#do i throw out everything we built or keep it | threads

[komvrebi]

most people would look at the day they had just spent at the beach, at the aquarium, and think they had a lovely vacation. and while it was true, this mission was unlike any other, it was still a mission. it still required work. and truly, getou was tired.

and he knew, for as tired as he was, gojo was all the more tired. satoru hadn't slept once since they'd picked up this mission, and he was running infinity almost constantly. suguru tried to approach him about it, but he simply wasn't having it.

he had to find some way to get through to him, to get him to relax, even if for only a moment. but he just wasn't sure what approach would work best.

suguru grabbed some snacks and headed back to their hotel room, quietly opening the door so he wouldn't awake riko or kuroi. he sat down on the bed next to gojo and gave him a small smile, pushing snacks into his hands. "are you sure you don't want to sleep for a little while? i'll stay awake. i promise."

@parieha

[stonedtaemin]

up with your turret / aren't we just terrified?

❕riding, creampie, angry sex, dirty talk, face slapping | ao3 | wc 4.3k

mc throws a cup at caleb, caleb gets horny

“does it hurt?”

like hell.

“are you mad at me?”

furious. 

she shook her head no slowly, eyes trained on caleb like a hawk. 

they both knew that she was, in fact, mad at him. the tension made the room close in around them. unsaid words lingered like a bad stench. it was only just a few days ago that they had been on stellar terms. her mind flashed back to her first night in skyhaven. they couldn't keep their hands to themselves that whole night. 

she gripped the hem of her gown tightly, playing with a loose thread. she couldn't think about that.

what else could be done? after her not-so-secret tag along while tracking caleb, she got hurt and exposed herself. it felt like every time she was getting hot on the trail, something just had to go wrong. she was getting hurt a lot lately, physically and mentally. it was like doing mental gymnastics with herself while trying to figure out caleb's true intentions with everything that had been going on since mia's funeral. and kevi, poor kevi...

her eyebrows furrowed in anger. she wanted to cry more than anything but it wouldn't do any good. best to just stay angry and not have a total meltdown. being angry was easier.

she just needed sleep.

her eyes flickered between caleb and the monitor that read all of her vital signs. even though the numbers show slight improvement, she still felt like shit.

i’m so fucking mad. 

caleb put his hand over her eyes to insert the shot into her leg. the needle doesn’t even feel like anything with her mind on how irritated she was with him.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“morning.” caleb returned to the room the next day, already dressed in his uniform and ready for whatever may be thrown at him. 

still, his favorite girl in the world said absolutely nothing. silent treatment. a-fucking-gain. he didn’t know if he wanted to pin her down and kiss her or play into her petty game. either way, he was getting agitated too. 

he peered at her from the corner of his eye to watch how hard she was studying the ground. he fiddled around with the med kit once again and read through her night files. she seemed to have slept the whole night, vital signs stable and only needing pain medicine once. 

“how are you feeling?” he chimed.

still no response.

he took a deep breath in through his nose. he turned to face her. still no eye contact. 

“we’re in a bit of a stalemate, huh?” 

he resumed messing with more data holograms after being met with more agonizing silence.

it’s almost as if he could read her mind. he knew she wanted nothing more than to escape. to break free of this room. she was always on the run, always trying to be one step ahead. she was such a restless creature. 

beautiful, restless girl. 

“caleb.”

her words cut through the quiet atmosphere of the hospital suite. the windows were built to be sound-proof from the outside world of skyhaven and the room was sealed shut from the rest of the workers and residents of the hospital. they were two souls trapped in a box together. a really awkward box. 

caleb would give anything for them to be back to the way they were when she first arrived, kissing sloppily on his couch while on their cloud of bliss. he just wanted to be on good terms again. it was hard to hide anything from her.

“i need to leave, caleb.” 

typical.

he tried not to give too much thought to it, still scrolling through useless data. he wouldn't play into her incessant whining. he was tired of her not taking care herself first. it was always mission first, herself last. not anymore. not under his watch. 

clearing his throat, he managed a curt “you’ll be out of here soon enough”.

he didn’t have to look at her to know she was pissed off. she probably had one of her eyebrows cocked up as if to say “screw you”. 

she scoffed.

“when?” 

“well… it depends on when your vital signs return to normal.” he answered tightly. they both knew her vital signs were pretty much at baseline level now. 

“caleb.” she said his name once more. this time with more warning behind her tone.

incessant indeed. 

he turned to look at her finally, both of their eyes locking in together. he crossed his arms, eyebrows knit together. god, she was just so breathtaking. especially when she was mad at him. it made him want to roll his eyes at her. 

“when you made me take cold medicine that night… it wasn’t just because you were concerned about my health, right?”

he honestly was surprised it took her this long to nag onto him about it. she usually was never one to beat around the bush, but something really must have been getting under her skin. he felt guilty. his cheeks warmed ever so slightly. he couldn't let his guard down about this. he had his reasons.

he scratched the back of his head with his hand.

“you already figured out everything, right?”

she always did.

always.

“...aren’t i pathetic?” he shyly smiled. play stupid games, win stupid prizes. 

she stood on her two feet, fists balled up. he backed up a little bit. 

“and this is all just an excuse. you never planned to let me go since the fucking beginning.” 

caleb didn’t even have time to react to her turning around to grab her glass of water off of the side table, which was then thrown smack onto his chest. it hit so hard that it broke on impact.

that was his stupid prize, by the way.

she stood there, breath heavy and her left fist still balled up. her cheeks were hot with blush and eyes sharp. she may have really resented him at that moment. it was also in that same moment caleb realized that it had begun to rain outside, lighting flashes illuminating the room. no thunder followed due to the sound being blocked out, but that didn’t stop him from feeling the building shake around them. everything had been lit up inside of him.

he felt the water start to soak through his jacket, then through his shirt. it made his heart race. he looked down onto his chest, brushing off his lapel. finally, he looked back up at her, eyes narrowing.

deep breaths, caleb.

“did that help you calm down?” his voice was level.

she kept her spiteful gaze locked onto him, unwavering. 

“not at all.” she challenged. 

that’s all it took for him to snap and walk forward. he took her by the throat, leather gloves tightening around her like a snake with it's food. immediately she sat back down on the bed, caleb prying her legs open with his knee. he loomed over her like a tower of authority, thumb stroking her cheek. 

a moan rippled through her like the thunder that loomed over skyhaven. she melted like butter under his touch.

some things never changed.  

“how about now? still feel like throwing another cup at me?” he asked, lips looming over hers. 

her gaze trailed from his eyes down to his lips, batting her eyelashes. she could use a nice hatefuck.

“caleb…” she whined. 

he yanked her back with force, more pressure being applied to her throat. it sent waves straight to her crotch. she could feel herself growing more and more wet. 

“you think you can just do whatever you fucking want all of the time?” he asked, thumb sliding onto her bottom lip, pushing down hard to expose her bottom teeth. 

“nngh— n-no…”

“i can’t hear you.” 

“no.” 

his hand released all at once from her neck. instant relief came rushing back to her windpipes but she missed the feeling immediately. he had gripped her so hard that she still felt a phantom of his touch after the fact. 

“caleb... i'm s—”

his lips crashed onto hers before she could even finish getting out whatever she was going to say. he didn’t really care, to be honest. he was so fucking turned on from her little stunt she just pulled. he didn’t even know why. she just so happened to be incredibly mad at him, more than usual. and it just so happened that he liked it when his girlfriend was a little feisty. it was like electricity.

maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t seen her in so long since everything that had happened between then and now. seeing her fully grown into the woman she was today, so sure of herself and her morals. everything was so black and white to her. she was dedicated to her hunter role. in a way she reminded him of himself, such a soldier and committed to the cause. but reckless and oftentimes too curious. it pissed him off. it made him horny. he had to fuck the brains out of her right now, dammit. 

she was the first to bite onto his bottom lip, pulling on it and opening her eyes to look at him. they stayed like that for a minute, staring at each other before diving back in. he sucked onto her tongue, wet, sloppy kissing sounds filling up the room. he loved it. she loved it too. 

when they pulled away to breathe, she practically drooled. she was already pulling her gown off, exposing her naked body immediately. 

jesus christ.

“please fuck me. please, i swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now caleb, i’m going to hate you forever.” 

he scoffed loudly, fingers immediately going to pinch her nipples. 

she yelped, leaning into his touch as if she couldn’t breathe without it. 

“you think you deserve that, princess?” he tilted his head, watching as her nipples hardened under his touch. 

she let her head fall back in ecstasy, long black hair cascading down her back and around her shoulders. 

“i want you to show me how mad you are.” she moaned as his lips kissed sloppily down her neck.

his fingers went straight to her scalp and he pulled so hard she thought he might have pulled a handful out. tears brimmed her eyes. 

“move.” he pushed her way back onto the headboard of the bed. he wouldn’t ask her to get on her knees since she was just injured. he may be willing to fuck the shit out of her but he was still her chivalrous boyfriend. no matter how annoyed they were with each other. 

she got the memo. 

he stared at her as he undressed himself. first shrugging off his soaked coat, then throwing his hat onto the bed. gloves too. as he started to take his belt off, she started to sneak her hand between her legs. her fingers dipped down to her crotch, beginning to make a swirling motion that caleb was all too familiar with. naughty girl.  

“stop.” he barked. 

he swiftly pulled his pants off, then peeled his boxers off. his hard cock bounced heavily with the motion, leaking with arousal and red with heat. she was still going, biting her free hand and circling her hips to her own rhythm. he crawled onto the bed and yanked her hand away from her clit. 

“i said stop.” he said slowly. his evol snapped her hands still as a rock to keep from going back to touching herself. she groaned in objection. 

her eyes were dark and eyelids heavy. 

“don’t tell me what to do. i’m tired of it.” she whined. caleb knew she was just trying to get a reaction. so he was going to give it to her. 

“yeah?” he asked, looking deep into her eyes for approval for what he wanted to do. 

she nodded. 

a hard and loud slap sounded as he smacked her hard across her face. she moaned, eyes rolling back to her head. 

“still don’t want to listen to me?” his voice boomed with authority. he was so hard right now he could barely keep the charade up. he knew this was working for her just as much as it was working for him right now. she had already expressed how she liked to be slapped before. they had tried it a few times previously but never like this.

his hand gripped her face harshly, pulling her face to the side with a yank. he gave her another harsh hit on her face, another cry of pleasure escaping her mouth.

“please, please, please, baby…” she whined. her hips grinded against his, her wetness spreading to his cock. he shivered against her. 

he landed a kiss onto her mouth softly before getting up onto his feet in front of her. his cock was standing up straight, so unbelievably hard. she looked up at him, curious for his next move. he gripped the base of his cock, wiggling it a bit in front of her face. 

��be a good girl and suck.” he said sharply. 

her cheeks had never been so red before, one side more puffy than the other from the harsh slap. she never really was great at giving head and it wasn’t exactly her favorite. but every now and then she loved to try. 

he put his hand on her cheek, softly stroking it to remind her it was ultimately her choice. 

“it’s okay. i love you.” he whispered.

she nodded and a small smile took over her swollen lips. she opened her mouth, tongue sticking out for him beautifully. he positioned his tip onto the middle of it, smacking it a few times. the pre-cum fell onto it, and she swallowed to taste it. 

“see how much i want you, baby girl?” his dick smacked against her cheek a few times while she swallowed his taste. he let the tip drag a little more pre-cum onto her cheek, leaving small streaks. her face looked so good next to his cock. he should do this more often. 

“yes, baby.” she responded with urgency. 

she opened her mouth again, allowing his length to enter more. he grabbed her by her hair again, pulling her back and forth. his thrusts were sharp but not to intense. he didn’t want to overstep her comfort zone with how much she could fit. he was already making her start to gag as is. 

the sinful sounds filled the room and almost made him unravel right then and there. the sopping wet sound of his dick filling her throat was too much to handle. his head fell back as he let out a drawn out growl, eyes closed. he felt her hands twist and jerk near his shaft as he pushed in and out of her mouth.

"shit, you're gonna make me cum."

he looked back down at her as she peered up through her bangs. her eyes were telling him to do it, cheeks stained with tears.

his hips bucked up hard, cock hitting the back of her throat. she gagged so hard, spit came spilling out around the corners of her lips.

"not yet." caleb smirked.

he pulled out immediately to stop from cutting it too short. her eyes were gazing at him the whole time, saliva mixed with pre-cum dripping down her chin. she was so fucking filthy. 

“you’re so perfect.” he praised her, getting back down onto the bed and positioning himself between her again. 

they kissed once more, caleb tasting himself on her tongue. their mouths clinged to each other for what seemed like hours. like they were velcro.

he lifted her on top of his lap, lips trailing down to her neck. she had bruises painted all across it now, just how she liked it. his hands roamed around her body, finding her breasts and squeezing onto them tightly. she let out a satisfied sigh with a low moan as she rubbed her folds onto his dick. 

she needed him so badly. 

“can i ride you? please, baby…” she begged softly into his ear. she nipped at his earlobe and he hissed in response. 

“go ahead princess. show me.” he cooed as he laid back onto his elbows to watch her. 

she leaned forward to pinch her breasts tightly together and shook them a bit for him. she felt pretty and wanted to put a show on for him. she rubbed her palms down the sides of her torso and down to her crotch. she was putting herself on display for him. 

“tell me i look good, caleb.” 

“you look so fucking good.” he responded lightning fast. if he wasn’t so jaded by his arousal maybe he would have been embarrassed. 

she chuckled, eyes narrowing like a predator looking at its prey. 

"tell me you want me to sit on your cock, please, caleb." her voice was so whiny it came out like a song.

he gripped her cheeks hard, her eyelids heavy with lust. 

"i want you to sit on my cock and ride me like the perfect little slut you are." he hissed. he pulled her face around with force, trying to drive the point home.

she lifted herself up to position his cock perfectly. she tried to sit on it the first time but it missed. she began to get frustrated and grunted. he took his hand and wrapped it around her waist to help out. 

“there you go, baby. that’s it.” he praised as he felt the tip hit the entrance. 

he sucked in a breath as his cock was immediately enveloped inside of her, the motion quick and jolting. they both shuddered, her hips faltering. 

“jesus… caleb. so f-fucking... big…” she muttered. he moaned in response. 

her palms splayed onto his abdomen as she tried to get the rhythm right. her hair trickled down around her, ticking his stomach. he was so overstimulated right now in the best possible way. the lightning outside that flashed onto her made it feel like he was in a dream. 

“bounce on it.” he commanded. 

“yes...” she managed to groan out as her hips began to circle.

his eyes went to the back of his head as he felt his dick inside her tight walls. this was the fucking dream. 

“fuck…” he drew out the word slowly and deeply. she was taking him like an absolute fucking champ. she was everything and more. he began to meet his hips with hers as she bounced up and down on him fervently. 

“yes, yes, yes right there— a-ah!” she was loud as shit. thank god for high security clearance and these windows. she was an absolute mess. 

“such a good little whore.” he growled. 

her eyes were shut close and her hips were stuttering with each thrust. her constant whining flooded his ears like water. he could watch her like this forever, body slick with sweat and breasts red with heat and bouncing up and down with each motion. he ran his hand up her body, up her neck, and then stuck his thumb into her mouth. she sucked hard, eyes opening to look into his. he pulled her down to meet her lips with his. the kiss felt like an eternity in the best way possible. 

“get up.” 

caleb lifted her up off of his cock and the absence made her hiss. the move was sudden and unexpected but it was quickly replaced by him flipping her over facing the headboard. 

“face down and ass up.” he gripped her by the hips harshly.

she wiggled her ass cutely for him while giggling. 

he struck his hand down onto her right cheek, the crack echoing in the room. 

she bucked up forward, a cry escaping her lips. 

smack. 

another smack. 

each slap was harder than the last. at this point a tear was streaming down her face. 

her moans got louder with each crack. 

“are you ever gonna throw another cup at me again?” he gritted out. 

“no.” 

“no, what?” he smacked her again.

“no sir…!” she yelped out in pure bliss. 

“good girl.” he rammed his cock back inside of her again, thrusting in and out quickly. 

he collected all of her hair into his fist and wrapped it around a few times, pulling her head back abruptly. each thrust sounded off in the thick air around them, balls smacking hard against her skin. it was lewd and disgusting in the best possible way. his hands released her hair and went back to the handles of her hips. he was going as deep as he could. 

“please, please, please…” she begged, each word stringing into the next incoherently. 

“god you take this dick so well. take that shit. just like that, baby.” he whimpered. 

he let go of her hips to let her take control of the pace. she looked back at him and locked eyes with him as she grinded up on him. she put her arm up to her back so he could lace his fingers with hers. it was a little awkward and contorted but they both didn’t care. they just needed to hold each other's hand. it was too good. they had to ground each other.

“a-ah! caleb. i’m so fucking close… shit.” she gritted out. her head fell onto the pillow in defeat, arm falling back down to her side. 

each thrust made a whine come out of her, a string of moans falling out of her mouth like a ritual. caleb couldn’t hold back his moans either, whimpers falling out in broken stutters. he loved how loud she was every time he was inside of her. no one could make her feel as good as him. he wanted the whole world to hear how good he made her feel. he didn’t care even if they didn’t have the luxury of this privacy. nothing was going to stop him from fucking the daylights out of her.

“do it.” 

caleb stuck his thumb in his mouth to slick it up before bending over to rub her clit as he thrust inside her. she yelped out in pleasure, whole body turning into jelly. she had completely surrendered to him. 

“oh my god, yes, fuck!” she cried out. her hips were meeting his touch with no rhyme or reason, just driving off pure instinct. 

her hips swiveled fast as he drew out her impending orgasm. that familiar warm, fuzzy feeling bubbled up into her stomach.

”please don’t stop, yes, yes, yes…”

“good girl. good fucking girl. cum for me.”

“i’m cumming, oh, fuck i’m cumming!” she drew out each word as her orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave. her moan came out in a long drawn out whine as her hips stuttered from overstimulation. 

caleb couldn’t handle it any longer either. 

“where do you want me, princess?” he whispered. she knew he was about to come too. 

she whined as his hand finally stopped and pulled back. 

“want you to fill me up. caleb.” she begged, lips pouting ever so slightly. she looked a complete fucking wreck and caleb thought she looked so gorgeous. she didn’t have to tell him twice. a minute later he was cumming, dick pulsing inside of her. his thrusts were sharp and deep as he rode out his orgasm. 

“jesus, baby. f-fuck me.” he whimpered. he didn’t care how pathetic he sounded. he had completely surrendered himself to her. she was his goddess.

he groaned with each final thrust, feeling himself fill her up so well. nothing could ever feel better than this. he was made for this. for her.

“you take me so well, baby girl. letting me fill you up so good.” his eyebrows furrowed together in pleasure. with a final thrust he buried himself deep inside her, plugging her up with his seed. she wiggled her ass with content. he landed a soft slap on her cheek, chuckling darkly. 

“bad bitch.” 

“just for you.” she hummed. 

“sweet girl, too.” he cooed as he reached to caress her cheek. it was still swollen. 

she kissed his palm. he started to pull out slowly, letting her brace for impact. 

once he pulled out, he watched as the cum dripped out of her cunt. he dragged the tip of his cock in it, slapping it a few times. he chuckled with amusement when she let out a moan of arousal.

“gonna clean that up for me?” she asked. she started to get up to grab the towel off the bedside table. before she could, he used his evol to freeze her in her place, leaning forward and placing his mouth on her folds. he lapped it up, already feeling his cock grow hard again. she let out the shakiest moan, gripping the sheets around her. 

“careful. i’m gonna get horny again.” she warned.

when he finished, he lifted her up to sit back on his lap, finally face to face again. they kissed deeply, teeth clashing together every now and then. 

“sit on my face.” he whispered onto her lips. 

she pulled away, eyes staring into his. her eyes had a look of pure lust and shock in them. never had they gone at it twice in one go (surprisingly). she knew he had the sex drive of an animal, but usually he had duties to attend to. she looked down at his wrist to see if he had turned his comms off. caleb caught her gaze and smirked. he unclasped the watch and threw it to the end of the bed. 

“just you and me.” he smirked, hand grazing her cheek then using his fingers to pull her chin up. they locked eyes again. 

“i love you.” she whispered before grabbing his face with both hands and pulling him into a deep kiss. he tasted like them and it made her wet all over again. maybe being mad at him wasn’t so bad after all.

“i love you more,” he kissed her softly before retracting “now sit on my face.”

she would definitely listen to him tell her what to do. at least for now. 

[santae-salt]

When Cj had one of his discord crashouts he and I had a long convo. The result of it was that I pushed him to take a month off and come back ready to refresh things. In my head that meant the TOS, staff, how communications were structured, pretty much retrain everyone from scratch to show the userbase that he was committed to change. While he seemed agreeable to this idea I didn't hear about any of it actually happening and we recently got another crashout that proved he has no intention to change even when given advice on how to do.

So here's some of the highlights from our conversation. While I was going to keep them to myself as an act of goodwill, I feel none of that anymore. This is chopped up because it's a looooong convo, but I have all the screenshots if anyone wants the full thing.

So we start off with him trying to communicate through voice clips and then throwing his staff under the bus for timing me out in beta gen while I was talking to him.

Next we have him giving surprised pikachu about his staff saying one thing and him immediately overwriting it.

Then we have Cj trying to say he's never told anyone to not feel their feelings. My first serious interaction with Cj on site was him telling me that the site was not about my feelings soooo....

At this point he tries to exit the conversation because I'm not playing ball with him and I point out he hasn't really addressed anything I've brought up to him and he says he hadn't read that yet and will. He says he's on the side of leniency over shutting down discussions as well as him having responded to my last hurrah feedback thread multiple times which beyond shutting it down, he didn't do. Showing once again how Cj seems to believe he exists in a reality where he does the opposite of what the rest of us see.

Next we have a triple whammy of playing dumb, justifying how he talks to people, and then implying it never happened.

Guys. Cj is very anti-censorship. He says so. Unless you hurt his feelings. Then that doesn't count.

But I should feel grateful he's hearing me out because what site listens to their users like this? I'm pretty sure I've spoken to staff on every pet site I've ever played barring Neopets and Flightrising. Apparently though all communities are bad and he's a saint for trying to interact at all.

He doesn't start drama guys.

Did you know Santae is all done being built? It's practically a finished project.

And he's never yelled at someone. Just ignore all those times where he yelled at someone.

Also apparently nobody has ever applied to work on coding the site, which I know for a fact is untrue. Shortly after he says people did try to apply and actually throws Ember under the bus for it. Requiring your programmer on a pet site to be a comp sci major or whatever is craaaaazy.

Also he admits he fired the writers between his own paranoia and feeling like they were taking his story away from him.

Commentary on the staff walkout and their demands. I would love to hear from former staff about this.

But actually he agrees that everything needs way more work and isn't all that great. Especially stuff that I've been harping about since I was playing the game like the news where he repeatedly told us that "It's an rpg, this is how it is."

He also says I was a good member of the community in spite of not seeming to know who I was earlier in the evening in Sancord when I first confronted him (no proof of this as I'm not in sancord anymore and it's probably gone anyway)

He starts to be more agreeable and seems to be thinking about what I'm saying. He can't leave because of how hard it would be to write news posts, but he'll consider it. We end in peace.

Take of all that what you will, but I thought some people would enjoy the wild ride I went on and show that he isn't ignorant to what we think, he's just choosing not to do anything positive about it. Like I said, I have the whole convo saved, but the highlights alone are long enough so if anyone wants the full context just message me.

☁️

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

(I actually think TTPD is full of so many parallels to older work that I could like, quote the entire album.)

Do it (inserts image of Kermit the frog wearing a black cloak)

Jokes aside, I’d love to read what parallels you found with her older work

OK well now that you’ve put me on the spot, I can’t actually think of them that freely 😂

This isn’t going to be exhaustive, nor particularly accurate I guess, but maybe more like… similarities? (Man, I’m gonna fumble the ball here.)

This is kind of out of left field, but from the very first listen, for instance, But Daddy I Love Him reminded me of Love Story. I joked on release night that But Daddy was just the unfiltered version of Love Story; the girl is the Scarlet Letter because she’s the loud, mouthy heathen who’s been caught with her dress unbuttoned iykwim. The girl in LS feels misunderstood, is infatuated with this boy, begs to run away with him away from the prying eyes and judgment… Which is exactly what the narrator in BDILH feels too, except more explicitly. The girl in LS is demure and mindful, the one in BDILH gives zero fucks. Which is reflective of Taylor’s own evolution in her relationship to her public image, I feel: she strove to be a perfect role model never putting a foot wrong in her younger days, but the whole point of TTPD is that she is done listening to anyone else’s opinions on how she lives her life. In LS, the boy talks to her dad and pulls out a ring, and in BDILH, no one else is invited to that wedding after everything she’s learned. For all we’ve talked about how one of the major themes of TTPD is about reclaiming her youth, I think it’s kind of genius that BDILH, intentionally or not, plays on the song that launched her megastardom as a teenager and gives it a grown-up bite.

This is maybe less parallels and more just a continuation of a story, but I think one of the obvious ones is You’re Losing Me and So Long, London. One of the immediate callbacks is the thread from “I can’t find a pulse, my heart won’t start anymore” to “I stopped CPR, after all it’s no use.” YLM comes at a crisis point, the make or break moment of the relationship, and SLL is the aftermath reflecting on that. Her stopping the CPR after that moment in YLM is what leads to the dissolution of the relationship and the reflection in SLL.

The rest of the two songs mirror each other so painfully well. “Do I throw out everything we built or keep it?” To “You say I abandoned the ship, but I was going down with it.” “How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dying?” To “You swore that you loved me, but where were the clues?” “I know my pain is such an imposition” to “Just how low did you think I'd go before I'd self-implode?” “How long could we be a sad song 'til we were too far gone to bring back to life?” To “So how much sad did you think I had, did you think I had in me? How much tragedy?” “I wouldn’t marry me either” to “I died on the altar waiting for the proof.”

And I think the one that really brings it full circle is the evolution from “My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick,” to “And I'm just getting color back into my face, I'm just mad as hell cause I loved this place.” In YLM she’s dying a slow death at her partner’s ignorance (unintentional or willful) of the crisis she’s in, and in SLL, the decision to leave has brought her back to life, even if she mourns everything she had to give up to get there. To go from sitting in the room that was once lit with what they loved to sitting in the dark mulling this life-changing decision, to reflecting on the moment of “warm sun” in her life that this relationship will ultimately end up being in her memories (but just that: a memory, not a life) is really nuanced, and really shows how it’s the end of a chapter but not the end of the book.

Another parallel that is so powerful is between The Manuscript and, among others, All Too Well, but really so much of her work from her younger days, as well as the ATW music video. This is maybe cheating because it’s not like a 1:1 parallel, but just the way that The Manuscript reframes so much of her older work and experiences is illuminating. The way in ATW the early memories are wistful, feel like home, etc., and you can feel the warmth radiate through the music and the lyrics, but the slightly unsettling melody of The Manuscript highlights the unease in which that situation actually occurred. To go from sweet disposition and wide-eyed gazes heading out of town to be together, to realizing a decade later that that might have been less romance and more manipulation? What a gut punch.

Similarly, when you think about “nights when you made me your own” in the context of “He said that if the sex was half as good as the conversation was, soon they'd be pushin' strollers,” you really feel how her youthful naivety about their relationship was heavily influenced by the way this person laid it on thick. Like, all these years later, she wasn’t wrong to feel like this thing was serious, or for being so bewildered when it ended. It’s just that what she failed to realize at the time is that what she took as a promise, he intended as foreplay. Then the way the bridge of The Manuscript reveals what is presumably the shooting of the ATW video, where she comes to the realization of just what she went through and how she’s been able to use it to make her art and heal? That’s beautiful.

There are soooooooooo many more, but I’d be here all day, and similarly, I can’t think of any off the top of my head.

[mumms-the-word]

aight now that all the DA moots are asleep (they’re not but let’s say they are) I have silly thoughts about Rogue Trader

under the cut cause some people don’t care + spoilers

I know it’s a warhammer 40k game and w40k people are their own crowd of like weirdly fanatical TTRPG-ers that I do not belong in nor have much understanding of but like this game is lowkey slept on for how good the writing is

gameplay makes me want to claw my eyes out a bit because it’s literally built around the concept of min-maxing at the most fine-tuned level. I would KILL for a skill tree that lays everything out in a web for me, but I know some people really like the freedom this game gives when it comes to building skills and threading together specific types of skills to create extremely unique builds

I, however, am here for the writing so I’m just like….please stop throwing numbers at me 😭 what is the thing that makes the enemies go boom give me that one pls

but I digress, the story so far is genuinely worth it. I actually don’t like a lot of grimdark stuff. The world as we know it sucks rn and I get too empathetic about a lot of things to enjoy grimdark settings, but Rogue Trader keeps things almost comical with how exaggerated everything is. Like, the word that comes to mind is that this game is carnivalesque—like in that literary sort of way that subverts your expectations with humor and chaos kind of carnivalesque.

One second I’m puzzling through how to deal with a worker strike (with force? with leniency? do we negotiate or just kill everyone?) and the next I’m jumping down a deadly air-duct into a giant blood-soaked death cult temple to meet a blind old assassin where I can ask him directly, “How come my companions could just walk through the front door while I had to risk my neck jumping through a rotating propeller?” One moment I’m wrestling with the consequences of my actions on a planet in the throes of rebellion and the next I’m eating mold-slime soup and getting a semi-permanent debuff to all of my stats because I failed the toughness test to actually swallow it down.

Like this game is just a grimdark space void clown show and I kind of love it even though it’s 100% not my speed

but the writing oh my god

I only just finished chapter 1 or act 1, whatever you want to call it, and already I’m blown away by the moments where the game seems to take everything suddenly very seriously. After doing all this work to save a planet from a cult, the cult gets the upper hand anyway when mysterious forces steal the sun (no really), causing the planet to devolve into madness from both the cult and lack of sun (I could be reading the situation wrong but I haven’t yet figured out what’s behind the sun theft exactly). My companions that I’ve picked up along the way lay out the severity of the situation: we can abandon the planet, which will then devolve into a chaos daemon world (bad for everybody), we can try to save a few people or an ancient powerful relic which is basically just a giant fusion reactor power source (good for only a few select people), or we can sail our voidship a little ways away and bomb the reactor so that it effectively kills the planet (everyone dies, both good and bad, but there is no daemon planet anymore).

What a choice! And then in the subsequent chaos, there’s this scene where you and your tech-priest buddy, Pasqal, are trying to restore a computer that somehow controls elements of the ship’s warp travel capabilities so you can get the heck out of dodge before the planet goes all daemony or explodes, but the metaphorical clock is ticking, there’s a lot of corrupted data, Pasqal can only crack the codes so much, and while you can override some of the systems by literally feeding it your blood (yeah, really) you don’t know how to read the code or fix the data either. It was an incredibly well-written tense scene that, even though it felt a little more linear then the wildly branching moment where I decided a planet’s whole fate just before this, had me holding my breath as I clicked through text prompts to stick my character’s hand in something called a cybergargoyle so it could bite her, take her blood, and recognize her as the heir to the ship. Pasqal is trying to explain what the computer is and isn’t doing, swinging between what seems like traditional hacking and religious reverent prayers and rituals to machine spirits (which may or may not even be real spirits) until I finally have my character practically beg the computers to rescue us. And it works.

Insane. The descriptions are top tier and I’m literally learning new words or refreshing on words I haven’t seen in forever as I read through the game (febrile? irascible? campanological? no one writes like this anymore!!). It’s not my favorite setting but I really have to hand it to the writers over at OwlCat Studios, they are truly some of the best writing talent I’ve seen in the game development world in recent memory…and I don’t say that lightly.

Anyways onward to act 2. Im told there’s a big party at the end of this act and that I can kiss a certain interrogator if I play my cards right, so that’s something to look forward to!

[thedreamparadox]

i saw this ask someone got the other day that was like. a self rec thing. and i think you should do it. share your top five favorite fics that you wrote

Only 5? Heeeck. Uh

In no particular order, under the cut because it is LONG lmao:

Pull These Curtains Closed. Not as a standalone work (in terms of the like, actual everything in this fic I'd say it's overall middling), but as the culmination of the entire character arc plot I did not originally plan to write AT ALL when I went "oh, I have some lingering plot threads from my JoD rewrites! I should do something with that!" and then it spiraled massively out of control lmao. Reala finally tells their old man to go fuck himself and has enough backup to not get dragged back to their shitty former life and brainwashed through the power of family and using actual communication. As a finale to a series, I'm super proud of how it turned out.

A Crow Perches Atop A Skyscraper, or Perching Crow for short (not uploaded anywhere). It was definitely a pandemic stress project, and bits in the post Game chapters are a little bit [hand wiggle], but it was an excuse to use a pile of old TWEWY OCs in a fun project, so it nabs the top five with no question. For context, it's P.erson.a 5 and TWEWY crossover fic, focused almost exclusively on A.kechi and Hype-chan before we got her actual identity reveal in Neo since Neo wasn't out yet, focused on the Shinjuku district, which was one I built up with some other RPers back in the day but then we didn't really ever get around to using. Featuring my mildly gremlin OC Composer, Haku, and his eternal beef with the yakuza, me going "Hey what if Hype and G.oro were related, that'd be fun", and me throwing around all my TWEWY OCs including my gay as hell punk hedgehog guy, my colorblind live game Reaper who has so much trauma, and a few other folks. The amount of explanation needed for anything to make sense means this is never getting publicly uploaded. (Also one of those two fandoms are ones I do NOT want to poke with their reputation, like no thanks lol)

Mad Rat Twist. Another project that got massively out of control when it was just supposed to be a cute, relatively short reunion fic. Ended up spiraling into a massive project and is still my most read/hits/kudos'd work despite being from two fandoms with virtually no overlap. (Part of the reason it exists is because Perching Crow was so much fun to write and characters dying in Tokyo is free real estate as far as being a fic writer is concerned.) It's got a little of everything, plus even a little bit of Coco even if she's her gremlin Neo characterization instead of my RP blog genuinely nice genki girl take. Mad Rat Dead's canonical bittersweet ending is really good, but I am soft and want Mad Rat and Heart to be happy together, they're zucchinis your honor ;u;

I definitely gotta pick one out of the shared ficverse/rp shenaniganery that's not uploaded anywhere. Picking one is hard tho. So like, to pick a solo, probably either As a Result of Trusting or Bendy Hours 1. The first for being a fun spin on an AU but make it about breaking the cycle of abuse through the power of trust and friendship while leaning on game canon for scene ideas, the second because it's the first fic I wrote with the little gremlin demon that's been eating my braincells for over two years at this point. I cannot pick a favorite out of the collab fics in that verse, there are too many XD

And while it's still in the process of being uploaded, honestly? Ink is Thicker than Water. CHUNKS of this thing are wildly self indulgent (the amount of Sammy content, so much worldbuilding, Bendy being adorable, and the delightful amount of body horror I was able to work in as a treat) while once again doing my repeated "I see this source material, I think I can improve it" thing that just keeps popping up in my work XD (And putting another one in the repeated motif of my writing of found family/recovering family and kicking a shitty dad to the curb.) Audrey, once I figured out what the everloving HECK her deal was was honestly a delight to write. And I got to play around with horror tropes! This fic is a behemoth and I'm honestly proud of it XD

[countlessrealities]

For this meme!

🥰 - I’m following you because I love your writing and content and I just want to read your stuff

My personal favorite is catching up on the shenanigans, antics and various musing your silly (and dangerous) muses get up to tbh 👀✨ always a good time!

⌛️ -  You seem really busy

And there ain’t nothin wrong with that!!! I just don’t want to throw things at you when you already have a full plate of drafts and threads! I ain’t goin anywhere tho we stay vibing B)

➕ - Other reason(s) -sender specifies-

My brain has admittedly been dry on heavier plotting vs winging it via vibes/memes so apologies for the crickets on my end :0 (plus i keep meaning to write up that lil somethin goofy for A-991 and drop it in your inbox but i keep losing track of both time and reality 🫡)

Why aren't we interacting? || Always accepting !

The firs part of this ask is SO flattering and I suck at accepting compliments, so I honestly don't know what to say >.< "Thank you" seems a little reductive when such kind words come from someone who has built such compelling OCs!! I truly admire your creativity, so it means a lot to know that you enjoy my chaotic idiots in spite of everything >.<

That said, I appreciate you not wanting to overwhelm =.=" Tbh, it's kind of my fault, because I know that work doesn't leave me much energy and time to write, but somehow I keep seeking out more stuff...mostly to avoid working on the old one, but that just results in me owing even more things...To sum it up, I'm a clown digging their own grave >.>

Tho, please, when you find enough brain to decide what to send for AR & Ophelia, please do! I might take some time to answer it, but I'd love to see what you cooked up >:D (also yeah, my ask box will stay closed for a little while, but if you come up with something you wanna send before I re-open it, feel free to shove the prompt in my IMs or on Discord, I move IC asks on new posts anyway!)

In any case, I appreciate all of this and I appreciate you, and I'm SO looking forward for us to start interacting, also because the plots we're discussing frigging rock!! x33

[thronelessking]

lucifer and norgorber are in the same space of character, norgorber is a lucifer even. see i can talk about it here because someone out there is like yeah we need to let people have unfettered access to infinite character limit instead of making a post on bsky and calling it good because the idea of a bsky thread explanation is awful.

anyways norgorber is a lucifer more than the actual devils you get in pathfinder, because yes i can just hear the 'we have literal devils in the setting' but just being a technicolor contract specialist lawyer does not make you a lucifer. those are built off the stories of lucifer and the perception of his deals as always being in his favor.

norgorber is a lucifer because of the flavoring of everything around him. he is the enemy of enemies, he is irredeemable, he is an evil, a blight, that encompasses the wide breadth of absolute human cruelty.

but he speaks well, presents well, and his competition is not good enough to keep others from coming to him; the side of good is flawed in a way that allows people to fall through the cracks of their society. as such they fall to places where they have turn to a darker force because when you have no where left to turn to, then you turn to the only option left.

when all you want is a bite to eat, a roof over your head, or water to drink, when you want simple things just to live one more day the man who appears to offer you the means of getting it becomes salvation in a horrible, awful place.

the kinder gods are stretched thin in their goodness, and so they must sometimes let people fall to the side even when they lament it, and that is a tactical choice. that's something that lets a god like norgorber flourish because it means he will always have people to entice.

and after all, he entices people into a faith that styles itself into a family. you have brothers and sisters, and a god some people call father, whether you read it as a family by choice of a family through religion doesn't matter because it is in building a community of people that are as troubled as you that you get to the real sticking point of norgorber and lucifer being the same:

it's in friendliness and community, in people gently sanding away the edges of his dark faith, that you can walk right into the theological trap placed right at ones feet.

their god preys on the ones left to slip and fall into the dark corners without a hand to reach out beyond his own. there's actual, textual, evidence of this where he appears to a grief stricken npc and gives them something to live for.

people don't necessarily need a good reason to keep living, they simply need a reason. it's why he can appeal to them with anything, any reason at all, and give them an offer they can't refuse. he can offer you purpose and the means to do it, he gives you the tools and resources and tells you what you need to do and lets you figure it out.

his goals for you will always be unknowable but everything surrounding him and you will always be dark; you can love him, adore him, worship him, but everyone knows that at the end of the day you are working towards dark and malicious machinations. but he and his faith will cut and trim you into the perfect shape he needs, and as such he will sand down your edges.

they will right until you agree or you simply do not care for it because why would you forsake your community, or your family, and your god. what has anyone else given you that he hasn't, and how could you throw away the privilege of being loved so clearly by him.

that's where you start to enter the proper territory of being a lucifer; it's right when you start to feel special, when you feel loved, that so long as you have his approval nothing else matters.

[kiss-my-freckle]

That Twitter thread also noted these red flags that people miss in Stelena:

When he ‘finds out’ Aria is his student (he knew all along), he doesn’t just say “we can’t do this.” Instead he constantly repeats that *he wants to* but can’t. This creates an us-against-them in Arias mind. Age isn’t the issue, it’s other people.

This is so Stefan in 1x9/1x10 after Elena found out about his vampirism.

She turns to Fitz to validate how ‘adult’ the burden has made her feel. Ezra acted like an adult romantic relationship to match her adult familial burdens.

Stefan lying about being a 17 year old growing up without parents and Elena being with him to relate to her burden and validate her feelings fits.

He points out what she says actively disrupts her from them chance of an appropriate relationship. His solution is to switch school districts rather than end the relationship. Noel tries to blackmail Ezra for a better grade after discovering the relationship. Ezra takes a moral stance against that but not statutory rape.

Aka after Elena questions Stefan his solution was to throw Damon in a cellar, not honesty or ending the relationship.

Ezra surrounded himself with people who shrug away and enable their relationship.

Lexi thought Stefan was strange for being with Katherine's doppleganger after seeing Elena but quickly got over it and encouraged him to sexualize her and romanticize their relationship.

The shaming was very clear: keep our secret or I will ice you out.

Stefan's threat in 1x6. Speaking of 1x6, I'm mad at how people bring up Damon restraining Elena in 2x10 to save her life as toxic but Stefan restraining Elena's arm as she's trying to run away from his house is never brought up. Right after he found out Katherine was one he wanted her to get away from him and he's seen in a more sympathetic light than Elena.

Stefan in 1x10 can be seen through Elena's parallel in 5x17.

I agree with everything you've posted. It's been a long time since I've watched PLL, so I don't remember all their ships. I just remember that Caleb and Hanna was my favorite ship and I never liked Ezra and Aria. Not many people have a problem with their power differential, but it's the reason Stefan's character deserves more hate than Elena's. Elena is deceived more than she deceives, and her lack of life/love experience makes her more understandable as compared to Stefan.

"But she's big on trust."

"The Elena I know would always want the real truth, good or bad."

She's a lot like Damon in the fact that she prefers honesty, so I'm not surprised that the Delena ship is built on it.

[komvrebi]

getou was the type of person who woke up early and got their day started. they were productive. and they believed you could start your day off right or start your day off wrong. and so they woke up, made breakfast, went for a run, did some workouts, showered, and then went to wake up satoru. satoru, on the other hand, must not have believed in any of that stuff, because he was always sleeping sound as a rock when suguru got to his room.

sometimes, admittedly, suguru was jealous of satoru. now, he never considered him his rival. he thought that was petty and immature. but they envied how easily everything came for him. suguru wasn't granted that kind of luxury. nothing came easy for him. everything he'd ever had in life, he'd had to work for. they weren't positive, because they'd never ask, but they were fairly certain satoru didn't have to work for anything. in fact, they bet he never even felt things like 'jealousy'. ( maybe suguru thought too highly of satoru, which was kind of funny, considering he also thought he was an absolute brat. ) he opened his door and stepped inside his room, collapsing onto satoru's bed next to him. "toru," he said, nudging him. "wake up." @dereliqui

[scoobydoodean]

We’ve communicated about some of this over DM’s, where I said that I disagree with a lot less of this than I think you probably believe I do, but I’ll clarify a few things. 

I don't agree that there is a any way in which relationships and  forgiveness 'should' function. I think love is a relationship in which we don't owe anyone anything, but where, out of our own freedom, we choose to give everything.

I’m not sure what lead you to believe I would disagree with this, but I’m not the one saying there is one specific way that relationships and forgiveness should function. It’s Cas who I think leans into the notion that forgiveness should function in a very specific way in The Trap, by cutting off not just Dean but Sam as well over Dean’s lack of forgiveness, and explicitly communicating a timetable for Dean’s forgiveness that Dean failed to meet. This was what Laura’s post was about yesterday (at least from my perspective). I added that this expectation makes Cas’s dialogue feel cold toward Mary, and I blamed Berens, not Cas, as my criticisms of this episode have always predominantly been directed toward dialogue writing. In general though, I think Cas has a somewhat tragic tendency to see relationships as transactional, and I think The Trap leans into this, unwittingly or not. 

In Absence, when he blames Cas for not telling him something wasn't right with Jack when Dean knew FULL WELL that something wasn't right with Jack? I just felt that was not fair, full stop, and I think Dean knew it! 

On Dean's side, his anger is also legitimate problem, and more importantly, it's also a lie he is telling himself, because he is not really angry, he is grieving, and he is broken-hearted and the pain and never-ending horror of everything that follows is overwhelming him.

I agree that Dean’s anger is destructive. I agree that Dean is grieving. I agree that Dean throws an unreasonable amount of blame on Cas, and that he’s also projecting some of his own feelings of guilt. I do not agree that Dean is simply substituting grief for rage, or that the anger he feels is entirely explained by projection. I think there is a very obvious thread through the entire divorce arc about Dean’s frustration at Cas’s perpetual secrets. It is a function of almost every conflict they ever have. Cas repeatedly and intentionally withholds information from his loved ones and tries to handle everything completely alone. This is one of the things he  talks about in the conversation you describe as vulnerable. And yet, Cas doesn’t stop keeping secrets from his loved ones after acknowledging it as a problem. He continues to withhold The Empty deal. Cas has been doing this for a decade, and it has blown up in all of their faces dozens of times, and Dean’s anger is tied to that pattern of behavior. Cas's secret in isolation feels small, but it's a mistake to let that small straw trivialize the larger pattern into a non-issue that isn't a part of Dean's feelings at all. Cas's secrets blowing up is intentionally written as a function of their strife for a decade, and is mentioned during the divorce arc by both of them, but isn’t addressed in The Trap, and then isn’t addressed in the rest of the series. 

I think you can give the person you love grace out of your own exigency and freedom, and I think that's what Dean does, and it's also what Cas does.

For me, The Trap is not about absolving Cas, it's about Dean getting right with Dean, not because Cas is owed an apology, but because Dean has to give one for his own sake.

I agree. And maybe I would be able to enjoy it if they hadn’t built the divorce arc into a fight that would address strife in their relationship as a whole instead of just Dean’s anger. The problem is, even the way Dean’s anger is addressed is deeply underwhelming and uninspiring to me because as a viewer. “I don’t know why I get so angry”  isn’t an interesting comment on Dean’s anger at Cas or in general. It’s a cop out. And I do not feel Dean’s anger at Cas can be meaningfully addressed without actually addressing Cas’s biggest most signature flaw.

For me, the episode is deeply satisfying as a Dean Enjoyer because I love when Dean's beautiful, loving, gorgeous heart wins, and I love watching him speak it, and tell the truth about what he feels, both to himself and to Cas. 

That’s great. I have no problem with people liking The Trap. I do have a problem with people building me disliking it into something it isn’t just because they happen to like the episode. We all love Dean’s heart, and there is no zero sum game here where having Dean’s heart and freely given love precludes a meaningful discussion on Cas’s issues. One never had to happen at the expense of the other. It's okay to like The Trap. It's also okay to think it's a badly written disappointment.

What you say: The Trap is a dissatisfying episode that presents some questionable narratives about the way relationships and forgiveness should function, and never meaningfully addresses any of Cas’s problems. Instead, it legitimizes Cas’s repeated tendency to keep secrets as a reasonable behavior that Dean needs to get over.

What people hear: Dean did nothing wrong and nothing he ever said about Cas was ever unfair. Cas is entirely and solely responsible for the breakdown of his and Dean’s relationship and Mary’s death is all his fault. Cas should die. Destiel is dead and Cas killed it. I hate him and he smells. Also I killed at least three of your dogs.

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Ok so I had this thing bubbling in my head today. FIRST A DISCLAIMER: I 100% acknowledge that Taylor’s music is written from her perspective, from her gaze, about her own experiences and feelings. Just getting that out of the way.

But after thinking about the New Year’s Day/Peace medley from last night, it kind of hit me that there are several references in her discography to her making a commitment (to Joe), but there aren’t any of him reciprocating, or a mutual future being built.

(Again: I know that this is Taylor’s music, not Joe’s, so obviously she’s going to speak about her side of things.)

Even as early as reputation, we start getting references that this is the Big One for her, e.g. New Year’s Day’s “I want your midnights,” “you and me forevermore.” We continue to see more of these sprinkled throughout her subsequent discography, e.g. on Lover with Lover (“can we be this close forever and ever?” “I’ve loved you three summers now honey but I want them all,” the entire bridge being like wedding vows), Paper Rings (“I like shiny things but I’d marry you with paper rings”), All of the Girls (“I want to teach you how forever feels”), folklore’s invisible string (“one single thread of gold tied me to you”) and peace (“give you my wild give you my child” along with, like, the entire rest of the song), evermore’s Cowboy Like Me (“that was before I locked it down,” “forever is the sweetest con,” “I’m never gonna love again”).

Midnights obviously has its share of references too, though interestingly maybe less overt than the other albums? Sweet Nothing implies a shared home she’s running home to, as does Hits Different (…). The Great War is probably the most obvious with, “I vowed I would always be yours ‘cause we survived the Great War.” There’s also “I wanna brainwash you into loving me forever,” in Paris and “I’m fastening myself to you with a stitch,” in Glitch.

The most obvious reference to her commitment that we hear is on You’re Losing Me, with “I wouldn’t marry me either” implying that it was something that was discussed and a point of contention given the way she spits it out in the bridge and there are also the references to their shared home (“remember looking at this room, we loved it cause of the light,” “every morning I glared at you with storms in my eyes,” “do I throw out everything we built or keep it?” Etc.).

Yet throughout these songs, where she’s saying she wants to be with this person forever, she wants to show him how forever feels, she wants to marry him, etc., in retrospect they’re kind of one-sided. AGAIN I UNDERSTAND THAT THAT’S BECAUSE THESE ARE TAYLOR’S SONGS. But it’s interesting that when she does sprinkle in references to his side of things, they’re directed at her (e.g. “You said I had to trust more freely,” “You say ‘I don’t understand’ and I say ‘I know you don’t,’” “You say ‘what a mind’,” and so on). It’s like she captures his reaction to her actions, but not that he’s in this with her.

I repeat: I know that this is because this is Taylor’s music, not Joe’s, and she’s writing about her experience of these situations. But in retrospect, and with everything we’re finding out now, it’s just really interesting that the way she wrote about commitment/marriage/family in her music about this period in her life was about what she wanted, what she brought to the table, what she hoped for the future, etc. But she didn’t write about how her partner made her feel about those same commitments. She vowed to always be his, but we don’t know if he vowed to be hers after the war. She fastened herself to him, but did he rip the seam? She wanted to marry him with paper rings, but YLM indicates the feeling may not have been reciprocated after all at the end of the day. Etc. In her music at least, looking back it’s like there isn’t as much reassurance on the other person’s end that this is what they wanted after all, especially by Midnights.

I know this is a jumble of thoughts and by no means a literary analysis of her discography, but it’s just kind of hit me out of the blue today in ways that I think were completely unintentional, but with the imminent release of TTPD, the secret songs on tour and the general ~vibes~ of what we’re all picking up these days, I think we’re in for some more emotional damage by this next album.

[saythenamecabebe]

You're Losing Me...

A|N: Sorry if this sucks. I wrote this while I was half asleep, don't ask why, lol. I recommend listening to Taylor Swift's song 'You're Losing Me'. But yeah, I hope you guys enjoy it. Let me know what you think. There might be some parts of the song that I cut off because it would've been too long, and yeah. I'm not good with long stories, lol

Warnings ⚠️: break up, cheating. I'm not sure what else. I forgot

Pairings: Junkook x reader (mentions of a Suga and Jimin)

"I don't understand," Jungkook says.

"I know you don't," I tell him. "But we can't continue to live like this. It feels as if this relationship hasn't been working for quite some time, and I feel like I'm just trying to hold onto the last thread of hope that it would eventually go back to how it was. I hoped that you would've left her, but you never did. I loved you so fucking much, sadly I still do love you, but I had to come to terms with the fact that you don't love me anymore. You chose her over me, and that's fine. I just can't do this anymore."

We thought a cure would come through in time, now, I fear it won't.

Remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light

Now, I just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time

I was truly hoping by some miracle that it was just an insane prank and hoping that Jungkook would never do a thing like that to me, but the ache in my heart reminds me that it truly hppened. I looked out of the open window, the sun had gone down hours ago, and no light was left in the cold room. Darkness is all I see and feel. Darkness that swallows my frame, darkness that's slowly seeping into my soul and mind. I sigh, and I slowly get up from the couch. I close the window and head upstairs to my room.

Do I throw out everything we built or keep it?

I'm getting tired even for a phoenix

Always risin' from the ashes

Mendin' all her gashes

You might just have dealt the final blow

'What do I do now? Do I throw everything away, or do I keep it? Will this pain eventually go away? Or will it forever make a home in my heart?' I sigh, and I open the door to my room and take a look around. What was once colorful is now dull, black, and grey filling the room. Tears blur my vision and roll down my cheeks. My heart was aching as I looked at the bed that was once ours. 'Once ours'. I wipe the fresh tears away with my sleeve and head to the washroom. As I finish washing my face, I grab a towel and dab it onto my skin. I walk out and lay on my bed. I sigh in exhaustion as I feel my body sink into the mattress. I turned to the side where he slept and grabbed the pillow. It smelled like him. My eyes begin to water again, and I wipe them away. Refusing to shed any more tears for him. It's his fault for cheating, not mine. I feel my eyes beginning to shut, and sleep consumes me.

Birds chirping, the gentle morning breeze hits my skin. I lay on my back and stretch my stiff body. I get up from the bed and into the washroom. It feels as if I was hit by a ton of bricks, so I turn on the shower in hopes that will help relax me. I hop in the hot shower and instantly feel my sore muscles relax.

Stop, you're losin' me

Stop, you're losin' me

Stop, you're losin' me

I can't find a pulse

My heart won't start anymore

For you

'Cause you're losin' me

~*FLASHBACK*~

"Why?!" I yelled. "How can you be so selfish and throw everything away?!"

He stays silent while looking at the ground.

"SAY SOMETHING BECAUSE YOU'RE LOSING ME!"

He snaps his gaze to me and starts sobbing.

"It was a stupid mistake. It didn't mean anything," Jungkook said. "I-I....I didn't...I was just...so lonely. Being away from you for months. Not being able to physically be with you. Took a toll on me, I went out with the boys and got drunk. I bumped into her, and it just happened. Baby, I'm sorry. Please, I can't lose you."

"Don't call me baby. You have no fucking right to call me that right now."

"Y/N, please, I'm so sorry. It will never happen again, just please give me one more chance."

"No"

"Baby, please"

I look at Jungkook. His eyes were red, and his hair that was once neat was now messy. My heart aches at the sight of him, his hand touches my face, his finger caressing my cheek, and I lean into his warm, soft touch. He wipes away my tears as I do the same for him. He grabs my hand and leaves kisses on my knuckles.

"O... Okay," I say. "Okay, Kook. I forgive you."

He smiles, and he gives me a kiss. We break apart, and he kisses my forehead. I sadly smiled as I wrapped my arms around his waist, and I held him as I felt my heart with a heavy feeling.

Every mornin', I glared at you with storms in my eyes

How can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?

"Kook," I say, trying to get his attention. "Jungkook!"

"Yeah?"

He looks at me with an annoyed expression on his face.

"You've been on your phone this whole morning. Can you please put down your phone? We haven't talked for weeks and I would like to have a conversation with my boyfriend."

"Fuck off, you can't tell me what to do. Plus, it's the boys discussing about the comeback."

"Koo-"

His phone dings, and he smiles at the screen. He rushes to get his jacket and shoes on. He grabs the keys from the bowl at the entrance.

"Don't wait up," he yells out. "I love you"

I get up and carry the dishes to the sink.

"Yeah, love you, too." I sadly say.

I sent you signals and bit my nails down to the quick

My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick

"Today's our 5 year anniversary, baby," I smiled. "Since you're coming home early today, I'll make you your favorite dish."

"That sounds great," he says. He goes to the put his shoes and jacket on. "I'll be home soon"

"Okay, be careful. Please be home around the time you said you'll be here, Kook. Otherwise, you're sleeping on the couch tonight. No pillows, no blankets." He laughs and shakes his head.

"I'm serious, Kook," I said with a frown.

"Okay, okay, baby. Well, gotta go meet up with the boys. Bye, love you."

"Love you, too."

He closes the door, and I sigh.

"I guess..."

-

12:40am

Tears slowly make their way out and onto my cheeks. I wrap the food and put it in the fridge. I make my way upstairs and lock the bedroom door. I head to the walk-in closet and take off my bodycon red dress, and I put one of his shirts on that was lying on the floor from the night before. I sit on the chair where my desk is at. I wiped my makeup off, and I tied my hair up in a messy bun. I go to lay on the bed when I hear keys jiggling downstairs. I can hear Jungkook take off his shoes and jacket, and him walking up the stairs. The handle jiggles.

"Baby?"

I stay silent. He sighs, and I know he's running his hands through his hair.

"Baby, I'm sorry I got so caught up at work with the boys. Suga hyung made me do a verse over and over again until he was satisfied."

I wanted to yell, 'BULLSHIT, you were with her. I know you were', but I kept quiet and waited for him to leave.

"Open up, please."

Nothing. He sighed, and I heard his footsteps fading away.

And the air is thick with loss and indecision

I know my pain is such an imposition

Now, you're runnin' down the hallway

And you know what they all say

You don't know what you got until it's gone

The days go by, and I still carry this unwelcome feeling in my heart. But I'm hoping this feeling is wrong. Jungkook has been working every day and comes home late. I don't get to see him anymore because when morning comes, he's gone before I'm up, and he comes home when I'm asleep. The last time we got to spend time together was two weeks ago for 10 minutes, and it was spent arguing about him working late or staying out with the boys and coming home so late. I sigh and head to the kitchen, and pack up the cold food. I put it in the fridge, and I lay on the couch and turned on the television.

The sound of the door being closed woke me up. I rub the sleepiness away and sit up.

"Hi Kook," he froze but relaxed and took off his shoes.

"You didn't have to wait up"

"I know, but I wanted, too. We haven't seen each other in days"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, baby. I've just been busy at the studio."

"It's okay. Are you hungry? I can warm up the foo-"

"No, I'm fine. I ready ate, Jimin hyung ordered food, and I was hoping to just head to bed."

"Okay, that's fine. Let's get some rest."

Jungkook took off his pants and changed them into sweats. He took off his shirt and tossed it to me. I put his shirt on and took my pants off. We climbed into bed. My back faced him, and he wrapped his strong arms around me.

"Love you," Jungkook said. I kept quiet.

~*Jungkook's POV*~

As Y/N fell asleep, I watched her. I watched how her beautiful hair spread around the pillow, the way some of her hair fell onto her beautiful face. I pushed the strands away from her face, and she looked so peaceful sleeping. I knew once she didn't say I love you, too. I knew I had lost her right there and then. I have no one to blame but myself. With one last look at her beautiful face, I wrapped my arms around her and fell asleep.

~*End of Jungkook's POV*~

~*END OF FLASHBACK*~

How long could we be a sad song?

'Til we were too far gone to bring back to life?

I gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy

And all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier

Fighting in only your army

Frontlines, don't you ignore me

I'm the best thing at this party

And I wouldn't marry me either

A pathological people pleaser

Who only wanted you to see her

And I'm fadin', thinkin'

My head was pounding from all the crying and due to the stuffiness of locking myself up in the house for months. I go to my closet and put on my black jeans, a white tee, and comb my hair in a messy bun. I head downstairs and put on my back docks. The afternoon breeze and warm sun caress my skin. I head to the park and sit down on the grass near a lake. I stay seated here for 30 mins wondering, 'Why did I ignore what I felt when I forgave Jungkook? Is it my fault that Jungkook decided to seek comfort in someone else? Am I really not a lovable person? Girl, it has been 8 months since you left him. Get over it already.'

I was snapped out of my thoughts when a dog ran up to me. The dog nudges my hand, and I giggle as I pet it.

"Hey bud, you lost?"

He whines, and I hear footsteps approach us. He wags his tail and I tense up when I hear the person speak.

"Bam, I told you not to run off like th-Y/N?"

I turn to face Jungkook and wave.

"Hi"

"It's been so long. You look great," he says with a smile.

"Thank you, you do as well," I respond. There's an awkward silence, and just as I was about to bid him a goodbye, he speaks.

"Y/N, can we talk somewhere private?"

"Uhhh...sure?"

"Mine or yours?"

"Mine's a 5 min walk from here. If you're okay with that?"

"That's great," he says. "Come on, Bam."

He grabs Bam's leash, and we make our way to my house. We arrive at the house, I open the door and let them in. Jungkook takes off his shoes and Bam's leash.

"Do you want anything to drink?"

"No, I'm fine," he said. "Thank you."

It was silent once again. I look down at my lap and play with my hands.

"Y/N," Jungkook begins. "I'm sorry for everything I put you through, I'm sorry for saying the reason I did what I did was because I was lonely, I'm sorry for ignoring you for days, maybe even weeks. I'm just sorry for everything. I hope you can forgive me."

"Jungkook, I don't know if I can forgive you, but one thing I do know is I'll never forget what you did. I felt so worthless. It made me feel like I didn't deserve anyone to love me. I kept blaming myself, kept thinking it was me who drove you to the edge. It was me that made you seek comfort in someone else. But after these months, I've come to realize that it's not me who's at fault it's you. You didn't appreciate anything that I've done for you. I gave you everything I had. I gave you all of me, and it still wasn't enough."

I looked up at Jungkook, and his eyes were red. His hands curled up into a fist and uncurled.

"You were enough, you still are-"

"Jungkook, please don't make his any harder." I sighed. "Please leave Jungkook"

"Do something, babe, say something" (say something)

"Lose something, babe, risk something" (you're losin' me)

"Choose something, babe, I got nothing (got nothing)

To believe

Unless you're choosin' me"

"Y/N, please, I'm sorry."

"No," I say. "I can forgive you, Jungkook, but like I've said before, I can't forget the damage you've done to me. That time we were together, I wanted you to choose me, to love me, but you chose her. Due to that, you lost me, Kook. No matter what you try to say or do, my heart will not start for you like it once did. So don't make me ask again, Kook."

He nodded and walked to he door Bam, following behind him. He tied he leash back on and sighed. He turned o face me one last time and sadly smiled at me.

"I'm really sorry, but I know you will not change your mind. But you were right about one thing. None of this was your fault. It was my doing and now I'm paying the price. I hope you have a great life, and I hope you find someone who will treat you right." He says. "Goodbye Y/N"

He exits the door, and I sit back down on he couch. My shoulders feeling lighter than before, and I head upstairs to my room. I change out of my clothes and put my pj's, and for the first time in months, I fall into a peaceful slumber.

You're losin' me

Stop (stop, stop), you're losin' me

Stop (stop, stop), you're losin' me

I can't find a pulse

My heart won't start anymore

[c-is-for-circinate]

The story creates the story tells itself. That's it, that's what this is, it's the thing I always end up saying when Critical Role hits me right in the solar plexus, because stories are how we make sense of events after they've already happened. The story is not a thing in the moment it is created, it is a thing you can only know the shape of once it's over with, and then you look at it and you say, yes, of COURSE, it only ever could have been this from the first, couldn't it?

Seven miserable loners and outcasts and reckless illegitimate rebels meet in a tavern with no desire whatsoever for heroism. Their morals are quickfire and slapdash, casual and arbitrary, we'll help out these people, those people aren't our problem, we dislike those fucks over there. There is a war brewing and they want nothing to do with it. Fuck fame, fuck fortune, we'll keep to ourselves and play fast and loose with crime and take care of our own and maybe some lucky randoms we meet along the way. We'll fight and scrap and tussle amongst ourselves because none of us even entirely understand our own morals, let alone how to reconcile them with any of these other half-assed motherfuckers we apparently have to care about now.

They fuck up. One of their own dies.

They drown in rage and fury for just long enough, until they can stop gasping and growling for vengeance to take a breath. Then they run.

They run, because they do not care to stand and fight: not against evil or dragons or tyrant kings, not against their own grief. They flee the country. Nobody is chasing them, but they flee anyway, to avoid shackles, to avoid control, to avoid being set to anyone else's purpose, to avoid their own loss and their own sins. They run to the sea. (They find danger, and shackles, and control, and somebody else's purpose there again. The world is full of shackles and those who would wield them.)

They grieve. They avoid their grief. They sanctify their fallen comrade. They do not aim to be anything, this ragtag group of miserable loners and outcasts. The only thing they know themselves to be is each other's. They do not know themselves at all, but this grief, this loss--they know it, at least, know it together, an iron band binding them all heart to heart. It is the first truth they have to hold on to, the thing that lets them see each other as the only thing that matters, the only thing that's really real.

They face down a cult and win, because the other option is shackles or death. They face a demigod and flee, again, again, again. Always they flee.

They flee towards home and home is burned. They have seen loss and they have seen death and it finds them no matter how they run away, so maybe it's time to change direction. Maybe it's time to run towards. It's still running, still half-mindless directionality, it's still familiar. They are not heroes, they are not somebodies, they have never wanted to be somebody. This group has never wanted to be anybody, not as a group, not when they're whole. They're nobodies, trying to take care of themselves, take care of their own, to grow past their grief that they pretend they're gone from now, mostly, most days, when they can. (Pretend it's not the grief that made them each other's in the first place, like none of the fighting and scrapping and scrabbling along beside one another ever had in the first place.)

They bulldoze and trip and stumble and run towards instead of away, for once, just this once, the very first time they've run towards a thing since that last time, the only time, when they temporarily lost three of their own and then broke themselves trying to chase them (trying to chase vengeance). Towards is so much more dangerous than away. Run towards something hard enough, you might actually find it. You might have to become somebody when you get there, instead of just not-being somebody else.

They're somebody now. This rag-tag, broken, mismatched knot of nobodies, not even mercenaries because they're too skittish to even really look for paid work, they're somebodies now, or so Someone Important says. It fits like an ill-tailored coat that they've been forced into without ever making a choice. Without ever realizing, entirely, how much they never made a choice. The world said congrats, you're heroes now, and these killers and thieves went, well, fuck.

And then they tried to be heroes anyway. Not because it fit, not because they knew what to do, but because the mess of them, the seven of them, barely knew who they were to begin with. If the world was shouting HEROES! YOU'RE HEROES! BE HEROES! at them this very loudly--then don't they have to wear the coat that's being given to them? Don't they have to be, have to find some way to become, the heroes they've tripped and stumbled into appearing?

They don't know themselves. All they've done so far is run from themselves--from parents and children and their own crimes, from chains and challenges, limits and labels. They only barely know who they're not. They couldn't know who they are. How do they know they aren't heroes? The one thing they know, the only thing they have, the only thing they've ever run towards, is each other. The one thing they know for absolute sure and certain that defines and binds them is that steel band of grief, that first loss, the thing that broke and forged them to begin with.

So they look for answers in their grief, in what they've lost, because if it's the first true thing about them as a group, them as a whole, then it must be able to tell them who they have to be now. They sanctify their fallen, twist meaning and moral out of conversational confrontational casualness, make a mission statement out of leave every place better than you found it. They forget who he was, petty and venal and mortal and flawed. (They try to convince themselves that they don't have to be petty and venal and mortal and flawed.) They cling to what he meant.

And they fail. God, looking back on it all, with the shape of the story and the shape it's become, is it any wonder they failed? Petty and venal and moral and flawed, these rough-edged rabble-rousers, not even mercenaries because they don't even know how to take orders besides their own. Trying to be heroes. Trying to stop a war, because that's their job, right? It has to be. That's the shape of the coat they're trying to wear, that's the shape of leave every place better than you found it, that's the thing they crashed straight into while they were running, running, running the way they've always run, run, run. So they look for answers everywhere, because they have to have the answers to everything, and they scry and they spy and they play sides. They meet with queens. They turn to each other on the streets on the way out of the palace and ask in horror, "What did we just do?"

They run and they run and they trip and they fall and they unleash more evil than there was to start with. They lose one of their own, again. They sit in shattered shards, and what just happened? How could we have seen this coming? What did we just do?

They don't know themselves. They've been running from themselves, trying to run towards misty shapes they can't define in a too-big coat and too-small shoes, without any real practice in running towards to begin with. They don't know themselves, but they need to move forwards. They need to be whole again, the six, the seven (the eight, the nein). How can they do that if they don't know themselves?

And--finally, finally, they learn.

They learn. They throw a sword in a volcano and forge a sword anew. They rediscover their own mind, their own heart, covered in blood with each other's blood on their hands. They walk into their abusers' homes and then walk back out again alive and un-alone and unchained. They recover bodies. They recover families. They find themselves.

(And the selves they find are mortal and flawed, because they have always been mortal and flawed, because they are built to be mortal and flawed, because they are still the same misbegotten messes they have ever been. But they are stronger for having sought themselves out, for what they have found. They are the stronger for those threads of heroism they tried to, managed to keep.)

They stop a war, incidentally. In the end it's not even all that much due to them. They sit, nobodies on a ship in the middle of the ocean, and watch in silence. It chafes a little, not to be in the center of things, to be able to be the heroes it felt like the world told them they had to be. (It feels a little like relief.)

They find themselves. They find themselves, and they find another lost and broken man, miserable outcast loner, petty and venal and mortal and flawed. They only start to realize how they know themselves now when they see how much he doesn't.

(The peace treaty happens, happened, is/was/will be happening, because they tripped and trembled and tried their way into it, but in the end a thousand chess pieces moved to make it so, and it is signed on a boat where we do not even set foot. The culmination, the crowning glory, the true victory of that whole middle story, is a perfectly-dressed man in chains in the hold of a boat, admitting to his own sins. It is secret and it is individual, and it is the concrete proof above all proofs that our nobody unknowns are finally their own very-known selves. Because they were Essek, once--but know they know their own mirrors well enough to look at him and recognize that.)

They know so much, now, about who they are and who they are to become. They have looked at their pasts and, yes, flinched away, but they've seen, and they know, now, as much as they can handle. In the end, the one thing they don't know the true shape of, the one thing left to seek that must be sought, is of course (of course, of course) that very first thing they thought they knew to begin with. The one thing left to face is their grief. The one thing left to discover is what shaped it from the very start.

So they run, like they have always run. In amongst the snow it is the very distillation of running, towards and away, away and towards, chasing and fleeing and fleeing and chasing, are we in front or are they? It's every mistake they ever made all over again. It's every new lesson they've ever learned.

They don't ask any more, what's the right thing to do. They don't need to ask. They know, already, swift and sure and confident as they once stumbled and dodged. This is a thing that must be stopped. It is ours to stop it. Yes, it is a heavy, clumsy coat to wear, but it fits us out here in the snows where we're not trying to prove our heroism to anybody any more, for good or for evil. Yes, it weighs on our backs and tangles our legs, but it fits as well as any role we've ever tried to wear. It fits us more than it could ever fit anybody else. It's our role. It's our coat. It was forged of our choices, our pieces, our fights. It was forged of our grief.

Nobody else is here with us, to watch, to know. Just like when we were seven shiftless, aimless, worthless nobodies wandering through a circus tent on the way to nowhere (everywhere) else. There's us and the demon born from our grief, the demon who sprang up and died and is the only reason we any of us ever met. Just us, just the nine of us, three and three and three. The three who were dragged off in chains and gave us something to run towards, that very first time. The three who chased, and watched their companion fall, and faced their grief head on, and ran. And Lucien, and Caduceus, and Essek, beginning and middle and end: The man whose demise allowed us to come together, reborn from the loss that bound us. The man who found us and told us that grief is inevitable and passing, that we must continue with it, that we still had such a long way to go. The man who we found like a reflection in an aging mirror, reflecting our own progress back at us, showing us how far we've come and what we've learned how to be.

Of course it had to end this way. (There were so very many other ways it could have ended, once. Of course there were none at all.) Of course it would be nine and nine in the end. Of course it would be this final perfect marriage of heroism and anonymity, for this group that's finally figured out their selves, past and future and right-the-fuck-now, saviors and heroes and petty nobody fucks. Of course it would be this.

And of course, of course, of course it had to go like this. Of course, after everything, the first six of them would try to reverse that grief that forged and tied them. Of course they couldn't. Of course they couldn't, of course, of course--(and was it fate, that 1-in-20 chance, that 5% chance, that 1 on a die? was it fate like the dice are always fate in every game, rolling out poetry with every throw, because all the rolls that aren't quite poetic enough get forgotten?) Of course it was a 1, not some other number, not some sheepish failure of a 4. Of course the universe itself would speak to say no.

No, says the universe, that is not how this story goes--because the road is full of shattered shards, and our heroes only learned to be heroes by discovering how bloodily bad at it they were, by nearly causing the apocalypse before wrestling it back again. Of course the universe itself says that after all this time, after changing so far and discovering so much, this the inciting thing from the very beginning that bound this group in steel must not be changed. Of course, with all their pleas, the six people who knew him cannot bring him back.

Of course that's how the story would go. And of course there's Essek, the man who met this party so long after their throes of mourning that it had sunk into their bones and grown quiet before they ever knew him, who cannot accept this outcome. Of course it's Essek, who never met and has barely heard of this man, this grief--Essek who has not yet grown into the quiet acceptance of his own grief, who does not yet know his own mirror, who has only just barely begun to understand running to instead of from and still doesn't know the shape of what he might eventually choose to chase--who seethes in rage. Who cries about not fair.

Of course it's Caduceus who takes the inspiration of that anger, that grief, and changes it all. Of course it's Caduceus, who the group only even found out of their grief. (They tracked him down to beg to know if he could raise the dead in the first place. Do you remember? One, two, three, Caleb and Beau and Nott, finding him in his graveyard to beg him to help.) Of course it's Caduceus, created to serve and to heal and to make so, so very sure that everyone understood that death could be necessary and final. Of course it's Caduceus, who stood over Mollymauk's grave by the roadside and put a hand in the dirt and cast decompose, because what is dead should be allowed to stay that way until it grows into something else. Of course it is. Because Caduceus has learned his own shape by now, too--and it is still full of devotion, of dedication to the dead remaining dead, but it is steadfast and selfish sometimes too, forged in friendship, full enough of love to try, just this once.

Of course Caduceus gave the diamond but didn't try to perform the ritual, at first, at first. Of course he's spent so very long so very gently urging his friends to reconcile themselves to their loss, to letting their loved one sleep. Of course, in the end, in the very end, he weighed all his faith that once held so firm and final and without exceptions, with this grief before him, and found just this once, maybe, within it.

Of course when he tried, the man who lives to put things in the ground (to put Molly in the ground), even after the fates and the gods and the universe had spoken--when, just this once, against the will of the natural order and the universe and the power of destiny, he asked, just once, for the path of things to reverse--of course. Of course he was the voice that needed to speak for the story to listen.

Of course Molly would end the campaign. Of course this had to be the finale of it all. Of course this ritual--not this fight, not this mission, not even this apocalypse, but this ritual, this resurrection--must be the end of things. Of course it's the end of the story. You can't go any farther than this.

There can never be nine of us. It won't be ironic any more. But irony, after all, is just a way of running from sincerity, sometimes running away from sincerity so hard and fast you crash back into it from the other side. Like running from being a person, from being that person, from letting things matter, from mattering. Like running so far and fast from being found that eventually you have no choice but to find yourself. Irony's a shield against having to know the truth.

There's nine of them. It's not ironic. It's perfect, but it's not ironic. It's just the truth. They know who they are, now. Not who they were running away from being. Not who they tried to be for the sake of anyone else. Who they always are. Always were.

This story could have been a hundred thousand different things, when it started. Of course it was always fated to end with nine.

[komvrebi]

the way they ignored his actual question was enough for him to know that they didn't actually have anything they were genuinely upset about. just dramatic, as usual. he raised an eyebrow as they touched his hair. "you ask like you don't already know the answer, satoru," he teased. "it was shorter. practice. and some help, sometimes."

The smirk hat pulls at the corner of Satoru's lips is enough to betray the lack of actual resentment, even when they try to puff blushed cheeks in apparent annoyance.

"Was your hair always this long?"A hand reaches forward to softly flip Suguru's hair, staying maybe too long for such a simple action, "I thought it was way shorter... how to you get it all in that tiny bun?"

[merrock]

I want to join so badly & ive sent in an app before but im so nervous im not going to fit in or im going to get overwhelmed. any advice?!

Hi there, anon!

Go on and give it a try, that's my biggest piece of advice. Joining a group is like anything else in life, you'll never really know if you like it until you give it a go, right? If you're worried about fitting in, don't be. I say this with complete honesty: we have all kinds of characters and all kinds of writers here. And those characters and writers are pretty awesome, I think!

There are older characters (40s and 50s!), younger characters (young 20s), characters in between (20s and 30s), all genders! Characters who are local to Merrock, ones who are brand new and have just arrived. Friendly sorts, stand offish sorts. Characters who are basically made of money, characters who struggle financially. Characters working their dream jobs, characters working just to make a paycheck. All types in Merrock.

And our writers vary, too! We allow all sorts of creativity and interactions here. Some writers prefer to stick with paragraph style interactions only, some like to do GIF chat/conversation threads, others like to do a combination, some people will do whatever you want to do. We have writers who can write long novella style interactions, and some prefer short, simple things that are only a couple of lines long! Some prefer to write in prose, others keep it simple and sweet. A little bit of everything!

I can understand feeling overwhelmed, especially when joining a new group. But I think we're pretty laidback. There are times when dash can be fast-moving, and times when it's a bit slower. But everyone is super friendly and accommodating! That kind of takes the edge off, you know? Makes it easier to fit in.

Some things that I think can help make it easier to fit into a group are picking up a wanted connection and just genuinely throwing yourself into it, feet first. Picking up a wanted connection not only gives you that connection, but can sometimes result in sub-connections, too! For example, say you pick up someone's sibling... you could then end up being friends with their friends. If you pick up someone's ex, you might end up making an enemy or two in terms of their family members or friends, too. You could also pick a job for your character where they would have a co-worker, or even end up picking up a housemate connection! But I think even without having a built-in connection, if you are willing to write with others, you'll be okay. Don't be afraid to go in plotless. Seriously. Some of my favorite connections were formed simply by having two characters interact with one another and letting them flesh things out on their own.

This is really, really long, so I apologize for that, but! I hope maybe it helped you out, and please know that you can always come off of anonymous and talk to me. I hope you'll come join us! xx