#i know so many words yet i struggle to articulate

[melodemonica]

my first impression of you was definitely the underrated adversaries blog. i am certain that i meant to submit my blorbo (fandom so small i befriended the author. which is worth it bc hes super cool but still sad because the game makes me want to chew drywall) but i dont know if i ever did

my current impression of u is that id like to b friends with u. sniffs ur hand cautiously. also that u like lmk a bunch im pretty sure

my first impression of you was also from your tournaments so we're similar in that regard!! and I'm not sure if you did or not!

LOL I'd love to be friends =D and i do rather like lmk (hence my Red Son theming on the tournament blog), my impression of you now is best described as, Autism (affectionate) (also i'm tempted to tag you everytime i see entropic float in a tournament) (and you have excellent taste in gender)

[cherryl4na]

❥•°❀"tears on my birthday cake"

abstract || it's midnight and you're feeling the birthday blues. thankfully, you have lando there to help.

female!reader || angst. fluff. comfort. soft!lando. crying. 1k words

The clock struck midnight, and with it, the arrival of your birthday. The room was cloaked in darkness, save for the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains. Lando stirred beside you, his arm instinctively drawing you closer as he roused from his slumber.

"Happy birthday, love," he murmured, his voice laced with sleep.

You managed a faint smile, but it quickly faded as the weight of another year settled upon your shoulders. Birthdays were supposed to be a time of celebration, yet this year, it felt more like a reckoning—a stark reminder of dreams unfulfilled and the relentless march of time.

Sensing your unease, Lando shifted closer, his fingers gently trailing along your arm in soothing strokes. "Hey," he whispered softly, " What's wrong baby? Are you okay?"

You hesitated, the lump in your throat making it difficult to articulate the swirling emotions within. "I don't know," you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I thought I'd have it all figured out by now."

His embrace tightened around you, offering a silent reassurance as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "You don't have to have it all figured out," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "Life isn't a race. It's okay to feel lost sometimes."

Tears welled up in your eyes, betraying the facade of composure you had struggled to maintain. "I feel like I'm falling behind," you confessed, your voice trembling with raw vulnerability.

Lando's fingers gently tilted your chin up, his gaze searching yours with unwavering sincerity. "You're not falling behind," he insisted firmly. "You're on your own path, and it's okay if it's different from what you imagined."

A sob caught in your throat, releasing years of pent-up frustrations and fears. "I just... I expected more from myself," you whispered brokenly.

You clung to Lando, the weight of his words and the warmth of his embrace grounding you in the present moment. The minutes stretched into an intimate silence, broken only by the soft cadence of his breathing and the occasional whisper of reassurance.

"I just feel like I should have accomplished more by now," you admitted quietly, your voice trembling with vulnerability.

Lando's arms tightened around you, as if to shield you from the weight of your own expectations. "It's okay to feel that way," he replied gently, his fingertips tracing soothing circles on your back. "But remember, success isn't measured by a checklist. It's about the journey, the lessons learned along the way."

You nestled deeper into his embrace, finding solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your cheek. "I'm scared of never reaching my full potential," you confessed, your words a whisper against his chest.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if to imprint his love onto your skin. "You're capable of more than you know," he murmured, his voice a soft reassurance. "You've already made a difference in my life, in so many lives. That's no small feat."

Tears welled up in your eyes again, this time not from sadness but from the overwhelming swell of emotions his words invoked. "Thank you for believing in me," you whispered, your voice thick with gratitude.

Lando pulled back slightly, his hands framing your face so he could look into your eyes with unwavering sincerity. "I'll always believe in you," he promised, his gaze searching for yours. "Even on your darkest days, I'll be here to remind you of your strength and resilience."

You nodded, a silent acknowledgment of his unwavering support. "I love you," you said softly, the words a declaration of trust and vulnerability.

He smiled tenderly, brushing away a tear that escaped down your cheek. "I love you too," he replied, his voice filled with tenderness. " And I'm here, always."

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand against your cheek a balm to your weary soul. His words echoed in your mind, a constant reassurance that despite the uncertainties of life, there was one thing you could always count on—Lando's unwavering presence and love.

In the quiet of the night, wrapped in each other's arms, you found solace in the simplicity of being together. His embrace was a sanctuary, shielding you from the doubts and fears that threatened to overwhelm.

"Thank you for being here," you whispered softly, your voice barely a breath.

Lando pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as if to imprint his love onto your skin. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," he murmured, his voice a vow against the darkness that lingered at the edges of your thoughts.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to simply be, to absorb the love and comfort he offered without reservation. The weight of your worries felt lighter, carried away by the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

As the minutes ticked by, Lando remained by your side, his presence a comforting anchor in the tumultuous sea of emotions. He listened as you poured out your heart, offering solace in the form of understanding nods and gentle touches.

By the time the darkness began to give way to the soft hues of predawn, you felt a glimmer of hope flicker within your soul. It wasn't about erasing the doubts or fears—it was about embracing them, acknowledging them as part of your journey.

As you curled up with Lando in the quiet hours before dawn, his arms around you, you felt a deep sense of gratitude for his unwavering presence. Birthdays weren't just about celebrating milestones; they were about reflecting on growth, on resilience, on the love that held you together when everything seemed uncertain.

And as sleep finally claimed you, lulled by the steady rhythm of Lando's heartbeat and the whispered promises of tomorrow, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them with Lando by your side. Together, hand in hand, heart to heart, you would navigate the complexities of life and find solace in the simple moments of love and understanding.

an || okay so this one made me tear up a bit. hope you liked this as much as i did. till the next one!

©2024 cherryl4na. - please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms without my permission.

[savagewildnerness]

O Earthly Lestat, I see now the trouble I’m going to have with S3 is I may have to defend Nicolas a lot…. And I don’t even know how he’ll be written for TV. But I know he means too much to me, and that’s just that. In a way Nicolas means the most to me. Not that he means more to me than Lestat. But that the elements of Nicolas that I relate to (& importantly as you can never get over this feeling - that I related to as a 12-year-old) I cannot think of any other instance in literature or any other fictional character I could relate to or who so exactly articulated something about me. And so I cannot help but always fight for Nicki 100% (even though I am not like Nicki in all ways.)

I want to CLARIFY! This is not some “Nicolas was Lestat’s actual great love” point of view in ANY WAY! LOUIS, is Lestat’s great love!

But this is: Nicolas loved Lestat. It wasn’t only Lestat who loved Nicki. And Nicolas loving Lestat enabled Lestat to love Louis.

I find it beautiful. YES, Nickistat ended AWFULLY! (And that there was mutual love makes it all the more tragic and beautiful to me!) But I just need to say here…

People acknowledge how much of Louis’ words in IWTV are shaded by his own struggles…. So I can’t understand why so many people seem to take Nicolas’ words in his final argument with Lestat (by which point, with whatever nuance you cut it, Nicolas is as described by EVERYONE as a mad vampire, his mind lost!) as 100% his always-truth!!!?! I just cannot comprehend it!!!?! I’d love if anyone would like to explain how you can see it that way, especially after reading the actual way Nicolas was pre-Paris, in Paris, when Lestat was stolen away… all until the moment he witnesses Lestat be shot. THEN it shifts for Nicki!

I’m also not one for blaming Armand for Nicki’s demise. The tragedy of Nicolas is, Lestat is very responsible for Nicolas’ demise, and simultaneously all Lestat did, he did through love. There are a thousand ways Nicki’s tragic demise is Shakespearean inevitable resonance… and yet…

But yeah, it’s actually primarily because of his music & things around his music that Nicki matters so much to me. But nevertheless, he matters & I shall fight for him!!! Lestat and Nicki's conversation matters deeply to me too, and what Nicki is for Lestat in that conversation. But where I connect with Nicki is in his music and how he feels about his music. I personally connect with Lestat's worldview on the other hand. Although in my personality, I am my self, of course, I also relate to some elements of each of them.

The thing with Nicolas I suppose for me though is there are various aspects of his self I relate to that I have never felt anywhere else except in my own self. Not in fiction & not in anyone I have ever known in reality either. And I guess that’s why I will always fight for him. Also, because most people should understand Lestat - we’re so in his heart & head 💛. But we don’t hear the story from Nicolas’ point of view, yet for me, at times it is like he is absolutely in my own mind & heart or I am in his, or it’s the same thing in some odd way I can’t quite articulate. I feel seen by him, and I see him. I understand some parts of him, reflecting how by existing in fiction, he has understood me.

Back to Nicolas. He kept Lestat’s dressing room at Renaud’s as a literal shrine to Lestat. He fought with his friends over Lestat’s moral integrity after Lestat went missing. Even when Lestat was gone, Nicki was still loving him, fighting for him, staying at Renaud’s, wearing rings Lestat sent him. If he felt as he said in his final argument, why did Nicolas even stay working at Renaud's at all? Why was Nicolas so distressed when Lestat sent him lots of money and gifts but didn't ever contact him?

I just list these things, which are just a few ways we see Nicki's feelings through his concrete actions. Nicolas truly did resent Lestat in the end. Just as Lestat couldn’t stand the sight of vampire Nicolas. But even that doesn’t negate love.

Mortal Nicolas DESPERATELY needed Lestat’s light. Vampire Nicki doesn’t. And I see his cruelty in the final argument (while not being entirely absent of truth) as being partly founded in love…. Nicki knows the dark thing he now is & he knows, even in his addled mind Lestat won’t leave him… and he knows Lestat. He knows Lestat must leave him or he’ll take Lestat to his death with him.

It’s ok that love was once & isn’t eternal. It’s ok that Nicki’s love for Lestat did exist, but turned to hate & yet was never entirely lost. It’s ok that Lestat’s love for Nicki never diminished even though he couldn’t stand the sight of him as a vampire. These things don’t negate love. Hate can be part of love. It’s ok that their worldviews were fundamentally different. It’s ok they were not each other’s eternal loves. There was love. Deep and mutual love.

As I see it, we can accept & enjoy that they BOTH loved each other, and that fact only deepens Loustat.

By which time, Nicolas is long dead.

But I genuinely believe when they were mortal, Nicolas’ love for all of Lestat (even when envying him too!) meant Lestat could later love the all of Louis so unconditionally, as he had been loved that way before.

It’s an unpopular opinion, I know. But it’s mine. I express it with acknowledgment I can’t be objective about Nicolas. But that doesn’t lessen the strength of my truth!

In all honesty… we are all subjective humans. Can we be objective about any fictional character we have an emotional connection with?

And that’s the crux of it: when you CARE so much, ultimately it’s about whatever truth you need.

Maybe we ought to think on this on all of our favourite characters & imagine how it might apply to others for any character we love less unconditionally ourselves…?

[dollpqrts]

̽ ̽ PAIRING — Art Donaldson x Patrick Zweig

̽ ̽ SYNOPSIS — In the confines of the New Rochelle Country Club sauna, former best friends and tennis doubles partners find themselves inches apart for the first time in twelve years. It’s the night before they compete against each other in the final match of the Phil’s Tire Town Challenger. With unresolved tension at an all-time high, the heat of the sauna isn’t the only reason for their sweaty bodies or heaving chests. Patrick seeking some sort of reconciliation is met with a displeased Art who can’t quite place where his anger stems from. With The men attempting to hash out past wounds, the steam room is hot and charged with passion, it promises violence or something just as strenuous.

̽ ̽ WORD COUNT — ≈ 3k

̽ ̽ CONTENTS — 18+ SMUT MDNI, HEAVY angst to start, alternate ending of canon scene, vulnerable Patrick, mean asf Art, DEVASTATING argument, sexual tension, YEARNING, minor violence - nothing incredibly graphic, porn with plot and context, public ish sex, slight humiliation, praiseee, bottom ish Art, dirty talk, frot, desperation, internalized homophobia, mentions of Tashi, slight toxicity, hand jobs, blowjobs, biting, and lots of sweat <33

̽ ̽ A/N — This is just super self indulgent, Artrick angst rots my brain daily and I feel like this was the sauna scene we deserved </3 I genuinely haven’t written anything for YEARS sooo go easy on me, but YASS first piece of writing on this blog!! don’t hesitate to send in asks or message me for any tips or advice it would be so appreciated. Looking for friends and mutuals sooo, that too :)) if u enjoy reading pls lmk with a comment, or sending a message, however you’d like xoxo

"I don't matter?" 

Patrick Zweig was a figure of confidence, well known to many as much too sure of himself for what he was. For what they thought he was anyway. Confrontation was a fuel to him, something Art knew all too well. 

What wasn't widely known, and what slipped Art's memory, something that he used to know through and through, was that Patrick’s bold demeanor was a facade carefully cultivated to mask his doubts. Patrick's internal voice was incessant and worried. A relentless drumbeat. He held a firm grasp on his own identity and emotions, never wavering in his display of self-assurance. However, his greatest fears ruled him through the subconscious of his mind.

He was terrified that the most important people to him were unable to understand the depths of his being, that they only saw his shortcomings. He yearned for a love as profound as what he was capable of. Like a flower reaching for the sunlight, he needed someone who could nourish him completely. A full type of love that could only exist if someone could see him for who he truly was.

In a steam-filled sauna, Art Donaldson found himself seated face to face with his childhood best friend for the first time in twelve years. Since then he had degraded Patrick to just another fleeting relationship from their youth. It irked him that he couldn't simply erase that part of his past. As they sat there, their bodies naked and only their waists covered by towels, Art's gaze flickered over the other's body. Patrick, though lacking Art's discipline, was chiseled like a Greek god, which both aggravated and mesmerized Art.

Art couldn't help but think that Patrick was relishing in the discomfort, deliberately putting them in this vulnerable position. It seemed clear to Art that Patrick was fully aware of the effect he had on him. He grappled with self-disgust, frustrated by his inability to articulate himself, that he was undeniably affected by Patrick's orchestration. The opportunity to assert himself to Patrick was finally here. Yet he was struggling to find his voice. 

The sight of Patrick's unclothed body in front of him only added to his agitation, taunting him with feelings he couldn't quite place - a mix of envy and something else he wasn't sure of. His lips folded into a straight line, a mannerism unconsciously borrowed from Tashi. Beads of sweat gathered at his hairline, tension that had nothing to do with the heat of the sauna.

"Not even to the most obsessive tennis fan in the world." Art's voice cut through the thick air, and hung between them, heavy with unspoken history. 

Patrick's confident grin faltered as he came to know two things. His much-anticipated showdown with Art provided no consolation for his insecurities, and his greatest fear became reality - Art didn't care anymore, maybe he never really had. 

For years, Patrick had stubbornly, willingly endured hunger and homelessness all in pursuit of proving something. That he was worthy of the adoration, the victories, the accolades, and the fame of a star tennis player, he believed he was every bit deserving as Art was of it all. The only person who could truly validate that for him was Art himself. With cruel precision, Art had shattered Patrick into a million pieces. 

"We're not talking about tennis," Patrick said softly, his eyes seeking understanding.

Art wondered what Patrick could hope to gain from him. Carving out a new life with Tashi, it took time and effort to move on from his teenage years. With the help of Tashi, he had transformed himself into tennis champion Art Donaldson, the Art that Tashi loved, Tashi Duncan's devoted husband, and the father of her child. He had intentionally buried Patrick in the recesses of his mind, leaving behind the insecurities and emotional bullshit of his youth. 

Art scoffed, his voice taking on an edge, "What the fuck else do I have to talk to you about?"

Their exchange became a verbal rally, each word a calculated strike. Art desperately clung to his lead, an invisible audience holding its breath. Was Tashi the unseen umpire, coaching Art like an angel perched on his shoulder? Or had he internalized her so completely that her guidance was no longer necessary to decimate his opponent?

Patrick, completely deflated, realized that the words spilling from Art's lips were not his own. They were out of place, disjointed. How could these words be a product of Art's own mind? 

They had shared a world of experiences, yet Art fixated on just one - tennis. It was as though tennis had become the sole defining factor of what they were to each other. While Art and Tashi's love seemed intertwined with the sport, what Art and Patrick had run far deeper than the confines of a tennis court. It transcended tennis entirely. At least, that's how Patrick felt. 

"I just wanted to come in here to wish you luck, Art."

Art's eyes narrowed, darting away from Patrick's earnest gaze. Distrust clouded his judgment, unable to fathom Patrick's sincerity. There had to be an ulterior motive. The thought stirred his mind mirroring the windstorm raging just beyond the warmth of the sauna. From Art's perspective, he possessed everything Patrick desired – a hot wife, success, and an endless stream of attention. How could Patrick genuinely wish him luck?

A stroke of luck on Art's end the following day could propel Art Donaldson into the next chapter of his illustrious tennis career and leave Patrick Zweig in the shadow of failure. Art knew that luck was the only thing that kept him ahead of Patrick before, that he'd never actually beaten him, he couldn't shake the feeling that he still needed it to stay there, that he was still depending on it.

"That makes no sense."

Patrick mustered a faint semblance of a smile, "I wanted to tell you that I’m looking forward to it. I miss playing with you."

"Yeah?" Art jumped up suddenly, his towel slipping slightly as he adjusted it and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a quick motion. He inched toward the sauna door, the wooden slats warm under his bare feet. "Well, I don't miss playing with you, man. I'm too old for it."

"Oh, get over yourself, Art," Patrick retorted, his eyes locking onto Art's in a challenging gaze.

"Get over myself? Seriously? Look at you, sauntering in here to rile me up before our match. On some sentimental bullshit. We both know every person at this bumfuck tournament thinks that you're nothing, Patrick. I've worked hard to get where I am, I deserve that win tomorrow. You? You're lazy, using cheap shit like this to get your way. Don't act like you ever gave a damn after all these years - about our relationship, or whatever it is you're trying to say."

Patrick could only shake his head in disbelief as the other man dug into him. "Can you even hear yourself anymore?" Suddenly, he sprang to his feet, grabbing his towel before it hit the floor. Art took a step back, his eyes tracing the movements of Patrick's fingers along the towel.

"Do you get off on some delusion that you're all innocent, living the dream, and that I've gotten my karma or whatever the fuck?" 

Closing the gap between them, Art challenged Patrick right back,

"Tell me, how do you see it then, Patrick?" 

Patrick inhaled deeply, his body coursing with anxious energy but still able to hold himself firm before the other.

"You abandoned me." he declared, voice quivering despite the intensity behind his words.

The two men stood inches apart, tension crackling between them, suffocated by each other's breath.

"What the fuck do you want me to say to that?" Art's voice dropped, barely above a whisper.

"Go to hell, Art." Patrick hissed, his hot breath caressing Art's face, spit landing on it. Art tilted his head up, meeting Patrick's blazing stare with defiance.

In a blur of motion, Art's fist flew upward. Patrick's head jerked to the right, his hand rising to cradle his jaw as if anticipating the impact. Before Art could strike again, Patrick seized his wrist and held it tightly. Art's grunt of pain morphed into an animalistic growl as he lunged forward, their bodies tangling together in a fight for control. 

With raw energy, their muscles strained as they grappled with each other. Sweat-slicked skin slid against skin. Art's chest heaved against Patrick's, their hearts pounding in a frenzied rhythm. Bodies intertwined, locked in a primal dance of dominance. Nails raked across skin, leaving angry red trails that would linger for days. The air was thick, charged with the promise of violence or something equally explosive. 

Art's hand found Patrick's throat, fingers pressing into the pulse point. Patrick countered swiftly, fisting a handful of Art's hair and wrenching his head back. His other hand clamped down on Art's shoulder, pinning him in place.

Their faces were less than an inch apart, breath mingling in hot, ragged pants. Patrick's eyes seared right through Art, still for a moment. In a ravenous haze, their lips crashed together. The kiss was brutal, all clashing teeth and battling tongues. Patrick bit hard down onto Art's lower lip causing him to shove Patrick away only to yank him in, entwining their bodies back together.

They devoured each other, hands roaming with desperate need. The world faded elsewhere, leaving only the intoxicating sensation of long-awaited touch, the taste of desire on their tongues. Lost in their universe of violence and passion, they clung to each other, neither willing to back down or let go. Their embrace tightened as if trying to meld into one. The heat of the sauna paled in comparison to the fire ignited between them. Years of pent-up emotion poured out in a torrent of kisses as the men groped one another, each touch electric.

Art's mind was cloudy, "Patrick," he gasped, breaking away. His eyes were wild, conflicted. "We can't—"

Patrick silenced him with another burning kiss. "Don't think," he breathed, chuckling against Art's lips. "Anything but that."

They stumbled backward, their backs hitting the rough wooden wall. Goosebumps prickled across their skin from the impact. Like an animal clawing for control, Patrick's hands were everywhere, feeling every inch of Art's body that he could and holding on tight. Art moaned and gasped under his touch as he pressed his body closer, their throbbing erections pressing together through layers of fabric.

"Yeah, that's right." Patrick whispered huskily, "Feel it, Art. Feel how much you want me." A low, guttural moan escaped Art’s lips as the dirty words caressed his ear. Fear and arousal stormed his mind. He knew that at any moment, someone might innocently walk into the steam room and discover them, but he couldn't bring himself to stop.

Art reached into the waistline of Patrick’s towel grazing delicate fingers over the warmth, groaning at the feeling of him, how big he felt. Patrick took a firm grip on Art's wrist, guiding his hand down the fold of his towel. Patrick's cock sprang free, hard and throbbing, the tip slick with pre-cum. Art swallowed nervously, his throat dry.

Their fingers intertwined tightly, Patrick guided their hands up and down his glistening length. He whispered praises in Art's ear, his other hand removing the towel that had been covering him with ease. It was as if he had been waiting for this moment for years, eagerly anticipating it with every fiber of his being.

Patrick rubbed their cocks together, his grin growing wider as the other's jaw dropped in pleasure. "Look who's all hard for me again," he teased, his voice tinged with a hint of pride. "Remember when we used to do shit like this all the time?"

Art could only weakly nod, the memory of that long-forgotten time when they were still friends, and their hands would roam freely. When they said whatever excuse they could make up just to make everything feel okay, whatever excuses could allow them to have a next time.

“I know you were really thinking about me every time we jerked off together.” Patrick teased, his tongue flicking over Art's neck.

"Stop Pat...that's not true,"

“Oh c’mon, don’t you wanna cum for me just like you used to?”

Patrick pressed on, increasing the speed and pressure of their movements, the friction sending shivers through both of their bodies. Art could barely speak.

“Yes, yes...please,” he begged for release, hardly able to form any coherent words.

Patrick let out a low chuckle, pressing his lips against Art's neck as he tightened his grip over their cocks. Art's hips bucked up involuntarily, biting into Patrick's shoulder to muffle a strangled moan.

"You're the same sensitive little boy you were when we were young" Patrick taunted, twisting his fingers just right.

All Art can do is mindlessly nod his head as he desperately fucked into Patrick's hand-- his mind reeling at the embarrassing little comments Patrick’s making. The warmth of Patrick's cock against his own, the wet and slick of their pre-cum mingling together, his rough stubble pricking the sensitive skin along his neck. He was so close, so close...

“Don’t fucking stop,” His voice took on a demanding, almost threatening tone. His hips rutted up into their interlocked fists as he reached the brink of climax. His other hand dug into Patrick's back, leaving scratches in its wake as he mumbled incomprehensible pleas and praises.

Patrick coached him through it, practically growling in his ear "That's it, fuck my hand Art.”

His body trembling with climax, Art released all over their hands and stomachs, his body hot and red, his chest heaving. Patrick continued to stroke his sensitive cock through his orgasm, pushing him past his limit.

“Oh god, t-too much...” Art groaned, his body twitching with every little touch, yet still needily grinding into Patrick’s palm. He had to push Patrick off of him before he would nearly start crying from the overstimulation.

They collapsed onto the bench just by where they were standing, their bodies glistening with sweat and flushed with exertion. The scent of their arousal filled the air, enveloping them in a sweaty heat. Art's cheeks burned with embarrassment as Patrick continued to stroke his hard cock next to him.

“Why don’t you get on your knees and finish me off, hm?” he suggested with a smirk, “It’s the Least you could do after being so mean.”

Art swallowed thickly, hesitating for a moment before slowly lowering himself onto his knees. Humiliation and desire coursed through his veins. He took Patrick's stiff length in his nervous hand, his tongue darting out to lick the droplets of pre-cum that shone at the tip.

Patrick groaned, his hips jerking forward. "That's it, baby,"

The taste of Patrick's skin and pre-cum lingered on Art's lips as he took him in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the head. The saltiness of his own release was still there, all over his cock. With a trembling hand, Art gripped Patrick's thrusting hips and guided him closer to his mouth. His lips wrapped around the tip, his throat constricting as he tried to take more of him in. Patrick let out a deep groan, gripping the edges of the bench and fingers tangling in Art’s hair as he reveled in the sensation. "Fuck, Art," he panted, his eyes locked on the sight before him. "You’re so good at this."

He silently took in his praise as Patrick's thrusts grew more forceful, driving deeper into Art's mouth with each motion. Feeling a sense of satisfaction wash over him, there was nothing he wanted more than to please Patrick, to make him reach new heights of pleasure that they could only have dreamed of when they were young. He worked with both of his hands and his mouth at the same time, pumping down his length and groping his balls. The room was filled with wet sounds, with Patrick's rough grunts and moans. His throat stretched around Patrick's cock, and tears welled up in his eyes.

"God I've missed you," Patrick exclaimed between ragged breaths. "You look amazing from up here."

Patrick's thrusts became erratic and his breathing grew shallow and strained. With one final plea, he pushed Art's head down and held it there as he reached his climax.

"I'm gonna cum."

Art felt the hot spurts hit the back of his throat, and it took all he had not to gag. He swallowed subconsciously, tasting the bitterness of Patrick's release. Patrick pulled out, his hips twitching sporadically as he fought to catch his breath. With Patrick's orgasm, Art could also feel his own comedown, a shift of realization in him. He swallowed hard, his throat raw with the taste of Patrick. He could feel his tears stained on his cheeks, and he tried his best to wipe them away discreetly. He quickly wiped his mouth as he got up, avoiding eye contact with Patrick. He grabbed his towel from the floor, wrapping it around himself before he sat further down Patrick on the bench.

Patrick, panting and still coming down from his peak, barely had time to react before Art slipped away from him.

“What was that for?”

For a moment, Art didn't answer. He stayed silent, his eyes trained on the floor. “I just needed to clean up.”

“Is that all?” Patrick asked. “Or are you too ashamed to look at me?”

Art didn’t say anything.

Patrick felt the change in Art's demeanor, the shame that seemed to radiate off of him. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Trapped in awkwardness. Patrick cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the tense quietness.

"So, uh, you're letting me win tomorrow right?"

Art's forced laugh didn't reach his eyes, the weight of their earlier exchange still pressing on him.

"Oh Fuck off man…" he grumbled, burying any hint of vulnerability from before. His towel tightened in his grip, damp fabric biting into his skin as he pushed away the memory of the fleeting intimacy they had shared. The moment was gone now, and so were any traces of tenderness or closeness between them.

“I meant every word that I said.” Art’s voice trembled with conviction. Without another glance, he stormed out of the sauna, leaving Patrick naked and by himself in the leftover sex and stifling heat of the room. All Patrick could do was sit there, his fingers tapping nervously against his knees.

[scrumptiousstuffs]

Hii~ I'll say firstly I'm keeping things strictly speculative and I'm NOT diagnosing anyone since I'm not a doctor.

I've noticed this for so long and just wanted to out this in the world asgdjdjfkf but khaotung gives me MAJOR adult with undiagnosed adhd vibes. The messy car (bottles in the front seat?!), always messy room, extremely creative hobbies and passions (song writing/ composing/singing/ acting), impulsive purchases !!!, frequently getting lost even with maps, engineering major but cant math, has a hard time rmring past events even though he's in the same location (timeblindness). I have ADHD too and I can see such a striking resemblance in me and him it’s crazy. (Ofc everybody presents with stuff like this but when it's excessive that's when you know)

I've watched and rewatched interviews and content enough to see how he tends to be a little spacey and needs to ask things twice to make sense. (People with ADHD struggle usually with too many thoughts, attention going everywhere instead of just the task at hand) And oh when I saw that gifset where he's like he asks first's help to organise his tasks for him my heart just died cz yes!!! (That's troubles with sequencing and work ordering that we folks struggle with and there's his bestie just calmly helping him out oh it made me heart hurt sm but anyway-)

He's my little aloof baby girl with 26739 facial expressions cz he cannot for the life of him calm tf down. He's so reactive and expressive and in the moment, yet he falls over his words (not all the time, yes, but A LOT). My boy is doing his fckin best and has grown so so much and I adore him for that.

His sleep habits??? Classic adhd. Can't fall asleep cz his brain wouldn't stfu. (He said that himself in one radio interview)

His shopping addiction is just him boosting his dopamine every chance he gets. And I get him. So much.

Somewhere he also talked about how he got burnt out and couldn't get out of bed and I just. I just wanted to hug this boy bcz- oh. Oh it all makes sense. (ADHD folks are notorious for burning out cz they already run on little to no fuel. They have to work extra hard for things others do without effort and that gets so goddamn hard)

Manager can’t reach him. Hyper aware of his surroundings (hence attuned and caring to everyone around him). He frequently gets distracted by fans screaming while he's talking (cz of the external stimulus) - and first has spoken on his behalf to not misunderstand him 🥹 (Again bcz ADHD makes your attention go everywhere and you can't regulate that shit)

But why am I even going on about this? There's plenty of people out there who don't have/require a diagnosis bcz they're doing just fine.

YES. YES.

This makes me all the more emotional bcz yes, people, community, friends, family when all of them pick up on your lost pieces life just gets so much bearable.

First is that person for Khaotung 100%.

He literally called First his second manager, he asks First to organise his work for him, answer for him. He looks for him everywhere because he needs him like genuinely, genuinely needs him to be there. (Like that one time he won't let him go off stage bcz he was taking pictures and didn’t want to be alone aahdhajsk)

Like we call First as the one who clings to Khaotung, let's be honest the whole company says it. But when I see Khaotung with First it's like he turns towards him like he's the sun. Pre-FK, in interviews he used to be so shy and struggle at articulating things, but with First taking the reigns he got the space to become better at his own pace and that's what I love about them sm :(

Okay I'm done. I'm just saying he might (again, keyword MIGHT) have ADHD. It's a whole spectrum and having friends around who aren’t judgemental and willing to share the load for you makes life easier and bearable and First is that person for him which just makes me admire and love this pairing even more aaagsfhjdk :((((

So, finally, what do you think about this? Sorry if this is in any way unsettling you don't have to answer it I just wanted to get it out haha

Wow anon, this is certainly a long post😅. You must have thought about it hard.

I have no training to diagnose ADHD. However, I'm glad you identify with Khaotung and sees yourself in him.

That's why most of us love the boys, yeah? In some ways or another, they are relatable and we connect with them. (On top of their kind, sweet nature, amazing acting skills plus beautiful faces of course!!!🥰🥰🥰)

Either way, some of the habits you listed above can easily be considered annoying to a lot of people. Clearly, First just finds everything Khaotung does adorable (but can you blame him? 🥺🥺🥺…look at this pookie!)

They balance each other superbly well. Yin and Yang if you want to call it ☯️

So, I agree with you when you say First is the person for Khaotung (just as Khaotung is for First)

(Khaotung towards First during an interview) ☝️

And you are absolutely right when you say that it's very easy (from the outside) to see First appears to be the "clingier" of the 2, but I suspect privately, Khaotung is just as sticky (he is just not as open about it like First, and I'll be addressing this on a different ask I got).

There is a quote by Walt Whitman (American poet) - "Keep your face towards the sunshine, and shadows will fall behind you."

And so, your statement of Khaotung looking at First like he is the sun, oh yes... he does it all the time!! (be it in official photoshoot, concerts or events)

[teejaystumbles]

Against all odds (Part 5)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

(this continues directly after Part 4, Hob reads the rest of Dream's entry)

Negligence and luck were my saviours in the end. I managed to escape and take my revenge. I have recovered my tools of office and my power. I am free. And yet I feel like part of me is still trapped inside that basement, as unconnected to the world around me as I was before, but in a different way. Before I was captured I felt, if not above then distinctly separate from humanity; I resented that my existence depends on them, on you. I felt detached, outside of what should be intimately familiar to me. Now I am able to recognise that, but to overcome my reluctance to embrace humanity more is still a struggle. I know that not all of you are like Roderick Burgess but the fear lingers, despite logic telling me there is nothing to fear. I know my function is to serve them and my imprisonment caused great harm to many. I see now why I cannot go on like I used to. I hope that you might help me with getting to know humanity again, as you have so many times before. I confess that in my mind you had stopped being simply a human and therefore outside of how I judged humanity. You might have worried I might look down on you, but in fact I have long since seen you as someone apart from the humans I tend to. For that I am sorry, because you are just as deserving and in need of my attention as everyone else. Your perspective was supposed to help me understand humanity better, to grow closer to humans and I failed to learn my lesson. I only grew closer to you, while completely ignoring that you are human and failing to extend my feelings for you onto the rest of humanity. I was supposed to listen to you and learn what it is like to live a human life, but I did not internalise the lesson. I hope that with time I will become able to value human lives in their entirety and show others more respect and compassion. This will not come easy to me after nearly a century spent in a cage at the hand of a human, but I will try.

I apologise, Hob. All this will not make much sense to you because I have still not told you who I am, and I still wish to do so in person. Suffice it to say that you have already glimpsed the truth and noticed changes that are related to my person and what happened to me. Feel free to guess, my friend, but be assured that I will give you my name soon. Maybe then you will understand the scope of all I’ve relayed to you.

I have laid myself bare for you, my friend. I do not think I could have articulated half of this had we talked face to face. Admitting to my faults and insecurities does not come easy to me. My ordeal has left me with some conditions that I did not know I was capable of suffering. As you already know I am struggling with being in enclosed spaces, and I feel especially reluctant if there is a lot of glass. I also do not enjoy being close to humans I do not know, although, as you well know, I know everyone. This is limited to certain aspects of their person, though, and does not include mind reading. Therefore I find myself apprehensive of their goals and possible actions, which is why I prefer to keep my distance. I know that these fears are not logical and that I should be able to “shake them off” - yet I cannot, and I do not know for how long they will impede me. My greatest fear I have so far not articulated, though. If I tell you my name, will you still look at me the same way?

The words stop without a farewell and Hob drops the journal with a choked sob, his eyes wide and watering. He wants to howl. He refrains for the sake of his neighbours and simply slumps to the floor beside the fallen book. It’s still open and Hob rereads the last line through more and more tears welling up. He makes a sound like a wounded animal and gets back up on his knees, searches for a pen on top of the desk and then immediately launches into writing a reply right there on the floor.

My friend, my dearest friend!

Why would you think that I would ever look at you differently? You are more dear to me than anyone else and knowing your name and who or what you truly are will not change that! I believe I have been privileged to get to know you over the few times we met, and even more through these letters we have been writing. Even if your name was Oberon, or Hades, or hell, even Lucifer! I would not look at you differently, except to ask you why you lied when I first guessed that you might be a demon. I don’t think you would ever lie to me, though. Whatever you are, I have thought about it and puzzled over it since I first met you, so you know that the only way I would look at you if I finally got to know your name would be with awe and curiosity - the same way I have always looked at you. You are endlessly fascinating to me and I cannot believe you would think that I might change my opinion on you because of something as unimportant as a name. I already know you, dear stranger, with or without it. So I say, don’t tell me unless you truly want to. Don’t think you owe me a name or explanation. I do not need it. All I need is you, and our conversations. 

Hob pauses his writing and lets the pen drop from his fingers, drawing a shaky breath and rubbing his eyes. He wishes he had planned this better, thought about what he would write before starting, but in the end it’s maybe best to give his stranger this excessive honesty. Hob has a bad feeling about his friend’s entry simply stopping and what he probably needs is immediate assurance. So this is what Hob will lead with, and address the other issues afterwards. He means it, too. He doesn’t care who or what his friend truly is. He’s Hob’s friend, the oldest and best he’s got, and he’s determined to keep him, no matter what kind of being he turns out to be. “My sister, Death.” That's what his stranger wrote, Hob remembers and flips the pages of the journal back, rereading the first part of his friend’s entry. Roderick Burgess tried to summon Death, and got her brother instead. Death’s brother. His friend is Death's brother. What could that possibly make him? One of the four horsemen? Pestilence, or Famine? War seems unlikely, somehow. Actually none of these fit his stranger, Hob thinks and shakes his head slightly. He gets up and sits at the desk, the journal open in front of him. He doesn’t quite know what to write next and so he drops the pen and goes to wash his face and make himself tea, trying to collect his thoughts in the meantime.

When he returns to the bedroom he finds he cannot write more without mulling it all over first. He feels empty, the horror of his friend’s ordeal growing more and more clearer in his mind. He doesn’t know what to write besides “Please let me hold you. Please let me make you smile. Please let me love you.” None of that seems even nearly appropriate to tell to a traumatised person that is probably not even remotely attracted to him. What his stranger needs now is a friend (well, actually a therapist, but Hob will do his best), not a clingy lover like Hob.

He goes to bed and leaves the journal open on the desk. Maybe when he wakes up he’ll be able to find the right words. He falls asleep to thoughts of prisons made of glass, his friend stuck inside, looking mournfully at him.

Hob dreams of the White Horse. He wears his modern clothes but the Inn looks like it did in 1589 and with a smile he sits down at the lavishly decorated table, ready to host his friend. When Hob looks up his stranger is standing a few feet away on the other side of the table. He looks like Hob saw him in his bedroom, although his hair is a bit wilder and his black coat looks longer and is speckled with stars. Hob smiles at him and gestures at the spread.

“My friend! Sit, eat! You must be awfully hungry!”

His stranger frowns and takes a cautious step closer, looking at the table laden with food, then back at Hob.

“You offer me sustenance, my friend?”

I offer you everything.

“Of course,” Hob exclaims, “this, and more! If there is anything I can give you, I will! Please, only ask and I will try and find a way to get it for you.”

Hob wants to stop talking but he can’t seem to stop the words. “Be it food or drink, or hugs, or kisses - everything I have, my heart, if you but ask, is yours.” He blushes, knows that his eyes have grown wide in shock and still he cannot stop looking at his friend, staring at him in open adoration. Brother of Death, brother of Death, his mind keeps shrieking at him and Hob feels his smile crumble in dread as his stranger does not visibly react to Hob’s words at all. Too forward, too honest! Fool, you dare, he chides himself and bites his tongue when he feels more words on the cusp of breaking free.

His stranger does not acknowledge Hob’s words, he slowly picks up a strawberry and takes a delicate bite. His dark eyes do not leave Hob’s for even a second, though. Hob feels heat pool in his belly and bites his tongue harder until he feels blood well up inside his mouth. He opens it and a drop spills out, staining his lips as red as the strawberry is staining his friend’s. His stranger’s eyes are black from side to side now, gleaming in the low light like pearls. Hob blinks and suddenly the man is right in front of him, reaching out until his fingertip gently brushes the drop of blood from Hob’s lips, the next moment he is standing at the other end of the table again, a half-eaten strawberry staining his fingers. Hob feels lightheaded and grips the table to remain upright. What is going on? This is the strangest dream he’s ever had. The voice of his friend is suddenly coming from everywhere, reverberating inside Hob’s head.

“I accept your offering, dear Hob. I promise to cherish it…and treat it with utmost care.”

Hob wants to ask what his friend means but he feels very tired all of a sudden, despite knowing that he’s already asleep. He feels himself sink back into what feels like soft cushions and the room darkens around them until all he can see are two twin stars twinkling in his friend’s eyes. Then there is nothing but darkness, and sleep.

Part 6

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hear me out.

It's angst.

I think I used 2/3 characters but it's mainly a brief mention of CatNap and a brief Poppy mention + scene. Just dogday and reader afterwards.

---

Poppy runs to Dogday , maybe after the part where CatNap takes the gas mask , because we haven't contacted her in a while.

He finds us from where we passed out in game , but we haven't woken up yet, due to the heavy dosage of the sleeping gas.

When he does find us , we're also partially injured due to the effects of the gas by proxy- Aka. we probably scratched ourselves during the nightmare.

He takes us to Poppy's glass room , which they can probably use as a hideout when they need to rest.

He watches over us as he feels guilty --- having not been there to protect us as we stressed that we'd be okay , so he could go do a different job in the task list to make things faster.

We wake up maybe a day later or you can leave that up to the reader's imagination.

Rapture

Note || AHHH- this is such a neat idea 💕

WC || 945

Sypnosis || feeling injured and for lack of a better word — comatose, it left DogDay in feelings he didn’t want to experience ever again.

She didn’t know what to do, this was inconceivable. Many questions ran through the depths of her fabricated mind, but all she could do is alert DogDay to find you. 

You hadn’t responded for a long period of time, she was beginning to get worried. Sure, you sometimes didn’t respond at times, dealing with certain situations that had left you with a bitter taste on the tongue. Poppy was distressed more than ever, worry was a common feeling when you are in a place like the Playtime Co. Factory. But this was something different, a pitted feeling in her gut that this was something different.

She couldn't slow down however, she needed to tell DogDay. Poppy clambered through the familiar vents, trying to find the large dog. Finally, she came to a stop and had found the very toy she was looking for. 

“Psst-” Poppy climbed through the vent completely, exposing herself to DogDay’s view. “DogDay!” 

DogDay yelped, growling as he whipped his head around. His false temperament faded away quickly enough as he realized that it was only Poppy, the small toy. “Poppy?” His strewn voice echoed, laced with clear exhaustion. He certainly didn’t expect her to make an appearance so soon after the last time they all met up with each other. 

Poppy’s face had presented fear and worry, which was something that had instilled a shadow of fear over his heart. Her red brows furrowed as she thought for a moment, a way to articulate her words without making it even worse than it needs to be. “I know something’s wrong, what is it?”

“Uhm, you know who?” Poppy began, her tiny hands crossing over each other as she stood with a presentable stance. “I haven’t gotten word for some time now, and it’s worrying.”

Those very words struck a fear in his heart that DogDay didn’t like, he didn’t like those words at at all. You were in trouble, and he was gonna find you. He needed to find you at all costs, DogDay didn’t waste time, leaving Poppy where she stood. Poppy had understood his time of hurry, not resenting the sunny dog at all. DogDay walked in fast and large strides, having gotten better use of his legs now that they are attached again.

“Angel..” A small whimper escaped him, not wanting to know what kind of state he might find you in. “Please be okay.”

Not at all, were his wishes true. The state you are in had left DogDay dumbfounded, he straggled over to you, strength slightly sapped after he had struggled the door that had opened to you. The room was full of Poppy Gas, no doubt trapping you in a nightmare – not a dream. You were injured, he had no doubt it was because of CatNap you were desperately trying so hard to escape it. 

DogDay cradled you in the warmth of his arms, trying to not move you too much due to the extent of your very clear injuries. CatNap had stolen your gas mask, which had in return caused you to fall asleep to the effects of the sleeping gas.

 He was surprised you hadn’t awoke yet, later on he had assumed it was due to the heavy dosage of the Poppy Gas. This was a sight he had so desperately wished to escape, but for your sake he had continued onward to the glass room with you in his arms. 

Once he had finally arrived, DogDay opened the door and walked into the room and set you down with a gentle tenacity he didn’t know he had in him. For a moment, he dared let his attention stray from your being as he had walked back to the door and closed it. His head thunked against the wall forlorn laying atop the door, as he was quite tall. A noise, between a groan and a whimper had escaped him, “I should’ve been with you..”. You on the other hand were still asleep, you had been through enough as it is. Even though he remembers your insistence that you would be fine and right by yourself. 

“DogDay, it’s gonna be fine,” You grin at him. “Besides, it’s not gonna take that long..” Your hand wanders over to his arm, patting it as you want to reassure him. He frowned for a moment at your stubbornness. 

“Okay?”

DogDay should’ve been so much more clearer, more defiant at most. So that your grim situation never happened in the first place, he could’ve been there to protect you against CatNap. You saved him, and he could’ve saved you. That much he should’ve been allowed to do, but for now, he had to watch over you. In order to make sure you were okay and could continue onward and stop the Prototype once and for all. 

Minutes passed, perhaps even hours. But he hadn’t paid proper attention to the passage of time, only you were on his mind constantly. DogDay could feel a churning fear of guilt and sadness in his chest, building up so far that even he was surprised at how big his emotions could go. 

The one thought that continuously ran through his mind is that he should’ve been there for you, so that you weren’t injured, that you weren’t in such a deep sleep because of it all. DogDay had allowed himself, only slightly, to tentatively rub reassuring touches upon your head as if he were caressing your cheek. 

He did that to ground himself, and maybe to see if that were to elicit a reaction out of you. 

It was only within the fifth hour that you had finally woken up.

“DogDay?...”

[zoropookie]

Hey so uh could we get a soft sweet moment of ynkiss and hhab scara in the orchard I mean always thought they got a poetic vibe to them romantic too idk maybe we got something like that already I don't remember lol sorry if that's the case maybe like resting on each other shoulders or like smth brief like that please please please whenever you have the time make it happen (iam the English not my first person Soo uhm if anything seemed vague sorry also really love your ficss)

Besides the modernity of how the two of them lived, the orchard spreading in longevity. Woven from its threads of a later summer, rows and rows of apple trees standing tall, branches heavy with the vow of their harvests. Air rich with the scent of the ripened fruits they have yet to pick.

Kuni and you walked down the path between the orchards trees, and his gaze drifted upwards towards the sky. He observed the way the light of the sun filters through the leaves while the shadows below them did a dance with the grass. For once in the years that he stayed here, has he realized how peaceful they were. Every gnarled branch of older trees, stretched wide like the arms of an old friend.

The stillness settled in him, eased tension that had been a companion for as long as he could remember. The elation he felt watching you, a few paces away picking apples and gathering them into a woven basket, was similar to a cool weight. You looked ofer, a small smile playing at the corner of your lips. “Hey! I was getting the red ones ready for sale, but I saved some really good ones for our picnic.”

His lips twitched upward, there was a soft blooming that grew in his chest as he watched you carefully pluck them off the tree. “We’ve never done that.”

“Right? I never realized how many stuff we just don’t do as a couple. Why not start?” Your eyes were bright with a quiet excitement, going back to the task. “There’s nothing for both of us to do today. How many times are we going to get this chance, Kuni?! I wanted to take advantage of it, anyway. What do you think we should get? Do you want sandwiches?”

His eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowing. “Yeah.” He drawled, a hint of uncertainty in his tone. “This is weird. I don’t know how to feel.”

“You could feel grateful,” You suggested, your eyebrows rising with a slight tilt of your head. “Maybe…elated that I’m an amazing partner? That’s so willing to do things for you? Unfathomably?”

“All of the above…” He felt disjointed watching you, almost trying to gauge you actually having a genuine outlook on him. It was still unbelievable, he couldn’t properly articulate what was happening right now. Especially from how uncomfortable he was. “But stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

He paused, struggling to find the right words. “That. The prepping for the picnic, you’re supposed to let me do all of it. I’m the provider.”

Your eyes dulled. “I can help too.”

“You don’t do it like I do.” He watched you, severely skeptical but softening with every word. The way the light caught in your hair while it was swaying from the leaves. The sincerity in your eyes— it disarmed him from anything else. If they were to be in severe danger, he’d be too enamored to pay attention. “Alright, but only because you’re working hard.”

“Does it make you nervous? You barely have anything to say right now.” You asked, your tone playful.

“Yeah.” He walked closer to you while you’re picking apples, holding your waist as his eyes stared at your back with internal longing. The feeling of an adoration was warm and unfamiliar, but with the foliage and greenery of the garden around the two of you, you looked royal to him. “I’ll adapt with you if you plan on putting some more weight in.”

“I don’t know about all that, I still know my place here.” You said with a dull tone.

[idyllic-affections]

venti and xiao would be the best big brothers!!

venti would sing you to sleep whenever you seem to have trouble doing it yourself, and xiao would just loom over you /j

xiao would be so protective though i think

when their sibling can't sleep.

summary. how do venti and xiao comfort a sleepless little sibling?

trigger & content warnings. insomnia.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. comfort. venti & younger sibling!reader, xiao & younger sibling!reader. 0.5k words. they/them pronouns for reader.

author's thoughts. youre so right alyssa (are we on first name basis? idk, please tell me if not haha) they would be the best big brothers!!! i imagine that anemo boys in general are just good brothers..... i should write for kazuha. i love him and i dont talk about it enough HSKSGAJFJF

what do venti and xiao do when their sibling can't sleep?

venti gives the best comfort tbh. oh, [name] can't sleep? he's there in an instant. no hesitation. they'll be tossing and turning and suddenly, the windborne bard is tapping at their window with a grin and a wave. archons know where he gets that information from (the thousand winds told him, but no-one needs to know that the chatty little wind wisps are his source! it's a trade secret!), so it seems like he just has some kind of sixth sense for when they can't sleep because he's always there when it happens. he'll gently lay their head in his lap, gingerly fidgeting with their hair if he's not playing his lyre that night in particular. sometimes he'll rub little patterns on the skin of their shoulder and upper arm; his calloused fingertips are oddly soothing. his voice is undoubtedly akin to that of a siren's. he is a bard, after all. his voice is his career.

of course, in this case, his voice is his tool to get his baby sibling to fall asleep.

i like to think venti would sing them a lullaby from old mondstadt, maybe one he learned from one of his friends. he might opt for a softer version of a folk song, or maybe a lullaby he picked up from a different nation entirely. who knows? whatever he settles on, he expects nothing in return.

he usually doesn't stay the whole night through, but when he does, it's because he himself is struggling mentally and needs the company just as much as they do.

ultimately, venti is free as the wind, a fleeting yet soothing touch of comfort to ease the one he loves into getting a good night's rest.

xiao definitely just... looms ominously in the corner. /lh

he's not like venti in that he just knows when they can't sleep—more often than not, they have to call out for him. he'll always, always appear without fail when it comes to them. he always encourages them to call his name if something is wrong. sometimes, however, he might check up on them randomly and find out that way. he's very protective, indeed, and often checks on them in the middle of the night at random times.

nevertheless, he finds out somehow.

xiao cannot offer many words. he just isn't very articulate when it comes to offering comfort. he can, however, offer to cuddle with them if they so desire (he is hesitant, though; xiao is very terrified of harming them. he never wants to hurt them in any way. he'd never forgive himself if he did).

if his presence alone is comforting enough, then he'll stalk around their room, likely settling at the foot of their bed or somewhere where he can see them and silently and effectively get rid of any potential threats that might appear.

it's very unlikely that someone would break in or that a monster would appear, but xiao is on edge nonetheless. he's protective. he would never let anything or anyone even get close to bringing them harm.

xiao is, unlike venti, the lingering presence that scares off anything that might be preventing the one he loves from getting a good night's rest.

they're both very good brothers, they just show it in different ways. <3

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[kanmom51]

JK live 21 July 2023 London - Part 1

cr./to the creators of the content used in this post.

This is a big one.

So big that I had to split it into 2 parts.

It might feel a little repetitive at times, but here's the thing, JK repeats himself A LOT in this live. He's making a point. Driving it in. Making sure we understand. Like really get where he's going with it.

A defining moment I would say. JK continues to tell it as it is, and he's getting bolder and bolder.

I mean, JK has been giving us these in abundance, but this one is big not only because of what he says during the live, but also the timing of it all.

But before I sink my teeth into the live itself I will start with the numbers. A fun start to it all.

JK started the live on 21 July 2023 11:42 pm or 23:42 London time.

11:42 and 23:42

1+1+4+2=8

2+3+2+4=11

8/11

Now let's look at the date:

21.07.2023

2+1+7+2+2+3=17

And if you go by 21.7.23 then:

2+1+7+2+3=15

Take your pick:

8/11/15

or

8/11/17

What do you think – a coincidence?

And now let's get it.

Do we start with what he was wearing? Distressed jeans, not sure of the brand, and another Masion Mihara Yasuhiro T-shirt (I think that by now we agree this is the Jeon-park go to brand of late). Also has his bracelet and the pinky ring.

You know - the what seems to be new and special pinky ring (which god dammit he sure did abuse during the live).

Intentional or not, that ring was front and centre during the live, and intentional or not it put the wooga ring theory to rest. You know, the whole Coco Chanel stupidity. Done and dusted.

JK came live telling us he's tired (you could see how tired he was) and was going to wash up and go to sleep. But obviously he had thing he needed to tell us before, so he came live, a little (more like a lot) charged up (alcohol charged up), and understandably so. A little or perhaps in this case a little too much liquid courage can take you a long way if there is much you feel you need to say.

JK told us in his Weverse interview that he puts in thought before doing a live. And even though in this case he said he just turned it on without any thought, perhaps the timing was without any thought, because he did have notes prepared with what he wanted to say on the live (he literally looks through them before he pops off to the toilet mid live). He definitely had things to say, to share, to get off his chest. Being rather intoxicated the way he was I feel like he struggled a bit to articulate at times the message he wanted to convey to us. But at the end of the day/live, I think that the message was rather clear, and I will get to it further on in this post and part 2 of the post.

What I do want to say now is that this young man is phenomenal. He is a phenomenal artist, a worldwide celebrity, and yet he is so real, so genuine, authentic with his fans. He allows us, total strangers in, in ways I have never seen another celebrity allow. He genuinely feels love for his fans and he genuinely wants to be able to have these open sincere conversations with them. How someone can feel malice or hate towards this young man, someone who everyone that gets to actually meet him has nothing but kind and positive words to say about him, I just do not know and will never understand.

So, his promotions are over.

How many days was it since the song dropped?

8 days you say?

And that's why he went live.

Was that the alcohol hitting?

2 minutes in and we have the dainty Koo hand.

JK talked about how he had a lot of fun doing the BBC 1 performance. And having army there with him gave him energy. It's something he realised. The difference between having Army in front of him or not, just how big that difference is to him. He also shared that health wise he actually felt worse. Coughing, difficulty breathing (we saw some of it in the behind short of the BBC 1 performance), which, when you think about it, makes his performance even more amazing.

JK repeats this quite a bit in the live.  His love for army, how army give him energy, how army push him to be a better person, a better artist.  How grateful he is for army. You can also see just how much he misses performing in front of his fans, misses doing their concert.  He says it outright, that he’s made to do concerts.  Left me wondering if that was him inadvertently spoiling something.  With him you never know, lol.

JK also mentioned how he enjoyed performing in the live shows, even though he was off key in the live performance (guess he’s talking about BBC Radio 1).

Listen, the man has been performing live for several days now with a seriously bad cold.  A cold that effects your hearing, your throat, your breathing, your voice.  And with all that he’s done phenomenally (my word of the day).

Ok, so if I had to tell you in a nutshell what JK talks about in the live (difficult task but I’ll try), I’d have to say that around 90% of this live was JK loving army.

As simple as that.

Drunk sincere JK gushing over army, telling us how much he loves us, how we cheer him on, how hearing army made everything better for his performance, even made his sore throat and coughing go away just before the performance.  How army supported him, how he cares for army and loves army.  Wait, I feel like I’m starting to repeat myself.  Thing is, that’s exactly what JK was doing.�� 90% of it was that.

Then JK talks about his promotions and how army cheering him on throughout that period made him happy.  Well, the good side of sm that is.

The promotion period felt short to him (which it was), and stuff didn't fall into place (GMA's for example), and yet :

This here was JK letting us know he's been monitoring sm.

He knows the good. But he also knows the bad and the ugly. And there is so so much ugly going on right now. Which could also be another reason why he felt the need to come forward and say the things he does later on in the live.

Breaks my heart. Knowing that they know about the crap so called fans come up with on sm. And knowing this JK makes it abundantly clear there is a difference between those 'fans' and army, that he loves beyond imagination.

JK goes on to say, again, how happy he is to meet us. Doing the lives too. Communicating with us. He likes it. Well, we do too.

JK tells us he ate well after the performance given it was his last one and he also drank and is "kind of drunk right now too".

He is so self aware. He knows that being drunk will loosen his tongue. He knows that he might say something he shouldn't say (question asked is according to whom? To Hybe? To the fans? To himself?). And yet he will continue to talk to us.

Again JK telling us he is a person just like us.

He's being open and honest and just showing so much vulnerability.

Can we take a moment and appreciate this?  I know I keep repeating myself, starting to sound like a broken record here, but I think we don’t appreciate him enough. I think that much of what he gives us is taken for granted, and it shouldn’t.  He is honest and open and wears his heart of his sleeve and allows himself to show us vulnerability. How many idols or celebrities do you know that do that?  Let us in.  Not all the way just yet, but he wants to. He really wants to be able to show us his true self.

He also wants us to understand that he’s a person just like us.

The whole “let’s be friends” is also part of it.  He doesn’t look down at us, and how many celebrities do you know that are like that? That look at you, their fan, at eye level.  That don’t feel they are better or more worthy than you. That see themselves as an artist but there to create art for you to enjoy.  That are forever grateful for your support of them.  That will be happy to acknowledge you if you approach them, even on their free time (and I’m not talking about fucking sasaengs that stalk them, but army that recognize them and dare to talk to them, yeah like the girl at the stop shop in CT).

All he wants is to be able to be honest and act naturally with army.  Because, for him “army is the best”.

And he continues, because so what? army is sincere, what is there to hide, being sincere with Army, that's what he wants.

Doesn't need anything else. army is the best. He's comfortable, he's having fun. From now on it's going to be like this.

"We might curse at each other later on..." - so also telling us things we might not like to hear? Like you do with a friend?

He is constantly making a point of a. how important army is to him and b. that he wants to be friends with army, be able to talk to us casually, like a friend, and vise versa, act naturally. Bottom line: did I mention friend zoning yet?

Act natural.

Now that is a loaded term. Because to act naturally means be yourself, no walls, nothing holding you back (well in the context of this is who you are as a human being and not putting on a façade or as JK usually puts it, not wearing a mask). Acting naturally is acting like you want to, like your nature, and not like others want or expect you to. That's how JK wants to be with us. But being like this means lifting that mask. And he's in the process of doing that. He has a little, but even as he puts it later on in the live, there are still hidden parts of him, parts we don't know, and I do think that he is over that. He wants to show us him. No unnecessary masks. Whoever will accept him and love him will. Those that don't, well, you can't be loved by everyone. And this is grown up, mature and very intelligent JK, who understands that, and has decided that he is not going to live his life trying to appease those that will never approve of him, the real him. Those who care about him, he will do everything for. Those that don't, those that hate, as far as he is concerned they can continue to live their lives, he has mentally cut ties with them.

JK talks about how army is better than anything. That he kind of feels bad for his parents because of army's significance to JK. I don't think it's about loving army more than his parents. It's about the importance that army has for JK, army that followed and protected him for 10 years since his debut (a time that his parents weren't really able to be there for him, not as much as army was, is what I think that JK is saying).

And for those people he wants to be honest. He feels that for the people that protected him over the past 10 years, the ones that love him, he owes honesty.

But what is that honesty he keeps talking about? Why does JK feel the need to repeat this time after time during his live? I'd say because he feels that at the moment, until this point in time, he hasn't been fully honest with us. And perhaps he's also a little weary of how army will accept that honesty, how army might react to JK without that mask. I do think that there is so much more coming from JK.

This for him is only an opening shot!

We need a comedic pause for a second here, cause things, they got heavy there for a second. Phew. Thank you JK. Drunk neuro-divergent JK being distracted by the creepy statue, lol.

I actually feel like he himself needed that pause (he takes a few like that throughout the live), and what better than taking the time to pick it's nose, clean dust and have a conversation with a statue?

Now how can you not love that person, eh? I really don't get people that hate him. It's the same level as those that hate JM. Those two human beings are the most precious lovable (add fucking gorgeous too) people EVER. They WERE clearly MEANT for each other. So how can people hate either of them? Both of them? Who they are as individuals or as a couple? How????????

But obviously there are many who do. Sad. It's sad they exist and I also feel sorry for them too. Because being filled up with so much hate that you feel the need to turn it on someone who is a stranger to you, someone so loveable as those two young men means you are a very sad and unhappy person yourself.

Ok, this wasn't supposed to get too deep. Not this part. This was supposed to be the fun part of this post.

🤷‍���️

JK goes on to give us a little more detail about his dinner - with staff celebrating the end of his short promotions. He ate and drank, which was hard work, lol. He says he's a pretty simple person, enjoys the simple things, but regrets he also forgets them pretty fast, and wants to make an effort to make the memories and feelings last longer.

JK, like RM, Suga and JM before him talks about the day they comeback together.  It’s not about if, it’s about when this happens how wonderful it will feel.  You can see he is genuinely excited for it. "it's going to be amazing". His words.

And once again he talks about his gratitude and how thankful he is to army for today (his performance), and for the experiences he had, and will need to put much more effort.

When I said that 90% of this live is JK talking about army, his love for us and what he needs and wants to do for army I wasn’t kidding.  This is the thread right through the whole live.  Army love him. Army cheer for him.  He has to do more for army. Be worthy of our love for him.

As much as we give him love, he needs to fill something for all of us, and he is trying to.

But he also wants to be comfortable with army (again, something he repeats multiple times through the live).  And this, my friends, is where JK friend zones us.  Like completely.  Like with no shame, lol.

This is also when JK lets us know he knows he's being criticized online. He drinks, that's him. People might not like it, it's their prerogative - "do whatever you want". And this is also not the last time JK mentions being criticized for drinking or being disliked/hated.

JK being super chill, and yet tells it as it is:

In other words, when JK talks about the army he loves, the army he is grateful for, the army he feels indebted to, well, that most definitley doesn't include those that are hating on him, or those that will not accept him for who HE is, real JK, the one that wants to feel comfortable when interacting with army, the one that wants to be himself and not a puppet or persona that is being forced on him. He is past that. And he is being loud and clear about it too.

"We might be strangers but I want to feel comfortable with you".

Act natural, be comfortable, those words on repeat. JK driving it in again and again.

He wants to get closer, and closer, again, means bringing down those boundaries around him.

Please tell me who asked him to grow a beard in the comments, I'm coming for them... Thankfully he just doesn't have that facial hair growth, phew. Can he pass that on to my husband please? I mean, shaving in the morning and by late afternoon try to get near him you'll be stabbed in the face.

I digress, my husband's facial hair is most definitely not something you would be interested in.

JK's on the other hand...

Well, according to him he literally has none, so there you have it.

Love how every time he's either checking out his skin or his facial hair we are getting a JM in our face. Fun!! He does say he wanted us to have fun!!

And here comes the comment about the 'dirty' version of Seven.

Love love love love the way JK dealt with this one.

Yes, he might have been a little all over the place, but first of all his reaction to calling it dirty. Second, even almost as drunk as a skunk he kept his composure and tried to explain his pov.

This is one of the times he reminds us of his age, of how many years it's been since his debut. And this is something I felt he was trying to achieve by releasing the explicit version of the song - the understanding that he is no longer a child. That the fandom needs to accept he is a grown up, stop infantilizing him. That he can say fucking and the world will not stop turning on it's axis. That he can sing about sex, that he, god forbid, might be actually having sex too (like the reaction of some of this fandom to this song, as if this is a revelation, something unbeknown to us all, that JK, a 25 yo man, is sexually active).

And when he says he's almost 28 yo (Korean age) and goes on to say "but I know why army loves me", is his acknowledgement of said infantilizing. The fact that army see him as the youngest, the maknae, and not a full on grownup. And those are things he was thinking about while deciding which version to release.

He wants acknowledgement as a grown up and as an artist and he felt that he needed to release the two versions to achieve that.

He wanted to change that image of him, and for that he needed to change himself.

He wants us to accept him, the changed him, but he's not going to force us to.

So here's the thing. This isn't even half way through the live. And there is still so much more to come.

There are a few words that keep coming up on repeat in the live that I can think of off the top of my head.

Army, of course, grateful, fun, happy, natural, comfortable. All seem to be said with ease, even lightly, but all with extremely deep meaning behind them.

I'll leave you with that food for thought. Why is he repeating these words? What is he trying to tell us? What next?

Part 2 to follow shortly.

[beautifulpersonpeach]

bpp lemme be sappy and incoherent for a min…

i saw this tiktok of bts’ solo era so far and i just wanna say that i’m glad that they know army doesn’t expect anything from them but music. GOOD MUSIC. like historically so many idols have gone on to do non music things after their peaks but bts knows that the core of their fandom are music fans. fans of THEIR music especially. bts as a whole prides themselves as being musicians and army prides ourselves as being fans of musicians.

idk. i guess i just wanted to appreciate how diverse this era has been musically and how proud i am of them doing the music they want even if i dont always enjoy it cuz someone else is bound to, yknow? i’m so freaking proud of their output. they’re amazing

***

It just tugs on your heartstrings doesn’t it? Even Jin who doesn’t have a full album yet, the song he made with Coldplay in only a few months doesn’t feel rushed or half-assed. It feels like a (sappy) sweet letter (in Chris Martin’s ink) from a friend you’ll be seeing before too long.

From Hoseok producing the beauty that is Jack in the Box; to Joon’s archive of his 20s with some of the best collaborations for a Korean artist in Indigo; to Jimin’s episodic processing of the personal struggles he dealt with during the pandemic in FACE; to Yoongi’s culmination of the AGUST D trilogy in D-DAY; to Taehyung’s expression of the music that most feels like him in Layover; and finally, Jungkook pushing himself out of his comfort zone to make a full album in a language he doesn’t speak, showcasing his skill set of ever-improving vocal ability, in classic pop songs in several genres that he’s selected to showcase his personal taste.

All the boys have done well. The assignment was to serve music, and they’ve all delivered. Some songs are more my taste than others, but I can acknowledge the work they’ve all done and I respect it.

And this isn’t really what you’re talking about Anon, but please let me go on a short tangent here.

I’ve seen chatter here and there about how Jungkook isn’t mature in his interview answers. About how he apparently comes across as a clueless puppet who can’t articulate his views eloquently, but like I said about the discourse around Jimin’s apparent lack of contribution to BTS, or Jin’s apparent lack of skill - sometimes that criticism is warranted, but most of the time people who say things like this frankly have no idea what they’re talking about.

A few of you have sent me asks months back, to give my view on Jungkook the way I’ve done about Jimin, Yoongi, Hoseok etc recently. I didn’t answer because I was waiting for Golden. Now that the album’s out, I’m sitting with it and will respond to those asks before too long.

But before that, I want to draw attention to this excerpt from Jungkook’s interview in The Atlantic.

*

In my draft reply to the asks wanting me to talk about Jungkook, I start with saying he’s a very simple person. That’s both his charm and the thing that confuses a lot of people about him, because many of us are anything but simple, so when faced with a man like him living the life he’s living, some people respond with suspicion or bewilderment.

Simple motivations, simple words, simple considerations - this is what I’ve observed in JK for the past 10 years. He’s younger than all the members but no less intelligent that the rest of the guys on average. He knows how to communicate what he means, he just usually has a preference to do it simply, and that’s what he did in that paragraph.

I’m excited to see how he’s going to become a global pop star, even bigger than he is now, because he’s certainly got the talent and skill to show real results. I’m proud of all the projects the boys have put out so far.

By their own words, one point of Chapter 2 was to showcase their individual colours, to show the world who makes up a group like BTS, so people could more clearly see what each member brings to the table, while the guys push themselves to learn new things, expand their skillsets, and hone their individual artistry to create a stronger, more nimble group.

*

So far so good. It seems to be going according to plan despite everything lol. I’m excited to get Joon’s next work, PJM2, Hobi’s release, Jin’s album, and all the other goodies lined up for us in Chapter 2. It’s been a trip and it’s only going to get wilder.

[redninjaoutfit]

i want to understand: why ship tad and peanut?

I've been gathering my thoughts on this topic for such a long time because I have so so many but its so hard to articulate them sometimes. THEY ARE SO NEAR AND DEAR TO MY HEART YOUR HONOUR MY ANGSTY SONS

More under the cut cause it's gonna be a whole lot of words

For starters, I just enjoy the enemies to lovers trope in general. I think seeing someone else's flaws to the point of considering them annemesis and still managing to move past that and fall in love with them down the line is very poetic. Having to battle through hate, one of the most misguided and complex emotion one can feel towards other people and coming out victorious, conquering the concept you have of someone and replacing it with an image so dissimilar to how you perceived them before... I get a lil kick out of it. It takes incredible maturity and willingness to cooperate on both sides of the relationship to move past hard feelings, to find common ground and build something substantial and amiable on that very ground. The former enemies actively heal and grow as people alongside one another, it's a very beautiful concept.

HATE AND LOVE ARE NOT TWO SIDES OF A SPECTRUM!! They're standing next to each other, separated only by a thin sheet of paper which is so easy to rip through once you move past the issues which divide you.

For Tad and Peanut, the obvious and unavoidable source of conflict is their allegiance to their respective cliques. The Preps and Greasers are supposed to despise one another out of principle which they very much do. Consequently, as of the events of the game, neither have any possibility to openly display their many compatible characteristics around one another. Hence why the animosity festers.

When I talk about the many compatible characteristics of Tad and Peanut I mean MANY. SO MANY. You might notice I did not say similar as I don't find they are carbon copies of one another, their lives are very different, however, their very cores slot with each other perfectly. It all falls into place.

Peanut, as I'm sure everyone already knows, has a painfully and one-sidedly dependent relationship with Johnny who is assumed to have saved him in some way, judging by the contents of his character quotes. He's fiercely loyal to his leader to the point where it's overwhelming and he actively fears disappointing Johnny in any capacity (not aided by the fact that he's implied to have feelings for Lola). Not to mention, as a second in command, he's got big shoes to fill, shoes he doesn't deem himself good enough to fill. Though he seems content with being trapped in Johnny's shadow he does show a sense of longing for freedom and a deep self-consciousness about his abilities.

Tad on the other hand is not second in command, quite the opposite, he's at a disadvantageous position in his clique with his newcomer status. Yet the expectations he has to meet at the forceful request of his father are just as if not more ambitious than Peanut's. With how prominently Mr Spencer's abuse towards his son altered his character and mindset, Tad is thus trapped in the role of the usurper, exactly what he feels (and knows) his clique-mates see him as. His opinion of the topic is largely apathetic though the apathy seems forced and learned.

His destiny as his father's extension has been set in stone, as has Peanut's servitude to Johnny. Neither feel they can do anything about it.

Both deem themselves worthless and void of purpose when they are not of use, not going along with whatever demands have been put onto them. They convince themselves (Peanut moreso than Tad) that their prison is a comfortable one, that the end goal of their struggle will be satisfactory yet know deep down all they want is freedom.

In this way they are very compatible, enough that they see a bit of themselves in the other which is part of the reason their bad blood runs so deep, especially on Tad's part. They see the collars hanging heavy around their necks and tug on them in hopes the other won't notice the perpetrator's own. It's easier to depersonalize yourself from your own issues than to face them head on.

I can definitely see them snapping on one eventful occasion - a supernova of unspoken emotions ready to surface - their reconciliation would not be a serene, drawn out ordeal of slow acquiescence. They fire each other up to the point of accidentally creating a spark which leads to a flame. A common flame between them in whose glow and light they can finally see each other's true colours, which will not burn them like it usually does but rather provide warmth, much needed after the long years spent in their cold, oppressive jail cells.

They would be like two dogs chained to a tree and left for dead tasting food again and rediscovering the comfort of a plush pillow - striving to maintain the warmth of mutual understanding conceived on that very day and would no doubt cultivate it to the best of their inexperienced ability. They both know by then the other is a novice in terms of... well, everything when it comes to being appreciated.

They rediscover love together and that's why I think they are so very beautiful and compatible as a pair!!

THAT'S IT... UM SORRY FOR RAMBLING AND THIS BEING MUSHY AS ALL HELL THEY JUST MAKE ME SOB AND WISH FOR THEM TO HAVE A BETTER LIFE. THE POTENTIAL IN THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS IMMENSE AND I WILL NOT BE SILENCED ABOUT IT. THEY CAN HEAL EACH OTHER LIKE NOONE ELSE CAN!!!

[thousandyearphantombunker]

"just give them an aac device!"

"just teach them sign language"

"body language and facial expressions alone are good enough for communicating what you need"

Nonononono f*!k off. Stop acting like nonverbal people have easy solutions to their lack of verbality. Not everyone can use an aac device- some people struggle with spelling or can't spell at all, some people have motor skills issues that makes typing a nightmare that takes a long time, some can't articulate themselves without outside help. Learning sign is hard if you again have motor skills issues or struggle to make facial expressions that convey what your feeling (flat affect applies to more than just a person's voice- some people really struggle to make facial expressions and have stilted or strange body language- you people can understand why autistic people get burnt out from masking all day- you know often having to control their body language and make certain facial expressions etc yet you can't understand why nonverbal autistics can't just learn sign- a language very heavy on facial expressions and expressive body language?) also again spelling and motor skill issues are a pain and also a lot of families with deaf or nonverbal children refuse to learn sign for said children and I'm sorry in day to day life I haven't met many people who speak sign- yeah you can move to a community with a lot of deaf or nonverbal people that use sign but that's not always possible and its very limiting. And do I even have to explain the third one- autistic body language is confusing to neurotypicals and I hate the stereotype that its just so blunt and obvious/better than neurotypical communication- maybe that's what its like for you and your 'smart sheldon cooper/Wednesday Addams' style autism but not every autistic person 'says exactly what they mean' often times autistic people struggle with semantics and articulating sentences that make any sense! and all these misunderstandings surrounding stimming are annoying to!- spinning can be a 'happy' stim but it can also mean your overwhelmed or understimulated, a lot of people with autism have voices that lack inflections, mix that in with being unable to use words and no it does not help communicate their needs- f!*k off with acting like its easy not all autistic people who are nonverbal can spell, not all autistic people w are nonverbal have good motor skills and body language alone is never enough to convey a persons needs. Before anyone comes after me yes Sign is body language but its also actual symbols and can convey full thoughts and ideas and sentences and also body language is hard for a lot of autistic people to convey like stated above.

Not every form autistic communication is being 'logical' and unoffended because 'we're just more logical than those superfluous, shallow neurotypicals that let their feelings control them and are never direct about what they want-we value facts and logic unlike those butthurt neurotypicals' and being overly blunt- no a lot of autistic people find that communication is messy and the ways they can communicate are ineffective and your 'logical, facts dont care about your feelings' style of communication isn't as amazing as you think it is. Stop speaking over nonverbal autistics- their is no real perfect solution to them not being able to speak. And I'm gonna say it- while not all nonverbal people are low functioning or high support needs or whatever the new term is-being nonverbal is a massive disadvantage and having your disability be visible like that is scary in many situations and being unable to communicate your needs can make it impossible to meet your needs-

[blackstarchanx3new]

FSR rambles 19 traumatic things Link experianced

Pet him like a cat shadow.

At least Link's normal enough to get up now.

Awkward...

Shadow's like "Damn this is weird"

Link's selectively mute still but I'd struggle to talk with four dipshits screaming like cracked out squirrels in my head too so ya know, I don't even blame him for being shitty at communication with Shadow rn.

He's got his priorities in order: FOOD.

Okay but you know Link is mad his plan failed literally the day after he employed it.

I'd be pissed anyway XDDDD

The four of em fell asleep, wake back up and they're right back to square one, ground zero the shit storm he tried to escape from.

That's horrifying in a way I can't quite articulate. "Hopelessness" is the only word coming to mind. Like, everything he did, it didn't matter. It was all for nothing they're BACK to how they were.

His hopes that pulling the sword would fix it: Crushed.

The literal only difference is that Shadow's here.

Which, is BETTER but damn if the disappointment from Link isn't palpable. You can only imagine what's going through his head rn after all this shit, he's just defaulting to a LITTLE BIT of normalcy in making breakfast.

Shadow's back to defaulting to doing: well nothing.

He isn't helping Link and is just WATCHING. Smth literally just yesterday was ALL HE COULD DO.

They're both just defaulting to what they're used to because this shit is too weird.

Is nice of Link to make enough for Shadow though. XD

Haha okay I can get into this:

Literally Shadow and Link simultaneously know each other and don't.

In cannon: Shadow said ONE SENTANCE TO THIS MAN. A SINGLE THING. AND IT WAS MOCKING HIM LMFAO.

Yes Shadow had interaction with the colors but Link and Shadow: Nothing.

So of course he feels awkward around him.

They spent forever together and yet still feel so far away.

It's a tough situation.

Link pulling out the "you sure are quiet" is imo, him trying to be funny.

he continues with "thought you'd be more comfortable with me...at least considering how many times we've kissed"

Obviously this is in reference to Vio lmfao (...Also green but uh we'll get into that later). With Link's eyes matching Vio's.

Link is completely fucking with him and it's funny to me at least. Like he's so deadpan but he's being such a goof rn.

Though it is interesting to note how Link directly says Vio is him without any separation here. Since Vio also thought he was Link last night.

WHY WOULDN'T HE REMEMBER SMOOCHING YA SHADOW???

Shadow clearly not knowing HOW Link works is kinda hilarious but also, nobody knows how this works.

Link casually referencing what Vio said in the fire temple, it's much more obvious now he's goofing with Shadow rn.

Shadow realizing the obvious, that Link IS the same person he's been hanging around just mashed together is a small but good reminder. Like link isn't a stranger fully. He's still the four of them.

Shadow just asking "Is this for me" would seem weird but uhh remember:

He didn't have a BED. He's been a SHADOW for YEARS. Like. Shadow being neglected isn't new. So it's a sad notion but he is shocked he'd be given food.

Link kinda having a "Wtf u mean? duh it's for you." moment.

Also the bomb drop that Link knows about Dark Link...Oops.

Exactly what relationship/how he KNOWS about Dark is kinda, left open since he doesn't elaborate what so ever...

It can be assumed he just knows what everyone else does. Buuut. There's always that "but"

"Link what are you blabbing for they can hear you" - Shadow continuing to not understand how Link works. XD

I don't think it was mentioned anywhere before this but haha Blue was also in on the splitting Link plan. Vio and Red are the only ones left out of some of the loop it seems...But they were mainly worried about Vio catching on.

Link accuratly noting this nightmare isn't anything like the first time. Sorry buddy it's cause you're in an unrated comic by a weirdo fan vs any official Zelda comic. XDDD Which wouldn't allow 90% of what's in this comic I'm sure haha.

Also reasonable train of thought thought Shadow buddy about reverting back into a shadow. What a terrifying thought.

Aw Link's being sweet and- TRIFORCE

Yeah Shadow's sweating bullets considering uh the little fact Ganon said "Here catch, you're evil triforce of power man now"

Takes Link a second to remember back on that convo Shadow and Vio had about the triforce in the flashbacks. PG 179-182 ish if you're curious on brushing up on that.

Oh hi Vio.

I don't think a lot of people caught that this was Vio's design from FS. Which is why Shadow was SO DISTURBED to see him like that. Link's very all over the place mentally and it's showing with his appearance. He's unstable as all hell right now.

Blue chiming in with "Wait a damn minute" remembering Zelda ALSO has the Triforce on her hand.

Vio and Red are being obtuse/ignorant while Blue and Green know smth's up and are getting pissy about it.

Which just makes Link: All over the damn spectrum of emotion about this right now haha.

I'd get tonal whiplash too Shadow.

Link going down the list of things he thought Shadow would want haha.

and Shadow's gay lil confession that all he really wants is Link is sweet.

I mean what else does he have to strive for? He gave up on a lot of his old dreams as pointless after becoming apart of the endless cycle of hatred.

It's noteworthy that Link's outfit glitches to black again.

The line "Which you" was a very fun one to come up with. Because it just, hits ya.

Link isn't one entity. He's multiple. And he literally can't tell who Shadow's talking to in that moment. Because the underlying assumption (To Link and this will become obvious) is that Shadow really only cares about Vio.

All of last night is probably a complete blur/emotional whiplash around Shadow For Link.

Shadow threw a sword at Blue and was VERY hostile, was ALL OVER THE PLACE emotionally with Green mostly being bitter as hell, didn't really acknowledge red and Vio had a complete meltdown over his guilt surrounding Shadow and their friendship and relationship as a whole was all over the place.

Cram that all back together and what is Link supposed to take away from all that. Overall dude had a net negative experience with Shadow and now he's telling him he wants him?

I'd be confused as hell too.

Hi Zelda.

Safe to say that was inevitable given how badly Link was bugging out this entire time.

He couldn't handle seeing Zelda haha.

I don't think people caught Vio is just in his "headspace" outfit. Except it isn't pastel color palette.

Panic attack, featuring Blue. He was the most vocally insistent they draw the sword, was activly trying to force his way out of Link's mish mash body during that whole ordeal. The main take away is that: He HATES being In Link and that was just about the worst nightmare come to life for him.

He doesn't even want Red to touch him, which considering the way it's all but stated Link's magical body is just their bodies pressed together into one form makes the angle that they're all LITERALLY touching each other that much more...ehhh disturbing.

It's okay guys he just needs a minute alone-

Hah. Everyone's leaving you Vio. Doesn't press on the ol anxieties or anything.

Doesn't make it easy for a certain someone to come visit you.

Vio's insecurities focusing around being ALONE and himself are smth that's been fun.

He mainly wants to be Link out of pure selfishness and self hatred. Link is an escape from his own accountability, a way for him to keep himself in check. While Blue finds it to be an outright prison.

Everything Dark is saying about here Vio could also be applied to himself and even Dark says that. He looks miserable while saying it too since Vio's problems are starting to hit a lot closer to home.

At least we got Shadow to yank Vio out of his funk. But Dark has no one to do that for him.

Shadow petting Vio's face here while in a headlock is just, funny to me. Shadow can't affection properly at all lmfao.

But hey he knows when our lil buddy is active. Oops.

Oh the fun they have together alright. 😏

It'll be a real wet and fun time-

What the hell Dark is talking about is left pretty open for now.

But he is getting sick of just sad reactions to what he says.

He's nervous when faced with women. Same bro.

Green and Shadow begging for help on wtf to do with their new squid monster is pretty hilarious to me.

Vio's being perceptive.

"IT IS!?" yeah red. And if you were an interesting character I'd write you doing things. :D

HAH. TRAUMA. DARK LINK RELATED TRAUMA.

Surely that won't bite us in the ass later or anything...

Vio's outfit is very covered up because he's emotionally closed off yada yads I've mentioned this before.

This hasn't been brought up in the comic but Green is afraid of tentacles lmfao so his fear at Dark rn is warranted.

Shadow blatantly not caring what Dark is doing rn because he's busy

Zelda notices right away that Dark defied vaati which must have been weird for her in real time hah.

Shadow's instant response to what to do with Dark is "Murder"

Nice to see you've grown so much shadow lmfao.

Notice how Link being around isn't even the thinly vailed excuse dude just doesn't like Dark Link lmfao. Most of what he said to Dark last night imo was pure projection and again: Not because he cared about Dark. But now he feels like they have an easy to to get rid of him via Zelda. Doesn't have to confront weird feelings if the guy is gone ooomf.

Zelda isn't outright apposed to getting rid of Dark Link but is like "Uhh...But what about link tho-"

Shadow noticed his hair change.

I'm sure he noticed earlier, it's right in his eye sight but background detail of him actually looking at it like "Wtf?"

Also fun pressure to put on Green when he's strung out to shit rn.

HI DARK LINK! :D

Uhhhhhh. Okay then.

So Green's got murder trauma.

He's also just sick of the responsibilities piling on him like a crushing weight.

There's smth to be said about how Dark isn't a murderer so, doesn't have blood around his feet haha visual metaphores haha.

So clarity: Link as a whole person murdered the people who killed his father. And Vio and Green were the ones who had main control in that moment.

Hope that clears some stuff up.

Dark finds this shit hilarious because he's sadistic but Green snaps out of the panic to realize THIS GUY IS DARK LINK.

The moment Green switches from his helpless attire into his current fit was very fun emotionally cause this was the first time someone had ANY amount of control when facing Dark Link. (Excluding Shadow I suppose, in terms of the colors anyway)

Green being a badass is just smth I enjoy and the "Oh shit moment" was very fun to watch people react to haha.

Dark was so excited when seeing Green acknowledge him.

It really goes to show all of his "Nyeh you're such a shitty person" talk is literally not even his own opinion when it comes to the four colors. He's literally just repeating their insecurities and nothing else. Those words have NO BITE to them because Dark doesn't even believe it.

He's so excited to see Green because Green's the ONLY PERSON Who's truly acknowledged him in the head space.

Dark being so overwhelmed with joy he vomits.

Dark really doesn't have a lot of emotional regulation emotionally or physically. Like. The idea here is he's just, so excited he literally physically cannot handle that shit haha. I made a shitpost about it once but it's kinda just, accurate. XD

Green's like "Wtf is wrong with you"

because this isn't ANYTHING he thought he'd be dealing with considering how Shadow was acting/talking about him lmfao.

He was expecting Shadow 2.0 and got...This guy.

Guy who apologizes when acting goofy as shit

Guy who is excited to see him overjoyed even...After utterly destroying him not 2 seconds ago.

Just. A silly. Goofy guy.

It is fun to have Dark switch IMEDIATELY to depressed as hell thinking about how he's been so alone.

I would really describe Dark's excitement here as pure mania. because at the root Dark is a depressed individual.

Dark gives no shits when faced with death.

No begging or pleading for his life just "idk do what you want to I don't care"

Which, Dark Link's lack of care for his own personal safety has been shown off before and will only be a continued trend.

At the end of the day it shows a clear lack of self respect or care for himself.

Dark doesn't value himself.

Green's mercy here is rooted in his own selfishness.

He doesn't WANT to kill Dark Link because he doesn't want to hurt people. Which him and Vio did.

Green is ALSO very exhausted. And what you get is two individuals who would typically be at each other's throats, who aren't interested in fighting each other because they're just so worn out. The drive just isn't there.

Which leads them to being able to actually talk to each other in a meaningful way. And I just find that interesting.

Under different circumstances, these two very well could have fought here. XD

[bettsfic]

Hi Betts! <3 Can you tell us more about your craft process on how you pick a voice for a piece? I usually start plotting a story when I see or read something that makes me think, "That. That's what I want." But often I struggle to translate that feeling into a particular narration style, especially something that feels doable for more than 20k.

ah, you've touched on the most important and most difficult-to-articulate part of my writing process.

so first i want to say that you never *have* to change your voice or style. i would say most writers basically only use one voice, theirs, and they stick to it. if you're happy with the way you're writing, don't feel obligated to switch it up because you think you have to have major variation in that regard.

however, voice is pretty integral to my writing. if i can grasp the voice of a character, i know everything about them. there's minimal conscious invention in my characters. they have a voice and therefore they exist more or less fully formed, and could become the protagonist or narrator of their own story. in fact this sometimes bites me in the ass, because when i find a new character, i always want to switch into their POV. and that makes whatever i'm working on longer and more complicated, when i'm trying to keep it short and simple.

when i say "voice" i don't mean it as some fancy craft term. i mean i can actually hear their voice in my head. that's something they don't put in the welcome packet when you get diagnosed with a psychotic disorder. a lot of people assume "hearing voices" means audio hallucinations, but it can actually just mean harboring the inner monologue of other people in your head, knowing it's nothing more than cognitive ventriloquism. if you have this capability, congratulations. you have a mild positive psychotic symptom extremely conducive to creativity. if you don't, a lot of what i'm saying probably doesn't make any sense.

there's a lot of overlap between high creative output and what i call diet coke psychosis. as in, you may have all the flavor of a psychotic disorder (creativity!) and none of the calories (the agonies).

so how do i find new voices? actors.

when i binge the filmography of an actor, it's to appease an obsession, yes, but there's also a creative practicality to it, in that they can often serve as the foundation of a new voice. it usually begins with simple facecasting (which is another thing not everyone does), but often morphs a step beyond that, where you have the actor's real voice playing a character you've created. and then that, after months or years or tens of thousands of words, eventually develops into a whole-ass new person. and once you have that, you can add that voice to your roster and toss them into other stories.

in addition to filmographies, i also binge actor interviews. seasoned actors have developed a persona, so they have an ample filmography but their interviews are less useful. but actors who are fairly new and don't have many titles under their belt yet have no idea how to be famous, and that's where the gold is.

i also owe a lot to gimmick interviews like when actors have to answer questions while being attacked by puppies. no one can maintain a persona when puppies are crawling all over them.

you know how when you're around someone long enough you can pick up their mannerisms? and you know how sometimes you can daydream about being interviewed for no apparent reason? my process of finding a voice is a combination of those things. maybe i'm making it more complicated than it is. maybe it's more common than i'm giving it credit for. but it's very difficult to consciously describe unconscious processes.

a lot of writers base characters off of people they know. i actively try not to do that, not because i think it's wrong but because it's going to happen anyway, and if i push that instinct away, what bleeds in is what i can't keep out, and what i can't keep out is what needs to be there. so every voice is an actor playing the character of someone who was once very dear to me. (i almost never create characters based on people actively in my life.)

and, of course, i have to put a piece of myself in each character too. i have to find some personal connection, usually a question i have about myself and my life that i think only they can answer through the course of their journey. i have to be curious about them. what do we have in common? what don't we have in common?

as to your question about sustainability over 20k, one challenge i've given myself these past couple years is the way a character changes and develops over decades or maybe their entire life. a voice doesn't always have to be consistent, especially if your story takes place over a long time. in some cases whatever a voice turns into over the course of a story is just the way it needs to be, but sometimes you have to pull a "he wouldn't fucking say that" and go back to shuffle sentences around a bit.

i also think a lot of what i'm saying applies mostly to dialogue and first person. i consider first person basically a very long monologue, whereas i think third person i think has a lot more elasticity, and you can move around more easily in the closeness and distance of narration. i think that elasticity is what makes third person more comfortable for a lot of writers.

voice is a big thing deployed in a little way. it's the difference between "don't have" and "haven't got." it's whether they're more conducive to ending thoughts with a hard stop or connecting them with "and." but it's also in the lies they tell themselves to get by, and what they think the conflict is versus what the conflict really is, and maybe what they're trying to persuade us of. a voice is inherently rhetorical.

i hope some of this makes sense. and because this has gotten long, i've provided some examples from my novel in progress, rabbit's blood, under the cut!

i open the novel in third omniscient, which i absolutely hated because it's antithetical to everything i've described here, but it got the job done. whether i'll keep it through to later drafts remains to be seen.

On November 9, 1951, Mary Mills goes into labor. Her husband Duke is not present. She hasn’t seen him since she announced to him that she was pregnant with twins. In Duke’s stead, her oldest son Wyatt, four years old, waits at her bedside to meet his brothers. Wise beyond his years, he understood immediately that his father had abandoned them. After these past several months watching his mother’s grief and fear and anger rise as she slowly came to accept the truth, he vows now to dedicate his life to doing the right thing.

after this, the twins are born, skip and birdie. in subsequent chapters, we move into first person.

here's birdie at 60ish years old in the present. he's spent the past 10 years driving around the country robbing banks with his daughter mel.

It took us a long time to realize robbing tellers was a stupid idea. Tellers only ever have a couple thousand in their drawers. Not even worth it to go in guns blazing, get all the money from all the drawers and hold everybody hostage until the vault opens. One, that’s mean. Two, the vault might not have much either. On a bad day, you’ll walk away with ten, twenty grand, meanwhile half a dozen people are going to be traumatized for life, and if you get caught, your ass is in jail for a minimum of seven years. The government doesn’t give a fuck about banks losing money, but they get real angry when you put a gun in somebody’s face. That is, unless they’re the ones who gave it to you.

here's birdie reflecting on the past and falling in love with mel's mother, anita.

I’d gotten good at following her orders, so when she said, “Kiss me,” I said, “Yes, ma’am,” and I did. It was sweet at first, which made me think she was shy, that maybe this was her first kiss, but that didn’t last long. Passion wasn’t something I’d ever associated with myself and definitely didn’t associate with her, but we brought it out in each other alongside all the other dark and wild things.

this is birdie's son johnny reflecting on how much he hates his father. he's 30ish in the present timeline.

For my entire life my father had a goatee like the devil and blond hair that had turned mostly white by the time he was forty. He was thin, wiry, had the defensive posture of a surly teenager smoking outside of school. Mom, Mel, and I all looked alike, but Birdie looked like some guy who’d just wandered into our house.

and here's mel, also 30s, in the present. birdie has decided to part ways with her and this is the aftermath, where mel hooks up with a showgirl and takes her to breakfast the next morning.

Sara and I have breakfast at the Denny’s on the Strip which is maybe my favorite Denny’s in the country, and that’s saying something. I ask her lots of questions about microbiology, and to be polite she asks me some questions too, about my occupation and where I’m from and all that, but I evade them because she’s not really interested in my answers and I’m not interested in giving them. She’s twenty or twenty-two or something like that and that means she just wants to be the center of somebody’s attention, somebody she thinks is bigger than her, and that’s something I can offer. 

some things to note:

in the first excerpt, you'll notice a lack of contractions. that's because it's just my voice and i don't use a lot of contractions. because neurodivergence i guess, i don't know. there's also a higher register here, which you can tell by the variation of the sentences and the position of the clauses.

i based birdie off my father but birdie's voice isn't my dad's voice. that said, my dad was a habitual lecturer and so birdie is prone to Explaining Things. he also lobs off subjects of sentences sometimes and because he's spent his life running from the law, he's somewhat defensive and that comes out in a kind of aura of persuasion.

he's much more forthright when reflecting, and i think that can be found in the facts he's putting down over the opinions he offers in the present. when reflecting, he's much more vulnerable.

as far as johnny goes, i'm still working on him. i dragged him over from a different project and i'm reworking him. in the other project, he was extremely jaded and cold, and his narration style was direct and somewhat distant. some of that will carry over, but i also want to make him slightly more pathetic and immature.

mel is very reluctant to end sentences, so i try to keep them going for as long as i can. she also rambles, has a good sense of humor, and is extremely intelligent.

okay i've worked way way way too long on this, so i'm just going to hit post and hope it offers a little insight. also, happy to talk more about rabbit's blood and my process of writing it if anyone is interested.

[kidgillis]

I'm struggling to find the right words to articulate how I feel. It seems I have been engulfed by so many emotions that I am now numb to anything but still feeling everything. I am okay, but I am not okay at the same time. It's a weird problem. It is far too complex for me to wrap my head around. However, I know this too shall pass, just like before. When it rains, it pours. Yet, I'm still grateful for what the water does, because everything frozen in this moment will thaw out its ice after a while. So, I'm just going to wait this out patiently. And, hopefully, my flow will continue to ebb consistently into a beautiful river of the unknown after that.