#can't wait for it to be over but i also have zero motivation to work on it

[iamfuckingsorry]

status update: 15 days until the final draft of my thesis is due to be submitted to my supervisor.

22 days until my committee is getting it.

How much of my thesis is written you ask? About 1/2 of the methods section, by far the easiest section to write. I haven't even finished analysing my results yet.

And I'm working 3 days this week so can't even really spend the weekend catching up :)))

[thearttolifesdistractions]

Love and Friendsgiving

description: it’s friendsgiving, something you've hosted for years since moving to ireland, and, as usual, you're overwhelmed with the preparations. but this year feels different, especially with a new friend that can't seem to keep her hands off of andrew. as you navigate the chaos of the night and your growing jealousy, a new tension between you and andrew grows. and when you're forced to confront your feelings for him, you're left questioning everything about your friendship... and what could be more.

warnings: none really... mid writing, mentions of jumping off a balcony?? some cursing??

a/n: HELLO EVERYONE!!! this literally took me forever to write i'm sorry :( the week before spring break was soooo busy for me and being home for spring break left me with zero motivation... but now i'm back in school and back in my favorite coffee shop.... so be ready!! i hope you guys like this one..... i'm not a huuuuge fan of it... but i wrote it and finished it so i'm posting it! also!!! this is on ao3 @ thearttolifesdistractions if you would rather read it there ;) also thank you for following me!!!! i wanna follow all of you cuties back but this is a side blog so i don't think i can..... lmk if you guys want like my main blog to be mutuals on there!!! :)

wc: 7,010

pairing: hozier x fem!reader

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The warm light of the morning seeps through the window of your kitchen,and fills the room with natural light. It’s early, but you need an early start, or nothing will be ready on time. The smell of baking bread and simmering vegetables fill the air, filling the room with smells that bring stress instead of their usual comfort. You’re already juggling more than you can handle, you always do.

It's the last Sunday of November, and you’re starting the preparations for your annual Friendsgiving. You always host on your own, but there’s so much to do that you almost wish you had never started this tradition in the first place.

You don’t know why it was so shocking to find out that people in Ireland don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, but, since moving here, you’ve made it your mission to host Friendsgiving, It’s become a beloved tradition over the last few years, your friends happy to partake in the one American custom you can’t seem to get rid of. Each year, you handle all the cooking, decorating, and organizing yourself.

You don’t mind it, really. Cooking is therapeutic for you, and you love to take care of your friends. You also really like the compliments they give on your cooking skills. But this year feels different, you’re weirdly stressed out about the event. You think it’s because instead of your usual group of six, it’ll be ten people. Of course, the more the merrier, but that means four more mouths you have to cook for tonight, leaving you with more work than usual.

The doorbell rings, distracting you from your thoughts, and you move quickly toward the door, confused as to who’s at your door around this time. When you open it, you’re taken aback by the sight of Andrew standing there with a lopsided grin, looking effortlessly handsome in a knit sweater and jeans. His eyes crinkle around the edges as he steps forward, holding up a bag of groceries and a bottle of wine.

"Mornin’," he says with a wink. "Hope you're ready for me to take over your kitchen."

You blink, still surprised by his early arrival. "Um, I’m sorry, why are you here so early? I’m kinda busy right now." You gesture back toward the chaos of the kitchen. 

He just chuckles, stepping into your house without waiting for any approval. "’m here to help. I know Alex and Karen invited some extra friends, so I figured you might need an extra hand, y’know, for the extra mouths."

You raise an eyebrow, clearly wary of his words. "You’re serious? You’re actually here to help? I didn’t even think you cared about cooking."

"Well, I care about making sure you’re not stretching yourself too thin," he says, flicking your forehead with a grin. He chuckles as you wrinkle your face in response. "Come on, let me see what you need help with."

Your heart warms at his words, at the simple ways he shows he cares about you. The feeling it gives you is a familiar one, and you welcome it with open arms. He’s always doing things like this, simple things that remind you he cares. It really kills you that he’s such a good person. It makes it so much harder not to fall in love with him.

You step aside to let him into your kitchen, still feeling a little flustered by his sudden appearance. As you both move deeper into your working space, a wave of embarrassment hits you at the small mess you've left behind. But Andrew doesn't seem to mind. He simply grabs the trash can and begins picking up the bits you’d forgotten to toss. You can't help but watch him for a moment, taking in how comfortable he looks in your kitchen, how naturally he slips into the role of co-host. It feels natural, but there's something about his presence that makes your heart race just a little faster.

"What are you staring at me for?" Andrew's voice is playful, and when you meet his gaze, his squinted eyes and slight smirk perfectly match the teasing tone of his words.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts, a little embarrassed that he caught you staring. "I just can’t believe you’re really here to help," you tease, trying to keep your voice playful as if you weren't just imagining your life with him. "You always show up after everything’s done. I mean, you weren’t even here last year, and now you’re eight hours early"

He stiffens at your words, and you immediately regret mentioning his absence last year. He hadn’t wanted to miss out, but being on tour made it impossible for him to be there, even for one night. Of course, you were upset when he told you he wouldn't make it, but you understood. He has his priorities. His job means so much to him, but it takes so much of his time. Honestly, you were a bit surprised he even found the time to attend the previous year’s dinners. You know he felt terrible about it, he called you at least a hundred times to apologize and even sent hundreds of dollars��� worth of groceries to your house. You open your mouth to apologize, to take back what you said, but before you can, he's already speaking.

"Yeah, well, this year I figured you could use a hand. And since I’m the one who’s usually not here, and I want to make up for that." His tone is light, but you sense the seriousness behind it.

You pause for a moment, taken aback by his words. You didn’t mean to make him think he has something to make up for. "I— I didn’t mean to make you feel bad," you say quietly. "I was just joking."

Andrew’s expression softens too, and he steps closer, a slight smile tugging at his lips as he looks down at you. "I know you were," he replies, his tone gentle. He hesitates, then adds, "but I meant what I said. I have to make up for last year, I want to be here more. For you.”

You can’t help but feel warm at his words. Andrew was one of the first people you met when you moved here, and his presence reminds you of how far you’ve come in the last five years. His friendship means more to you than you’ll ever admit.

You’re not fooling yourself. You know that the way your heart skips when he’s around, how nothing feels quite right when he’s not there, how you always find yourself blushing at his compliments, it's all deeper than just friendship. You know it, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to tell him. He’s always busy, running around the world, singing songs he’s written for other women to thousands of people. He has his priorities, and a potential relationship just wouldn’t be one of them. Besides, why would he, someone who could have any woman he wants, choose you?

"Well... I guess if you really want to make up for lost time, I know exactly the job that���ll do that," you’re trying to regain some of the playfulness, trying to keep him from realizing that his words have affected oy more than they should. You can’t stop the giggle that erupts out of you when his eyebrows raise in confusion, urging you to continue talking. “You can be on turkey duty, that’s easily the most time consuming part of the dinner.”

Andrew chuckles, shaking his head. “Turkey duty, huh? That sounds like a serious commitment.” He glances around the kitchen, the playful glint still in his eyes. “I mean, that’s the most important part of the meal, isn’t it?”

He’s right, it is the most important part of the meal, but it’s also your least favorite. Something about cleaning out a turkey just makes you feel queasy. You grab the thawed turkey from the fridge and mutter, “It is… but maybe I just really trust you.” You try to sound convincing, but you can tell by the pointed look he gives you that it didn’t quite work. Rolling your eyes, you give yourself up with a small laugh as you set the turkey down on the counter. “Okay, fine. Maybe it just really grosses me out to clean it out.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Grosses you out, huh? Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.” He grins as he steps closer, reaching for the turkey. “Besides, I’m great at handling all kinds of weird stuff,” he adds with a wink, as if cleaning out a turkey is no big deal.

The laugh you let out at his words is louder than you expected. “What do you even mean by that?”

Andrew chuckles, clearly enjoying your reaction. He shrugs nonchalantly, a mischievous grin taking over his face. "Oh, you know, I’m just always always dealing with all kinds of messy situations. Could be anything," he says, his tone teasing, but there's a twinkle in his eyes. "Trust me, sticking my hand inside turkey is child's play compared to some of the stuff I’ve been in."

You roll your eyes and nudge him playfully with your shoulder. “You are so weird,” you mumble, shaking your head with a grin. 

You step aside to let him start on the turkey, watching as he cleans it with a meticulousness that surprises you. While he works on that, you busy yourself with the marinade, the familiar scent of herbs and spices starting to fill the air. You’re focused, concentrating on getting the balance just right. Once it’s done, you slowly fill the injector with the marinade, being careful not to spill even a drop.

After a few minutes, Andrew steps away to throw the cleaned-out insides of the turkey into the trash. You take a deep breath and glance at the injector sitting on the counter. You're picky when it comes to this dinner, you just want everything done the way you want perfectly. You grab the injector, ready to get it done the way you want.

As you begin to move toward the turkey, Andrew steps back into the room, and his eyes widen in defeat when he sees you with the injector in hand.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice accusing but teasing.

“I’ll finish the turkey off, you can chop the vegetables,” you reply, keeping your tone light, but you’re already feeling a little protective over the turkey. You just want to make sure everything’s done right.

Andrew raises an eyebrow, giving you a look of mild amusement. “No, let me finish. You can get back to whatever you were doing.” He gestures toward the potatoes you’ve been working on, and there’s a hint of a smile on his lips.

You shake your head, setting your jaw slightly. “No, Andy. It’s fine. I want to do it.”

Andrew’s smile falters just a bit, but then he steps toward you, his gaze turning a little more serious. “No, really. Let me finish. You’ve got other stuff to take care of.” His tone softens, and he places his hands on your waist, gently but firmly moving you out of the way.

You let out a gasp, not expecting him to grab you, but before you can protest, he’s already lifting you a little off your feet. His hands are warm against your waist as he lifts you and sets you aside with a grin.

"Let me finish it," he says, his voice barely a whisper, but it's loud enough for you to hear. "Just tell me how to do it, and I’ll take care of it."

You stare back at him, mouth slightly open, and you swear you can feel the heat of his breath against your neck as your back is pressed lightly against his chest. The closeness between you two is suddenly overwhelming, and it makes you forget what you were going to say.

After what feels like forever, you sigh, trying to pull yourself together. “Fine,” you mutter, a little embarrassed at how flustered you feel. “You need to inject it here. And make sure you don’t do it too fast or it'll get everywhere." You gesture to the breast of the turkey, your fingers brushing against his as you point.

Andrew watches your hands for a moment, then looks back up at you with a smirk. “Got it. Slow and steady.” He pauses for a second, his expression softening. “But, if you’re really worrying about me messing up, you can do it.”

You clear your throat and step back a little, suddenly embarrassed with how close you’ve been. “No, it’s fine,” you say quickly. “You can finish it, I’ll get back to my stuff. I just wanna watch you do the first injection.”

He nods and begins to inject the turkey. He must not have listened to you, though, he moves too quickly and the marinade bursts out, squirting back into his face. It’s silent for a minute, the two of you frozen. But when he slowly turns to look at you, you both burst out laughing. Eventually, your laughter dies down to breathy chuckles.

As he goes to wipe his face with his hands, you quickly grab his wrist to stop him. “Wait, no,” you laugh, a playful glint still in your eyes. “You’ve got turkey germs on your hands.”

Andrew raises an eyebrow but doesn’t move, just watches as you take a damp kitchen towel and gently clean his face. His skin is so warm beneath your touch, and for a brief moment, your fingertips linger just a second too long on his cheek. You can feel the soft pulse of his heartbeat beneath your fingers, and it makes your breath catch. His breath hitches when you flatten your palm along the side of his face, and for a split second, you swear his eyes flicker to your lips before quickly meeting your gaze again. You’re not sure who leaned in first, or if it was some silent pull between you both, but all you know is that your lips are so close to his now that you have to physically stop yourself from closing the distance. What the fuck are you doing?

You pull back, clearing your throat, suddenly a little too aware of how close you were to kissing him, to ruining the best friendship you’ve ever had. How stupid can you be?

“There,” you murmur, trying to steady your breathing, “you’re all clean.”

Andrew meets your eyes for a moment, and the brief pause feels more tense than you expected. “Thanks,” he says softly, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual.

You quickly turn away, muttering something about finishing the vegetables, your heart racing in a way you’re not sure you can explain.

A few hours have passed, and the kitchen is quiet, except for the quiet alarm every thirty minutes that lets Andrew know when to baste the turkey. The cooking went smoothly, and now the turkey is in the oven, cooking perfectly. In about two hours, it will be ready, and the guests should start arriving in about an hour. Everything is going according to schedule, thank God.

You’re finishing up the last details of your appearance, trying to shake off the feeling that everything still isn’t quite perfect. You’re overthinking, you know it, but you’re a perfectionist, you can’t exactly stop it.

Andrew brought his clothes with him, and now he’s getting ready too. You can hear him moving around, getting dressed in the other room, and you find yourself smiling a little. You’re both hosting, and it feels so... natural.

It feels right, even though you can’t quite explain why. The way he’s so comfortable here, helping you with the dinner, getting into the flow of your routine, almost like it’s his too. And for a moment, you let yourself imagine that maybe, just maybe, there could be more to this than friendship.

But then, you remember last year’s absence, and reality hits you. Andrew has so much going on in his life. So many things he has to prioritize. His job takes up so much of his time, and you know he wouldn’t have room for something like this, not when he already has so much to worry about. You couldn’t possibly be enough for him. He’s out there literally living his dream, and you’re just you.

You try to shake the thought away, but it lingers, making you feel queasy as you finish getting ready. You quickly finish applying your makeup, your movements faster now, almost frantic as you try to push down the tightness in your chest. You don’t want to think about it anymore.

When you walk into the living room, you find Andrew standing in the doorway, now dressed in his outfit for the night. He’s dressed nice, his pants clear of wrinkles and the sleeves of his buttoned shirt rolled up to his elbows. Fuck, he’s hot. You almost die when he looks up at you with his usual smile pulling at the corner of his lips. 

He opens his mouth and makes a joke, something about how you usually take way longer to get ready to get ready, but when the sound of your barely-there chuckle leaves your lips, he pauses. He studies you for a moment, his expression turning confused as he senses something’s off.

"Hey, what’s with the mood change?" he asks, his voice is gentle and concerned. His gaze is steady on yours, and you can’t stand to stare at him any longer.

You swallow, trying to brush it off, but your voice comes out a little tight, giving away your act. "Nothing," you say, and it sounds more like a lie than you thought it would. "I’m just nervous about everyone coming. You know how I get, I just want everything to be perfect."

Andrew doesn’t seem convinced. He takes a step toward you, his brow furrowing slightly. "You’re usually so calm about this stuff. You’re freaking out about the guests now?" His tone is playful, but there’s a hint of concern behind it. He doesn’t push further, but you can tell he knows it’s not just about the guests.

You look down, avoiding his gaze, and let out a soft sigh. "I don’t know. I just—" You stop yourself before you say too much, afraid if you let it all spill out, it’ll be too much. If you tell him, he’ll feel uncomfortable and leave. You can’t. "Maybe it’s just... all the expectations, you know? I don’t want anyone to be disappointed, and I don’t want to disappoint you." Even saying that feels like a confession, admitting how much his opinion matters to you. You silently hope he won’t realize that when you say you don’t want to disappoint anyone, you really only mean you don’t want to disappoint him.

His expression softens even more, and he steps closer. "Hey," he says, hooking his finger under your chin so you’re meeting his gaze. "Don’t worry about that. I’m really happy I get to share this moment with you, we all are. It’s special, and you’re the one who makes it happen. You should be proud."

His words hit you harder than you expected, you don’t know if it’s the sincerity in his voice or the way he’s looking at you. You let yourself hold his gaze for a beat too long, but then, almost instinctively, you break eye contact and step back a little.

“Thanks, Andrew,” you murmur, forcing a smile that even you know looks fake. It’s not that you don’t appreciate his words,it’s just that in this moment, with him standing so close, you’re nervous. And scared that you’ll end up saying something you’ll regret.

Andrew doesn’t stay away like you hoped he would, and you can feel your heart pounding as he takes two steps towards you. Your breath catches as you stare up at him, faces so close that you’re breathing the same air. The seconds feel like minutes with the distance between your lips so close now that you feel it might only take one slight movement for it to happen.

And just as you think the tension might snap, a knock at the door breaks the moment. Both of you freeze.

You exhale sharply, blinking, internally fracking out because it happened again, whatever it was. You turn toward the door before he can say anything. "Um, I should get that," you say a little too quickly, your voice tight.

Andrew sighs softly, his voice just above a whisper, "Yeah, you should." There’s a quiet frustration in his tone, though it’s unclear whether it’s aimed at the situation itself or at the interruption. You really hope it’s the latter.

You glance back at him for a second before quickly heading toward the door, your heartbeat still racing. As you reach for the doorknob, you still feel the moment in your heart, tense and heavy. You open the door, and just like that, you’re pulled back back into the reality of the evening, leaving behind any complicated feelings.

Despite the energy in the house, you can’t help but keep an eye on Andrew. You try not to, but every time he laughs or shares a joke with someone else, your attention zeroes in on him. And then you notice her.

Annie. One of Alex’s friends. She’s new to the event, but not to the group, and she’s making it clear that she has zero interest in anything but Andrew. The way she flutters around him, placing her hand against his arm, giggling at everything he says, leaning in just a little too close. You try to push down the jealous feeling growing inside you, but it’s hard not to notice.

Annie is all over Andrew, and every time he laughs at one of her jokes, or doesn’t immediately brush her hand away, it feels like a stab in your side. You try to convince yourself that he’s just being nice, but it’s hard to think so when he’s smiling so warmly at her.

It doesn’t help that she’s absolutely gorgeous. Blonde curls reaching her lower back, wide blue eyes, and slim legs almost double the length of yours. They look good together, and the realization has your heart squeezing in your chest. You make your way to the kitchen, trying to keep yourself busy, but the overthinking won’t go away

The evening continued smoothly after that, the dinner had gone well, everyone seemed to enjoy the cooking. Usually, the compliments make your night, serving as confirmation that you hosted a good dinner, However, tonight, they fell flat. There was this tightness dwelling inside of you, a feeling that you couldn’t shake off. Despite the warmth of friendship and laughter around you, you couldn’t help but feel distant, as if you were watching, but not actually participating..

Karen had seemed to notice it. As the dinner ended and your friends began to mingle and talk amongst themselves, she leaned over to you, her hand gently leading you away as she gestured toward the balcony. “Come on,” she said, her voice low and secretive. “Let’s get some air. You look like you need it.”

You don’t fight her, there’s no point… she always wins. The cool night air on the balcony works to calm your nerves a little, but the squeezing feeling in your chest remains. You lean against the railing, wine glass in hand, letting the breeze blow around you as the sounds of the party drifted in from inside.

Karen takes a sip of her wine, then studies you with a sharp look. “Alright, go on. What’s with you? You’ve been weird all night.”

You force the best smile you can and come up with an easy lie. “Nothing, really. Just… the stress of the dinner, you know? Making sure everything’s perfect for everyone.” You hoped the excuse would be enough, but Karen wasn’t fooled.

“Right,” she said, her voice deep with sarcasm. “So it has nothing to do with Annie practically throwing herself at Andrew?”

You gasp at her words, as if they had offended you in some way. Instinctively, you take a step back and avoid her gaze. “What? No,” you respond quickly, but the way your voice trembled betrays you.

Karen smirks, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Really? That’s how you’re gonna try and play it off? Come on, I can tell. It’s obvious.” She leans in slightly, her eyes narrowing as she gave you a knowing look. “Honestly, I think everyone can tell that you’re in love with Andrew.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you feel the redness rising in your cheeks. You try to keep your cool, but it’s getting harder. “Karen, stop it, please” you mutter, taking a long sip from your glass, hoping the wine would settle your nerves.

But, this is Karen, she’s pushy and she’s not going to give up. “Why? It’s not a big deal. Besides, he feels the same, we can all see it.”

You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Oh, please, I don’t need you to lie to me. I mean, even if he did, it’s not like it matters. He’s not really the kinda guy to commit. I mean, he’s got better things to worry about.”

Karen’s face softens slightly, but you know that she still won’t give it up. “That’s not true,” she says quietly, taking a small step toward you. “You’re just afraid.”

But you can’t let her finish, you won’t have her getting your hopes up when you’ve spent so long dealing with the reality of loving Andrew. “No, Karen,” you interrupt sharply, cutting her off. “Just stop. It’s not gonna happen. He’s Andrew, I don’t even know why he would choose me. And even if he did, he has his career to prioritize, I just don’t fit in with that.” You can feel the tears pricking the backs of your eyes, but you blink them away. The last thing you need is to break down on your balcony while you’re hosting fucking friendsgiving.

Just before the conversation had the chance to spiral even further, the sound of the door opening interrupted you. Of course, you turn around and see Andrew standing there, his figure glowing against the warm light from inside. He opens his mouth, and you swear to God that if he says anything about what you just confessed, you’re going to jump off the fucking balcony.

“Hey,” he calls out, a wide smile on his face. “Come on in. Some people are leaving, and you should say goodbye.”

You let out a quiet sigh of relief. Thank God. You quickly wipe at your eyes, and compose yourself as you and Karen start to make your way back inside. Andrew doesn't seem to be acting weird, and you conclude that he didn’t hear you. He’d be acting uncomfortable and awkward if he did, wouldn’t he?

Andrew didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when he heard Karen’s accusation through the balcony door, he couldn't stop himself, desperate to hear your answer. He wasn’t a fool. He noticed the way Annie had been acting around him tonight. And he also noticed how your eyes had followed every interaction between them. Honestly, he kind of enjoyed your gaze, convincing himself that your jealousy was evidence of your feelings towards him.

Though, right now, he really wishes he would’ve just interrupted you. His heart had stopped when he overheard your words. “... I don’t even know why he would choose me. Even if he did, he has his career to prioritize, I just don’t fit in with that.”

Your words feel an awful lot like a punch to the gut. You seriously think that he wouldn’t prioritize you? That he doesn’t wouldn’t care about you more than anything? 

After everything he’s done for you, every moment he’d gone out of his way to show you that you mean something special to him. Every time he rearranged his plans to be there for you, no matter what they were. Every time he checked in, every random text just to remind you that he misses you. He knows he hasn’t exactly been perfect, but he’s definitely trying. 

He had been trying to make his feelings clear, obviously not with his words, but with every gesture. He'd been there for you through everything, and now, hearing you dismiss him like that feels like a slap in the face.

How could you think he wouldn’t prioritize you?

You had never been anything less than a priority to him, and he couldn’t understand how you could think otherwise. He had built his life around his music, sure, but that didn’t mean he’d ever put those things before the people he cared about. And you’re someone that he cares about so deeply. And he thought that he had made that clear from the start. Clearly not.

It hurts, the thought that you feel like he would push you aside for some fleeting career opportunity. 

Is that how little you think of him?

He’s frozen, still trying to make sense of it all. He knew he wasn’t great with words, especially when it came to emotions, but do you really think that after everything he’s done for you? After all the goodnight phone calls just because he wanted to hear your voice? After every rushed trip just to visit you, even for just one night? Did you really think that he wouldn't choose you? That you wouldn’t be worth fighting for?

Did you really think he didn’t care?

He swallows hard, the confusion and hurt growing in his chest. He wants to yell, to explain that he would prioritize you, that he’s always prioritized you. But all he could do was stand there behind the door, feeling this sharp ache in his heart.

It somehow hurts even more that it’s not even anything about him. It isn’t about him not being good enough. It isn’t about him not being your type or anything else he previously thought. It was about you thinking that he would let you down. That after everything you’ve been through together, you still think he’d just drop you for something else. That you were scared of being with him. Scared of what might happen if he wasn’t there, scared of being let down because he’s always leaving. 

His heart ached at the thought. You felt the same way he did, but your own fear won’t let you accept it.

As you walked back into the room, laughing with Karen, Andrew’s eyes followed you, he had to talk to you about this. He just couldn’t go on like this, especially now that he knows you feel the same. He couldn’t let this moment slip from his fingers, he doesn’t know how, or when, but he’s going to prove himself to you. He knows he’s not perfect, and that he never will be, but he also knows that he could be the person you needed, if you’d let him.

The house is quieter now, the playlist you had chosen for the night was still softly playing in the background and Andrew’s gentle footsteps were just barely heard. You bid your final guests a final goodbye with a warm hug, and took a second to collect yourself before heading to the living room. Andrew was still here, and you knew he was going to offer to stay dn help clean up, like he always does, but you just couldn't handle that tonight.

Not when everytime you looked at him you couldn't stop the tightness forming in your chest. You think it's finally gotten to you, the years of holding back your true feelings. Now, they’re too deep. It’s too much to handle and you’re going to explode. 

When you finally work up the courage to walk into your own house, you’re not shocked to see Andrew already hard at work gathering all the empty glasses.

“I’ll clean up alone,” you blurt out a little too quickly. It has Andrew stopping and turning to look at you, three wine glasses in hand and a confused look on his face

“What?” Andrew’s voice is soft, but clearly shocked by your outburst. “I mean, I always stay and help you clean.”

You bite your lip, fighting against the words that are threatening to just burst out. You don’t want him around right now. Not when one more second with him might just have you snapping and admitting something you can barely admit to yourself. “It’s fine, really. I just– it’s been a long day, and I’m tired..”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “You’re tired? Now? Come on, Y/N, it’s barely even midnight, you’re never tired at this hour. You sure it’s just a long day?”

Of course he would notice your lie. You’re not sure why you thought he wouldn’t, he knows you, and you’re an awful liar.

You can’t meet his gaze, instead focusing on the dishes you were rushing to collect. “Yeah. Just a long day.”

Andrew sighs, a little too heavy for your liking. You know he doesn’t believe you, it’s clear that you're just trying to get rid of him. Andrew’s never been one to give up easily, but you have hope tonight is the one exception. 

But, of course it isn’t.

“You’re lying.” It’s clear in his voice that he’s beginning to get annoyed, but he’s still as gentle as ever.

You want to tell him so badly. You want to tell him that you are lying, that you’re not okay because of him. Because all you want to do is grab his stupidly handsome face and kiss him, but you can’t. So, instead, you settle for a half hearted defense of your previous excuse.  

“I’m not lying.”

“You’re hiding something,” he’s so insistent, but his voice is still soft. “I know you. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

It’s not that you don’t want to be honest, but you just couldn’t handle this right now. You couldn’t admit to him that you have feelings for him. Or that you’re jealous of Annie, the way she looked so good next to him, like it was so easy with him.

He takes a step closer, and you ignore the way his face drops when you take a step back. “You’ve been weird all night. I know something’s bothering you. I’ve seen that look before. What’s going on?”

You force a laugh, but it comes out bitter and shaky. “Nothing’s going on, Andrew. I told you. I’m fine.”

“Don’t do this,” he whispers softly, taking two quick steps closer, making you look up at him. “You’re not fine. I’m your friend, your best friend. Just let me in.”

Your heart is racing. From fear, from anxiety, from embarrassment. The last thing you wanted was for him to see how much he’d affected you. How much he had taken over your thoughts. You ‘ve been trying so hard to hold it all in, but now it feels like everything is bubbling to the surface, just waiting to spill out.

“I’m not upset about anything,” you mutter, so quiet you’re not even sure he can hear you “I just... I just get a little exhausted in group settings, you know that.”

“Oh, really? That’s all it is?” Andrew takes another step closer, until he’s standing right in front of you. “So, you’re not upset because you’re jealous of Annie, are you?”

You flinch, instinctively stepping away from him. The question has your eyes widening, breath catching in your throat, and your heart dropping down to your stomach. Your heart is racing so fast, you think this is what it would feel like to be accused of murder or something. 

Embarrassment is taking the lead in your emotions right now. You can’t tell if his teasing tone is all in good fun, or if he just thinks you’re an idiot. “Andrew. Don’t.” You keep your voice tense, but not shaky. 

“I’m serious. You don’t have to lie to me. I heard everything you said earlier. I heard you talking to Karen. And I saw the way you—” He’s so pushy, and his voice may be quiet but, fuck, is it demanding. “The way you looked at me when I was talking to her. How could I not notice? I notice everything about you.”

You really want to deny it, to brush it off, but the words are literally stuck in your throat. The image of Andrew laughing with Annie, his hand casually on her shoulder, flashes in your mind again, and your stomach hurts. The burning hot embarrassment growing in your stomach now feels eerily similar to anger, how dare he rub this in your face?

“Alright, so now what?” you snap, finally meeting his wide gaze with narrowed eyes. “You’re just gonna sit there and make fun of me? Tell me how stupid I am for being jealous over someone that doesn’t want me?”

Andrew’s eyes soften, his expression genuine. “I’m not making fun of you. I’m just trying to understand. I’m trying to get you to see that you don’t have to be scared of this.”

You shake your head, another bitter laugh escaping from your lips. “What do you want from me, Andrew? Seriously?” He doesn’t say anything, just studies your face. It pisses you off, and you can’t stop your voice from rising to the point of yelling anymore. “You want me to admit it? Okay, fine! I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you and I’m so mad at myself for it.”

Andrew stands still for a moment, his brow furrowed as he thinks.

But you don’t give him the chance to think before you’re going on again. You take a step back, frustration growing. “I don’t want your pity, I don’t want you to make me feel better. I’m just... tired of pretending it doesn’t hurt. So yeah, I am jealous. And I’m angry. And that’s the truth, whether I like it or not. And I don’t even know why I’m saying all this to you, because it’s not like it’s going to change anything, right?”

His stillness has you finally registering your own words, and you’re fucking mortified. You just admitted to your best friend that you’re in love with him… What the fuck?! His silence is clearly equivalent to the oncoming rejection, and you need to leave. You spin around to head to your room, but his hand settles gently on your arm, keeping you in place.

“It does change things” he says, his voice quieter now, softer. “It changes everything. You’re not the only one feeling all this. You think I’ve been okay with just sitting here, acting like it’s nothing? I’m so tired of pretending, Y/N. Tired of pretending that I don’t want something more than just... this.” He gestures between the two of you, his eyes searching yours. “I’ve always felt the same. And I think you know that. I think you know, even if you won’t admit it.”

You freeze, his words felt as if they were physically hitting you. Your heart skipped a beat, but the walls you had built to protect yourself were still standing, even though everything inside you screamed to break them down.

“No, Andrew,” you whisper softly, shaking your head, even though a part of you desperately wanted to believe him. “You can’t. I can’t. If you really felt the same way, why did you act like that? You wouldn’t have let me feel like I was just nothing to you.”

His face tightened, and for a moment, you thought he was getting mad at you. But when he spoke again, his voice was almost too gentle, too patient.

“I was waiting for you,” he said softly, “I didn’t want to push you. I didn’t want to ruin everything we have. But I can’t keep pretending like I don’t feel it. I can’t keep acting like we’re just friends when you’re so much more than that.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you finally met his gaze. The vulnerability in his eyes was too much. And you could see it now; the struggle, the hope, the fear. “Andrew, I don’t know if I can do this. You’re always gone, and it’s hard enough for me as your friend. I don’t know if I can handle us.”

Your words hurt him. You were scared because of him, because of his career. He knew that your feelings were valid. He is gone a lot, and it’s going to be hard. But, still, he’d make you understand that you two could make it. 

He stepped closer, closing the distance between you, his hand reaching up to gently touch your cheek. “You don’t have to do it alone. We’ll figure it out together. I’m all in,” his words were soft and soothing to your soul, “even when you didn’t realize it, I’ve been all in from the start.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. And then, before you could stop it, the words slipped from your lips. “I’m scared, Andrew. I’m scared we’ll go too far, and it’ll all fall apart.”

“We’ve already gone too far,” he exhaled softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek in the way he always did when he was comforting you. “I’m not going anywhere. I won’t let you fall without me.”

His words and gentle touch eased your troubled mind. Everything inside you felt like it was finally coming together. Everything that’s happened between you two, every moment of your friendship, all of it, has been leading to this

You moved without thinking, your hands finding his waist, pulling him closer. When your lips finally met, the kiss was slow, almost nervous. But as the seconds passed, it deepened. There was no turning back now. No pretending that this was nothing, when it was clearly everything.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

[utilitycaster]

I am curious if you think the campaign wrap up will perhaps address some of the campaign shortcomings or challenges the cast faced in trying to land this campaign narratively, especially in comparison to previous campaigns? Not that they would disparage the whole campaign - but like a little “yeah this didn’t work as well as we wanted at times?” 

It’s odd because I find myself weirdly optimistic about CR as a whole despite this campaign’s possible lackluster ending, so I guess I’m hoping the campaign wrap up acknowledges that this campaign didn’t always play to their strengths in hopes that their next long form venture does more, idk.

I don't know if it will but. that's precisely the tenor any question I send will have: I don't think the fundamental concept is the issue - hell, I don't even think killing the gods is actually a problem if you appropriately set up a scenario where killing the gods has a motivation other than "mortals were mean to me in their name" [thing that happens irl all the time in a world with zero proof of divinity, in my religiously observant ideologically agnostic and skeptical opinion] or "I have issues with my parents I never worked towards so I've projected this onto The Ultimate Parents instead of like. being fucking normal." But it needed a lot more scaffolding at the VERY least in the prep for this campaign, and actually, to be blunt, if you want to make this a balanced issue you needed to seed this concept through prior campaigns in a meaningful way. There's a reason pretty much everyone who defends this campaign as Extremely Good, Actually is either doing some form of wildly revisionist history of the fandom and the past campaigns that's demonstrably false if you were like. there; or else they started with C3 and decided they were an expert despite being of below-average literacy and deeply below average personality and have to resort to such miserable efforts as "arguing that canon isn't real" and "posting an out of context Le Guin quote over and over in the hopes we won't notice they're actually 511 mice in a trenchcoat who can't actually read". So yeah I hope Matt is like this was an ambitious project and I'd have done many things differently.

I do wonder what's next for CR, because as I mentioned, it feels like the cast is stronger in shorter form; that even the other longform shows are moving to shorter form right now; and that WBN and C3 kind of show the limits/failings of longform. I hope they do another longform campaign at some point in the future, but it might make sense to take an extended break and play in the space for a while. They only took about 4 months between campaigns for the past two and maybe it would be good to take longer and focus on Daggerheart, Candela, and EXU for much of the year and if they do longform wait 8-10 months, especially with the comparatively extensive touring schedule this year.

I also hasten to add, and I mentioned this briefly in talking about CRPGs, but I think there's a Third Campaign Dip that's not inevitable (NADDPod didn't really have it; TAZ switches systems enough that it's not an issue) but definitely hit here, that doesn't apply to a fourth one. Like, for CRPGs (girl who's played Veilguard twice and gotten through the first day of Disco Elysium voice) it feels like the first run is following what seems most fun to you and then the second is playing around with other choices that maybe aren't as appealing just to see what happens, and then for the third and future runs you kind of know the full lay of the land and what you'll like while still allowing for a range of choices. For class-based TTRPGs, the first is the self-insert/thing that's fairly comfortable and easy/character you've dreamed of; the second is what you do now that you know how this works; and then the third can be...an overextension, shall we say. I think after that you figure out, again, the bounds of your comfort zone, how much you can stretch it, and what you don't like, you're in a much more consistent footing.

[villainofmyownstory]

Three copies and some signatures

Simon/Reader/(Johnny)

I don't know I don't have an idea for a title, so I wrote anything. I know some people are waiting for the next part of Day Zero, I'm slowly writing the next chapter but need more time, but don't worry I didn't abandon it! I was motivated to write this thing by anon's shitty ask to @/rememberwren about “too many fics about Ghoap” lmao . So I also wrote something about Ghoap. Because WHY NOT? Aaaaand if you don't know Wren's wonderful work leave everything and go and read it -> HERE <3

I would like to write the next parts, but I can't promise anything.

tags: angst, hurt no comfort

don't know how to tag :< let me know what to add

______________________________________________________________

Of course it had to end this way.

It was more than certain that you would end up in this place eventually. With sweaty hands and a heart that was beating too fast and heavy. Your heart rate increased and your breathing quickened. Drops of sweat appeared every now and then on your heated forehead and you tried again and again to wipe them off. To dry your shiny skin at least for a while. At least look a little presentable.

The crumpled white shirt no longer looked like the one you had ironed for over an hour. Now crumpled and stained, it carelessly hugged your curvy body.

The chair creaked with your every move. Nervously every now and then you change positions as if at least the comfort of sitting would improve your situation.

More minutes pass and the door in front of you is still closed. The paint on them is coming off in some places, revealing the banal light-colored plywood. The entire anturage of this building cries out for renovation.

Despite the well-paid work of the people who work here, the base looks as if its glory years are long behind it and there are no funds to even refresh the walls. It's as if for at least 20 years no one has noticed the cracked walls, the paint falling off or the crooked fine wooden chairs.

Maybe it's just appearances.

You shift in your seat again. The creak of the wooden chair echoes through the empty and cold corridor. Despite the early hour of the day and the sun outside the windows, everything inside seems harsh and unfriendly. To your relief there are not many windows so the prevailing semi-darkness makes you feel marginally more at ease. At least a little anonymity. Maybe the small number of people who passed you walking through the corridor with a quick step won't remember you and when you leave these walls after all, no one will ever shout after you on the street. They won't associate you with this place. With him.

Only when that happens. When this hell will finally come to an end. How long will it be when you are free again? Because every doorbell ringing, every unfamiliar number on screen or finally an unfamiliar customer at work looking at you for too long. It won't all cause that nervousness, that cursed lump in your throat and more gray hairs on your head. Every fucking minute spent in fear.

Someone will finally find out.

Reasons.

Everyone has some. Everyone has a story, some problems, something that makes them look for solutions. The question is whether it was worth it to risk so much. Whether committing a crime was worth it to choose to live here. To continue living in this country.

To be alive.

In the distance you can hear someone's conversation, laughter interspersed with words. Empty corridors carry sounds that ring in your ears, but everything blends into an incomprehensible cacophony of sounds. Into one piece.

You know that resounding, hearty laughter well.

You have heard it many times.

The melody, once heard, is forever imprinted in your memory.

Rhythmically approaching footsteps, voices are getting louder. Two people.

They are close.

The danger makes you feel trapped. Like an injured prey caught in a trap on a hunt.

You nervously look around looking for any way to escape. However, the only way to get out of this place is through this damn corridor, the direction from which you hear the approaching voices.

Panic grips your body and mind, many thoughts appear one second not allowing you to focus and remain rational.

He is about to be right here.

As you involuntarily bite your lower lip and try not to sob, the door finally opens.

A tall and muscular man stands in the doorway, illuminated by the light from the room, like a knight on a white horse with a friendly and affable smile. He greets you and says your name. His name. 

Finally, he invites you inside. This time you managed to escape.

Captain Price. This much you know crossing the threshold of this room. In the morning when two sad gentlemen knocked on your door. You expected to be handcuffed, or something else entirely. Something you were being prepared for.  It could always happen. KIA.

And now, sitting in a more comfortable chair than the ones in the corridor, you look at his Captain. A person you knew a lot about, as well as the entire Task Force 141.

After all, you are a good student. You diligently applied yourself to your lessons. You memorized every word.

Every truth and every prepared lie.

Your made-up life.

The captain leans back in his chair still looking at you, despite the stress of the situation a calmness beats from the man.

You expected accusations, shouting, nervousness and humiliation.

Nothing of the sort happens.

“It's good to finally meet you.”

He says, tilting his head gently to the side and grinning at you.

“When Laswell called me and informed me of the situation. Well. It was quite a shock to me. A positive one. But still... it's quite surprising.”

He doesn't finish the sentence because his words are interrupted by a rhythmic and loud knocking.

Damn.

***

Several hours have passed since those events at the base. Despite the fact that there are a few hours left until nightfall, you decide to spend the night in a nearby hotel and return on the next day, in the early morning.

You didn't even wait for the two gentlemen who brought you here.

You rent a car and return on your own.

You borrowed cash from the captain. The meeting at the base was supposed to be a secret, between you and him. No sign of your presence near the base. You couldn't use your credit card.

Another fucking lie in your life.

Or maybe everything else was untrue and what was happening now was reality. The truth you couldn't quite believe.

It wasn't just the frayed nerves of the situation that made you not want to drive today.

There was something else.

Today is Thursday. A day when when he had the opportunity, he called. He was close by, at a nearby training ground with recruiters. So you can certainly expect weekly contact.

The very thought turns your stomach. It was so ridiculous, infantile.

Unnecessary.

When 9pm strikes, as usual, evenly, punctually the familiar ringtone echoes.

You wait.

One-

Two-

Three.

“Hi”

You sit upright on the edge of the hotel bed, squeezing your thighs tightly together. You straighten your back unnaturally pulling your shoulder blades as close together as possible.

Finally, you hear his low voice.

“Hi love”

Love? Huh, that's something new.

“Hi”

You repeat the greeting in a trembling voice. Does he already know about your unannounced visit to the base. Does he know that his captain has finally found out. What if-

“I miss you, so bad.”

At these words you close your eyes.

There's nothing to worry about. A standard fake conversation between two spouses. In case of eavesdropping, in any doubt. At the risk of someone continuing to check up on you.

“I miss you, too.”

you answer with a learned line. As you do every time.

“I'm counting down the days until I see you again, love”.

You hate it. You hate hearing his words. You shiver. Swallowing the incoming tears.

You're unable to utter another theatrical phrase.

When a lie repeated so many times has become the truth for you. When pretending became a natural behavior. How it happened, that something inside you changed.

So pathetic, weak creature.

For the first time, you can't follow the script.

“ 'r you still there?”

The question hangs in the void. It reaches your ears. Further learned words, however, are blocked inside you.

You open your eyes and your gaze drifts to the floor, to the hotel's dirty carpet. Seconds pass slowly. Each moment makes you feel more and more miserable. You want to throw up.

“I miss you so much, Simon.”

Shit, you're such an idiot.

You quickly hang up, throwing the phone in the sheets and running to the bathroom.

Falling in love wasn't part of the contract.

***

He shouldn't smoke.

He quit exactly when he met you. That September night.

Now, standing behind one of the barracks leaning against a cold wall, he looks up at the same sky. Looking for what you were looking for then.

The sky is dark and cloudy.

“LT?”

He is pulled from his musings by a whisper. Such a familiar voice.

“Where are ya? Come back here, I'll freeze my balls off, if- ”

“I'm comin' , Johnny.”

Crushing the cigarette butt under his military boot, Ghost takes one last look at the sky.

No star. That night he sees none. There's nothing special.

As he enters the room, the small light of the nightstand illuminates the familiar room. When the door slams behind him, in this safe space, he pulls off his mask and walks over to the bed.

Shaking slightly, Johnny sits down on his bed, rubbing his bare shoulders in an effort to warm himself.

“You quit smokin'. ”

A dry statement, Johnny says the words and looks reproachfully at the man standing over him.

Ghost smirks, reaching out his hand to smooth the sergeant's messy hair. Like a tame wild animal. To calm him down. Meticulously styled mohawk was forgotten an hour or two ago.

His hand travels lower to finally stop on the man's jaw and with little force Ghost squeezes his chin, raising it to look him in the eye.

“Behave, Johnny boy.”

“Or what?”

With a cocky grin Johnny asks. He lifts one hand and sticks his fingers in the belt loop of his pants, pulling Ghost closer, so that he's standing between Johnny's legs.

“I don't think you're ready for a second round.”

Finally Ghost pulls away and heads toward the bathroom.

Johnny grunts back.

“I saw her today.”

Ghost stops in mid-step. He stiffens, but doesn't turn toward the man who already regrets his words. There's no going back.

“I want to finally meet her.”

Saying this, he gets up and walks closer. He puts his hand on Ghost's shoulder trying to calm him down. He knows it's too much. Not after what he heard during their weekly conversation.

But a life of lies was destroying him from the inside. He could feel the rot. The stinking evil he felt at every turn. While waking up and falling asleep. It was constantly accompanying him.

No one deserved such cruelty. If he even had to pay for it with his happiness. He would agree without a second thought.

It had gone too far.

“I want to meet your wife, Simon. She needs to know the truth. About all this.”

About us.

______________________________________________________________

English is not my first language, so probably many things are poorly described and the vocabulary is very simple. If you see any mistakes - let me know!

[drdemonprince]

Your blog is like a breath of fresh air. Thank you for all the wonderful thoughts and writing.

That said I actually have a question. I am pro-palestine(it feels stupid to call it that, as if it should even be a debate) and in a very left leaning friend group. But also a very white academic one. You know the type, read Marx, dream of the revolution but continue studying to end up in 9 to 5s instead of doing anything(I am guilty of it too, this isn't meant as insult just a description)

Anyways, as you can imagine they have been extremely hesitant when it comes to having any opinion on Israel or Palestine. That wouldn't be a problem in itself, I know how to start topics with them and get them thinking usually but in this case there is an additional problem. Whenever I try to broach the topic I get shutdown with "Look at all the shit that is going on here, our country is falling into fascism, I just don't have the energy to deal with this conflict. Please don't talk about it because it's triggering". And I have zero clue what to do. Forget getting them to go on protests with me, I can't even speak to them about it and feel really guilty. Its me bringing up a heavily triggering topic after all. It feels wrong to feel guilty though. I know at the end of the day it's not important if I could convince some people to give a fuck but do you have any advice? How to get over this guilt or maybe how to broach a topic with that considered?

My main problem is my fear of losing my friends because I have been ill for some time(as in physically unable to leave the house for more than a short grocery run, or my visits to the doctor, because of pain and my friends are what keep me alive) and losing their help would be not good.

My exact situation aside, do you have advice for someone to broach a topic that others describe as unpleasant/triggering without causing a huge rift in the group?

Thanks for your kind words and your question, Anon.

I think your friends suck and that you can do better than them. I think you should get out there and find yourself some Black, brown, working class anarchist and anarco-communist buds (and Marxists who show up for others in a real, observable way in their regular lives) as soon as you can.

I know that wasn't the answer you were looking for. But I have seen this kind of entirely theoretical, jaded, self-superior, passive, white well-off Marxist type a thousand times before, and I've failed to ever see them show up for other people in any kind of consistent way.

And it's not only the people systematically crushed beneath the wheel of Capital half a world away that they neglect, either. They tend to be pretty shitty friends and neighbors when it all comes down to it on the micro-level, too. Their smug over-intellectualism and dispassionate cynicism allows them to justify remaining disengaged and going along with the status quo in a way that ultimately serves capitalism very well.

There is a theoretical basis to this selfishness and disengagement, I will admit. This type of overly academic Marxist typically believes that the fall of capitalism is inevitable, that humans lack free will and only behave as befits their obvious material interests, and that there is nothing that one can do on a personal level to hasten any kind of Revolution, so there is nothing left to do but wait, and take care of oneself, and allow the future to unfold.

This is a perspective explicitly advocated for by people like the Chapo Trap House guys, and among academic white boy communist types, it is incredibly popular. I remember hearing Matt Christman saying on his vlogs that he essentially does not believe the conditions allowing capitalism to fall will happen in his lifetime, and so his only responsibility is to just take care of himself and his family and be comfortable.

Ultimately, these types wind up sounding and behaving exactly like capitalist economists who believe that everyone is rationally motivated only by increasing their personal wealth. They are disengaged from politics except insofar as they like to make snide jokes about current events for their own entertainment and enrichment, and they don't see themselves as having the capacity to exert a positive influence on the world, nor any obligation to. It's bleak shit.

At the same time, if your friends are in the circles that tend to read and listen to and promote this kind of stuff, surely they have also been exposed to popular leftist voices advocating loudly for the Palestinian cause. And yet still they have done nothing.

Hasan Piker has been vocally pro-Palestine his entire career, and his Twitch channel has been providing near constant coverage of Palestinian issues since October 7th. True Anon has had multiple episodes on the Israel Lobby, the suppression of pro-Palestinian activism and journalistic coverage, and has aired interviews with Normal Finkelstein. Palestine is the central topic of nearly every Trillbilly Worker's Party podcast for months now.

These are widely popular voices among the very types of Marxists that you say that your friends are, and many of these creators are close friends with the Chapo Trap House guys, whom your friends almost certainly are taking notes from. So it's nearly impossible to imagine that your friends have not encountered the near constant coverage of the struggle of the Palestinians that all the rest of us have. And yet still your friends do nothing. Still they do not care, and dismiss you when you share with them how despairing you feel.

Your friends have turned off an essential part of their hearts, I think. And I don't mean they lack empathy. Not having empathy is fine, I don't have it either -- but I make the conscious choice to care about the Palestinian cause and to advocate for it, because it aligns with my values. I give a fuck. My giving a fuck is conveyed through my actions, not through what I think about or how I feel.

Your friends are showing no interest in learning more about this genocide or doing anything about it. Perhaps some degree of ignorance or hesitancy could be justified early on because the Israeli apologist propaganda is so far reaching, but we're well past the point of that explaining away inaction by now. Over 100,000 people are missing and over 30,000 are known to be dead and little girls are being shot by snipers while seeking medical care while babies are left to rot in their NICU beds.

Your friends know this. Maybe not everyone in the world does, but if they're so well-read about leftist issues, your friends do. And they have chosen, for some reason, not to care. They've disconnected from the pain the Palestinian people are in, unplugged from the steady stream of upsetting information, sought comfort in a politics that says all too conveniently that nothing they do matters, and when you try to share with them how much anguish you are feeling about the mass deaths happening throughout the world, they're dismissive toward you.

Your friends suck. If acknowleding reality and confronting the horrors of a genocide is too tough and triggering for them, then a lot of horrors here at home will be too much for their fragile egos too. There are so many leftists you could be surrounding yourself with instead, I promise -- people who give back to their communities, people who are in the streets doing the tough work of feeding and housing and fighting for the release from prison of people every day, instead of using those local struggles as a shield for their inaction on a more global scale.

Fuck these people for real. This is a big glaring red flag and it will be relevant to your friendship and your life. One day many of them might see you and your problems and your human needs as too much of a distraction from their dry academic jerk-off sessions too. I've seen it a dozen times. Sorry to be so blunt. But you seem like a person who is putting their attention in all the right places and I don't want to see that compassion squandered on people who won't ever show you the same consideration. You can find people who actually walk the walk, they're everywhere.

[queenvhagar]

if they decide to make daeron a bastard imma scream... aside from the fact that it makes alicent even more of a hypocrite daeron being valyrian looking is actually pretty fucking important. in the books jace and daeron are only a few months apart in age and everyone was like "omg look at the queen giving birth to another targaryen looking baby while the princess had a baby that looks nothing like her or her husband!" also how the heck did daeron get a dragon if he's a bastard!?

first they give us no nettles now possibly this shit... I'm so over them adapting grrm's work into a version of whatever they think is cool.

also who the heck was princess aeriana. ik some folk are saying that it's possibly a made up character before aegon's conquest ... but the targaryen's weren't royalty at that point so wtf are the show makers high on, and i'm still mad at the stupid northern plot where they have jace talking about how aegon the conqueror went up north, plus cregan talking about how alyssane and jaehaerys visited winterfell during his dad's time which again makes zero fucking sense ... it was during alaric stark's time and he's probably cregan's grandpa or smth.

don't get me started on how they switched up addam and alyn's ages, plus didn't give us anything on marilda of hull ... oh and rhaenys apparently is totally cool with corlys having bastards and even thinks the boys mom must have been so pretty ...

this season is so boring and overall without context. daemon spends his time being high on harrenhal. alicent is going through major depressio arc. helaena is her usual mumbling self without any agency of her own. aemond is terrible. rhaenyra is ... idk what they're doing with her but i don't like it. aegon ii seems to be the only remotely interesting character but now he's gone.

so glad there's only one episode left of this disaster to get through ... can't believe they made us wait so long for this shit ... personally won't be waiting for season 3 because at this point it's probably going to be just as boring.

so disappointed we never got to see... jace negotiation with manderly's, sara snow, nettles, rhaenyra going mad with grief over luke, b&c going according to the books with helaena offering herself instead of her children, daeron in oldtown, book! accurate alyn and addam and daemon doing something instead of imagining how it'd be to fuck his mom...

sorry for the rant lol everything's just piled up for me since i waited until now to watch the shows and avoided spoilers to the best of my abilities. please do feel free to delete if you wish.

When people tell people that Game of Thrones was slow paced and technically very little happened and this season is just like that and to cope... nope.

As you mentioned in the second to last paragraph there were so many interesting things they could've done with this season to fill the time and expand on the story and characters... Instead there are 3 locations where morning scenes happen that don't grow the characters at all, nobody has any realistic motivations or emotions and reactions to events (and if they do they're framed as incorrect, like Jace or Aegon). It's oversimplified and redundant. No thoughts to be provoked. No depth to explore. No arcs for characters except maybe Daemon but it's been stretched way too far out and made irrelevant. No intrigue or politics. No scheming. Characters seem displaced from the setting...

I hope season 3 is the last season, and I won't be tuning into any other ASOIAF adaptations based on the crap fanfic quality of this one that they're trying to present as profound, deep, groundbreaking television.

[barbatusart]

hey that ask/answer about sad sack/sortie semiotics reminded me to ask u a question I've been thinking/journalling about for like weeks now: how deliberate/intentional/meaningful is the symbol of mask-wearing in sad sack? I've been concocting a theory about the significance of Garv being the first to take his mask off in A Small Plot of Land & Sal being the only one still wearing a mask in AMF & how the concealing/revealing of the face maps to shame/acceptance of their own acts of violence, and I'd love to know if I'm reading into it way too hard lmao

along those same lines when I read the lil scene towards the end of A Small Plot of Land in which Stone can't take his own mask off by himself, I immediately interpreted it as a metaphor for Stone having something to hide about his own motivations in his relationship with Sal, which. uh. hoooooo boy I was not expecting the direction that would ultimately take but MAN it was fascinating to see that go down

you do some amazing work dude, you're an incredible storyteller and I'm stoked to see the direction that sortie goes (I haven't read any of it yet bc I read sad sack like a month ago and I'm waiting to read sortie until I feel like I'm done rereading/thinking about sad sack)

ahhh fuck goddamnit you caught me on glass no.2 hahaha. ah man im thrilled about this ask, thank you for taking the time to really mull over the visuals! putting this under a cut because it's long winded + includes some spoilers for SAD SACK & SORTIE alike

the mask is extremely deliberate & something i use as a touchstone for sal's psych profile work specifically. (though arguably the entirety of these comics are about metaphorical Masks lol) sal is an incredibly dissociative individual by the time SORTIE rolls around but arguably kind of always was - i deliberately went out of my way not to write DID, but i wanted to explore the space of fugue states & the messiness and muck of first person dissociation by the time we hit SORTIE.

he has a perception of his Self that exists in fragments, which all serve the purpose to continuously pass the buck on any responsibility for his present poor behavior. he in fact sees his normal self that people on the street as "the mask," and the ski masked man as his true self, ie someone selfish who takes what he wants through brute force. simultaneously then the masked man is "the mask," because whatever violence he engages in as this persona isnt something he himself (the normal everyday man) would do. you're 100% on the money on the reveal of The Face being this sort of full blunt acceptance, which sal in particular cant handle - even on the street, he goes out of his way to obfuscate himself in that manner.

he's incredibly low EQ with zero concept of his own inner world, overall. with that being said, there is a great deal of Headless motif in SORTIE that im excited for you to hit when the time comes, with all this in mind

also, garv taking his mask off first in SADS2 was absolutely deliberate as well lol i was trying to paint him as the odd man out from the very start (the first tip-off was him being conspicuously absent from the epilogue) to start planting a sort of ? seed about him.

[zumicho]

ree!! hello helloo!! I'll be straight up honest I'm nervous typing this out because you intimidate me in the best way possible 🧍🏼‍♀️ maybe that isn't the best way to start this off BUT what I mean is that I just wanted to let you know how much I look up to u 😞 I mentioned it in the ask i sent ness but i really really do!!! so so much!! and I've said it already but stamped really did have a lasting effect on me and I can't wait to read more of your works!!! I'll find the motivation soon I believe atleast that 🙏🏼

anyway, can I also say that when you followed me back I almost absolutely screamed my lungs out because I just think you're so out of my league and it's crazy that I've gotten even the slightest bit of your attention ☹️ you just seem so great as a person and AMAZINGGG as a writer!! I honestly can't express how you're so AAGHHHHH I hope this whole message didn't weird you out, but these are the most genuine of genuine thoughts I could squeeze out of my sleep deprived head 🫡 pls keep doing what you do, you're the best!!!

hellooo frans !!! ♡ ♡ ♡

don’t worry about reading my works I have yet to do a deep dive into yours !!! stamped is easily my least favorite out of all my stuff so I do admit I’m a little 🤏 just a little — excited to see what u think about the others ( absolutely zero pressure tho !! I hope they don’t disappoint )

I am out of no one’s league 😭😭😭 I started posting on here a little over a month ago, if anything ur out of my league !!!

AND AHHH I PROMISE I DON’T BITE !! ik I come off as aggressive sometimes but I swear I’m nice 🙂‍↕️ take up space in my asks anytime i know dms are scary bc I too am afraid of them

[valeriianz]

14, 17, and 23!

thank you, Seiya!

14: how do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel? Do you draw from personal experiences?

emotional scenes are both my favorite to write, and my most exhausting. i will often put myself in the situation, like i am either witnessing it or one of the characters, and just free write my emotions, let them get scattered without a point really, before i stop, reread what i wrote, and condense it or keep it and just edit it.

Let Me Down Easy and Exit Wounds are two fics that i really invested energy into, especially the former. Let Me Down Easy was a fun exercise in portraying regret, frustration, and vulnerability. neither of these fics i drew from personal experience, but it still felt personal while writing them.

17. What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

i will fully walk away from it. i let myself go back to real life for a time, i watch another show or movie, and i dont even think about it. i hit writer's block quiet often (usually in the form of zero motivation) and i learned from many years of writing that forcing words is the absolute worst thing you can do. i still struggle trying not to feel guilty over it, because i know my writing will be better for it.

usually how it comes back is when my brain just starts imagining the characters again without effort. while im at work or falling asleep and i start to day dream... thats when i know im probably good to write again. i never sit at the computer and stare, waiting and hoping something will manifest, because it never does.

23: Best writing advice for other writers?

read. a lot. fanfiction or novels. obviously i would advise to just start writing, even if it's just notes or silly or bad, at least you wrote something. but what really helps me personally is reading.

if you're struggling to find a style, or word choice, or can't get the flow just right, read how other's do it. i've learned how to be a better writer purely through other people's words. i am a sponge. i have absorbed your word choices. your sentence structure. your grammar and plot beats. they have made me stronger. i hope you have also read my silly little words and have felt the power as well <3

fic writer asks!

[seraphtrevs]

my monkey brain saw fargo so i have to ask, how would you rank the seasons?

I hope you're still around anon because I love this ask. I just wanted to wait until I was finished with s5 to see if it effected my rankings, and turns out it did! Two caveats - I have only seen each season once so I don't have 100% recall on them lol and 2) I have not seen season 3 yet! which is completely insane because I love Ewan MacGregor. That's next on my to-watch list, but for now, here's my ranking of the seasons of fargo, from best to worst (I'm also going to grade them on a scale out of 10 because I think it's important to note that when I have criticisms, I still think this show is consistently excellent):

Season 2 - one of the best seasons of television in television history. An incredible work of art. This is the season that really exemplifies the kind of profound absurdity that defines the series. The comic and the tragic are perfectly blended, and the characters are all depicted with an unsentimental empathy that I found very moving and enlightening. All of the moving pieces of the plot slot together so perfectly and there is zero handholding. Like I love a show that respects me enough to not spell things out so I can have a little think for myself, as a treat. Perfect season, no notes. rating - 12/10

Season 4 - I guess there are people who don't like season 4?? I don't get it. Maybe I'm just predisposed to like it because I love the historical setting, feuding crime families, plucky girl detectives, and female serial killers. It doesn't get on the profound level of season 2 but it's very entertaining. rating - 9/10

Season 1 - there was a lot to love but i feel like they were kind of finding their footing. It's not as polished as the later seasons, and I actually find this one unpleasant because I hate Martin Freeman's character so much - like, he's meant to be hated and they did a super good job of making him hateable, so I can't knock them for it exactly. But seriously there was nothing to like about this guy and watching him was often very unpleasant. Obviously I love Malvo, because I can't resist satan-coded characters. But sometime I felt like they went a little too far with him - like sometimes his only motive is that he's just so cccrraaaazzzzzy! Like there were a couple of moments that were moriarty from sherlock kind of lameness. But those are very minor complaints. Rating - 8.5/10

Season 5 - I still really enjoyed the first half of this season, but the back half really rubbed me the wrong way. I loved Dot and I especially loved that when you discover she's a secret badass, it's not because she's really good at martial arts. Instead, her strength is in her quick thinking and ability to construct elaborate home alone traps, which is so much fun. I also love the actress - this is a great performance. John Hamm is also really good. But the whole season had this maudlin tone that was very at odds with the other seasons. Lorraine's character didn't work for me at all - like her "no daughter of mine will be held captive!" moment was supposed to make us feel good, i guess? except it felt so forced and unearned. And I really have no idea why the narrative decided that she was a cool girlboss for using her power to control people via their debt for....good, I guess, by giving the cop lady a nice job and using her influence to punish john hamm via prison violence. That last part I particularly hated - not that i have sympathy for asshole rancher john hamm but the idea that prison violence is a righteous part of the justice system is very fucking gross and they really wanted me cheering for that. the battle of the sexes aspect in general was very on the nose, and it read like a fantasy of domestic violence by a man who feels very upset and guilty over the fact that women suffer from domestic violence than a more serious look at the issue. I also HATED both of the deaths in this season - I'm not against character deaths but they both felt completely pointless and just there to add to the body count. rating - 7/10

[tobiasdrake]

Amazing how, despite the absence of Peacekeepers in our face right this second, this is nonetheless the worst its ever been.

I'm not saying Makoto fucked us all. ...but I'm not not saying that. If things continue down this path, Makoto will have killed Huesca and destroyed the Nocturnal Detective Agency, something Yomi's been trying and failing to do for weeks, all in one fell swoop. Yomi will get to ride the high of killing us all and Makoto gets to go home secure in the knowledge that he made this checkmate happen.

Assuming this is the outcome that he intended to happen, of course. But I've watched Makoto work Yomi over. Man's playing 4-D chess while we're all playing checkers. It is highly possible that he meant all of this to happen.

So this is our motive. To escape the base, we have to find Fink and prove his existence to Yomi - Which will likely involve some retaliatory soul-reaping to avenge Yakou.

Probably not. Like I said earlier, if all of these security measures are stopping us from leaving then they may be stopping Fink from leaving too. It's possible he's still in the building. If he didn't get out before they turned off the elevator, he may even still be on this floor.

Right now, Yomi's licking his wounds and figuring out what to do with us. We have breathing room. This is the perfect time to act.

Desuhiko's not wrong and this is a common complaint I have with Yuma's behavior. But it's better than sitting around with our thumbs up our asses, wondering how long until Yakou draws his final breath.

If Halara's with us then we must be on the right path! Let's do this!

Astral projection. Which means if we hold his hand, we can astral project too.

Hold up, condition? You gonna tell me what that means, big guy?

I will tear you in half little man.

I mean, I won't. But if you swing on Vivia, I will offer Halara a fiver to snap you in two. I don't even care that Vivia could outfight you in his sleep. They can both kick your ass together.

It's astral projection. I knew it. This spiritual ability is probably also why he can see Shinigami. He has one foot in the plane that she exists on.

This is going to be fun. I can't wait to Coalesce with it! Vivia, you and I are going to be the best of partners.

CHOKE ON YOUR TONGUE. I wanna be a gho~ost! T_T

He is looking right at Shinigami as he says this. He knows exactly what's going to happen if he helps us.

No, we won't. Yomi's a fascist prick. Before Halara showed up, he was kicking Yakou's body to help him die faster. We're supposed to trust that guy with Yakou's medical care?

You and me both, my guy. I feel you. I'd love to live in that world too. But it isn't what we have. It's important to always keep moving forward, to keep striving to build a better world to live in. But to always keep one eye on the world that presently exists.

I wish I could believe that Yomi is a good-hearted well-meaning guy who will engage with us in good faith and offer Yakou the care that he deserves. I wish I could have faith that our situation is such.

But I don't. His behavior has given me zero confidence in his willingness or ability to treat us fairly.

Too harsh, Halara. While I agree that Vivia should help me commit long-range remote-murder, I can't fault him for his reluctance to do so. He's got a good heart.

Yes to that first one; He does seem violently concerned about the presence of the Book of Death among us, and its involvement in our activities. Rightly so. It's killing people.

Vivia once again cutting to the thematic heart of these investigations. Through the Mystery Labyrinth, the price we pay for the answers we find far outweighs the value of those answers. We trade lives in exchange for secrets that weren't worth those lives.

Should he truly help us do it? Take the blood upon his hands, the same as ours? Desuhiko and Halara can't fathom what he's talking about because they don't know. They don't understand what's at stake here. But Vivia knows. He sees the monster that lurks over Yuma's shoulder and feeds on souls unjustly condemned.

I hope he sticks to his guns. I know he won't, 'cause we have a case to crack and game mechanics won't let us just call it here. But this is a strong moment for him.

Oh, we're going to trick him. Wow. That's dangerous. We don't even know if we'll be able to get our soul back in its body without his help.

Never mind, he knew exactly what we were on about.

Yeah, he rolled over fast. "I won't do the thing because I'm morally opposed to it. I have no qualms with helping you do the thing, though. It's not the doing of the thing that I'm against; I just don't want to do it myself."

SPOOKY GHOST. This is awesome. I'm going to investigate so many things and they won't be able to stop me. And maybe finally take my chance to rub my butt on Yomi's desk like I promised.

Gotta keep my word, y'know. It's called integrity.

[majingojira]

So I read your post and all I have to say is no. No. No. No. NO. NO!

Sjbattleangel and Samasmith23 are not nor ever have been motivated by "righteous malice" or any of that nonsense! All they ever wanted was for you and your friends to do better!

Those posts made by HellYeahHeroes, Ubernegro and others were ALWAYS wrong and so was Nostalgia Critic and Mr. Plinkett in encouraging that sort of behaviour! AVGN and Linkara have long apologised for this sort behaviour and strived to do better. The worst Linkara ever did was call Joe Quesada a "moron", "dickhead" and "hack" but now he realized how out of line he was and, like I said, has APOLOGIZED for it. As for the MANY false equivalences: The way HellYeahHeroes, Ubernegro, Farsight-The-Chad and TheFemaleFury treat creators and the way Linkara goes after-let's say-Frank Miller and Gary Brodsky are two completely different things: 1) Miller and Brodsky are ACTUAL loud and proud misogynistic bigots who deserve Linkara's tongue-lashing! 2) Tynion, Snyder, Williamson, Slott, Cates, Hickman, Aaron and others are NOT "hacks", "bigots", "TERFs", "eugenists", "misogynists", "perverts", "fascist sympathizers", "closeted Neo-Nazis", ect. Especially when there's ZERO evidence to prove otherwise! HellYeahHeroes, Ubernegro and others have every right dislike their work, every right to be angry but to spread misinformation about them and attack them as people is, was, and always has been wrong!

Just because something was once acceptable, doesn't make it right!

Also, hyperbolic attacks against these creators ISN'T the same as MST3K 's snarky jokes towards B-Movie filmmakers!

"Don't make my friends apologise for being toxic because it distresses them!" So you constantly move the goalposts, deliberately turn a blind eye to actual evidence of their toxicity towards creators, always making excuses for them. There are words for that: Complicity and enabling. Is this the community you want? Are these the people you'll happily defend just because you happen to share the same beliefs? If they ever enact out hurting any of these creators due to some twisted sense of justice for fictional characters, how will you defend them then? Sjbattleangel was right. You, HellYeahHeroes, Ubernegro, Farsight-the-chad and the others are no better then the far-right hate mongers of Comicsgate and The Fandom Menace.

Enjoy the community you made.

Looks like you exploded, must have hit a nerve.

For someone who is trying to defend people to make it appear as though they aren't full of Righteous Malice, you sure are expressing a lot of it yourself on your self righteous proclamations. Like, your rant does more to damn you and your allies than anything I've said about them.

Me, I personally have an apology I waiting to the appropriate parties, and I am not a person who demands personal control over every acquaintance and their choices. You, however, demand it of any and all that you see. By what right do you do so? How much damage will you do in your pursuit?

I also know that I can be a complete tool. You, however, have done no self reflection for someone so sheeted in righteousness.

You can do no wrong, because you don't truly know what it is.

Or, to paraphrase another great writer:

"You can't call yourself the good guys and do bad guy things!"

Remember when SJW battle angel tried to weaponize another group when the creator was trying to take a break but wouldn't back down? I do. It was hilarious.

Your call for justice is shallow and superficial.

I mean, you are so full of yourself that you failed to realize that Linkara hasn't scaled back that far, he scaled back even further, limiting himself to the behaviors rather than the people 99% of the time. The other counterarguments are equally ignorant.

Hell, your reading comprehension is so poor you failed to understand that the core of the points we've been trying to make are the thing you think is a moved goal post.

HYH not talking about this stuff anymore for mental health reasons. Do demand an apology out of them now is a dick move. If they change their mind, then you may proceed -- once they start up again.

Once upon a time, you could have talked to us about the subject and gotten defenses or apologies for recent, active behavior.

But the statute of limitations ran out.

No, really, if you wanted to view any of what we said as libelous, the statue of limitations on it are one year, and (IIRC) only the affected party could file suit.

But that's just the legal take on it. And what are uncontroversial laws in the face of self righteous internet jackasses like you?

That's the difference between us.

I know I can be a monster. A long winded, condescending jackass who uses his higher than average intelligence as a cudgel and barrier against criticism. It's gotten me in hot water before.

And I've had to eat crow more than once.

While you think your farts smell like roses based on what you've been doing here.

That you devolve into Slippery Slope reasoning based on talk that hasn't been engaged in for several years is telling! How can they go down a path they are no longer on?! It only shows the depths you have gone to justify harassment.

Belated harassment at that.

Like, it just goes to show your incompetence that it took you this long to react.

"You are no better than far right hate mongers!"

Oh, really? That just tells me you never actually dealt with any of them directly.

Me? I've been fighting Creationists and Anti Abortion activists online and IN PERSON for over 2 decades now. You would shrivel up and die if you were exposed to half of the horrors I've endured.

Personally, I find it amusing that your crusade devolves into such blatantly bad logic. I particularly it funny that you want to go after me as if I had some control over other people.

"But you still hang out with them!"

You've never hung out with people who had different opinions than your own? Who you never disagreed with?

No wonder you are so brittle. You lack flexibility.

[calalac]

Alright alright a couple of short(?) rants because my brain is kinda sad today, feel free to scroll on by

I have zero motivation to do my job because the task I've been given to do to fill in the gaps when there isn't enough of my actual job to do (which is about 90-95% of the time) has no real deadline so there's not really any reason for me to care about doing it, which means I basically spend the whole workday scrolling on my phone or dissociating (side note some people when I tell them about this are like Wow! I'd Love To Be Able To Do What I Want All Day And Still Get Paid and... trust me yeah it sounds great in theory but in practice it is absolutely mind numbing)

I'm lonely most of the time because I work remotely so I have so little human interaction during the day other than through my phone

I'm also lonely because I moved to this city about two months ago and although I'm gradually making some friends, so far I don't have any who I feel really comfortable just messaging out of the blue to be like hey let's hang out! or whatever so instead I'm in a cycle of "I'll just wait for them to message me first" - I also think I'm probably coming on too strong, which I always do when I meet someone new that I like spending time with

I haven't been able to settle into a comfortable routine yet where I'm actually doing my hobbies regularly, I've barely touched a book or a video game or my piano or anything crafty or writing-y since moving here. I think it's adjusting to living with my boyfriend and we still need to find the balance between spending time doing stuff together and apart, but so far (and this is entirely on me and my bad habits from past dysfunctional relationships, nothing to do with him, he is great and tries to encourage me to do my hobbies) whenever he gets home from work I just do what he wants to do (so like, make food, watch TV, go to bed)

to go back to the first point, my job is extremely dull and unsatisfying but it pays so much better than anything I've done before so I know I really shouldn't complain given the cost of living etc etc but I want to do something more fulfilling, something that actually makes me feel good and means something??? but I don't know where I'd begin to look because 95% of translation jobs out there are severely underpaid (barely over graduate wage) and I'm...... not really qualified to do much else

My dad has cancer for the third time in two years and I've immediately compartmentalised it like I always do so I Do Not Know how to feel about it

I haven't had the motivation to properly finish putting some things away/putting decorations up in our house which is slightly frustrating for me but also I know my boyfriend finds it more annoying than I do but isn't saying anything because he knows my brain is a mess and doesn't want to come across as bossy

I can't really connect to any of these emotions to analyse them properly because my head is filled with sand and static

(if you made it this far, here you can have this > 🎁)

[stokesy55]

An omega SHOULD NOT go more than two months without a heat. These things have to be factored in.

wait again, I'm so sorry but I'm so confused 😭😅 how on earth did stu survive basically going his whole life without a heat in hips then? or does this come into effect only after an omega has started heating? so an omega normally would go into heat around 13/14 and once their cycle begins, it's not healthy for them to skip heats any more than two months. but because stu has never gone into heat his whole life, this rule isn't applicable to him, and once he comes off his meds and goes into his first heat, this rule will become applicable to him?

also when we say yashasvi has the omegaverse equivalent of pcos in the form of irregular heats, what exactly does it entail? does he skip months while heating? or does his heat still come monthly, but it's irregular with respect to duration, like his june heat is just two days long, but the one in july is literally 15 days long, then the one in august surprisingly obeys convention and lasts 5 days? stuff like that? would suppressants have an effect on yash's body or not? bc you said bcci would try and dose him with sups but they keep getting the timings wrong, so how does that work exactly? 😅

and not a question, but a random thought: his troubles with heating would make yash even more cautious and distrustful of alphas than he already is! he himself has very little idea about when his heat is due, and sometimes he has no preheats to warn him either, so he's really cautious about hanging out with alphas. because he has this mortal fear that what if i go into an unexpected heat and i can't get away quick enough and an alpha takes advantage of the situation to force themselves upon me? he surrounds himself with betas and omegas, as he knows they can't steal his heat the way an alpha can, and avoids being alone with alphas as much as possible.

and once, that's exactly what happens. they're in the middle of a match, yash is batting when he finds himself going into heat unannounced. he panics. he had a heat just fifteen-twenty days before, there's no way he is going into one again right now, before a month is up. and he had no preheat this time around either, zero warning that something like this was about to happen. what is he going to do, he thinks wildly? the field is full of alphas breathing in his rising scent. he has to walk off now, retire hurt, while he's still in his right mind. shubman's batting at the other end, and he realizes quickly what is happening as he catches yash's scent. he is at yash's side in an instant, pushing all other alphas away, shielding yash as he scurries towards the dressing room. it takes shubman all his strength to keep his impulses under control, but he reminds himself that if he let those impulses take over, he'd go into rut and neither of them will be in their right mind, and do something they'd both regret later. he doesn't want to be that type of alpha. so shubman just leads yash away, and ensures he's properly sequestered.

when yash's heat passes, he realizes the magnitude of shubman's actions. he could have waited until yash's heat was in full force, had begun properly, and then whisked him away to claim him as his own. instead, he chose to do the noble thing and ensured yash was protected and comforted through his heat. not many alphas he's met would've done something that decent. it's when yashasvi finally starts believing that there are no ulterior motives behind shubman's friendliness, his kindness and compassion is not a pretense.

Ok, let’s break it down.

Stuart wouldn’t suffer any of this because of his Antarax. Antarax stops his body doing anything omega, so none of this would bother him. As soon as he stops taking it, he’ll have the same to deal with as we’ve already discussed.

Yash’s heats will last between 4-7 days, it will be preheat that’s unpredictable. Sometimes he gets no warning, sometimes it’s a week. It’ll make it hard for him to get sups right, especially before he’s playing internationally and some of the responsibility is on him (trying to break his way into a team that pays for him to play).

Cute idea with Shub, but he couldn’t go ANYWHERE NEAR Yash if he was in preheat. He gets hooked on that scene and he’s trigger rutting. Makes more sense that Shub notices and finds a beta or someone to look after Yash.

But I probably won’t do this because I have something else planned…

[lanawinterscigarettes]

“if I try to focus on all of it at once and everything I still have to finish it's a disaster and I'll start to cry and have a compete emotional breakdown” me…me legit right now, gonna go watch Waterloo Road after this exam so Lindsay and I can cry together <3 but yeah like I was kinda taken aback I had one friend who when I said I was aiming for a’s was like ‘that’s not gonna happen anyway’ and I was like wait so what do you think and they were like ‘oh a c or b at best, maybe a d’ like thanks for the motivation and then I had two other friends who were like ‘you’ll be fine with c’s’ like hello I’m not saying I’m gonna get A* across the board or whatever that’s never gonna happen but come on at least try and pretend you’re encouraging and it would almost make it better if they were in the trenches and working hard and don’t have time for emotive responses and as miserable as I am but no they’re just cracking on with their day calling their mates the lot of them casually get A’s too and they’re like if you get badly you get badly like hello what idk annoyed me maybe im wrong for being annoyed but felt like they weren’t bothered 🧍‍♀️- ⭐️

See exactly that's why you gotta just take a little bit at a time <3 and you're absolutely not wrong at all for being annoyed because if I had a friend/friends who was so flippant and casual about something I was clearly stressed over I'd also be upset, like just because they're not being personally affected by something doesn't mean they can't be sympathetic towards you and your feelings. Also telling someone from the get go "Oh you're just going to do poorly anyway so what's the point" is going to worm its way into that person's mind and make them think that they're going to do bad no matter what which means they're not going to try as hard so they won't do as well which isn't helpful!! So I'm here to tell you that I firmly believe you can do it and that you can get at the lowest a B but most definitely an A or multiple As because you're very smart and don't listen to people who don't know what they're talking about like you wouldn't ask a penguin for advice on what to wear in the desert yknow (that probably makes zero sense I'm so sorry 😭 I really hope you get what I mean here)

[northropi]

More Twitter shit and this time I'm feeling especially grim about it, oomfies.

The pattern my usage of SM took after trying to quit it is kind of indicative of why a lot of people didn't. You set up to leave, you start using alternatives, but because not everyone does you end up stuck in a transitional "I'm phasing this site out" state indefinitely. I use Twt far less now than I did then and really my overall general doomscrolling has been greatly reduced even across my now multiple sites, but in the big picture, shit has been fucking rough.

I've noticed, and no doubt you have too, how heavily I've shifted from creating to consuming. In addition to how tight my schedule is, how limited my resources are, my motivation has been utterly destroyed by having to start over. I never had a lot, but here the only one who consistently sees my posts is Alaska. I can accept just making things for myself but I can't imagine being happy as a hermit reduced to only in-person art showings. Still, that really feels like where things are heading. Every site is either bad for art, not even oriented towards art to begin with, gives zero visibility, or doesn't allow half my work to exist.

I kind of quit Tumblr as an art/writing outlet due to its AI thing, as I did on DeviantArt. But at least they have an opt-out even if that's an incomplete solution. I guess that's just where the bar is now considering what Twitter's doing. I'm still utterly lost though. DA had some instant success but with its slop problem that might not be waiting for me when I come back, Tumblr is obtuse at best and hostile at worst, Newgrounds has some pretty steep standards before it even gives you the privilege of appearing in people's recommendations, Bluesky is absolutely serviceable but its launch was a wet fart after a failure to build momentum up to then, I dropped Wix over Palestine, Obsidian offers something but it's paid and SFW, Reddit, I don't even know what Pixiv is, and Eka's is a walled garden and also, you know, not exactly something I'd use exclusively if give the option.

Am I being dramatic in saying that I think we're kinda witnessing the death of writing/illustrating content creators as internet personalities here? Because at this point I think we're gonna be reduced to posting decontextualized scraps in forums with nowhere to really follow us in the way YouTubers and Streamers have relatives security in.

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