#does not matter if person in question is not a good person

[alaveii]

ok legitimately this pisses me off so much. art is defined (quite literally!*) by humanity’s role in creating it. a bird cannot create art. a dog cannot create art. an elephant cannot create art. even if you can dig up a hundred thousand paintings that were made by animals, they still cannot be defined as art. the animal cannot and will not create art by their own desire, as they have no such desires.

by definition ‘ai art’ does not qualify as art because it was not created by an actual person. no one actually worked, tried, failed, experimented, practiced to generate an ‘ai art’ piece. no one put in effort or intent. the only human influence these pieces have is that a human ordered they be made.

this would be akin to crediting an art piece to the commissioner rather than the artist. it sounds ridiculous, because it is. (do ai users even pay for their softwares?)

you cannot refer to a mimicry as the true, because it never will be, no matter how much you try.

art is not defined by the final product, it is defined by the labor and emotion that is put into making it. by stripping a piece of those crucial aspects that it give meaning and value, you not only devalue the piece to a forgery of an actual but rob those around you.

ai art has become rather prevalent, especially in fandom spaces, over the past few years. while i (personally) have no problem either it being used for reference or inspiration (some artists do), the main issue with it is that

its not actual art, and thus something of a mockery to actual artists (who may spend years developing their skills) who put genuine love and effort to spread their enjoyment of media

as it has gotten more prevalent, it places more suspicion on actual artists as to whether their pieces are real

this is incredibly discouraging to artists, to have their effort be critiqued and accused of being false. it can discourage artists from sharing their work in fandom spaces, because 1) who would want to be accused of plagiarism for something they created with their own hands but also 2) they are aware that by sharing their work, they raise the possibility that their work will be stolen and they will be accused of being the thief.

ai art steals from artists. thats just how it works. it takes pieces from the internet, cuts and splices them together, then spits out an image (or images) for the person who ordered them.

on the matter of being outshone, that will happen regardless of whether ai is in the question or not. there will always be someone better than you in some aspect, and you, as the artist will see that most prevalently. this is not a matter of quality, it is perspective. you are your own worst critic. similarly, you may be much better than someone else at something, but you won’t realize it because its not something youd notice unless you carefully scrutinize multiple pieces.

theres no such thing as ‘the best artist.’ you can have a favorite artist, but that boils down to personal opinion. it’s part of what makes art so beautiful, that so many people can excel at the same time, without being artists of different forms, styles, or even medias. everyone can be incredible in art, if only they put in the effort.

an athlete will not become olympic level simply because they command it so, they have to work for it. it’s the same principle with art, to exercise your mind, wrists, fingers, palms, forearms, shoulders, your creativity to become talented, to become someone worthy of mass admiration. that is how you become a good artist. that is how you become good at anything.

art is not defined by the final product, it is defined by the labor and emotion that is put into making it. by stripping a piece of those crucial aspects that it give meaning and value, you not only devalue the piece to a forgery, but also rob both those who share interests with you and yourself of authenticity.

Your comments about AI users being talentless tells me you don't really understand art. It's about the product, not the tools. You can waste your life learning how to use a thousand of brushes and programs and you'll be easily outshone by someone who uses AI to draw what they want. The 'talentless' usually crow on about techniques and tools and miss the point of making art.

"You can waste your life learning how to use a thousand brushes and programs" And there, this is the attitude of the non-artists-AI-lovers in a nutshell. You see, drawing artists like using brushes. "Someone who uses AI to draw what they want."

No. If you instruct the AI to do something, you aren't 'drawing' anything. "The talentless" The 'talentless' is you. Telling an AI what image you want to be drawn doesn't require any talent.

[patchs-curiosity-corner]

𝑳𝒆𝒕 𝑴𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒍𝒑 𝒀𝒐𝒖 | 𝑺.𝑹. 

𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟏𝟓𝐭𝐡 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟕 - 𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒔𝒉

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: A new member is added to the BAU soon after Reid’s kidnapping. She seems determined not to overlook him.

𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: angst, hurt/comfort, slight arguing, themes of drug addiction and self harm, referenced overdose, likely inaccurate depiction of drug addiction/withdrawal, Spencer and Reader being insecure.

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 2.5k

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: Fair warning this could be horrible. It’s part one of hopefully six total oneshots stemming from the concept of ‘5 times you help Spencer Reid heal, and one time he helps you.’ So, heart attack levels of cheese. Largely inspired by my righteous fury when no one helped Reid with his addiction. I will do a tag list for anyone interested in being alerted when part 2 comes out! Not proofread.

𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

You and Spencer Reid don’t get along.

Maybe that’s the wrong way to put it; it would be more accurate to say that he doesn’t get along with you. You were brought on a month ago, 36 days 4 hours and 27 minutes had passed since you had first walked into the bullpen and given him one more person to deal with. It didn’t help that you were sweet, gentle and understanding in a way seemed to grate on his already frayed nerves. You’re 22, but only recently, recently enough to have just barely squeaked out the title of “youngest member to join the BAU” that had previously belonged to him. It’s a childish record, he’s a 25 year old man, and it shouldn’t affect him much less upset him, but it does. 

Your presence feels like a personal insult. Your arrival so soon after his kidnapping churns his stomach, makes him wonder if the team is questioning his capabilities as a profiler. Why else would they need to suddenly hire an extra person? Not-so-deep down he knows that logically, it probably had to do with the recent increase in the units budget. Nothing to do with him, but rather Hotch taking advantage of the opportunity to have another pair of boots on the ground during cases. None of that matters though, because Spencer doesn’t feel very logical right now.

He’s found more little ways to justify his distaste for you in the weeks since your arrival. The way you always seem to smile and nod along with his ramblings, despite the fact they’re not directed at you. You must be mocking him, he concludes, secretly patronizing him for his inability to shut up. Or the way you look at him after learning about his recent… ordeal with Tobias Hankel, the gentle sympathy in your eyes he willingly misinterprets as pity. He hates being pitied. He hates being patronized. He hates the analytical way you always seem to look at him, and he almost immediately convinces himself that above all: he hates you.

———

Something’s up with Reid.

You’d noticed it from day one, but it had been easy to disregard as growing pains. After all, with Emily having only joined months before you, you were sure there was going to be a bit of an adjustment period, especially when the sting of losing one of their previous teammates was still so fresh. You’d heard so many good things about Elle from everyone, and you’d be lying if it didn’t make you feel even a little bit insecure as the greenest among them.

It takes about a week for you to realize there’s something more to his behavior than awkward aloofness. The way he wears long sleeves even as the cool air of spring grows warmer, the near-constant twitch in his brow, and especially the way he seems to constantly fidget with those aforementioned sleeves, scratching nervously at his inner elbow. Even just the way his wiry fingers tighten around the strap of his bag, you can’t shake it.

Something is terribly wrong.

You try to remain casual, asking after him when he disappears into the bathroom for a touch too long, or when he takes a sick day that even as the newbie you know is out of character. Innocuous little questions like: “Is Reid alright?” or “Does he seem paler lately?” that gleaned no real answer from any of their teammates. It made you furious. Spencer was a part of their team, part of their family, regardless of his icy attitude towards you. So why wouldn’t any of them help him?

You watch him deteriorate over time, in the 36 days you’d spent on the team you’d been silently festering, mentally begging someone to do something, anything for Reid. Help him! your eyes beg Morgan, Hotch, Gideon, JJ, anyone. He’s going to die like this…

…but no one does, and enough is enough.

———

Spencer can’t eat, he can’t sleep either. Whenever he tries to his mind is filled with the memory of the horrible night he spent with Hankel, his crystal clear eidetic memory forcing him to relive that torture again and again the moment he closes his eyes. He knows there must be dark circles under his eyes, that his cheeks are likely sunken and pale, eyes rimmed red from lack of sleep. He’s certain the others must have noticed, there’s no way they couldn’t. But he tries to convince himself they haven’t, because if they had and no one had checked on him? …He doesn’t want to consider that reality.

The soft rapping of knuckles against his door stirs him out of his sleepless daze. It’s late, late enough that no one in their right mind would be awake right now, much less knocking on his door. In his drained state he heaves himself off the couch, plodding with weighted feet over to the door of his apartment. He doesn’t bother to check the peephole, if he did maybe he wouldn’t have been so startled by who he sees upon pulling open the door.

You.

A travel bag slung over your shoulder and a determined look set on your features. You both just stand there for a moment, until your voice breaks the silence.

“Hi.” It’s just one word, but it tugs at something inside him he can’t quite name.

“Hey.” He croaks back apathetically, or at least he tries to. Before he can say anything else or even question what you’re doing you push past him into his apartment, tossing your bag onto his kitchen island. “What the hell-“ Is all he manages to get out, irritation swelling in his chest as he scowls at your form, looking at him with arms crossed, fingers picking at the frayed edges of your sweater.

And just like that it’s quiet again. It’s his voice that breaks the silence this time, quiet and tired: “What are you doing here?”

“Make sure you don’t die, hopefully.” you murmur, your own voice cracked by anxiety and a frail attempt at humor. “Where are they?” That makes his jaw tighten, you both know what you’re talking about, and it causes long-suppressed frustration to boil up in his chest.

“You have no right to be here. You- you have no right to look through my things.” The words are gritted out through teeth clenched so tight you worry they may crack. It’s painful, watching him fight so hard against the help you’re trying to offer.

“Look, Spencer” you sigh, unable to hide the pained expression of your own face, “Hotch knows. I talked to him about it.” You brace for something, anything. Maybe shouting, you seriously doubted Reid would ever consider laying a hand on you but… drugs did funny things to those you would have thought you knew. “S-so you either let me help you, or I’ll be forced to report your current addiction to Strauss.” Your voice had wavered at the beginning, but the more you spoke the more conviction bled into your voice. Soon all the pent up anxiety and worry for your brilliant coworker was pushing you forward, fueling your words. “I won’t stand by Spencer, because if you keep going like this it’s not a matter of if but when it kills you, and that is the last thing I would ever want because you are too damn good for that.”

Reid glares at you, every ounce of misplaced anger in his system directed at you alone in a gaze far more furious than you or anyone thought him capable of. Then his shoulders slump, and that tired, worn appearance returns. He could deny it, claim you had no proof, but with no energy left in his tired, broken body- He didn’t have it in him to lie. When Spencer finally speaks it’s quiet, and reluctant.

“In the bathroom,” his voice croaks, “Inside the medicine cabinet.”

He would have expected you to immediately go there, to play the role of drill sergeant for his sudden makeshift rehab, but you don’t. Instead your own shoulders sag, and in a number of slow steps you cross the room to where he stands, wrapping your arms tightly around his middle. Spencer goes stiff at first, unable to process the sudden display of affection, why this girl seems to care so much about him when he’d been nothing but distant to her at best. After everything he’s been through though -even with his germaphobia- it’s impossible not to relax into the embrace, his own slender arms wrapping around you in return. It’s nice to be held again, he thinks.

“This is going to be awful.” You mumble against his chest, “A week and a half, that’s all Hotch could give us. Far as anyone’s concerned I had a family emergency and you’re on a mandated sabbatical.” It takes him a minute or so to process her words, stuck in the haze of affection after going to long without.

“…what are you talking about?” Reid asks, his voice is quiet. He can’t understand why you care so much, he just needs you to go away now, before he gets addicted to your presence as well. Before something happened to you and you left; like his Mother, like Elle.

“Getting you clean.” You say hesitantly, finally pulling away from him after what felt like a peaceful eternity. “Under normal circumstances quitting outright is a terrible idea, but-“ you swallow thickly- “you’re a federal agent, so there’s a clock ticking.”

“And your plan is…?” Spencer sighs, running a heavy hand through his hair and down his face. He tries to ignore the feeling that lingers, the ghost of you in his arms.

“Stay with you through the inevitable withdrawals, I hope.” The words are tentative, not as confidant as before while you pick nervously at the sleeve of your sweater. “The first thing I have to do is get rid of all the Dilaudid in this apartment.”

His body goes rigid again, this time with the flash of panic that goes through him at your words. Hands clenching and jaw tightening, the thought of losing the thing he’d come to rely on so desperately makes him terrified. Part of Spencer wants to say ‘no,’ to stop you- beg you not to let what gave him peace drain away… But he just can’t muster the energy, forced to watch in dejected silence as you conduct a thorough search of his apartment for the offending drug -his only comfort and companion in these past two months- and dispose of it, all in a few moments. Gone.

Once you’re finished, you settle yourself on his warm, comfortable couch, letting out a quiet sigh as you wave him closer. “C’mere.”

Reid lets himself be touched for the second time that night, accepting your offer and laying his head on your lap. He’s quickly hit with a hazy feeling as your fingers slide into his hair, playing gently with the chocolate strands and scratching lightly at his scalp.

“Are you angry with me?” You ask softly after a moment, concerned by the silent treatment he was currently giving you. Again he can’t lie to you, even compared to the unwillingness to admit his fear and anger. In an act of petty rebellion he refuses to look at you when he answers.

“…yes.”

“That’s alright.” He hears you reply, as soft and gentle as everything else you had been so far. “You can be angry, Spence.”

“Why are you even here?” He bites back, a storm of emotions behind his eyes as he finally looks up at your face: anger, sadness, confusion, fear. The brilliant ‘boy-genius’ reduced to an absolute mess.Your answer is just as easily spoken and simple as before: 

“Because I care about you.” Those five words ring in his head even as you continue. “Because despite how we started out you are an incredibly genuine person, Spencer, and probably one of the most brilliant minds I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.” Spencer shakes his head, for once lost for words. Why were you here, being so nice to him? Why did you even care in the first place when he had been so cold and hostile to you over the past month. 

“I don’t- you shouldn’t care.” He spits out, turning away from her. The action feels petulant.

“But I do.” You say a hint of amusement in your voice despite the circumstances. “And you can’t stop me from caring.”His face feels hot, and his jaw clenches again as he rolls back over to hide his face in your stomach. Reid mumbles in a voice almost too low to hear: 

“You’re frustrating.” It makes you laugh.

“Don’t worry Reid,” you say through your laughter, “the feeling is definitely mutual.”

———

The next week is just as brutal as you had both been expecting.

Spencer didn’t know what he expected drug withdrawal to be like. He’d read plenty of textbooks sure but they did nothing to prepare him for a firsthand experience. The only way he can think of to describe it is pure, unadulterated misery. His body struggles without consistent doses of Dilaudid to keep him going, it’s evident he had become much more dependent than he realized in a short amount of time. He can’t eat, he feels violently sick. Too hot one moment and freezing the next with his emotions following much the same kind of roller coaster.

You stay through all of it, keeping him comforted during panic attacks and soothing his fevers with a cool washcloth as you try to get him to drink just a little more water, even if it may come back up minutes later. You’re tired, exhausted even, and yet you won’t leave Spencer’s side for more than a second. It’s easy to endure the moments of anger he has, shouting and cruel words flung in your direction are hardly any price at all if it means he might recover faster. He doesn’t understand how you take it, all the snapping, screaming and crying. Reid takes out every anxiety and fear he has on you, and still you remain in the end, ready to let him fall into your arms again and cry like a child.

He feels guilty, ashamed even in this state. An overwhelming feeling of helplessness weighs heavy on his heart, but little by little, things do get better, even if he doesn’t notice at first.

It must be the 8th day of this hell when he realizes that slowly, far too gradually for him to notice: things have returned to something oddly adjacent to normal. Sitting at his kitchen table with a cup of warm honey tea in his hands, watching you hum along to the radio while you prepare breakfast… Spencer almost feels human again. Things weren’t perfect by any means, his hands still trembled, the ghosts left behind by the worst of it all still tugged at his mind, a familiar voice begging him for just one more hit. But the voice is tiny now, easier to ignore. It was strangely peaceful, in fact, the way he could sit at this table and observe the domestic scene of you cooking breakfast in his kitchen. His chest warms pleasantly, and for what feels like the first time in years:

Spencer can finally breathe.

[taelortot]

The Sun and the Moon

Part zero: Introduction (four screenshots and drabble)

Characters are in college!!!!!

Megumi Fushiguro was not known to be the most patient person in the world. Growing irritated with those who took up too much of the allotted time he allowed for. This would apply to basically everything— getting ready for the day, deciding on what to order at restaurants, perusing the grocery store when only going in for one item— and the list goes on and on. His patience was limited, growing thinner and thinner as the days passed. Megumi was also not known to be the sweetest man in the world, no no no. Quite the opposite really. Snapping at those who interrupted him, growing angry with people who got off task, and frustrated when no one could pay attention for more than 5 minutes.

That applied to everyone. Everyone he’s ever interacted with his whole life. Everyone who has looked his way.

Everyone except y/n.

It baffled his friends. Seriously throwing them through a loop that the man who yelled at them for speaking over him, was now allowing this petite girl to interrupt him to say the clouds look pretty.

“They do, baby” he would smile, turning his full attention to his girlfriend, taking in her beauty as she looked towards the sky.

Huffs and sighs coming from his friends, eyerolls and arms crossing as Megumi allowed his girlfriend to point out little shapes she saw in the puffy white clouds.. instead of continuing to discuss the plan for the mission they were going on in a few days. When his attention eventually returns to where it should have been, his hands always find their way to the girl who is sitting as patiently as she can. Holding her hand in his, calloused thumb brushing over the pretty promise ring he purchased a few months ago. Or one hand on the back of her neck, fingertips massaging her skin, running his fingers through her soft vanilla scented hair.

It wasn’t always like this. It took time. It took time to realize she was always going to be 20 minutes late no matter how early she started getting ready because— “I couldn’t decide between this pink skirt or the other one” or “I couldn’t find my wedges so I had to change my whole outfit to match these ones” and Megumis favorite “I lost my cherry lip gloss that you love so much so I had to find it, doesn’t it taste good?”

So he learned to be patient with her. Only because y/n is hands down the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on. AND, she always gave him road head when they are running late to make it up to him.

Oh and he’s so fucking in love with her it’s stupid.

So fucking in love with the vanilla scented girl.

Sweet and syrupy. Sticky and warm. Like sugar cookies and waiting for Santa to come down the chimney.

Giving Megumi a taste at the childhood y/n insists he should have had.

At first Megumi couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that y/n was definitely not all there—In a constant state of carefree living. At first, he truly wondered if she was dropped on her head a few times—only because the shit that came from her mouth were absurd most of the time.

“Do you think if I pet raccoon I could train him to dance?”

“I really wish I could see an alien and ask it if they like ice cream— oh my god what if they don’t even have ice cream? Should I buy some just in case they visit me tonight?”

“Do you think your puppies can smell when I’m sad?”

And that list goes on and on and on. Mostly consisting of questions Megumi has now learned how to answer. Even if the answers don’t make sense.

"I'm pretty sure he could learn to dance, sweet girl."

"What flavor do you think they would like, baby?"

"I think they can sense your emotions, pretty girl"

When I say it took time for Megumi to really understand y/n, I mean it took TIME. But, after finding out the girl has severe adhd, it all made sense. Now he can sit back and enjoy that funny things she does.

As well as relishing in the comfort she gives him. It's like no other. How understanding she is, how she cares for him, how she takes care of him in ways he cannot comprehend. No one has ever taken the time to understand him, to REALLY understand him. Growing fiercely protective of his baby, keeping her safe from those who wish to tear her down in any way they could.

"you're not stupid, pretty girl. they are just jealous of how beautiful you are"

Now... that's always a touchy topic for y/n. Sure, the girl may be a bit ditzy and unaware-- but, why would she need to have a brain when Megumi could do all the thinking for her? A word Megumi heard a lot was 'bimbo', a word he had to look up after some frat guy called y/n that. And... while that might be correct, Megumi didn't see anything wrong with that. Well, the only issue he had was that every person who saw y/n sexualized her. Other than that, he had no issue with how naive and attractive she is. Always making sure to grab a handful of her tits whenever any male looked at her chest a little too long. Earning a giggle and a-- "Gumi, that tickles!"

God she was so innocent. And soooo in love with her boyfriend of 1 year.

There was something about the way she looked at him. A twinkle in her eye or something. It started from when she first made eye contact with him, as if the word stopped and he was all that mattered.

As if he's the one who drags the stars out of the dark every night.

As if he is the reason the moon shines so bright in the dead of night.

Or maybe Megumi was the moon to her. Illuminating the dark to guide her home, keeping her safe from what lurks in the shadows.

Like the way the moon influences the tides with its gravitational pull, Megumi pulled her in whatever direction was best for her. And no matter what, with Megumi by her side, she knew there would always be another bight night.

Another night to sleep safely.

Another night to hear the owl's hoot.

Another night to stay up late talking to the love of her life.

Just another night to be with him.

His little innocent girl— well mostly innocent. The things he’s done to her would surly send them both to hell.

But!! We can discuss that later.

Anyway, there isn’t one thing Megumi wouldn’t do for y/n. He would go to the ends of the earth just to see that pretty smile. While he remained standing with a cool and calm exterior, his body vibrates when he sees his girl. His chest on fire when he sees her smile. Oh god, and don’t get him started on her laugh. When he dies, he hopes that’s the last thing he hears.

It’s like on a semi cloudy day, the way the sun peaks out from behind the clouds, shining rays bursting through to create the most elegant shadows. Or when the sun shines down on painted glass, a mosaic of colors dancing on the sidewalk.

Maybe she’s just the sun.. maybe y/n is Megumis' sun. The thing that keeps him warm, the thing he needs every single day to survive, the light in his dark heart, reminding him that there will always be another day.

Another day to see the sun.

Another day to hear bird chirping.

Another day to be see the love of his life.

Another day to kiss her.

Another day to hold her.

Just another day with y/n.

taglist: @vellichor01 @loveyislost @gradmacoco @koreluvsspring @ersharyzst

[castellanapologist]

Teaching Moment.

[This is LONG I apologize. CW: Cheating (not on luke or reader)]

Tomorrow. Y’all’s anniversary was tomorrow. You could feel your heart clench in fear and trepidation. Gods, you almost didn’t want it to happen. You and your boyfriend, Mark,  had been together for about a year now and you wanted to make it memorable. So in a spur of the moment decision you had gone out to get waxed, buy lingerie and learn how to have sex. Porn had been a turn off, the over-exaggerated moans had made you cringe and shut your laptop quickly. 

Wallowing in self-pity and anxiety hadn’t done you any good and you knew the only person you could trust with this was your best friend and roommate, Luke. Luke Castellan, son of Hermes. The best swordsman in 300 years at camp half-blood. The only one you could depend on no matter what. After you both had left camp, he was the only one you could rely on. Y'all had found a place of your own, moved in together and been inseparable ever since. It had been a bit of a rough start at first, but with Luke’s dazzling smirk and whispers in your ear it all managed to work out. In the back of your mind you knew it wasn’t a great idea to be living with someone you had crushed on for years, but when he asked how could you refuse? Besides, y’all both had partners. Nothing weird could ever happen. 

So why were you even going to him with this? Wouldn’t this make it weird? Chewing on your lip nervously, you paced your room like a caged animal. Weighing the options in your mind, it came clear that you only really had one option. Go to Luke and have him teach you or risk your experienced boyfriend laughing in your face. Luckily -or unluckily- Luke had just come home and did his usual routine of poking his head in your room to bother you. His brow raised seeing you pace wildly. 

“You good?” He asked, not unkindly. Opening the door all the way, he leaned against the doorframe. Even in your distress you could appreciate his physique. Broad shoulders, strong arms wrapped with prominent veins, even his hands had you weak in the knees. Sighing, you slow your pacing down to face him. 

“I…I had a question.” You meekly respond, wringing your hands nervously. His eyes dropped to them and stepped closer to grab them. He ran his thumbs soothingly over your knuckles. 

“Go ahead baby, what's wrong?” He asked, voice dropping to a murmur. The pet name ran smoothly off his tongue and it's not like the two of you didn't say sweet words to each other, but you shivered. 

“When…when you lost your virginity” Your voice cracks slightly before you clear your throat. “Was it scary?”

Luke’s brows shoot up. There’s a small silence but it's long enough to make you want to crawl into a hole and die. You try to pull away but he quickly pulls you into a hug, running a large hand comfortingly up and down your back. 

“Hey hey it's okay, it's not a weird question.” He soothes. “Just caught me off guard is all. It was a little nerve-wracking but nothing crazy. Why do you ask?”

Your silence seems to give him the answer and his brows shoot up again. “You thinking of giving that boyfriend of yours your virginity?” He asks, voice unimpressed. Luke has never seemingly liked Mark, saying dating a mortal was a dumb decision. When you had pointed out his girlfriend was a mortal, he had scoffed and said it was different. You roll your eyes, pulling back slightly to look up at him.

“Well we’ve been dating for a year, I feel like I can trust him.” You say. Luke’s lips purse but he nods slowly. 

“Yet you’re pacing like crazy in here” He teases. You deflate slightly, leaving him to scramble to make up for it. “Hey hey, if you’re ready it's okay. It’ll be fine.” He soothes, rubbing your back again. 

“I’m scared Luke.” You confess. “What if I mess up? And he laughs at me?”

“I doubt he will. Besides, if he does, I’ll kill him” Luke promises. It doesn’t sound like he’s joking but you roll your eyes like he is. 

“You don’t get it,” You say as you pull back a bit more. “I want him to be impressed with me. So I don’t look stupid and unprepared.”

“There’s no way to be prepared unless you do it.” Luke points out, his hands falling to your hips. “Unless you try and watch a shit-load of porn, but even then its fake and won't teach you anything.”

“You don’t think I thought of that?” You groan. “Shit was awful. Barely got 5 minutes in.”

Luke throws his head back in a laugh. “You watched porn?” He teases. “Cmon, tell me what kind.”

“I’m not telling you.” You say firmly, pushing against his chest. He laughs again, gripping tighter so you couldn’t escape. Pulling you closer, he leans in close to whisper in your ear.

“You know you can trust me baby, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.” 

You squirm at his breath on your ear but sigh, knowing neither of you can particularly keep stuff from the other. “Just...like regular porn I don’t know.” You sigh, avoiding his gaze. 

“Show me.”

Your eyes snap to his, clearly caught off guard. “What?!” You nearly shriek. Luke huffs a laugh. 

“I said show me. Wanna see what my little roomate was up to while I was away.” His voice is teasing as he smirks down at you. Chewing on your lip you weigh your options. You decide ‘what the hell, I was gonna ask for help anyway’ and nod. Luke allows you to detangle yourself from his hold and crawl onto your bed, following shortly behind you. He sits behind you, chest to your back as you open your laptop. You immediately cringe as loud moans fill the bedroom. Luke doesn’t bother to stifle a laugh.

“Teaching my virgin best friend how to fuck?” Luke reads aloud, laughing. You feel your cheeks burn in shame as you try and shrink down. Luke pulls you back upright. “Awww don’t be embarrassed baby. Rewind it, let's watch.”

“Rewind?” You question. Luke nods, pulling you more flush against him. 

“Yeah, I’ll point out what to do and not do. Think of it as me ‘teaching my virgin best friend how to fuck’” He laughs. You chew your lip again, making it raw at this point. Luke brings his hand up to your face and uses his thumb to untuck your lip from your teeth. “Hey enough of that, you know I'm just teasin’. We don’t have to-”

“I want to.” You rush out before he can continue. Luke presses a kiss to your temple, a smirk gracing his handsome face. 

“Alright baby, rewind.” He orders softly, moving his hands down to grip your hips. You squirm but obey. The video restarts and shows the guy and girl sitting on the couch, the girl looking nervous. You shift to lay more comfortably against Luke as the girl asks the guy to teach her. You’re hyper aware of Luke’s hands on your hips rubbing small circles obviously trying to soothe you. All too soon, the actors are making out furiously and groping each other. 

“Pause it.” Luke commands. You’re all too happy to obey, hitting the spacebar. You turn your head to face him, only to realize he’s a lot closer than you thought. “You see how they’re making out? All messy and shit right off the bat? You wanna start slow.” He murmurs. You swallow and nod. There’s a beat of silence between y'all before you speak up. 

“Can…can you show me?” You whisper, barely able to choke the words out. The room feels like it’s raised a few degrees as soon as the words exit your mouth. Luke’s eyes are dark as he turns you a bit further to face him. 

“You sure?” He murmurs, fingers softly gripping your jaw. You nod, swallowing and turning to face him. Slowly, ever so slowly, he leans in, giving you plenty of time to pull away. You don’t. His lips are soft against yours, hesitant. When he feels you relax against him, he presses firmer. Your mouths move in sync, like you’ve been kissing all your life. His finger grip a bit tighter as his tongue swipes along your bottom lip. With no hesitation, you allow him in. 

Groaning, his tongue invades your mouth. You whine as you taste him, hand coming up to tug at his hair. Luke moves slow, just like he said you should. As soon as he’s done, he allows you into his mouth. Gods he tastes so good. You feel like you can't get enough, tugging harder on his curls as you massage his tongue with your own. When you can’t breathe any longer, you pull away with a gasp. Fuck. Luke’s eyes are half-lidded, lips swollen from the kiss. You both pant while staring at each other. 

“Just like that.” He breathes. You nod slowly, your heart pounding so loud you swear he can hear it. Your boyfriend never kisses you like that, he’s all tongue and teeth immediately like the video. Luke presses another kiss to your forehead and turns you back to face the screen. Pressing play, the video starts again. The actors continue to make out furiously, the guy yanking off the girls shirt and bra. Your breath catches in your throat and Luke pauses it again. Your mind races with a million thoughts, eyes locked on the girls bare tits and the guys hands groping them. 

“Moving fast seems to be a trend for them.” Luke rumbles, his left hand still rubbing a circle on your hip. You nod absentmindedly. His fingers hover over the spacebar, like he’s thinking. You turn your head again, startling when you see him already staring at you. His eyes are dark with something primal, and you swallow. You glance at the girl's bare tits then back to him. Kissing was one thing…him seeing your tits was another. Luke and you had kissed a couple times at camp, just at parties when everyone was tipsy and wanted to play stupid drinking games. Maybe a touch or two over the clothes but nothing crazy. 

“We don’t have to do anything.” Luke assures you, his hand pressing firmer against your hip. “I’ll just talk about it okay?” You take a breath and nod. “He needs to go slow, kiss your neck a little then he can take off the shirt.” 

You shiver slightly thinking about Luke kissing your neck. Subconsciously, you bare yours a bit for him. His other hand slowly comes up from the spacebar to ghost along your throat. Your breath hitches but let him continue. His fingers are cold and soothing to the touch. 

“You sensitive here?” Luke teases, pressing a bit firmer. You can barely nod. “Then he’ll have to spend extra time here. You wanna make sure he makes you feel good. Don’t let him rush things.” He says firmly, his fingers tracing your pulse point lightly. You nod. “Good girl.” 

Fuck you almost moan at that. He doesn’t stop his teasing of your neck, seemingly fixated on your small shivers. Maybe this couldn’t hurt…it’s just a trial run right? Luke knew what he was doing, it wasn’t cheating if it's for practice…

“Luke…” You whisper, causing his fingers to still.

“Yeah?” He whispers back. You turn your head to face him again. 

“Can you do what's supposed to happen?” 

Lukes face breaks into a soft smirk but he nods regardless. He turns you again to face him, getting you fully in his lap. He brings the laptop to the side, letting you see the screen. You scoot in closer on his lap as his fingers wrap around the back of your neck, dipping his head. You gasp as his lips brush your skin, hands flying up to grasp his shoulders. Slowly, Luke kisses along the column of your throat, his lips lingering. You tilt your head back so he has more skin to kiss, emboldening him. His kisses become sloppy, tongue peeking out to lick. Fuck it felt so good. You can’t hold back the moans that tumble out your mouth, nails digging into his shoulders. 

“Sound so good baby, gotta be loud so I know you like it okay?” Luke groans into your neck. You nod, eyes rolling back as he bites down. Fuck fuck fuck you felt yourself getting wetter than you ever had before. Luke was like a God in bed, and if it didn’t risk him getting smited telling him that, you would have. You squirm in his lap as his tongue traces patterns, half desperate for more and half desperate to get away. Luke's hands hold you down and only then do you notice. Fuck. Luke’s hard. You moan at the revelation, mind whirring with the implications. Was it because of you? Or the porn? 

“Fuck Luke” You whine, hips rolling instinctively down. Luke’s teeth sink into your neck again, moaning as he thrusts up. You both grind for a few minutes, unable to stop yourselves. Eventually Luke pulls himself away from your neck and holds your hips down so he won’t be distracted. 

“Your shirt” He tugs. “Lemme take it off.” You let him, exposing your bra. His face turns reverent, hands coming up to cup your breasts. Luke leans down to kiss the exposed skin before expertly unclipping it. You almost want to call him a slut, but when his lips wrap around your nipple all thoughts fly out of your head. You feel dizzy with pleasure as he sucks, nails scratching at his scalp. Luke hums around your tits, squeezing your hips in warning when you try to rock down. 

“Stay still.” He commands, making you stop. Fuck you were dripping. He pants as he removes his own shirt, letting you get your fill of his sculpted torso. He walked around the apartment shirtless pretty frequently so it wasn’t new, but you still loved it all the same. Your hands roam his chest and arms, squeezing the muscles appreciatively. His stupid girlfriend was so lucky she got to touch this as often as she did. Jealousy simmers in your gut as you recall all the mornings you saw deep red scratches on his back. Before you can think twice, you lean forward and bite his neck hard enough to leave a mark. Your tongue soothes in apology before sucking. Luke tugs you back by your hair. 

“Tryna mark me baby?” He teases, but there’s no heat behind his words. Tilting your head back, he reattacks your neck and leaves a mark of his own. He pulls back proudly admiring his handiwork. “Two can play at that game.”

You kiss him desperately again, bringing his hands to cup your chest again. He obeys, running his thumbs over your nipples before delivering a light pinch that makes you moan. Your boyfriend had never made you feel this good before and you couldn’t get enough of Luke. The kiss turns messy as he sucks on your tongue. Hands tug at the nape of his curls, whining into his mouth. After what feels like ages, Luke pulls away. You both pant before he turns your head to look back at the screen. Unpausing, you watch as the actors continue to (badly) moan and writhe under each others touch. The guy shoves down his pants, and the girl down to her knees. Your breath catches again as Luke pauses it. 

“Won’t make you do that.” He says gruffly. “He probably won’t eat her out, but make sure your little boyfriend does.” Luke rolls his eyes. “Though a real man wouldn’t need to be asked.”

Jealousy surges in your gut at the thought of him going down on his girlfriend. Mark never went down on you. “You go down on Hailey?” 

Luke looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Of course I do. Does Mark not?” Your silence answers for you. Luke scoffs. “Of course he doesn’t. Asshole doesn’t know how to treat a woman.”

“Luke, it's fine!” You groan. “It doesn’t matter-”

“Have you blown him?”

You stay silent. Luke scoffs for the umpteenth time. “Unfuckingbelievable.”

“Luke…”

Luke manhandles you, shifting so you lay flat against your bed and he’s on top and in between your legs. His scowl makes your reprimand die in your throat. “You’re tellin me you’ve never been eaten out?”

You shake your head and he groans. Like it physically pains him that you’ve never received head. He rises to his knees, looking down on you with such pity you feel like it’s actually a crime your boyfriend doesn’t eat you out. Sure, you’ve asked for it before, you’re a curious girl. Mark had just always made one excuse or another. Luke’s hand comes to rest on your knee which brackets his waist. He looks contemplative as he rubs it, lost in thought. Your hole clenches thinking of his tongue running along your folds. 

“Would” Your voice cracks. “Would you?”

Luke’s eyes snap to yours, a primal heat in them. “Would I what?” He asks, voice low and dangerous. “Use your words.”

“Would you eat me out?” You whisper. The tension in the room is so palpable you swear you can taste it. Luke’s eyes seemingly darken further somehow. His hand slides from your knee to your thigh, causing your hips to twitch. A ghost of a smirk graces his face before turning serious again. 

“You want me to?”

Frustration simmers in your veins. “Would I ask if I didn’t?”

Luke actually laughs at that, his head ducking down to kiss you again. The kiss is slow and deep, a promise lingering in it. “Alright baby just making sure. Lift your hips for me.”

You obey and he slowly slides your shorts down. You hear him suck in a breath, causing your face to flush. Luke looks hungry, almost obsessive as he stares at your cunt. Your hole clenches under his gaze, dripping more arousal. He moans. 

“You’re soaked.” He says, spreading your thighs more. You whine as he exposes you, embarrassment coloring your face. Luke shushes you and leans closer, breath wafting over your spasming pussy. “Such a pretty pussy”

“Luke!” You whimper. “Stop staring.”

He shushes you again, ignoring your pleas. He runs a finger down your slit, marvelling how you soak his hand from that alone. Moans tumble from your mouth, squirming under him. Luke holds you down and presses a kiss to your throbbing clit. 

“Fuck! Luke!”

He hooks his arms under your thighs as he presses more kisses on your clit, flattening his tongue to lick up your arousal. Moaning into your cunt, he moves down to press kisses to your fluttering hole. His tongue fucks into you, lapping up your leaking juices as his fingers come up to press into you as he moves back to the clit. You tug at his curls, back arching as you moan his name loudly. Fuck it felt too good. You felt like your brain was melting as his mouth moved expertly against you. 

Waves of pleasure flooded you with every lick and the coil in your stomach tightened as every second passed. Humping his face, you chased the pressure in your gut that was building embarrassingly quickly, desperate to finish. You try to warn him you really do, but he moans into your cunt like you're the best meal he’s ever had and you cum. Your back arches obscenely as you gush over his handsome face. Luke doesn’t quit, licking up your cum like his life depends on it. You weakly push him away.

“Fuck. You were so good baby. Tasted so good.” He moans as he pushes up to kiss you. Moaning as you taste yourself, you pull him closer. You needed him in you. More than you had needed anything in your entire life. It seems he feels the same way, grinding his clothed dick against your sensitive pussy. 

“Want you in me Luke.” You beg, tugging at his hair. He nods quickly, moaning into your kiss as he shoves down his sweats. They join the growing pile of clothes on the floor and you watch as Luke strokes himself. Fuck he’s so big. Could he even fit inside? He notices your stare and smirks, moving back between your thighs. 

“You sure you want this baby?” He asks softly, thighs trembling as he resists pressing fully against you. You cup his face, pulling him into a gentle kiss. 

“I’m sure Luke. I want it to be you.” 

Luke kisses you again, pressing his tip against your hole. You both hiss, the pressure causing your hole to tremble. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pushes in. You moan loudly as his tip finally pops in and you clench around him. Luke swears, eyes rolling back as he holds himself back from thrusting forward. 

“Fuck. So fucking tight.” He hisses. “Never felt pussy this good.”

Luke inches forward, peppering kisses all over your face as your pussy greedily pulls him in. You whine, feeling your cunt stretch to accommodate him, causing him to shush you and kiss you again. Clawing at his back so desperately it’ll surely leave deeper scratches than his girlfriend does, your pussy gushes as he finally pushes all the way inside. Luke stays still, gently grinding his pelvis against your clit which causes you to sob. He coos and kisses you again. Your eyes are rolled back as you chant his name, his fingers rubbing your clit to help you relax. 

“So fucking good for me baby, best pussy I’ve ever had. ‘S like you were made for me, i love you so much”

You sniffle, kissing him back. “I love you too Luke. You can move now.”

Luke slowly pulls out before thrusting back in, causing your back to arch. His lip was tucked between his teeth as he leans back to stare where y’all are connected. Your hole stretched around his cock, lewdly squelching as his thrusts speed up. It’s too much, it felt too good not to rock your hips down to meet his thrusts. You babble nonsense as he fucks you, brain turned to mush and moaning like a whore. Luke pushes your legs against your chest aiming even deeper and you convulse on his cock. Fuck fuck fuck you were gonna cum again. Pulling him down into a messy kiss, you try to warn him.

“Gonna cum for me again baby? So fucking easy for me, this pussy belongs to me doesn’t it? Fuck, knew it did. Stupid fucking boyfriend couldn’t handle this.” He pants, fucking into you harder. You nod stupidly, too cock-drunk to deny him. He presses down, feeling his cock from the outside. 

“Only yours Luke fuck. Feel so good in me” You slur. Luke moans before kissing you again.

“Best. Fucking. Pussy.” He accentuates every word with a thrust. “Fucking love you, only want you. I’m all yours”

 Screaming his name, your vision goes white as you cum. Your pussy spasms, milking his cock as you convulse. He only speeds up, working you through your orgasm as he follows shortly behind. As you both come down from your highs, he lazily kisses you. He doesn’t pull out, carefully shuffling the two of you to lay comfortably. 

“Been dreaming of doing that for years” He murmurs, kissing you again. You hum in agreement, tiredly tangling your tongue with his. 

“Guess I’m glad you’re such a good teacher” You tease, eyes fluttering shut. Luke huffs a laugh. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a few more lessons for you.”

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader [18+] | p. 13

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

-> <-

February 1984

Eddie slams his fist into the vending machine. The bastard ate his last dollar, and is refusing to return the other quarter he slid into the machine. This is just his luck.

"I might have another dollar," Gareth offers up.

Eddie shakes his head. "Don't bother.”

Gareth is already fishing through his wallet. Shit, he might have quarters to give up to his friend. Money has been tight on Eddie - Gareth was over last weekend, and the fridge was empty. Not to mention that he also caught a glimpse into Eddie's lunchbox, and there was hardly any food inside. A bag of pretzels, and an old napkin.

While fishing in his wallet, Gareth drops something. It lands with a plop on the school linoleum. Racing to snatch the condom, before Eddie can get his hands on it - he fails. Eddie flicks it between his fingers thoughtfully.

“Uh,” Gareth holds out one more quarter, “trade?”

How could this be any more awkward? With an audience maybe? Eddie didn’t even know you two were at that point in your relationship. Well, he still doesn’t. Should he ask?

Eddie doesn’t say a word, and Gareth takes the condom back. To prevent that from happening again, Gareth makes sure it’s secure in a deeper part of his wallet.

Clunk - clunk - clunk.

The vending machine does take Gareth’s quarters. With an aching buzz and a whirl, Eddie now has lunch. A crappy bag of chips that would fill him for another hour at best. Maybe he should have payed closer attention to his choices.

Suddenly, the hallway from the vending machines to the cafeteria feels more like a million steps instead of just a couple around the corner. The boys scuffle along the tile making an awful racket. Eddie pops the chip bag open upside down, and offers the snack out to Gareth.

“I’m good,” he doesn’t want to take away food from Eddie right now.

Eddie shrugs his shoulders, and tries his best not to look terribly ravenous eating the chips in front of him. The cold truth is that he is surviving on junk until this Friday when Wayne gets paid. That, or he meets up with his boss. Eddie gets a sizable cut for the deals he makes selling weed to the kids that hate him the most. Rich kids. Church kids. All that matters is that these hypocrites have the cash, and Eddie hands out the supply. It’s simple. Very under the table.

The thing he can’t get off his mind is what Gareth is carrying around with him. A condom. It’s one condom.

Of course, Eddie knows what it is for. The better question is have you done it? Have you let Gareth do that to you? It’s against his better judgment that he asks the fatal question. He might as well load the bullet into the gun, then point it at his head, before letting Gareth pull the trigger.

“Are you guys- uh- have you guys-,”

Gareth stops abruptly in the hallway. This is not the conversation that he wishes to have right now. Not with Eddie in the least. Although, the halls are bare except for the few darting to the bathroom to smoke while the teachers aren’t looking. He’s done that enough times.

Truthfully, Gareth only stuck that thing in his wallet when the two of you began to date. Going to the store to buy them was enough of a challenge not to be seen by anyone from school or by anyone around town that his mom might know. The cashier gave him enough of a look over that made Gareth wonder if this was even a good idea in the first place.

It’s on his mind - you and him - like that. Sometimes Gareth wonders if he’s just a pervert because surely you can’t have the same mind that he does. Then again, you have needs too. Right?

Gareth is jittery already. It’s Valentine’s Day, and aside from buying you a bouquet of flowers, he’s also taking you to the school dance tonight. There’s a big announcement about it around a month ago.

You show little interest in the events around school, but every once in a while Gareth sees a twinge of excitement come from you. A flyer in the hallway caught your eye, and so he asked you. You were just as shocked as he was when the words flew out of his mouth. But, the smile grew on your face and he was smitten.

Gareth is thrilled to escort you to the dance. The nerves draw from getting dressed tonight. He’s got no idea what you’re wearing, but his tie will match your dress. For only this night, his mom is allowing him to borrow the car. She expects him to take you there and back in one piece. That is his plan too.

For the most part, his mom trusts him. The only child. The only one she’s got to keep an eye on. She’s proud of who he’s become as he’s growing up. Gareth regularly tries to stay out of trouble despite his outward appearance, and the ear shattering music that comes from the garage.

Gareth wants to continue his string of good luck with his mom by following her rules. The only problem is that now he has a condom in his wallet. A new player has entered the battlefield.

To tell Eddie the truth, Gareth has wanted to ask for his advice. How does he even approach the question? Is it a question? He doesn’t just want to start anything with you, and then you’re uncomfortable.

Eddie has experience. Gareth knows this. There’s been a time or two that Eddie has accepted a different form of payment to his after-school transactions. It’s not like he’s implied that any of his customers have to do that. But, as Eddie says, it’s the perks of being a good businessman. He takes it as a tip.

The only problem with asking Eddie for advice is how close you two are. If he found out that Gareth needed help in that department, then it would be easy to tell who he was talking about. And, if he isn’t talking about you, then who’s he talking about and how easy could Eddie hide Gareth’s body when he’s through with him.

Gareth scratches the back of his neck trying to find the words to reply to Eddie in a manner that’s not outwardly asking for sex advice. As he’s scanning his brain, Eddie is holding his breath for an answer. An honest answer.

“We’re not,” Gareth answers him finally, and thus letting Eddie breathe again. “I don’t know -,”

There’s a pregnant pause. Either boy doesn’t speak. The hallway stinks of cafeteria food bleeding down the rest of the school. It’ll smell like that all day. At least the biology classes haven’t started dissecting frogs yet.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Eddie huffs. “Either you are or you aren’t.”

Why did Eddie want to know so badly? He wishes he could shove his foot into his own mouth. A part of him wants to hear Gareth say that they are doing that. No idea why. Gareth isn’t the worst person in the world for you to be doing that with. It’s just - maybe someday, Eddie had hoped that would be him.

Eddie really has to give up on the thought of you two ever becoming a thing. It’s not healthy. It’s selfish. You’re into Gareth. And, if he’s making you happy then Eddie should be too. Even though the sting still feels fresh against his alabaster skin.

“Gareth."

Gareth winces at how abrupt his friend calls him by name.

“Just,” Eddie pinches his brows together, “be kind to her. And do me a favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Please, spare me the details.”

-> <-

The sun has just set across Hawkins, but there is no moon to be seen. Clouds across the sky cast a blue-gray haze over the town. This doesn’t stop you from wearing your most favorite piece in your closet. Now you have an excuse to wear it, since your birthday didn’t work out. You zip up the back of the dress that Gareth bought for you.

Your hands dance along the side of the fabric that hugs at your waist. Lips press together to blend your lipstick in better, while you check all the details in your mascara.

The quiet air is suddenly broken by the shattering sound of glass in the kitchen. Even in a pair of heels, you’re quick to race out of your room.

Standing over twinkles of shards, your mother has drunkenly let a drinking glass slip from her grasp. Her hand trembles, but she doesn’t make much noise at the mess in front of her.

“Are you okay?” You stand in front of her on the other side of the mess.

Your mom has been home for a total of three days. That’s more time that you’ve ever seen her in the last few months. You’ve become quite used to coming home to a quiet house. The one day when she had shown up, you thought she was an intruder and you armed yourself with the baseball bat you have by your bedside.

Surprisingly, the moment she came home she was sober. No idea how she got home. That lasted all of an hour when she claimed she had a headache, then went out for booze. She came home again, and drank through nearly a bottle and a half of vodka. Enough to kill her. Maybe that was her plan. Leave you with the debt, and she’ll be buried six feet under.

None-the-less for some reason you still care. Three whole days of this, and you’ll still reach your arm out to catch her when she sways. She flinches away from you. Not a fan of touch anymore. At least, not your touch. She still has clients she reaches out too at ungodly hours of the night. She’s loud about the conversations, but if you ask her to lower her voice then she calls you unbearably nosey.

Why are you so glad to have her home? It’s so confusing all the time. The way you pick up after her. You’ve taken on her responsibilities. Shit, you’re looking for a job to begin to pay the bills that she can’t afford.

You’re sweeping the last of the glass, while your mother nurses a bottle of tequila in the dark corner of your kitchen. She hasn’t cut herself from the glass that she’s dropped.

“There’s macaroni in the fridge,” it’s like reasoning with a spirit in a human body. “Please eat.”

Your mother groans. All you do is pester her. Why did she have your ungrateful ass in the first place? A cat would have been less trouble than you.

There is a knock at the front door. You aren’t expecting anyone, but maybe your mom is. There are plenty of dirty men that want something from her.

“Gareth?” You pull open the door, and there is your date for the evening. Clean. Suit and tie. He smells expensive. All this for you. You shut the door behind you fearing your mom might gain a wind of energy. “What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting at the dance?”

Gareth is awestruck by you. For one, your radiance is unmatched and is indescribable in words. His jaw hits your porch.

“You look-,” he’s flattered you wore the dress, “God, you’re beautiful. How did I get so lucky?”

It is your turn to blush. To forget who’s behind you inside. Little do you know her ear is to the front door listening to the hooligans on her porch. They’re whispering about her!

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you acknowledge, but the scuffling behind the closed door brings you back to reality. “Er- the dance?”

“Right,” he swings his arm out to show off his mom’s station wagon, “my mom lent me her car tonight.”

“Oh, wow,” you’re both impressed, and terrified that your mother is planning her great escape.

That she is. One more word comes through her head that her kid is conspiring against her. She’s being sold out!

Swinging open the front door, she knocks into open archway. At least she doesn’t have a bottle of liquor anymore. Unless, that means your mom has finished that one too.

“Mom,” you plead, “it’s fine - go back inside.”

She assesses. Gareth is in a suit, but he’s too young to be a government spy. So, she accepts that he’s here for one thing. An exchange.

“Who are you?” The words come out in a slur that almost sounds animatronic. This is the most she’s spoken since coming home. It’s hoarse. That could be the alcohol. “Are you handsomely paid?”

Gareth’s face has fallen.

“Mommy,” you beg, “go back inside. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Her laugh is soaked in alcohol. “Please. You’re on your way to getting bred and dumped like me. Trust me - having a kid is the worst thing you could do.”

It’s clear to you now that she’s completely unaware who she is talking too, or has been talking too the whole time she’s been home. That’s why you’ve kept yourself locked in your room fearing she may forget you’re home, and mistake you for an intruder.

Still, the punch to the gut doesn’t hurt any less. Not only are you miserably unloved by the one person you know by blood, but your boyfriend stands mere steps away from you watching the whole exchange. You wouldn’t be surprised if Gareth turns to run.

This is the final act from your mother tonight. She swirls around on her heel, before retiring into the blackness of her bedroom. It’s safe when you hear her bedroom close.

“My purse,” you excuse yourself from Gareth a moment to tip-toe back into the trailer for your bag on the kitchen counter. Only five dollars is left in there. You should have known she would take it.

Gareth stays quiet - studying his shoes. You’ve never invited him over to your house before. Sure, he’s been around the neighborhood. Not when your mother is home. Things begin to make more sense about where she’s been on these “work trips” you’ve told him about.

“Let’s go,” you lock the door behind you.

The car ride is quiet, aside from the radio playing music that you’re unfamiliar with. His mom’s favorite stations, perhaps. You’re not sure if he’s waiting for you to cry or something. Confessing your mom is a drunk - or a pill popper - or a prostitute - yeah, that isn’t exactly on your agenda.

You don’t notice, but you’ve made it to the school. The building looks so different at night. It’s not as intimidating without all the expectations written on chalkboards, or the smell of the pages of used textbooks. Tonight the only area well-lit is the gymnasium. A girl’s laugh echos that brings you back to where you are. Earth.

Gareth’s eyes bore into you. All of these questions that he has, but he won’t ask. You won’t tell him until you’re ready anyway. The time comes sooner than later anyway.

“My mom is nice,” were you telling him that, or yourself? “She bakes. Well, she used too.”

Pause.

“My grandma was nice,” you pick your head up at this. “She baked too. She used too.”

Tears threaten to fall down your face, but Gareth catches each one before they ruin your makeup completely. You let Gareth just hold you right then. In the middle of the parking lot like no one else is around because no one matters more to him than you right then.

“She’s been home for three days,” you sniffle, “it doesn’t even feel like she’s really home.”

“Like she’s a ghost,” he traces shapes against your skin.

“Ugh, my makeup,” a silly little thing to worry about right now. But alas, you sit up to fix the mascara threatening to run down your face. “I’m sorry, Gareth.”

“Hey,” he takes your hand in his to draw your attention back to him. Easily, he slots his lips against yours. Once, twice, three times. Wet kisses. “You have nothing to apologize for. If you want to get out of here and just drive - say the word.”

The idea wasn’t bad. Getting out. Feeling the wind in your hair. Going somewhere far away. It wouldn’t work. You would have to come home in the end.

“No,” you breathe across his mouth. “Let’s dance.”

That is what you do. The whole evening. After clearing your eyes, and turning your brain off, you have a really fantastic time with Gareth. You even convince him to take photos with you in the Photo Booth.

A few dances in, and both you and Gareth find a rhythm to dance too. The rhythm might not have been the same one that everyone else was dancing too, but nonetheless you’re having a great time.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” your bladder is getting to the best of you. “Can you get me a glass of punch?”

“Sure,” Gareth could also use a break from the dance floor. He’s moving with two left feet!

The bathroom clears out as you come in. By the time you’ve finished in the stall, the only person left in the room with you is Chrissy Cunningham. The sweetheart you’ve grown to be fond of outside of her massive jerk of a boyfriend.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” she’s powdering her face over the sink. A floral scent wafts around her. She must have just applied a generous amount of perfume. “But, you and Gareth look like you’re having fun.”

Oh, Gareth! Even just saying his name brings your heart to a flutter!

“Uhm,” you can’t help, but break into a grin the size of Texas, “yes! Chrissy, he’s the nicest guy. Not to mention how ridiculously handsome he is.”

“You know what, he does clean up nice,” she plucks at her bangs dangling in front of her face. “Those so-called Freaks are surprising in more ways than one.”

“What?”

“Well, Jason’s waiting for me,” she tells you, “we should totally go on a double date. That way we can catch up!”

Ah, Chrissy. She can never be anywhere alone for too long without Jason. But, maybe the offer isn’t far out there. It could be the start of a truce between the boys.

“I’ll talk to Gareth,” you can promise her that. “Have fun! You look so pretty by the way.”

“You too!”

When you’re done powdering your nose, you find Gareth nursing a cup of punch at an empty table. No one wants to be near the Freaks. Boy, you haven’t realized how tired you are of hearing how badly the boys get picked on around here. They play a fantasy game, and listen to different music so that makes them completely undesirable? That gives this miserable school a reason to outcast them all?

“Hey,” Gareth holds up an extra glass of punch for you, “having fun, tonight?”

“I really am,” you sip the drink.

Gareth taps the table with his pointer finger. There’s something on his mind that he isn’t telling you. You’ve been together for nearly half a year, and his tells are already becoming more obvious to you. He knows this as well as you do.

“I’m really sorry if what I’m about to say is overstepping,” that’s not the best way to begin, “I found a phone, while you were in the bathroom. I booked us a motel room - I booked you a room.”

You must have heard him wrong, “sorry?”

“I know how hard it is to have a family member act like that, but living with her can’t be easy,” he tries to put as delicately as possible. “After you’ve been having so much fun tonight, I thought maybe you could use a break. I can drop you off and pick you up if you want. Or, you can tell me this idea was dumb. Whatever-,”

Stopping Gareth in his everlasting ramble, you reach over and plant a kiss to his lips holding onto the lapel of his suit jacket. His lips soften against yours.

“I love you.”

The words slip off your tongue, as you hold him there. You’re the only two people in the crowded gymnasium. Blush pink lights bounce off of his and your hair.

It’s funny how a single moment can rewrite the history and the time of your relationship. All of those moments he spent arguing with Eddie about why you had to be there at their band practice. You were - you are a complete distraction. Bobbing your head up and down to the music, even though you just hear noise. The times you sit on your porch with your nose in a book. Those are the days he recalls begging with fate for you to even glance up with that cross-eyed stare that could melt him. Even your snarky comments couldn’t stop his heart from beating out of his chest for you.

Gareth couldn’t wait to take a bite of that forbidden fruit that was just out of reach. Out on a branch just a bit too high in the sky. But, here is his with you in his arms. Your words hold the key to validate the same feelings that he’s had for a long time. He’s sorry that he’s taken so long to recognize them.

“I love you too,” he hold either side of your face to kiss you.

This is different than the kisses before. Your heart locks to his. Moving as one, you lose yourself in the moment. Nothing else matters except the two of you. Here.

“Hey!” A chaperone hollers. “You can’t do that here!”

The couple does separate in a fit of laughter. Gareth is wearing your lipstick, as he waves off the teacher for interrupting. You pull his jaw back to face you, so that you can begin wiping at the lipstick across his bottom lip.

“Is it my color?” Gareth jokes.

You snort. “Totally.”

After a brief silence, you speak again;

“Do you want to get out of here?”

-> <-

It’s not the cleanest place ever. The motel that is. Understaffed. Underpaid. The clerk at the front appears exhausted, malnourished and far less concerned than one might be seeing two teenagers with a hotel reservation. That must happen a lot. It’s a small enough town that there are only a handful of motels, and none of them are as glamorous as the ones in the big city.

You toy with a fake potted plant that sheds dust when you tamper with its leaves. That’s one of many pieces that could use a fix. There’s a tear in the couch that’s supposed to warm people into staying here. You wonder what might have happened.

“One key is fine,” Gareth tells the front desk lady.

The woman waddles when she walks. Hiding out behind a desk and standing all day does things to you. When she returns, she has the single key to your very own room.

You’ve only spent time at a motel once or twice in your life. Both times were with your mother years ago. She went into the city for a couple of job interviews that fell through. Back then, it was just another job. She assured you there are always more opportunities waiting, and that was just not the right time.

“Check out is eleven tomorrow,” she drops the key into Gareth’s open palm, “we do charge if you’re late.”

“Thanks,” he replies, “have a good evening.”

Leading you through the front doors of the hotel into the evening air, Gareth gives you the key now. You hold the brassy thing in your palm. The engraving reads ‘201.’ So, you’ll be on the second floor and closer to the front desk office. That’s easy enough.

Gareth comes along with you to make sure the room is alright for you. He’s already ready to rain hellfire if anything isn’t up to your standard. But, it’s unlikely seeing that all you really want is a bit of peace and quiet from the world.

Twisting the key into the lock, you push the door forward. It opened. That’s a start. There’s a switch next to the door, so you’re not fumbling around like a moron in front of your date.

It’s simple. A queen-sized bed with a scratchy top sheet you could flick off if you want. There’s a table with a small chair close to the entrance that they consider a ‘dining nook.’ Also, a fat color television in front of the bed. Completely snug in the back is the bathroom. It’s clean, and free of mold, hair, or bugs.

Coming back around from your inspection, Gareth stands still outside of the hotel room.

“What are you still doing out there?” You hold out your hand. “Aren’t you coming in?”

Gareth wants too. He really does, but he still has his mom’s car. This is your retreat anyway. A night away with some peace and quiet. He doesn’t want to screw that up for you.

“My mom is waiting for me,” he tells you honestly. “I’ll come back in the morning and get you.”

“Gare,” the nickname soothes him. “It’s late. Call your mom and tell her that you’re staying at Eddie’s or something. I’m sure he’ll cover for you.”

Gareth snorts out a laugh. It’s silly how easy you can sway his better judgement. That by him not wanting to ruin your evening comes from more than just ‘he has to get home.’ So, he crosses that threshold into the motel room where you are.

Hot breath crosses your face, “are you sure you want me to stay?”

Your voice comes out at a whisper, “please. Please, stay.”

Gareth closes the room’s front door. The outside world is no longer either of your problems. You’re here with him. That’s all that matters.

You spring onto the bed next to him, after using one of the hotel’s wet wipes to rid yourself of your makeup as best you can. There’s a silly little hand lotion that will make up for any of your real lotions back at home. This could have been better thought out. Neither of you have a change of clothes.

“I’ll be home in the morning, mom,” Gareth speaks into the telephone sat on the bedside table. Taking your advice, he fibs that he’s exhausted from dancing all night and will just stay at Eddie’s trailer. “I love you too.”

“I wish my mom was as concerned about me,” you’re half joking when Gareth does hang up the phone, after his mom is done yapping his ear off about the evening. “Do you think she would even answer the phone if I called?”

Gareth unties his tie, and allows a bit of laughter to leak through. You’re taking this very well. So, it can’t be new - your mom’s behavior.

“Gare,” you lean into him, “could you tell me about her? Your grandma that is.”

Oh. Gareth doesn’t have a clear memory of her, before the day he really came to life with full thoughts and full feelings. This is his mother’s mother. She died a few years ago. One morning she got as intoxicated as she could, then left for the store for more beer in the middle of the night during the winter. She found a park bench to sleep on, and never woke up. The doctors said it was the weather that got her.

“I’d have to ask my mom,” he presses a kiss to your forehead as he sinks deeper into the mattress with you. “I think she really liked her. My mom turned out fine, you know. You will too.”

“Thank you,” you mutter into his chest.

For a moment, you lay there. Your breathing is slow. The rise and fall of your chest makes Gareth aware how exhausted you must be after these past few days. However, in the midst of Gareth trying to decipher how he could sleep sitting up straight, your eyes pull open.

“Gare,” you only sit up enough to brush your nose against his. His response is a hum, “kiss me.”

Gareth doesn’t need to be asked twice. Hot lips bathed in that sweetened fruit punch from earlier meet yours. You find your breath is just as shaky as his, and you brush your nose into his as you swing your leg across him settling yourself onto his lap.

Pushing away at the sleeves of Gareth’s jacket, he follows your lead. He would follow you anywhere. You put your hands at the buttons of his shirt, and Gareth’s heart begins to slam against his rib cage. He figures you want him to place his hands somewhere, but he’s a bundle of nerves just waiting to burst.

Placing your palm across his heart, Gareth covers your wrist with his hand and using his thumb he’s counting the number of beats in your heartbeat. It’s just like his.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want too,” there is a note of vulnerability in his tone.

You stop there a moment. Hand still across his chest. His heart beating ever so quickly. You love the soul that carries on next to this heart. The young man willing to give you the world if he could. You’re terrified of love. When love will run as far away from you as he can because you’re too much.

Gareth searches for something deep in your eyes. That you will finally allow yourself to be completely happy. You deserve this. To be truly happy.

There’s a spark in your eye. Your lids droop halfway across your iris.

“We don’t have to do anything you want too,” you say with your lips dangling in front of him.

Gareth meets your eye line, “I want too.”

“Me too.”

-> <-

[to be continued]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @jesuisbuginette @starrywhitenight @meetmeatyourworst @munsonburn3r @5tud10-54r4h @pvdulmol @loveryanax @am0iur @naatggeo @chaoticgood-munson

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

Hi, I was reading your Burden of Debt meta (very good, by the way) and I had a question about it. Maybe it's a cultural thing that I don't understand, but why is Wei Wuxian always described as a servant or son of a servant when he was very much a disciple of the sect? His father was also a highly valued Jiang disciple/cultivator. As far as I can tell no other disciple, junior or senior, is referred to as a 'servant', so why is Wei Wuxian considered such? Is it only because he wasn't born into the gentry - but then wouldn't this also apply to others?

Also I couldn't find part 2 but would love to read that too :) Thank you!

Hello anon!

I am slowly working on part 2 lol (the adhd has a pretty heavy block on personal projects for the past year lol but it's getting there I promise! And thank you for your kind words about part 2 it does give me incentive to try kicking myself in gear! (｡ì _ í｡)

As for your question, it's a way to debase him. Per quote from Jiang Cheng:

Jiang Cheng smirked, “Don’t carry your sword, then. It doesn’t matter. But don’t provoke Jin ZiXuan from now on. He’s Jin GuangShan’s only son, after all. The future leader of the LanlingJin Sect will be him. If you beat him up, what should I, the sect leader, do? Beat him up with you? Or punish you?”

Wei WuXian, “Isn’t Jin GuangYao here now? Jin GuangYao seems so much better than him.”

Jiang Cheng finished wiping his sword. After he scrutinized it for a while, he finally put Sandu back into its sheath, “So what, if he’s better? No matter how much better he is, no matter how clever, he could only be a servant who greets the guests. That’s all there is to his life. He can’t compare with Jin ZiXuan.”

This is reiterated by the gentry not only to Wei Wuxian, but to Mianmian, Jin Guangyao and to Wen Zhuliu. As far as we know, these three are the prominent ones on page that get derided for being from the servant class. This is marked upon and treated as lesser because the novel establishes the clan sects are not how usual cultivation sects are established in xianxia as a genre (where anyone with the talent can become an inner disciple and beeline to high sect positions even based on merits and renown earned). Mo Dao Zu Shi establishes blood relations to maintain their sects (remain in the patrilineal family name only), regardless of actual talent for cultivation. Why the novel establishes Nie Huaisang as a clan leader is because he had a patrilineal tie to the Nie's and recognized as a de facto son of the Nie line.

Wei Wuxian carried the name of his father who while also a disciple of Yunmeng Jiang, was a servant disciple and his mother a wandering cultivator and is considered someone that doesn't know his place in a heavily classist society. It doesn't matter how great, smart, or talented they may be, because them being of a servant parent is all it takes to see them as lesser and accuse them of looking down on their betters (who by default have what they do from centuries of nepotism).

[anonymous-and-ominous]

ONE PIECE FIC RECS

Well I'm a very found family person, and what's more found family than whatever's going on with one piece amirite? So here, my collection of Nakamaship. Practically all of them will be Zoro centric, because he is my absolute favorite (aside from Luffy who's in a category of his own).

Enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55285567/chapters/140246095

Colors of the Dawn - I love this AU, I love the descriptions of the crew. I love soulmate AUs where the soulmate part doesn't matter at all. They would have found each other regardless

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52603678/chapters/133058731

Endurance Need Not Be All - How can a doctor help him if he doesn't accept he's in pain. Or does he simply not feel it? In which Chopper is concerned and Zoro is hurt a lot.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53042158/chapters/134195620

You Got A Friend In Me - Mess with his nakama, Zoro gets you. Mess with Zoro, his nakama has his back.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50478196/chapters/127532236

Let the morning chase my ghosts away - Exception! This one is Sanji centric and it gets bad for him. He gets better tho. Hurt comfort indeed. Sanji is very loved. Sanji is not a Vinsmoke.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41924460

These Swords Harm, but These Hands Heal - Zoro knows first aid and it goes a long way. Thank god for Chopper, otherwise Zoro might have ended up as the world's greatest doctor first, before swordsman

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41565531

Blow my blues away - Mugiwara no ichimi aren't normal pirates. In no way are they ever normal. Gang shenanigans.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20972933/chapters/49869407

No Time to crank the sun - Something is horribly wrong with Zoro and it just keeps getting worse. It's good he's not alone. A really great fic imo, with beautiful writing

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15129371

The communal currency of humanity - Luffy is a lil shit, but he's their lil shit. So much nakamaship

https://archiveofourown.org/works/37545829

Sleeping Habits - Resident cat on the thousand Sunny. The writing is fun and the art ties it all together, it's honestly insane

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41149938

Tell us, Zoro! - An answer to a very important question.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44264728

External compass - Do I even have to explain. Zoro really needs one, and now he gets one. An annoying one at that.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41674449?view_adult=true

Kaizoku-O, Morituri te Salutant - It gets worse and then it gets better. Zoro centric, but he isn't there a lot. Or like. He isn't there.

I'm going to post a special mentions post soon, one with more specific interactions. Go check that out if you like these!

[mlmvoreconfessionals]

Hey! Can we get some vorish headcannons about your favorite superheros?

Sure! I'll just do something for all of the guys that I feel like I know enough about to work with.

S.pider-Man: I like teasing him and making him an observer with a weird fetish that everyone knows about. But as for actually interacting with vore? I like the idea of him picking off citizens every so often as 'payment' for keeping the city safe. He needs the food and energy, after all. That's if he doesn't have enough random goons to satiate himself with, anyway. He's really whiny as prey but I think he secretly likes it. Would rather die than admit that though (probably will).

V.enom: I mean this guy writes himself (somehow I still kinda struggle with thinking of things to do with him). But yeah he's just a big glutton. Being a 'hero' is less an act or morality and more an easy way to get meals (criminals and villains) that no one whines about when he does eat them. Doesn't mean he won't eat literally anyone but some meals are less annoying, y'know? He's way too cocky to be very panicked as prey--he'd be pissed, maybe, but still think he can overpower or escape even once he's fully packed away. His gruesome threats belie his panic though.

D.eadpool: He knows what this is. He knows why he's eating people. Thankfully, it feels good, and he's also a freak with a loose sense of morality so this doesn't bother him at all! In fact, he'll probably even lean into it just for fun. He is less enthralled to be the one on the receiving end of getting eaten, though. So he can be very whiny prey, though maybe not to the predator in question.

R.ocket Raccoon: He's just as bad as V.enom when it comes to his cockiness. He's confident and self-assured and just looooves to prove his dominance to prey. Especially bigger or equally cocky prey. He tends to just eat assholes and the like but he's a merc--he'll eat nearly anyone for the right price, and then he'll brag about it while getting drinks. Unlike V.enom, though, his confident crumbles fast when he's on the receiving end of someone's maw. He'll start panicking and getting nervous and try to talk his way out of it. No nearly as cool when he's staring down a gullet.

C.aptain America: Another one I think writes himself--dude is a genetically engineered super soldier. That's gotta require a whole lot of calories, and he was probably made with the anticipation of devouring enemy soldiers (and maybe even some of his comrades if need be). So even as a hero, he's gotta do lots of eating and there's lots of goons (and civilians) he can use for that. Think he'd be too self-sacrificial though. He'd let a comrade eat him in real dire needs like emergency rations. Course, if he's forced down even against his will, he's a big hunk of meat that will be tough to work over...not impossible though.

T.hor: He's a N.orse god, being feasts and meals are basically his thing. He'll happily sit and devour food and chug ale. Doesn't matter if that food is live or not. It's even worse if it's through his depression era and literally all he does is sit around and eat, then he's just casually snacking on everyone. And then he's a big belcher, too, and super shameless about it. I think that swings around to make it so anyone who does chug the god down will also be really gassy. T.hor probably doesn't recognize any danger from getting eaten being a god so he won't be too easy to work over if a person can just handle all that meat.

The H.ulk: Okay so I mentioned C.ap needs lots of cals due to being a super soldier, right? That's nothing compared to what H.ulk would need. He's literally powered by radioactivity, that basically requires a ton of energy. So he's gotta constantly eat, and people are a lot of calories so...yeah, very big on mass vore here. Depending on how smart he is, he either has stuffed planned out like emptying prisons or he doesn't and crowds of people might disappear depending on how hungry he is. As for prey, he's gotta be a real wreck on the guts, just a giant calorie bomb. Most people will probably regret eating Hulk and then really regret digesting him unless they're a weirdo that's into that or something.

I.ron Man: Another cocky one, there's a lotta those. The suit's gotta make it really easy to help mulch down his meals as quickly as possible though. Maybe it helps with energy, too? He's the kinda guy that definitely thinks he's at least owed the meals and probably enjoys them very casually, too. He's too self-assured as prey, though, especially if he gets eaten in his suit. Dude thinks that thing makes him invincible. He will be proven wrong and by then he'll have a little time in full-blown panic before he's digested.

S.uperman: He's an alien! Let him have a weird diet (like other men) and just not see it as weird. The sun gives him energy but so can other people, why not? He's still super friendly, I think all of his prey is willing and he doesn't really like having unwilling meals. Makes him feel bad. Similarly, I think he could be willing prey if asked by the right person/for the right reasons. But also he's good unwilling prey. K.ryptonite is not the only weakness he has. He's still made of meat, after all...

B.atman: Gruff guy, very frightening to people since others tend to go 'missing' when he's seen at night. This is for obvious reasons--batfood. Sometimes he's just gotta eat and sometimes that means someone gets rehabilitated though...force, one could say. He takes this very seriously. So if he does get-got, he'll go down wiggling and kicking and yelling. Never does lose that cool composure...even when he's digesting.

[flightnight]

I need help understanding Sunday.

I feel that there's a rift between how the game expects me to see him and how I actually see him. Would anybody be so kind as to help me clarify these two points?

1. What did he ever say or do that would indicate that he realizes that he ever did something wrong? Bonus points for addressing his core harmful misconception that led him to become a villain to begin with.

2. Which of his actions do you consider admirable?

Explanation of why exactly I have problems with these points below the cut:

1. His whole thing during the Penacony arc was that, in his opinion, people shouldn't be trusted to live their miserable lives by themself; they'll only hurt themself. Everybody (including Robin) is too weak, and he's the only one who's strong. So they should be forever imprisoned in the perfect boring dream their benevolent lord and savior Sunday created for them. From what I understand, he was going to start with Penacony and then imprison the whole universe under his absolute control. Okay, great, typical "morally grey" villain motivation, very well explained, no problem here.

Most of the characters, as well as, hopefully, the player, understand that it's the wrong thing to do. Nice motive, still evil.

My question is: what are the things he said or did since we defeated him that indicate that he's changed? Does he ever admit or imply that he did anything wrong? That human lives are precious no matter how miserable and flawed they are in his opinion? and how valuable freedom is? How strong can people be?

Because so far I only see the opposite: instead of indicating that he was wrong, he doubled down. He literally told us that he's going to do some research and try again.

I don't know, maybe I blinked and missed him getting in a situation where he has to confront his misconceptions.

I had very low expectations. I expected "I might have done something bad, but I might be persuaded to forgive myself," or "it wasn't me, it was my evil past self," or "it was somebody else's fault," or "I might have tried to take over the world, but look, I helped a grandma cross the road, so that's okay now.". All of these would be bad. And we kind of get a tiny bit of all of these, but only as vague vibes.

I saw people saying that he helped Tingyun for free, and it shows that he's changed. Are people implying that he was so morally repugnant that he wouldn't have helped somebody for free before? Even I don't think so. Is basic human decency an achievement for him now?

His problem wasn't that he didn't care about fixing other people's lives. It was exactly the opposite!

That's exactly the kind of thing he shouldn't be doing as a show of how much he changed.

A moment of growth for him would be if he realized that another person is strong enough to solve their problems by themselves, without his involvement.

Let's look at other antagonists turned playable characters.

Bronya's main motivation is to save her people. Her misconception—she has faith in her mother. She faces the fact that her mother isn't the person she came to love and respect.

Topaz's main motivation is to help Jarilo-VI survive. Her misconception—she thinks that being owned by the IPC is the only way for them to survive. She faces the fact that the people of Jarilo-VI are strong enough to survive by themselves.

Sunday's main motivation is to save people from suffering. His misconception—it's only possible if he imprisons them in a dream controlled by him. Does he ever face the realization that he was wrong? I don't care how many Tingyuns he helped, his problem wasn't that he was unwilling to help people. IT WAS KIND OF THE OPPOSITE!!!

And later on, when he kind of helps us, it does nothing to address his core misconception, the thing his whole personality is built around.

He's not a generic bad guy who can redeem himself by becoming a generic good guy! You can't write a complex character and then completely neuter him in his supposed "redemption arc!"

2. What did he do that's worth admiring?

And I think DH's "about Sunday" line indicates how we are supposed to see his return:

"Whether he can achieve his dream or not, being able to let go of everything and start again is already admirable enough."

(btw I'd like to remind you that his dream was to imprison the whole universe. And he wasn't "able" to bravely let go of everything. He was forced to. By being defeated by us. Hello!!!)

What did Sunday even do? Nearly turned Penacony back into a prison again. Got hit by a train. Lost a boss fight (as a boss). Got saved by Robin. Got what he deserved and what he tried to do to others—imprisonment. Threw a hissy fit, got immediately saved by Robin again, and was freed by Jade. Got accidentally split in two. Told Robin to touch the grass. Graciously allowed us to give him a lift.

DH, which of those do you find admirable???? How bravely did he overcome being a villain?

What would we expect a lesser, not so "admirable" person to do in his place? And he hardly even had any agency in most of these events.

Let's look at other characters again. Firefly apologized for lying to us. Topaz and Bronya admitted that they were wrong and backed off. They made a conscious decision to stop what they were doing after realizing they were wrong. They weren't forced to stop by just being defeated in a boss fight and imprisoned. That's admirable. What did Sunday do that's admirable?

And what about Welt's "about Sunday":

"Having an ideal and pursuing it is not rare, but being able to start anew after that ideal is shattered—this kind of willpower will carry him far."

Gramps, the last time we had to hit him with a train several times to stop his willpower from "carrying him far", wdym?

And I'm sure the game's writers are planning to give him more to do later, maybe dragging him through some long overdue character development (I mean, why else are we carrying this piece of cardboard they turned him into with us to Amphoreus?) Because 15 hours of monologue during Pencaony, plus 5 more hours during his triumphant return, clearly wasn't enough. All these new upcoming characters will move over to give Sunday 10 more hours of pretentious monologue.

But on the brighter side, things like this make me appreciate the previous instances of bad writing. At least Firefly apologized. At least Topaz admitted that she was wrong.

And there is one thing that tells me that I'm not the only one having problems with this. It's the fact that in most dialogues there are options to be mean and distrustful of him.

[joyful-soul-collector]

wassup

i am not actually in arcane, can you explain to me what happened to the person who like turned into a cosmic mummy? who died and is still alive??? who the author/producer (?) cannoned as asexual in an attempt to make people stop shipping them with another guy but it failed?

that is my understanding of whats going on

love the fanart thats coming out of it tho

Pfft haha so his name is Viktor, and he's shipped with Jayce!

What happened to him is A Lot. He was born in a place called The Undercity/Zaun, and there was a ton of pollution and disease there, so he got real sick along with being born with a bad leg (they never explain exactly what disabilities he has but he's got em). He and Jayce worked together to try and help people with their invention of Hextech.

A VERY long story short, Viktor got Really Powerful with the hextech and became The Machine Herald (mummy guy). He almost destroyed the world. Until Jayce talked to him, and showed him what would happen if he did, and they stopped the end of the world together. This resulted in the both of them dying, but MANY people headcanon that they ended up in an alternate universe (as the show explored such a thing) and are living happily ever after there together. The death of the characters felt "right" in a way for the show, it ended in a thematic, good way for them overall.

That ending was very sweet and beautiful, and felt romantic watching it. Jayce decided he would die with Viktor, even though he had the choice to leave. If you want the full effect I highly recommend watching the show, it's quite amazing.

As for the guy who doesn't want them together, his name is Christian Linke, and he was a co-creator. He doesn't see their relationship as romantic, and did say that he sees Viktor as asexual. It does seem like he strongly disliked that they were shipped together.

Now, a couple problems with that:

Making Viktor asexual does not make him unable to be shipped with Jayce. Ace people can feel romantic feelings, they can even enjoy and have sex, this doesn't change that the feelings between Jayce and Viktor LOOKED to be rather romantic. Whether you see Viktor as ace or not is up to you. I personally don't but it really doesn't matter

A lot of shows and movies and Stories In General have a bad habit of making their disabled characters Non-Sexual. Especially in that they don't often get romantic partners, unless the story is ENTIRELY about a disabled person getting a romantic partner Despite It All. Disabled characters often are shown to never even feel the need for a partner, they're just there to Be Disabled in the story. There's a high chance Christian Linke is using "asexual rep" as a kind of excuse for why they kinda perpetuated this stereotype in the show. Viktor wasn't really there to Be Disabled, but he was very non-sexual, he didn't even have chemistry with the woman who apparently had a crush on him

This feels a lot like when JK Rowling decided Dumbledore was gay but never talked about it in the books. "Oh we have this rep, we just never showed it or talked about until after the story was over"

So yeah that's mostly it, lemme know if ya got any other questions haha

[ghouljams]

Ghoul, question/your opinion on something?

I’m pretty open with people about sex education and my experience with certain things. I don’t go in depth on my own experiences or anything, and I only talk about it with my friends if I know they’re comfortable with it. I’m really into learning different things about sex ed and info dumping to my friends if they’re down for that.

The other day I was talking to a friend about sex ed stuff and he asked if it was a normal thing friends talked about. He did clarify that he didn’t mind listening to me, and that he was enjoying learning about different things, but he wasn’t used to people talking about that with him.

I guess I was just wondering if you (or anyone else) talks about that with friends? I always thought it was like any other topic where if everyone is on board talking about it it’s all good, if not it’s okay to change the subject. I guess I’ve just never considered it ‘odd’ to talk about. Thoughts and feelings? (No pressure to respond though)

I am not nearly as open talking about sex with my friends irl as I am online. I have personally been burned by people who I had felt comfortable talking about my academic interest in sex with. I'm generally a fairly private person, and Mr. Ghoul can tell you that trying to pry kinks out of me face-to-face is like pulling teeth.

I think it's very much a matter of group comfort and how normalized it is to talk about sex within your group. My friend group is full of people who either have no interest in sex, relationships, or both so we've never really talked about either (ah the strange-ness of being an allo in a group of ace specs).

Sex is still very much something that people don't really talk about, maybe because most of it feels so personal? But also because I think people have a lot of trouble separating the academically interesting parts of it from the act and desire.

Then again Mr. Ghoul and I will talk about sex, but he does usually end the conversation with "Ghoul I am getting turned on and I know you're not so where's this convo going?" so idk

[juh-wasnt-deactivated19691231]

tumblr note: this is a living document. Tap the original post header to see the most updated version.

a weary traveler’s guide to the poison bogs of tumblr

welcome to the land that cannot be killed in a way that matters. we have plenty of in-jokes, but this post isn’t about sightseeing: it’s about survival. there are many things to be wary of.

bots, nefarious

most of our evildoers appear to be automated. they spread lies and hate, but mostly they spread inflammatory language, with the goal of wasting your time and making you mad. often you’ll see that these blogs have no pfp, or they are Single Issue Bloggers, or they leave an inflammatory comment on everything they share. block and move on.

bots, annoying

i would classify the gazabots, pornbots, and thirst traps here. gaza is a real tragedy, but the bots sending spam aren’t helping. porn is wonderful, but the bots are scams. the thirst traps have little substance to them, but they must exist for some greater purpose—i think they metamorphose into full-fledged scams or maybe evildoers later in their lifecycle? block and move on.

terfs and other fascists, human

similar to the nefarious bots, but seemingly more human. this does not change their goals or my recommendations, though. they are not here with an open mind, and you cannot reason with fascism, because it has no root in reason. block and move on. do not engage.

morality

mos eisley cantina is our spiritual ancestor. this is the “lying, cheating, and stealing for fun are good and morally correct and you should do them always” website, at its extreme. there are folks who think you shouldn’t hold a food sharing program unless all of the food is stolen. BUT there are also folks who just think sharing is good. we really run the gamut here. trust your gut, you can ask questions once in a while, but don’t be surprised if a stranger bites your head off. understand that if something seems fishy, there’s a good chance it is, and you need to factor that into how much thought you give their statements and how much you care about the discussion.

on that note

yeah so tumblr is a very queer place (in spite of its management, as with everything else we do). there’s a lot of pro-queer stuff, there’s occasionally someone who thinks they’re pro-queer but would get mad at me for using the term “queer” for some reason (? block and move on, or point and laugh, dealer’s choice). if you are not some form of Not The Default, or if you just feel Too Normal, it’s okay. i am personally granting you permission to be here and to have fun. if someone has a problem with that, block and move on, or even just ignore it. a lot of people here are not good at conveying their points, a lot of people are angry, and we are famous for our piss-poor reading comprehension. don’t take it personally. they’re just Like That.

seriousness

most of tumblr ranges from neutral to deeply unserious. if someone’s discussing a heavy topic or making sense, they might be serious, we do have some of that, and sometimes there’s really good things to see here. but don’t expect a whole lot of Genuine Discourse and Thoughtful Discussion on average, unless you find your way into those circles. i tagged a post #christianity once and my notes were clogged with people having philosophical discussion about forgiving satan and it was weird.

argument

I once saw advice here that said, some people like arguing, and others don’t. If you like arguing, it’s super important to find other people who enjoy arguing, so that you can have your stimulating discussions with them, without totally burning out your friends who just want to get along. this really cleared up a lot of things for me, and i saw the light. (it turns out i don’t like arguing)

the bottom line

you’re here to have fun! so do that. our motto is “do whatever you want forever.” if you’re not having fun, take a step back to wonder why. you don’t have to post, or comment, or add tags, or even like the posts. you can just scroll if you want. if you like interaction, you can curate a blog (original posts and reblogs) that you like or that you think other people will like. my blog is mostly shitposting, cats, and advice, and sometimes computer things, but i moved most of that to my datacenter blog. you can send asks, you can receive asks (but don’t be disappointed if you never get any—most of us don’t. be the change you wish to see in the world!). understand that there is no Algorithm, and the only way to find something is to tag it and remember that tag later. godspeed mooncat.

further reading

[taigarrryen]

Hihi! Question, do you have any cool Russian YouTuber recommendations :D its my native language, besides austrian, but since i don't live there i mostly watch german/austrian/englisch YouTubers and dunno any good Russian ones...

Any topic / typa content is fine, although anything minecraft related would be incredible hehe :3

(also, can i just say, i love ur art!!! So so much!!! Its so incredible!!!)

Hi hi! I remember you :)

The last time I watched russian speaking mcyt was back when I was a kid, so can't really help with that. If we're talking gaming in general tho, I love Kuplinov ► Play with my whole heart. This man formed me as a person and wrecked my sense of humor irreparably, like my third parential figure living in the phone. He tends to be witty and nonchalant about literally everything, no matter if he plays horror, psychological thriller or, idk, car salesman simulator (so if you want a serious playthrough of something, this might not be a place to go, but to relax and laugh? yeah, always. I watch horror playthroughs almost exclusively on his channel, because it's not scary with him).

Файб does cool documentary-type videos on many topics, same goes for Julia Bolchakova.

Sometimes I like to check on Адвокат Егоров, he does very chill videos about peacefully building by hand a hut and surrounding infrastructure somewhere in the forests of Karelia, bee keeping, bread baking, this type of stuff. It's kinda like asmr, I always fall asleep :D

Other than that, I'm not really an expert on russian speaking side of youtube

(Thank you <3)

[cin-cant-donate-blood]

I was just gonna mumble something in the tags but I actually have Thoughts on this so here goes.

I don't care for LLM chatbots. No matter how impressive people keep insisting they are, I have always found them to be disappointing (perhaps because I am asking the wrong questions, but I don't think asking it to write a Shakespearian sonnet or remind me of a word I've forgotten based on a definition are very weird prompts, and it fucking sucks at both of those).

I do use them to gauge them, though. I am curious about what kinds of responses other people who are actively using them are getting.

One time I asked it what autistic people are like, just to see what it might be telling neurotypicals that people like me are like. It rattled off a number of broadly accurate things, but in the middle of everything it slipped in something to the effect that autistic people are not very good with art.

When I asked it about this, it immediately backed down and said I had misunderstood it, but it does bother me that it may well say something like that to someone else who knows less about autism.

These bots are known to be good at replicating human biases, so there is no doubt in my kind that it was, at the end of the day, replicating an already existing stereotype.

I think the stereotype that autistic people are on some level not well suited to make art (or even uninterested in it) is in turn by a mythical quality that I think of as "anti-intelligence", which is something distinct from stupidity.

The theory of anti-intelligence goes like this: there exists a human trait called intelligence or logicalness, which makes you Good With Math. If you do not have this trait, however, then fret not! The more Logical (capitalisation is tongue-in-cheek) you are, the less of something else you have, because Logic is the Yang to Intuition's Yin.

Intuition, or Anti-Intelligence, is a purported trait that makes you Good With People and also Artsy. Intuitive People might never be able to grasp math (and honestly, they should as well just give up on it, if you're too artsy you're never gonna be good at that stuff anyway), but they understand things Logical people in turn could never understand, like Love and Drinking Coffee With Your Friends (so illogical!)

The most snide interpretation of this that I as a stereotypically Logical person could make (my love of art and rhetoric are just aberrations, by the way: I shouldn't be wasting my time on them) is that this is all just people who are Bad With Math coping.

The stereotype also plays into pseudoscience about the hemispheres of the brain, and I think a lot of people who identify as Intuitive or Logical may do so with terminology like "left-brained" and "right-brained".

I think the trope of a Logical character not understanding social interaction is in part simply derived from the observation that Autistic people are often Logical and also struggle to understand and be understood by neurotypicals, but at this point it's become a self-sustaining cultural image that informs how a lot of Not Very Logical people think Logical people are.

I find all of this very frustrating because I don't think art or social rituals are illogical at all: they just appear to be if you are personally navigating them with gut feeling without analysing them further. A bit of gut feeling might well be necessary to do things quickly and smoothly enough (that is my main personal struggle with autism: not that I do not understand social situations but that I understand them too slowly, and my gut instinct often makes oversights that I notice a minute after I make them), but that conversation is completelt lost in a culture where Hanging Out With Friends is treated as Magic Beyond the Understanding of Those Dorky Scientists.

fish-out-of-water character in science fiction to whom humanity is deeply alien, but who does not continually get themselves into awkward social situations because they looked up Human Ettiquette For Dummies, they learned about basic human social dynamics including how humans bond socially, and it is immediately obvious to them after five second of introspection how a highly social tool-using species like humans would benefit from spending a lot of time building social ties

[cogbreath]

man. very very somber feeling when i actively choose not to call out blatant ableism i see on a post because i just cant take the backlash i might get for it.

[sysig]

If it’s not you, what’s the point! (Patreon)