than the other, and someone in the mindset Crozier was in then is going to respond to that instinctively.

Also, while I do think rank and class were at play there - if Jopson was the type of person to tell Crozier anything he didn't want to hear just then I think he might have been on thinner ice than Blanky was, because Crozier's so used to him being a servant and perfectly obedient in everything. But Blanky did very much get away with pushing back a little bit, and Blanky is lower in rank and class than Crozier is too. According to Wikipedia historical-Little (and so probably his fictional counterpart) is a first lieutenant, which I assume (knowing nothing about any kind of military) makes him the man on the spot when the Captain wants to give a direct order, so that's probably a big part of why he becomes the target of Crozier's addiction-feeding at that point, but the show I think makes a good case that personality is a part of it as well.

The only thing that gets me is when people act like this is Crozier and Little's ENTIRE dynamic. Like with a lot of Crozier's early show behavior that often gets taken for his entire default personality this side of him came out in specific circumstances for specific reasons, and changing those circumstances changes Crozier's behavior and dynamic with the other characters, like Little. Crozier's not soulbonded besties with Little the way he is with Jopson, but when it comes down to it all these guys are just Adventure Coworkers who signed up to bunk together for a few years. His relationship with Jopson is weirder than his relationship with Little, which reads to me as a very normal one; when it comes down to it Crozier is ultimately just Little's boss (although interestingly the script does note I think at the promoting Jopson scene that at that point Little sees Crozier as an admirable person, so- a boss that Little maybe looks up to).

I'm not getting at anything, I just think it's all pretty interesting, the way the show handled this part of things, and I needed something fun to do.

edward i need you to walk a mile in the freezing cold to bring me more liquor. yes it is so cold you could literally die. chop chop. JOPSONNN YAY how are you my sweetiepie sparkle jumprope queen. i will never let anything happen to you. my perfect baby boy. EDWARD where the FUCK is my whiskey

[cowboyschumi]

MUSE

Summary: Oscar is known for being bad at padel, which is why he tries other hobbies, like photography. Now, he clearly needs something to take photos of.

Author's note: Oscar trying to play paddel 🤏

I'm a huge fan of taking inspiration from songs, so you can listen to this. Don't forget to enjoy the reading and show some love. <3

Warnings: None ig.

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COWBOYSCHUMI | 2025 All rights reserved. Do not copy, translate, or upload on other platforms.

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Oscar had to be grateful for being that good of a driver. Man, he was really bad at other sports. Everyone pointed it out and made fun of him, some people even pitied him or found it cute. He even tried golfing, but that racket was his last straw. He was a bit frustrated, but Oscar wasn’t the type to get frustrated and give up. He just accepted the fact that he wasn’t gifted enough.

His Instagram was— for his luck because he wasn't a media guy— managed by a social media professional, who made him posts and even took charge of taking pictures. Yes, none of his dumps, captions, or stories were posted by his own hands, which was crazy. He wanted some sort of control over that, after all, he had a voice and a platform. Not taking advantage of that would be a shame, besides there was no fun and genuine part if he wasn't the one behind his Instagram. So he decided to take it more seriously, it made his brain hurt in the most untolerable ways but he started to post more, engage with his fans.

Instagram dumps are such a religious thing for some people, he wasn't in that group until now. Having a picture perfect Instagram would let people have more connection with the places, his interests— perceive him differently and not some boring and flat boy with not much to say.

Like any driver, he had a stylist, a PR team, and other fancy stuff—which he didn’t like much because the main focus was on him, physically. His content was different now; it was full of sunsets, yachts, cars, and food pictures. He had to thank his team for lending him a professional camera—it made the quality ten times better.

"It's a lost cause." Oscar spoke as he carelessly dried his hair with a towel.

You vividly remember the first time he stepped into one of your classes—the typical shy kid who barely spoke. Other drivers came along with him, doing most of the talking, but they weren’t consistent in attending. For them, padel was just a way to kill time. Oscar, on the other hand, wanted to know everything about it—from the size of the court to executing the perfect shot with his racket. A few weeks after his first class, he started booking lessons on his own, demanding more focus and dedication.

He came around twice a week, and seeing him so often, you quickly grew close. So it wasn’t surprising to find him frequently emerging from the showers at the padel club. You had even learned to tolerate his wannabe tennis grunts when he hit the ball. At this point, you had already seen the worst of him.

"You’re just being hard on yourself. Not everything has to be perfect."

Like in any common locker room, there was a bench where people placed their clothes after showering. You sat there as you two talked.

No matter how comfortable you were around Oscar, you respected him, so you made a point of not looking at his shirtless torso.

"Don't give me a pity speech. I’ve heard enough of that." He really did sound tired of hearing it. But it was true—no one should be too hard on themselves for not meeting their highest expectations. Striving for perfection in everything wasn’t normal. Oscar’s mindset was too rigid, and being optimistic felt like an impossible task for him.

"Webber told me you started… photography? He even sounded worried about what you might do with that." Chuckles and laughter echoed through the warm changing room.

"Yeah, I mean, it’s pretty great. Still got a lot to work on," he admitted sincerely, making that classic uncertain face he always did when he wasn’t sure about something. His facial expressions were always amusing. "I got bored of photographing the plants on my balcony at home. Took some photos of Lando, and Hattie doesn’t even want the lens near her."

Laughter filled the room again—it felt like a comedy show at this point. But when it faded, you exchanged a tense glance, as if communicating telepathically. A mischievous smirk lit up his face.

"No." Your answer was immediate and firm, anticipating what was coming.

"I haven’t even said anything!" He raised his hands in mock innocence, his guilty smile still in place. Oh, you knew him too well.

"I won’t. I’m not photogenic."

"Please, just one time."

Oscar always swore on one-time things. But when something felt good, you tended to repeat it. He knew exactly how to take advantage of your kindness, always asking for harmless favors—because, in the end, you never said no to him.

————————————————————————

And there you were, in his Monaco apartment, on a morning when rain was pouring outside. Oscar always pointed out the differences between his current lifestyle and the one he had in Australia, the daily longing for home. That small place in Europe had its charm, and he wouldn’t complain, but he missed the wide-open spaces, the warmer weather, and even his mom’s cooking. Now he lived on the highest floor of the busiest avenue, in a cramped apartment so small that he barely had space to walk around.

"I brought donuts and coffee," You announced while cleaning your boots on the entrance mat.

"Cool, thank you. Would you mind sitting by the window? The light is majestic." His attention was focused on his camera, probably adjusting some tricky settings.

"Already bossing around?" Unbelievable. The kid already thought he was a professional photographer, giving orders and having the worst attitude.

You had a big trench coat on, surprisingly still soaked after the unstoppable rain. And it kept coming—people still struggling with their umbrellas, cars almost floating down the street. That’s what you could see from how high his apartment was.

The brown-eyed boy placed his face behind his huge, intimidating camera, yet somehow, you didn’t feel intimidated by it—after all, he was the one taking the photos. But then, an unexpected expression of discontent crossed his face, confusing you. Your brows furrowed instantly, maybe you weren’t pretty enough to be photographed. You relaxed your body, stopped posing—that was it. At least you tried.

"Take it off." Oscar’s index finger pointed at my jacket, his face continued hidden behind the camera. The view was limited, but his expression remained unreadable—no emotion, all seriousness. Clueless.

"It's freezing cold outside, you're insane." Despite your protest, you did as he told you—just like always, hating yourself for it. Your body leaned against the nearly immense open window, the breeze sneaked through with ease, making your skin shiver. Your face card wasn’t your main attribute, maybe your toned padel body was. Still, you couldn’t quite grasp why he chose you, considering all the contacts and friends he had. Favors were an unbreakable thing between you two, but, of course, you never owed him a thing.

A few more adjustments, and his camera was down again, poker face still tattooed all over him. With slow, measured steps, he walked closer until he stood right in front of you. His mannerisms were always soft and gentle, like he had been written by a woman. Not exactly naive, but delicate enough to make you feel safe and comfortable in his presence.

Oscar set your coat aside, draping it over his vintage couch. His whole place had that aesthetic. You especially loved the Abu Dhabi carpet that stretched across the floor, its deep reddish tones were delightful. His eyes couldn’t help but dart down your slim silhouette. Your white sleeveless shirt, drenched from the rain, clung to your curves, turning entirely translucent against your skin.

Finally, your eyes connected, and you desperately searched for answers, whether in his gaze or through words. The driver was entirely focused on his task, calculating angles, observing the natural lighting, and analyzing your body. Over-analyzing your body.

You knew that look—the one men gave when they stared too long, leaving a disgusting feeling. But Oscar wasn’t like that. Yes, he was staring, but with such admiration and adoration that, for once, you didn’t mind. For the first time in a long time, you felt pretty. Feminine. Reaching that level of femininity wasn’t easy. Padel and sports had always shaped your image, conditioning you to appear tough, stereotypically masculine. But under his gaze, all of that melted away.

You broke eye contact as the staring became too overwhelming for your liking, exceeding your daily dose of attention. You couldn’t just escape him because he was there, and you were working, or something like that. Your breathing hitched, and you involuntarily let out a low gasp at the feeling of his fingers brushing against your skin. His touch was cold, just like your body. The only warmth came from the fire igniting in your cheeks. His fingers hooked around one of your white straps, which had fallen out of place.

God, you wished you could say a word, anything, but you were petrified.

“You look gorgeous.”

“You just say that hoping I’d say yes to another photoshoot. Your guinea pig.” The back-and-forth banter and sarcastic flirting didn’t end, but now you were playing silly enough to avoid any heartfelt compliment. You didn’t like those types of things because you never knew how to react, especially when they came from him. His contagious laughter filled the room and your world turned upside down.

Something always lingered between you two, and it was the expectedly obvious, taking into account the amount of time you spent together—padel mornings or sometimes afternoons, dinner nights if class ended late, and when he actually managed to wake up to his multiple alarms, cycling together. But it was casual because you never knew what could cross a man's mind; spending a whole day together could mean nothing to them, maybe he even saw you in a sisterly way. So you tried to chill, not giving it much importance—because, again, a compliment could mean nothing.

His free hand found its way to your nape, resting his palm there, barely cradling it. You had no choice but to regain eye contact; he had you cornered with his gaze—physically, too. Any cold once brought by the winter weather had vanished. Your skin was hot, almost burning. Oscar's gaze didn’t reflect frenzy or desire; he looked lost, even stunned.

“Let me kiss you, please.” He murmured hopelessly, his words caressing and sweetening your ears in the most shivering way.

“Oscar, professionally is not the best to-” It was just a matter of seconds before he silenced you in the most cliché way possible. His kisses mirrored his personality—timid and shy, as if he were afraid to go too far. Yet, at the same time, they were sweet and innocent, like a first kiss, completely inexperienced.

Something that you clearly weren't used to.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him even more close, letting each other feel how you teetered, how you edged by just a kiss. Your consent gave him more confidence, turning the encounter into something deeper, sloppier. His lips parted against yours with more urgency, the hesitation melting away as the two of you let each other get lost in the moment. His breath was uneven, intoxicatingly mixing with yours. The kiss grew needier, desperate, and hungry. The sound of your teeth crashing messily together was secondary as his tongue brushed against your lips, savoring, tasting, before he dared to explore further. The slick warmth, the breathy sounds between kisses, the way his body pressed against yours—it was thrilling in the best way.

“I never really liked padel that much, nor was I good at it. There was no chance of improving. But you know why I kept coming back.” Oscar's smile emerged in the middle of the kiss, his tone playful, hinting that he knew he’d been doing something wrong just for the fun of it. Paying for extra classes just to see your face more than once a week? Genius move.

“Oh, I'm so gonna kill you.” You warned him, still in disbelief, that he’d been such a fool, especially since you would’ve said yes to any date prior if he’d only had the courage. There was no need for this extreme and unnecessary padel. But, still, seeing him struggle was part of your routine—and you enjoyed it. Not wanting to hear any lame excuses, you pulled him in, deciding to stay glued to his lips for a very long time

[canmom]

you read ML research (e.g. arxiv, state of ai, various summaries), you find an overwhelming blizzard of new techniques, clever new applications and combinations of existing techniques, new benchmarks to refine this or that limitation, relentless jumps in capabilities that seem unstoppable (e.g. AI video generation took off way faster than I ever anticipated). at some point you start to see how Károly Zsolnai-Fehér became such a parody of himself!

you read ed zitron & similar writers and you hear about an incomprehensibly unprofitable industry, an obscene last-gasp con from a cancerous, self-cannibalising tech sector that seems poised to take the rest of the system down with it once the investors realise nobody actually cares to pay for AI anything like what it costs to run. and you think, while perhaps he presents the most negative possible read on what the models are capable of, it's hard to disagree with his analysis of the economics.

you read lesswrong & cousins, and everyone's talking about shoggoths wearing masks and the proper interpretation of next-token-prediction as they probe the LLMs for deceptive behaviour with an atmosphere of paranoid but fascinated fervour. or else compile poetic writing with a mystic air as they celebrate a new form of linguistic life. and sooner or later someone will casually say something really offputting about eugenics. they have fiercely latched onto playing with the new AI models, and some users seem to have better models than most of how they do what they do. but their whole deal from day 1 was conjuring wild fantasies about AI gods taking over the world (written in Java of course) and telling you how rational they are for worrying about this. so... y'know.

you talk to an actual LLM and it produces a surprisingly sharp, playful and erudite conversation about philosophy of mind and an equally surprising ability to carry out specific programming tasks and pull up deep cuts, but you have to be constantly on guard against the inherent tendency to bullshit, to keep in mind what the LLM can't do and learn how to elicit the type of response you want and clean up its output. is it worth the trouble? what costs should be borne to see such a brilliant toy, an art piece that mirrors a slice of the human mind?

you think about the news from a few months ago where israel claimed to be using an AI model to select palestinians in gaza to kill with missiles and drones. an obscene form of statswashing, but they'd probably kill about the same number of people, equally at random, regardless. probably more of that to come. the joke of all the 'constitutional AI', 'helpful harmless assistant' stuff is that the same techniques would work equally well to make the model be anything you want. that twat elon musk already made a racist LLM.

one day the present AI summer and corresponding panics will burn out, and all this noise will cohere into a clear picture of what these new ML techniques are actually good for and what they aren't. we'll have a pile of trained models, probably some work on making them smaller and more efficient to run, and our culture will have absorbed their existence and figured out a suitable set of narratives and habits around using them in this or that context. but i'm damned if I know how it will look by then, and what we'll be left with after the bubble.

if i'm gonna spend all this time reading shit on my computer i should get back to umineko lmao

[bwobgames]

They see a slumped, defeated looking Owen and a pensive Simon on one of the tables.

“Now that’s not the mood for a fancy train ride. Cheer up, strange creatures!”

“No can do, for the future only brings ruin. Forked paths. Uncertain fate. Such an herculean feat of Atlas proportions”

“What”

“We’re thinking”

“Are you?”

“They’re bummed out because they have to choose a career for university”

“WHA- WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?”

“Around”

“Is that what’s worrying you? Career prospects?”

“It’s more than that! I took a year off to ~find myself~ but uh. I mostly played videogames and got a cool haircut”

“And now I have to actually do the damn thing, and I still haven’t found out what I want to do!”

“It’s alright Owen, the university life is not for everyone.”

“No no, I know that! But I need to know what is it that I want to do for the rest of my life!”

“That does sound like a Herculean feat of Atlas proportions”

“Well, what is it that you like to do?”

“Uh. Listen to Medieval versions of popular music?”

“…As like. A hobbie”

“Don’t worry, a lot of people don’t end up working as the thing they studied. I was a security guard for a good while!”

“Security! That’s it!”

“A security expert? That’s a noble job”

“I’LL BECOME THE NEXT DOMINION!”

“The guy is nowhere to be found, and people found he sold all the stuff he stole so he must be loaded, right?”

“And! I get to have a cool costume!”

“You think it’s cool…?”

("He thinks it's cool?!")

“Owen that’s how you get in jail. And at least a few broken bones. A person needs to be borderline crazy to believe they can pull off the stuff Dominion did”

“Because he was like no other, truly. Amazing, mysterious, charming…”

“A complete lunatic”

“less than three”

“wh- Did you say the heart emoji out loud?”

“Well, if I can’t be Twominion then what do you think I should be, Mr. B- Oliver Beebo?”

Hmm… Something that Owen would enjoy…

“I think you’d do it well”

“Well, that does sound fun, but uh, isn’t that a bit… low on employment?”

“That is true, but. Does it really matter for your type?”

“My type?”

“Rich people."

"You have connections. Your parents have connections. No matter how low-end a career path might be, you’ll get to do anything because of your family’s name”

“Ollie, you’re not wrong but I don’t think that’s what the kid wants to hear right now…”

“Why not? It means he’s free to do whatever he wants. Look at Nadia”

“Oliver…”

“She’s studying film. In a country with barely any movie productions. Less so known ones aside from some closed circles. On a private University.”

“Yet she’ll be able to do all the movies she wants and be successful because the Margulis name is strong”

“…Excuse you. Are you implying I’m not able to be successful on my own?”

“Ah, you certainly have talent Nadia, I wouldn’t say anything against that”

“But that talent can be found in millions of people. People who might be even more talented. But we’ll never know because they won’t be able to reach the place it has been given to you on talent alone”

“You will. Because you have money. Because you were born with money.”

“…You-“

“SIMON! HAHA WHAT ABOUT YOU SIMON? HUH? WHAT DO YOU WANT TO STUDY HAHA”

“C’mon Beeb, only I’m allowed to fight the child”

(“Fight?")

Simon thinks for a second

“…Marine Biology”

“Although mom always gets weird when I say it. I think she might hate fishes”

“Bu- But you are good at cooking yeah? Didn’t you love cooking?”

“I am good at it but… The cooking scene isn’t very nice…”

“And I refuse to cook Lobster! It’s terrible and cruel!”

“Well, what if you become a vet! And specialize in fish! Or become the owner of an aquarium!”

“That just seems like a roundabout way to get to marine biology”

“You could have your own restaurant! Fish free!”

“I think it’s fine."

"If you like it and you think you can make it, then go ahead. Biology is hard though, think about that”

“I’m pretty good at it”

He seems relieved.

While he can’t speak for the others, his blonde roots and white shirt made his eyes look… almost green.

Eugene never got to study what he loved. He’ll make sure Simon does.

<-PREV START NEXT->

[blackcoldcrackedheart]

I guess this is another what if/continuation.

Tommy felt ridiculous on checking in on Evan. But the guy hadn't answered his phone since letting Tommy know that he was being discharged from the hospital and his girlfriend, Ali, would be taking him home.

Tommy tried to not feel a pang of jealousy at that. He knew Buck had a girlfriend and was straight. Yes, he was an "ally" but it sort of stung since Tommy thought they had clicked when they first met in Evan's hospital room.

He thought Evan liked him, but it was clearly wishful thinking on Tommy's part. A part of him knew he should just be grateful that Evan still wanted to be friends with him after Tommy had told Evan that he was gay.

(Carla was weirdly supportive of Tommy being friends with Evan still, "I just think Buck and you could learn a lot from each other." She had told him nonchalantly after he had told her he felt weird continuing their friendship with all the Abby and looming feelings Tommy had for Evan.)

He knocked in Evan's apartment door, "Evan?"

No answer.

"Hey, Evan? Are you in there?" The fear and worry got to him, Evan wasn't answering his calls or texts and now he wasn't answering. If Ali was with him, then surely she would answer the door.

It was daring and infringing on Evan's personal space but he was genuinely worried; Tommy checked to see if the door was locked.

It wasn't.

"Evan?"

He had never been to Evens apartment, but he wasn't expecting the large airy industrial loft. He took a moment to look around the dark apartment, there was hardly any light in the kitchen except the light coming from the large windows that showed off DTLA.

He turned to his left and saw the soft glow of an orange light before he hear Evan's voice- it was rough and bordering on mad. "You know, most people would take the hint and leave me alone."

Tommy could hardly be upset at how cold Evan sounded, he was too worried about Evan. The man looked dejected and upset- his blue eyes red shot and his face blotchy.

"What happened?"

Evan sniffed, rubbing his nose with his sleeve. He let out a scoff that broke down into a sour sounding laugh. "Ali broke up with me."

"She what?" Tommy sat down on the table across from Evan, careful to leave space for where Evan was resting his cast covered leg. "Like now?"

"Yup." Evan nodded, his voice rough as he tried to avoid looking at Tommy. "She-uh, couldn't live with the fact that I'm a firefighter. I guess it freaked her out that she could lose me."

Tommy grimaced at that, it was something he had noticed in the past with his teammates and their exes. People loved scars on firefighters, it just freaked them knowing how they got them.

"Can't say I blame her." Evan admitted, he tried to pull a smile for Tommy's sake but Tommy could see the grimace still. "This is a lot for anyone, I know I'm a lot without my leg in this stupid cast."

"Hey!" Tommy gently touched said leg, "You're not a lot." He reminded the younger man pointedly, "You're going through a lot right now, you didn't ask for your leg to get crushed by a freaking firetruck." He sighed, watching as Evan leaned back in the couch. "Who's going to help you now?" Tommy asked after a few seconds of silence. He couldn't help but notice the stairs that more than likely led to Evan's bed and the bathroom that was clearly in the main floor.

"What do you mean?"

Tommy raised a brow at that, his mouth opening slightly. He figured he didn't need to clarify here. "I mean, you're currently using crutches and you live in a apartment with stairs." He looked up at the loft, "A lot of stairs." He shook his head, "is your sister planning on staying with you?"

"No." Evans confused face was staring to worry Tommy now, "She'll drop by, but I'm probably just gonna sleep on my couch, y'know, since the kitchen and bathroom are down here."

"Uh huh." Tommy pursed his lips, the logistics sounded...fine. "What's your plan for getting your clothes and stuff from your bedroom?"

Evan paused at that, clearly annoyed and not having thought out that far yet, "I can hop upstairs if I really need something or I'll ask Maddie or Bobby for help when they come by."

Tommy had a bad habit of keeping his head down and staying quiet. It was mostly out of fear and self preservation because when he did open his mouth during the most inopportune times he would end up saying the most out of pocket and random stuff like...

"Or you could stay with me."

The cat was running out of the bag now.

"Er- wh-what?"

Even Evan looked as confused as Tommy felt.

"Not like forever type of-" Tommy shook his head, hoping to start over as he paused to reset himself, rubbing his neck nervously as he tried to find the words all while his stomach was interested in bringing up his lunch again. "I have a house, it's a one story house, so no stairs to deal with and I have a guest bedroom with its own bathroom. It's a shower stall, so you wouldn't have issues getting in and out."

It was bold to assume Evan would even entertain the idea of Tommy's request since they had only known each other for five days.

There was a carton of milk in Tommy's fridge that Tommy had had longer than this...friendship?

"You don't have to say "Yes", obviously....I just don't want to leave you here. Especially since the first few days are the hardest and you're gonna be on pain meds for a while."

Despite thinking Evan would be weirded out, Evan looked thrilled and relieved- a weird mixture of aww and feelings hit Tommy hard in his heart. Evan looked so adorable, blushing as he smiled hard at Tommy. "You would let me stay? I mean- I-I wouldn't mind. It's just taking care of me might be a lot. Im probably gonna complain about my leg when im not loopy on those pain meds."

Tommy chuckled, patting Evan's leg, "After what you went through, you should be able to complain."

That got Evan to laugh, he was already looking and sounding bright to Tommy's ears.

It suited Evan well.

(This crush was gonna drive Tommy crazy.)

"It's just- I should probably pay you rent or something."

Tommy eyed the loft, "I don't even want to know what you're paying rent for this place, keep your money. I just want you to focus on getting better. At least when you're staying with me, I don't have to worry about you falling down multiple steps just so you can change your shirt."

Evan still didn't look fully convinced, "I don't know, Tommy. I- I wouldn't be in the way? I mean, we just met. You're gonna get sick of me real-"

"I don't think I could ever get sick of you, Evan."

Tommy didn't have the rationale to wince or over think about how sincere he sounded. He didn't even want to know what he looked liked while saying it.

Because Evan's reaction was worth it. The younger man seemed to flush all over, his eyes dilating as his mouth dropped open for a bit.

Tommy couldn't help but linger at Evan's lips.

"Y-yeah. O-okay." Evan licked his lips, Tommy could have sworn Evan's eyes dropped to Tommy's lips, but that was definitely wishful thinking. "It would probably be easier to stay with you then here right now."

Tommy had to get back to being rational and logical about this.

"Exactly." He stood up, "I can pack a bag for you and then we can head home? Maybe pick up some dinner on the way, we can pick up some Thai food."

Evan's relieved and grateful smile had Tommy grinning back like an idiot. "Sounds great."

"Great." He clapped his hands together, "Just point me to where you keep your luggage."

Thirty minutes later Tommy was helping Evan get into his truck.

It was definitely a stupid idea to have his crush stay with him, but Tommy couldn't help but feel incredibly giddy as he and Evan talked throughout the car ride to the restaurant and then to Tommy’s house.

Maybe this could be the start of a beautiful friendship...once Tommy got over his crush on Evan.

[lowkey-loki245]

So, I edited all the images together, got it down from 12 to 6. I also fixed the spelling errors I made. This all stemmed from me wanting to joke about a bad habit of mine that is probably more serious than I treat it. You can straight up see where I stopped treating this comic like a joke become I realized "Oh wait, this should not be treated like a joke". Listen, I've just gotten so used to my problems that I forget how big of a deal they are. Anyway, hope y'all like this, ig.

Yes, I dumped my issues with intrusive thoughts onto both Dark Cacao Cookie and Pure Vanilla Cookie. They've both been through so much, it makes sense that they'd have them. Intrusive thoughts can be cause by anxiety, depression, OCD, and trauma in general. Both Pure Vanilla and Dark Cacao have been through a lot of trauma, with the war and the beasts.

But anyways, does this count as vent content? I guess so, it's just different from my usual stuff. It's more comfort than vent. Like, telling myself the stuff I need to hear. Honestly, despite the fact that this is Tumblr and most people on here would probably eat this up, I'm still scared of how people will react to this. But worst case scenario, I get dumb death threats in my dms, so it's gonna be fine.

Also, sorry if they're out of character, I'm still new to the game. Plus, I haven't even gotten to Golden Cheese's story, so their characterization is entirely based on vibes. (I originally thought she'd act like Rainbow Dash from MLP, lol.)

[vaguely-concerned]

the more I play the more I think lucanis basically knows it's illario who betrayed him right from the beginning (he's had a year in the ossuary to think. not that many people knew where he was going. when you ask him 'did Illario know you'd be on that ship' his only answer is the hardest flattest 'yes' you ever heard). so it's not so much about figuring out who the traitor is (because that's ludicrous. we all know. immediately. they didn't really bother to hide it lmao) as about methodically closing off every single avenue of denial lucanis has clung to that whole time with as much or little gentleness as you might prefer until he has no choice but to admit it. because the moment he has to admit it, he'll have to do something -- feel something -- about it. and that's such a catastrophic event in lucanis' inner landscape (he has had TWO people in this whole entire world up until now and will do anything to hold on to them with a heartbreaking child-like desperation, even at and especially through the detriment of his own self) that he'd rather just. not. what if we quite simply. didn't. what if we just stayed here in the emptiness where we can both pretend you didn't hurt me in a way I should never forgive. I have so much practice in that with caterina already it's always worked out great for everyone so far. (press x to fucking doubt but that's trauma logic for you lol)

after everything illario did, so much of the storm of lucanis' emotions around it is 'what the FUCK did you get yourself tangled up in this time and how do I get you out of this mess safely'. what's worse: the fact that your brother murdered you, or that he put himself in horrible danger doing so and thus exposed you to the risk of losing him forever. lucanis' heart certainly has an opinion here and it's fucking unhinged (affectionate)

the themes of dissociation in lucanis' character in general makes me feel nuts. allllll these contradictory messy things he needs to cut off from each other because they can't coexist or be easily reconciled inside him. but all remain stubbornly true separately anyway and will have their due one day. love and resentment. tenderness and fear and rage. terror and longing. love and freedom don't coexist. the burned out golden child anthem is playing in the background. he was always caterina's favourite and he has to keep striving to deserve that dubious honour with every breath he takes and then, presumably, mercifully, some day he will die and be excused and can rest. and until now he's suppressed all the -- natural, healthy, protective! -- negative feelings that threaten the few attachment relationships he actually has, at the cost of ever actually having his needs for connection and safety met and leaving his core self imprisoned and compromised. and spite goes 'what. no. that's dumb fuck that' (*spite voice* I do not understand that and even if I did I would not respect it) and does not allow him to fall back into that, which I think is what saves his life, ultimately. it took being possessed by a demon for lucanis to even contemplate telling anyone he loves 'no' in any way, but hey. whatever gets you there right lol

lucanis is dealing with the freeze response allll the way down baby. and he was even before the ossuary, that just turbo powered it and brought it to a breaking point way before it could happen naturally. but something was going to break eventually no matter what, and I'm just glad that in the end, through the power of friendship and also pure spite, it doesn't have to be him

[shepscapades]

Why does Ren have 4 ears? Are they all real or is one set fake?

Hehe I’ve gotten this question a lot actually! They’re all real— I like to think hybridization isn’t always a clean balance of traits, so Ren just unfortunately ended up with two sets of ears— his Dog ears being much more receptive to sound, naturally— and sometimes when the extra intake of sound is too overwhelming, I imagine he wears earplugs in his human ears to help adjust :> it’s a bit weird, but idk! i like to make designs funky and nonconventional! I liked the idea that Ren had hearing struggles due to wonky hybridization and just kept the concept :>

[meaningless-mayhem]

It's such an upsetting feeling when you're friendly with someone but then they hit you with something they say that lets you know that they fundamentally will never understand you :(

My roommates are painfully straight and I fear they will never understand asexuality

I told one of my roommates that I'm asexual and at a later point they literally said "maybe you haven't met the right person yet" or something close to that effect

And another time I mentioned to another roommate that I've never had a crush before and they said "you're lying"

I know they mean nothing by it but it kind of irked me

I'm usually really open about my asexuality but when people say stuff like that I'm reminded that I should really keep my mouth shut sometimes.

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

no one FREAKING understands jo march and friedrich bhaer the way i do

[toupee-or-nottoupee]

yk i brought omi at first bc i personally thought he'd be funny to take along to the headmaster's office after the polyjuice. i did not intend for my brain to turn the quest into one big bonding time (and foreshadowing). it's fun for me but it was coincidentally a great choice esp with Niamh talking abt what darkness is and its value despite what it is. It's all very foreboding.

Also, just to note. my ravenclaw run is a no dark arts run so Ominis does trust the mc rather implicitly on such matters is how i perceive this. she's vocal abt not wanting to learn it despite still wanting to help sebastian.

Pt 1 / Pt 2 (you're here) / pt 3

[the-worms-in-your-bones]

wow, my housemate known for being an asshole is being an asshole again, who could have guessed

[quirkle2]

how would u guys feels about me selling stuff on inprnt? it likely wouldn't be fanart, it'd be original works—prolly mostly october eighteenth stuff. there might be fanart but i'm still deciding. any interest

[fingertipsmp3]

Maybe I did this to myself but it does irk me when people see me knitting and they ask who it’s for and I say it’s for me and the immediate reaction is “you should sell it” yeah… let me spend at least a week’s worth of my free time making an item I like, want, and would wear just to sell it on etsy, making at most a £2 profit on materials and not being compensated for my time whatsoever 👍🏻

[buildarocketboys]

Man nothing like talking to other writers to make you feel like you're not a proper writer