#i don't so much hold myself accountable as I pretend others are holding me accountable for imaginary things

[aflockofravens]

@ellionwrites

I just had the MOST diabolical thought for an Itafushi AU that immediately made me cry thinking about it.

Despite everything I need to do today AND all the other unfinished fics I have, I wanna drop it all to write this.

If this post gets even 1 note I'm doing it

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Toothache

How does one go "You're Too Sweet For Me" to "My Baby's Sweet As Can Be"?

Synopsis: Simon Riley finds himself stuck in a situation, growing feelings for his roommate who's so annoyingly caring, domestic, sweet and too good for him. What happens when he let's himself indulge in the sweetness rather than cage himself in the bitter life he's been told is the only one he's deserving of and the only life he's known?

Apologies to this mess of a lyricfic, I couldn't help it even though this was supposed to be a relationship analysis..

MEN WRITTEN BY ANA HUANG ARE GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME. Alright back to our original programmed schedule with Hozier. ALSO SURPRISE! THIS CONTAINS 3 HOZIER SONGS as an apology for not posting these past two weeks due to me enjoying holidays, reading, prom dress picking and wanting to stab myself because of life, there's the added bonus 👀

My CoD Masterlist

My Simon Riley x You Playlist

Also reader in this one had a lot of characterization, she's me fr, so AFAB?Reader, Fem!Reader, Short!Reader, Reader is VERY feminine with fashion, soft-girl-sunshine!Reader and Chubby?Reader. Y'all have no idea how hard it is to write without a personality and physical intimacy in romance, I tried but failed 😭

Warnings and Disclaimers: Mentions and details on sexual content ahead (is this considered smut? Idk anymore). Not detailed smut but vivid memories of sexual intercourse (especially the dialogue) with Simon. Again, this is a safe account for all ages because I'm not a MDNI acc, you are responsible for your own media consumption. DO NOT GO ON MY DMS, INBOX OR REPLY TO MY CONTENT TO TELL ME YOUR AGE. I don't need to know that and let's strive to not make each other uncomfortable. Mentions of questioning of religion or rather belief on afterlife??

Pink, bold and italic: Lyrics

Italic: recalling past events

Little snippet of an image of how I imagined he'd hold you, courtesy of the one and only @ave661

"It can't be said I'm an early bird, it's 10 o'clock before I say a word. Baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?"

Simon Riley was never a man to live the life he was taught to in the military, it was out of habit for him to not leave his room until around noon. Then there was you, his roommate, he didn't exactly calculate how much it would affect his personal life to save money through rent by willingly letting someone within the same living space.

He'd find himself with not even a wink of sleep, hearing your footsteps through the thin walls, hearing the lock on the windows outside click open.

"You kept telling me to live right, to go to bed before the daylight. But then you wake up from the sunrise."

He'd always hear you, quite frankly it was like nagging on the constant.

"Simon you shouldn't do that, you'll hurt yourself"

"Simon please go get some rest"

"Simon.."

He'd swear he'd rip his own ears out every time his name falls from your lips from how sweet and chirpy it sounded and yet deafening silence would consume him whenever you aren't around.

"You don't gotta pretended, Baby, now and then. Don't you just wanna wake up dark as a lake? Smellin' lika bonfire, lost in the haze?"

Something about you makes it so tempting for Simon to give in, I mean it would be a one time thing, wouldn't it? So soft, so pliant, he set himself up for an addiction. It wasn't healthy, he knew this, he'd convince himself of the fact that he would end up hurting you.

Just too different, it repeated like a mantra in his head. He was bitter, brooding and didn't find any sense of pleasure in living. Why'd you think he has the job he chose? It's all he knew, till you skip your way into his life, giving him the sweetness he was deprived of.

"If you're drunk on life babe, I think it's great. But while in this world, I think I'll take my whiskey neat"

Drowning himself in alcohol, a trait Simon promised himself he wouldn't ever do when he was young, setting his glass down with a small thud from the wooden table. But what would the kid version of him know about life. He didn't have healthier options of coping with what seems to be his dilemma.

But then there you were, sweet little thing coming home at the late hour in that skimpy dress of yours. Revealing too much to the eyes of those who wish to have you for themselves with just one look. Where did you go that night?

"My coffee black in my bed at three, you're too sweet for me"

Desperately trying to keep himself awake and at bay from his thoughts of you. Drowning himself in now two cups of straight black coffee to help him focus.

It was odd, you got used to the scent, was strong with a lack of sweetness but it calmed you down knowing he was around.

How he'd corrupt you, he wanted to shatter that rose tinted glasses of yours to save you from himself because being with him would change you. Selfish but he doesn't want that, you were utter perfection..

Simon further delved into his feelings, what the fuck was wrong with him?

"I aim low. I aim true, and the ground's where I go. I work late where I'm free from the phone and the job gets done"

Grumbling, Simon walks back into the apartment in the middle of the night. You heard a thud, you come out of your bedroom, yawing from you incomplete sleep.

"Si..? Are you hurt? What happened?" You asked in a soft tone, careful not to agitate someone would could possibly be pissed off.

Simon stays silent, glaring at you as his eyes was only thing visible because of his balaclava. Your soft gaze intimidated him, because why would he feel that squeeze in his heart?

"But you worry some, I know but who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate. The rest of you like you're the TSA, I wish I could go along Babe, don't get me wrong..."

The only thing Simon heard was a sigh from you and nothing more, you walk up to him, each footstep feeling louder than that last.

Something Simon didn't expect you to do was wrap you arms around his waist, tiny thing you are that your head only goes up to his chest. Your body against his, basking in the warmth in contrast to the cold weather he had to deal with coming home.

"You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. If you can sit in a barrel maybe I'll wait, until that day.."

You took care of him that night, to his reluctance and stubbornness. Despite refusing, he had no choice, he wouldn't want a soft thing like you on his ear the whole night till he agrees. You were persuasive in your own irritating way.

Sitting on the edge of the tub of the warm bath he's in, washcloth in hand. Touch was so gentle, why was it so soft? Why's it so warm? "It's the water you fucking idiot" his subconscious screaming at him. In denial.

Why is his heart beating so fast..? He wants to stab it to stop the feeling..

"I'd rather take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three. You're too sweet for me"

Using both your hands this time around, one gently holding his chin with your fingers while the other wiping away at the eyeblack he had. Every scar on his face felt the graze of your finger.

The slow blinks, your eyes on his. Before any conscious thoughts consume Simon, he lifts his arms from the warm water and wraps them around you.

Your nightgown was now damp but you couldn't care less, now with the man you were pinning over, foreheads against the other.

"Si.." you softly whisper. That nickname will be the death of him, you'll be the death of him. He crashes his lips on yours, not wanting to let go till you both were panting. You were too fucking sweet, your lips, your skin, everything. He wanted a taste and he got it...

"My lover's got humor, she's the giggle at a funeral. Knows everybody's disapproval, I should've worshiped her sooner"

Another sleepless night wasn't uncommon for someone like Simon.. however this aching feeling wasn't, he doesn't know where it's from or what it's about. Not until he heard you in the kitchen, letting out a giggle even though you knew better.

"If the Heavens ever did speak, She's the last true mouthpiece. Every Sunday's getting more bleak. A fresh poison each week "We were born sick"

That sweet fucking voice, like the angels speaking to him themselves. "Oh- I'm sorry Si, did I wake you up?" You asked, turning around to the sound of his footsteps.

That tiny nightdress of yours, a reminder of the night you spent together, that morning you slept in his bed.

Lashes beautifully displayed on the delicate skin of your under eyes. Soft noises while your chest was peacefully moving up and down with every breath.

"She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom". The only Heaven I'll be sent to, is when I'm alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well. A, Amen, Amen, Amen"

"Simon.. Ahh~" you moan out softly, your body writhing underneath him. It felt hot, sweaty despite the well ventilated room, so intimate from something that was supposed to be the farthest thing from domestic.

"Shhh, you can take it sunshine.. You don't want the neighbors to hear us, do you?" Simon whispers, callous hand covering your mouth with as little pressure possible, you whimper at his words.

Closing your eyes to lose yourself in the pleasure you've never felt before. Your body being worshiped with gentle hands and soft kisses that leave marks by the very same man who kept distancing himself from you, now he'd stop at nothing for your pleasure.

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life."

"Simon.. no more–" you whined. Scratching his back hard enough to leave marks without being aware, he'd always imagine what those pretty pink nails could do to him.

"Just one more, please sunshine.. you remember our safe word right?" Simon asks for you to nod softly, you didn't have energy to take anymore. "I told you I'll make you feel good, didn't I? So be a good girl for me and take it, hmm?"

Your eyes roll back at his praise, your legs shake with one after another wave of pleasure running through your body. This man was starved.. insatiable.. who would be able to resist such a request? Not you.

"If I'm a pagan of the good times, my lover's the sunlight to keep the Goddess on my side. She demands a sacrifice, drain the whole sea, get something shiny"

It took everything in Simon not to worship the ground you walked on that night, he wasn't trying very hard, was he? Because always.. at the end of the night, you're in his bed, his mind, his life.

Was it really a sin? To want something you don't deserve? Simon stayed up that whole night, not a wink of sleep while thinking of whether this arrangement should continue. Every bone and organ in his body telling him to be selfish, take what was something that wasn't his to take.

"Something meaty for the main course, that's a fine looking high horse. What you got in the stable? We've a lot of starving faithful that looks tasty, that looks plenty, this is hungry work"

Simon's gaze, never faltering on your sleeping figure that he refuses to go anywhere but his own arms. He tries to close his eye to compose himself, free himself from the emotions you emit from him.

His efforts were to no use, all he saw was the image of you, sweetly smiling, those doe eye staring right through his soul.

"No masters or kings when the ritual begins. There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin In the madness, in the soil of that sad earthly scene. Only then I am human, only then I am clean"

You were getting too close for your own good, Simon knew that, he'll be damned if he let's himself hurt you. So he does what any stupid man would do, avoid you like the plague. Did it mean nothing? Were you just some fling, never to be talked about again?

Fuck you Simon Riley, he made you feel loved in bed like no man ever has or ever will, completely ruining your chance of ever thinking of anything else and that was just a hook-up session? Maybe this one time you can let yourself be delusional, was there really something more? Only one way to find out.

"Oh, oh, Amen, Amen, Amen, Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life"

You caught him, fucking finally, after days of waiting and trying to get him at the perfect time. "Si.." you whispered softly, you didn't know where to start. He took a quick glance at you before looking back at what he was doing.

"Simon Riley, don't fucking ignore me. Not after everything that happened those nights" You said, it was stern but he needed to hear it. It made him stop, think about what had happened.

Before he could generate a response, "Why?" You asked. It was a vague question, why was he ignoring you? Why does he feel this way? Why does he love you yet refuse to act on it?

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life.."

"You don't deserve a man like me, you deserve one who is like you, optimistic, sweet, fucking beautiful and alive.. A man who's not damaged, scarred, has blood on his hands and haunted by his past. A man who's not afraid to show his love for you. A man who won't put his burdens on your shoulders and a man who will take care of you instead of the other way around. That's what you deserve and I can't give that"

Everything felt like it came to a stop, were you hearing that right?

"You have no idea how much you contradict yourself, Si. How are you so sure that you haven't given those things to me already? You might not be like me but "like me" isn't what I want.. I want you, every flaw, every beautiful scar. Not once before your silent treatment have you hurt me, it's frustrating yes, but you are worthy of that. Every struggle, frustration and mistake, every bit of your love is worth all of that. I want you to see that Si, your actual true worth rather than what some psychotic fucker decided to torture you with"

"Boys, workin' on empty. Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? I just think about my baby, I'm so full of love I could barely eat"

"Si?"

"Yes, Sunshine?"

"I love you" You whispered after smothering him in a plethora of kisses. Never has anything made Simon melt more in his life than his wife say that. Doesn't matter how long it's been, how much the both of you have been through or how much frustration the both of you were going through..

It will always stay the same, the feeling those three words give him, like the first time, every moment feels that way. Familiar, finally.. Home.

"There's nothing sweeter than my baby I'd never want once from the cherry tree. 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be, she give me toothaches just from kissin' me"

He always thought about how unfaithfulness was such a struggle between some people, he thought about how good he has it constantly, reflecting back on what he used to have to how now this is something he never thought he'd have or deserve.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

When a man finds himself in the verge of embracing death's arms, what causes the struggle? What causes him to fight that pain, to keep on going? Not once has this crossed Ghost's mind.

No. He's not Ghost, he's Simon. Your Simon.

And you're expecting your Simon home, fuck everything else, he'll give the biggest "fuck you" to death itself and crawl home to you because he'll be damned and he'll experience everything he has in his life over and over again just to hold you again.

"Boys, when my baby found me I was three days on a drunken sin, I woke with her walls around me. Nothin' in her room but an empty crib and I was burnin' up a fever I didn't care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her. She never asked me once about the wrong I did."

It should matter, the amount of blood on his hands. Not once did you judge him for it, what the fuck was wrong with you? Giving a monster such as him a bath like he was some innocent stray kitten, although this time around it was far more messy. The dried blood caked underneath his finger nails.

Flashing him a tired smile while you wiped off the blood that made the water in the tub a hue of brownish-red. Taking your hand in his, his lips brushing against your knuckles. The way you looked at him was enough to make him cry.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

"Fucking get up" Simon repeats to himself, "She needs you, she loves you" despite how many times he's convinced himself you didn't due to the voice of his father in his head, it felt like a knife twisting in his heart imagining how it would be for you without him.

How much you cried the night he came home a day later, you told him yourself, practically sobbing while clutching your aching chest and him with your other arm how you weren't ready for Price to show up at your doorsteps holding Simon's belongings.

He won't let that happen.. he can't...

"My babe would never fret none, about what my hands and my body done. If the Lord don't forgive me, I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me"

Simon knew it, no one would ever love him like you do. No one would show him the same acceptance, devotion, care, concern and love. It wasn't healthy to be so attached dependently to someone in love.

He couldn't help it, it felt so right, everything with you did. Never a judgmental one, at least towards him. Always first to hold him, the first to ever take away the heavy guilt that weighed his heart and shoulders down after he'd done something he knows he'll go to hell for, if it's even real

"When I was kissing on my baby and she put her love down soft and sweet In the low lamplight I was free. Heaven and hell were words to me"

Every inch was kissed, not a part wasn't worshiped. "So fuckin' beautiful, so sweet. All for me, hmm?" Simon mumbled against your skin, suckling on the soft sweetness that he so claims. All hickeys, no bruises.

Fuck, he'd not just survive but thrive on just you. No other sustenance, your supple thighs he adores to cover in purple, your neck, your lips and your skin that he often compares to sugar syrup in his head.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her"

The question was, was it worth it to live an eternity of lifetimes filled with suffer to be with you in at least once? The only answer to ever graze Simon Riley's lips was the word "yes", the day that changes is the day that he'd be the biggest bull-shiter the world has ever known.

Simon opened the door to your shared home, "Daddy!" A loud squeal wakes him up from his dread of what he's seen on the field.

"How's my little sunshine been? 'Ave you been good to your momma while I was gone?" Simon asked, carrying the little girl in his arms.

"Yes! Momma said we'd go to the park tomorrow as a reward for me helping out!" Little one saying it so proudly, Simon couldn't help but smile, beaming with pride as his little girl grows up to be what he recognizes as a good person.

"Simon..? You're finally home, I missed you so much" You said, peeking out the laundry room. You walked out, quick to give him a peck on the lips.

"I love you Si.."

"I love you too Sunshine"

Also this is a very long fic.. I expect long feedback.. @connorsui 👀

Does this make sense? Idk anymore it's like almost midnight and I'm running on a few hours of sleep. GOD MY PROM DRESS LOOKS SO GOOD, I CAN'T WAIT.

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thelightdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @fawnchives @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

Trying out new dividers as well by @anitalenia

[furiousgoldfish]

When people hear stories about abuse, they often get fascinated and interested in the abuser, and the 'mystery' behind their behaviour. They'll want to analyze what happened to this person to make them act in such twisted and sadistic ways, and they want to find the past event or past abuse that would 'explain it all'. Abusers will also, very happily recount the past abuse whenever it's time to explain away their behaviour, so nobody could hold them accountable, because after all, they had had it rough! Of course they're now abusive, it's only natural.

Fascination with explaining away abuser's behaviour often leaves victim's situation forgotten and ignored. Victims are supposed to just 'get over it', not be so sensitive, and be careful to not turn into abusers themselves, because after all, being abused means you become an abuser, according to the abuser. Except it doesn't, and victims often don't end up abusing anyone else, especially not in the horrific ways they themselves have been abused. So we're having two opposing stories: one is told by the abuser, and it's easy, simple, explains everything away, and it says, abuse causes future abusers, I am the proof, I was abused and now I am like this. Victim's story goes: I was abused, and now I struggle to function, I have cptsd, I have flashbacks, nightmares, panic attacks, anxiety, eating disorder. I struggle with suicidal feelings and wishing I didn't exist. I feel like I'm not important at all in this world and like I have no community, no family, no home. Failure of everyone to help me while I was being abused caused me to feel like an outcast from society, someone who isn't a part of it, who doesn't matter. I would never do this to another person, I feel like a part of me was torn away into pieces and I struggle to put myself back together.

Now that story is complex, it implicates the society in failing to stop the abuse and making the victim's life worse, it showcases the actual consequences of abuse, which are not 'becoming evil', but feeling ultimately traumatized and damaged, struggling to find joy and happiness in life in the aftermath. Society doesn't want to hear that; it makes abuse into a problem that should collectively be dealt with, rather than pushing it all onto individuals who find themselves trapped in it and suffering. It's much easier to pretend that abuse just makes someone abusive, and for people who are abusive, we need to feel sorry for, because they were 'made to be like this', and for those abused, we just need to shame them and control them so they don't become abusive themselves.

There are abusers who have lived privileged lives, there are abusers who have been spoiled and rewarded for their acts of abuse. Most abusers don't show the symptoms of trauma nearly as bad as the victims of abuse do, they're most often just having the symptoms of 'I lash out my anger on those who cannot defend themselves' and 'everyone needs to feel sorry for me because I am having the roughest time on the planet'. Weird how the victims almost never develop these two symptoms! Victims will go and compare their situation to everyone who has it worse, and will struggle to express or direct anger at anything. 

So what is the actual source of abuse, if not past trauma? There's no study or statistics that can tell us that for sure, and abusers are careful to maintain their story and are not interested in being studied past what makes people feel bad for them. I would guess that it's a mix of entitlement, being in a position of power over someone vulnerable, never having to develop empathy or compassion, being rewarded continuously for acts of abuse, and social influence (admiring other abusers and wanting the power they have). A lot of social structures support and enable abuse of those who are at the very bottom of it, with very few protections against it. A lot of people believe it's their right to abuse someone if they have the power over that person, and gain power specifically for that cause. Abusers will have children and believe this is their property and they can do whatever they please with it, abuse being a part of it.

If we don't know where abuse comes from, how do we combat it? I don't believe in feeling sorry for the abusers or giving them endless attention, chances, excuses and rationalizations; instead I believe we should stand firm on the fact that abuse is inexcusable, and will have consequences, regardless of how it came into their behaviour. If abuse always had consequences, regardless of the history of the abuser, they would know they can't get away with it, that they can't later make everyone feel sorry for them and go on with their sob stories. Abuse would get them punished, not sympathized with.

I also believe the abuser's point of view should be decentralized; it should be victims who get to speak. It's easy for the abuser to show themselves in the positive light, minimizing the abuse, insisting the victim provoked or wanted it, that it wasn't that bad and it was done with 'best intentions'. But if we listened to victims, we would quickly understand that anyone who can do this to another person is monstrous, and should not be extended any sympathy. Abusers don't extend their sympathy to the victims when they abuse, so why should they expect to get it? Society should take abuse more seriously and put defenses into place, so abusers are not as easily able to put it behind closed doors. Resources for recognizing abuse, especially child abuse and intimate abuse, should be taught, spread and shared in society, so nobody would be able to convince another that suffering abuse is normal, or justified.

One of the biggest barriers to escaping abuse is victim confessing what's been happening to a trusted family member or a friend, and then this family member or a friend shaming and blaming them for it, instead of offering help and protection. It takes a lot of courage to even say something out loud, knowing the abuser would punish them for it, and then to be punished externally for speaking out, it's devastating. If abuse was taken seriously, and victims understood to be fault-free, but singled out, isolated and hurt in a way that nobody should be, and it was understood it's a societal responsibility to protect them against this, it would be easier to speak out, and get support. It often takes a society to help someone get free, because abusers are hell-bent on abusing once they start to, the victims need multiple barriers before abusers could get anywhere near them.

And why shouldn't we want that? If we know there are people in society such as children, young people, people without regular income, poor people, disabled people, compassionate people, marginalized people, people who struggle to recognize and flag down predators, shouldn't we want to make sure they're protected? That nothing bad happens to them, and they're free to live their lives safe from those who would do them continuous harm and make them want to die? We want our young, old, kind, vulnerable, sensitive, disabled, poor, compassionate and marginalized people safe and happy. There's no reason to throw them under the bus and leave them to suffer abuse.

[bluespiritshonour]

Edit: Part 1 | Part 2

Allow me to let y'all know how embarassed I am. I planned to post the entire thing i.n one go when it was done—but I had never made anything comic like save for the Azula-Zuko thing and I didn't realise how hard it was going to be.

So... I fucked up my back over this the past weekend—(then went to a botanical garden wearing heels because I didn't have any other option and now my feet are wrecked too—honestly, why are heels even a thing. First and last time I'd wear them I swear. I'd rather walk barefoot)—and this has triggered a sort of... art burnout for me, eh?

So I thought I'll just go ahead and post it. I initially thought it'd be six pages—boy did I underestimate it!

And don't worry, I'll complete it.

I've already poured so much sweat and blood into it—the only way to go is to complete it now. Plus, I already have several uncoloured pages, yknow, lineart and all done. (Let's pretend I don't go from sketch to colour and actually skip the lineart).

It'd take a while though.

So...uh...to be continued?

P.S.: because I'm evil: [rubs hands excitedly] we'd wait together until it's finished.

P.P.S.: no, seriously though. Posting it here so that I'll hold myself accountable.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias x Reader - Top Spies Part 6/8

18+

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️

*smut

*mature language

*nsfw

Ruben and Reader are super spies, who have to pretend to be a married couple on vacation as a co-signed mission. A enemies to lovers fic, very sweet and funny!

Enjoy!

What should we do, should we leave the Island?

"No."

"But Ruben...."

"A man dies and we leave the Island. Surely that would make us potential suspects, no?"

You were back at the villa. Ruben had you sit on the kitchen island as he cleaned the wound of your shoulder. It wasn't deep nor did it bleed much. The bullet had only caressed you. You were going to be fine.

"And we found no drugs. What are we going to tell Captain?"

"Nothing." Ruben grunted. He was gentle with his touch, stopping to pad your skin if you gave away the slightest wince. Although he was gentle he was also very angry and disappointed with himself. You took a huge risk tracking the submarine, let alone entering it, only to end up with no drugs and one casualty.

"How long will it take for Alejandro to notice that Fierro is gone?" You asked.

"He probably knows by now. Seems like the two of them were onto somthing big. Surley he would have wanted Fierro to report back to him by now."

"Yeah, what was he doing in the caves at the same time as us?"

"Probably inspecting the cargo load, making sure that the submarine was good to go anytime soon."

"But where is the drugs?" You frowned. " A load that big, where could they possibly hide it if not in a giant submarine?"

Ruben sighed as he put away the instruments he had used to stich up your wound. "My guess is that we were too late, that Alejandro and Fierro has already devided the drugs into more portable loads, shipping them off in smaller fleets in order to raise less suspicion."

You jumped as Ruben slammed his hand against the kitchen table.

"Ruben?"

"I could have lost you today, all because of my stupid obsession with submarines."

"Ruben please, don't say that."

"I'm so fucking stupid." He said, slamming his hand a second time.

You jumped off the kitchen island, stumbling on your uneven steps. However, Ruben was already by your side then.

"You have to rest." He said.

"So do you."

You looked him in the eyes. Beyond the deep brown was hurt and guilt. You could see right through him. If he could see through you he'd know how much you wanted to kiss him right now.

"Ruben you shouldn't beat yourself up. We were pretty aware of the risks we took entering that cave. What happened was simply a consequence of our own actions. Somthing we should be accountable for not guilty or anxious.

"Yeah, but I could have lost you today Y/N. I don't know what I would have done with myself if that ever happened?"

You were stunned for words. He tried to turn around and walk away but you grabbed a hold of his shirt, pulling him back to you.

"Ruben believe me, you won't lose me. Ever."

His gaze softened as he finally noticed the the expression on your face, your intense lust for his body and his soul.

He caught the back of your head, pressing your lips hard against his.

The sound of smacking lips filled the room as Ruben lifted you back onto the kitchen island, his lips never detaching from yours.

"Fuck." You sighed, as his mouth moved on to exploited your neck, his hands roaming freely down your body.

Ruben unhooked your bra and carefully draped your shirt over your head, tossing it in a corner somewhere. His eyes were big at the sight of your breast, spilling out in front of him like a swell of water.

He shook his head in disbelief "You're so beautiful, so fucking beautiful."

You pulled him back to you, making him strip and toss away his own shirt.

You kissed each other without the need to breath. You would rather die like this, sufficated by love.

Ruben fumbled with the belt to his pants. You were both so eager. But as your own pants came off Ruben stopped and stared at what was offered to him.

"What?" You asked, although we'll aware of the damped spot on your underwear. Your need for Ruben was no secret.

"Can I?" He begged, with a a hand already caressing your inner tigh.

"Yes, touch me. Do anything."

Ruben rested his forhead against yours, his hand slipping between the fabric of your panties.

"Fuck."

You threw your head back only for Ruben's lips to latch onto your neck. The pleasure was immense. The tip of Ruben's fingers made gentle circles around your twitching clit. His tongue licked across your sensitive skin as his free hand cupped the swell of you breast.

"Ruben please, your gonna make me come."

It was true, you were close.

"Come for me then. Be a good girl and come all over my hand."

Your eyes squinted as he moved on from your clit, entering you with two of his fingers.

You winced.

"Shit, is two fingers too much for you baby?"

You nodded. "But please keep going, don't ever stop."

His laughter drummed your ear, "As you wish baby, as you wish."

He pushed you to lay down, the islands marble surface cold against your back. Ruben's fingers pulled out of you and you whined.

"No."

"Ssshh. Be patient."

He bent down, kissing the center of your belly, moving on to kiss your inner thigh. Once his head was between your legs you closed your eyes with anticipation, only for Ruben to pull away after planting a soft kiss against your pussy lips.

You popped up on your elbows, a deep frown om your face. "Ruben stop teasing me and fuck me."

His grin was mischievous, as if frustrating you was exactly what he had intended to do.

"I want you to look at me when I fuck the shit of you." He said, one hand on his zipper.

Your chest rose with your heavy breathing. Ruben's erection could be seen through his pants, he was big, bigger than you had imagined.

"Like what you see?"

Ruben pulled himself out of his pants his cock now throbbing in his hand.

You raised your chin and spread your legs before him. "Fuck me now or watch me do it to myself."

His grin widened and you fell back against the kitchen island.

With a hand to your thigh he brought you forward. He used his other hand to throw your leg over his shoulder, making you sigh with the feel of him easing into your entrance. You took him raw, no condom. A problem for tomorrow, you thought, or in nine months. Right then and there you focused on the way Ruben shoved himself in and out of you, his strong hips knocking against yours.

"Fuck Y/N, you take me so well."

The praise definitely helped. It was really a challenge to be enough for him. Ruben seemed like he could go on and fuck you forever, whilst you were on the brink of losing with every stroke.

He let you come by a combination of his thumb rubbing your clit and his cock pumping in and out of you.

"Fuck." You cried.

"You did so well Y/N. You took me so well."

He let his erection falter inside of you, slowing down his strokes as he did. He then lifted your limb body off the counter and carried you towards your bedroom.

"I'm all sticky Ruben,  I have to shower." You said.

"No." Ruben plotted you down on his side of the bed. "You can shower tomorrow, now we rest." He said.

You did what you were told, letting Ruben bring your body to lay in a spoon with his warm mauscles pressed against your naked back.

"What are you thinking about?" You asked him, after some time spent in silent. Ruben's lips caressed your shoulders, that's how you knew that he was still awake.

"Why would Alejandro hire Andrés Fierro, a swindler?"

It was a good question. Andrés Fierro was a world known forgerer not a drug dealer.

"Maybe Alejandro needed help with forgery?"

"For what?"

"For hiding...."

A thought hit you, a thought that had never strucked you earlier.

"Oh my god Ruben!"

You sat up in bed.

"What is it?"

Ruben sat up too.

"I know where Alejandro is hiding the drugs."

"You do, where?"

"It's not about where, it's about how."

"How?" Ruben frowned.

"Andrés Fierro forge money, yes. But he has also forged paintings, sculptures, you name it he can forge it ."

Ruben frowned. "I'm not sure what you mean Y/N."

You rolled your eyes. "What would you ask to forge if you wanted to hide a crazy amount of drugs in a luxurious resort surrounded by a giant golf course?"

Ruben's eyes widened with the realization. "The golfballs! The drugs are in the golfballs!"

[nekoannie-chan]

How did we come to this?

How did we come to this?

Title: How did we come to this?

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 500 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Steve cheated on you and tried to fix it.

Major Tags: Break up, mention of cheating.

Additional tags: This is my entry for the @caplanbuckybarnes BrokenHearts4Caplan Challenge with the prompt:

“I was nothing to you. I was only a toy for you to manipulate and I fell for it.”

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate my work myself) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. Please let me know if you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @Smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @Harrysthiccthighss @Marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @Here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

The rain was pattering softly against the windows of the apartment; Steve was in the living room, standing by the couch, his eyes fixed on the floor. He had confessed what he never thought would come from his lips or happen. Sharon Carter. He had been with Sharon.

“How could you? “How could you do this to me, Steve?

He looked up slowly but was unable to find the right words. What could he say at this moment that didn't sound empty or hypocritical?

“It wasn't planned... “He started to say, but stopped himself, knowing how ridiculous he sounded.

“Planned? “you let out a bitter laugh, full of disdain. That doesn't matter, Steve. The fact is you did it. You cheated on me! And with Sharon, no less.

Steve tried to approach, but you backed away.

“You don't understand, Steve,” you continued. I loved you. I gave you all of me, the best of me, and... this is what I get in return? A betrayal?

“I'm sorry,” he murmured.

“I'm sorry isn't enough. Not after this.

Steve tried to approach again, but you took another step back, holding up a hand as a barrier.

“You know? “I was nothing to you. I was only a toy for you to manipulate and I fell for it.” I thought we were more than that, but I realize I was only a fool who fell for your games.

“ You are not a toy! You are so much more to me; you always have been. I made a mistake, I know, but that doesn't change how I feel about you.

“And what am I supposed to do now, Steve? “Pretend this never happened? Go back to trusting you like it's nothing?

Steve lowered his head, unable to answer. He knew he had ruined everything.

“I don't expect you to forgive me,” he admitted. But I love you, and I would do anything to make up for my mistake.

“What I felt for you...” you confessed, trying to hold back tears. I don't know if I can feel it again. Not after this.

Steve took a step closer, hoping to reach for your reader's hand, but you pulled back again.

“ I can't go through with this, Steve. I can't go on with you.

Steve took a step back, staring at you for a moment longer before slowly turning and walking toward the door. Just before leaving, Steve paused, his hand on the doorknob.

““If you ever... if you ever want to talk,” he said, without looking at her, “I'll be here. I'll always be here for you.

Without waiting for an answer, Steve left the apartment, closing the door softly behind him.

You plopped down on the couch, hugging your knees to his chest, letting the tears finally come out.

“How did we come to this? “you muttered to yourself.

You got up from the couch and walked slowly to your room.

You closed your eyes, letting your tiredness and sadness take over.

[meowmeowriley]

Anybody else see that art on Twitter of Soap as an Animal Crossing villager, and then the other art of that Soap sitting on Doom Guy Ghost's shoulder? Anybody else feeling so incredibly normal about it? Anyway. Have this.

***

"C'mon uncle John, would it kill you to smile? Pretend you wanna be here?" Soap was doing his best, he really was. He loved his nephew, and when his sister Isla said he couldn't go to the convention because it was too far away and he didn't have an adult, well what are uncles for?! But he hadn't taken into account that 1) he's never been to a cosplay convention and 2) he's seriously out of his depth when it comes to the colorful characters around them. If anyone asked he'd be mortified to admit that he'd spent the better part of his leave following his nephew around, taking pictures of him with characters from various video games and anime. No, he'd be keeping this experience to himself.

"I'm not not enjoying myself." Andrew rolled his eyes. "I just don't know any of the characters. I haven't played a video game in ages, and I've never watched anime." Plenty of other soldiers did watch anime, and there was nothing wrong with that, he'd just never joined in.

Andy snorted. "What was the last game you played, old man?" Soap resented that. He wasn't even thirty yet.

"I dunno, Halo maybe?"

"The original?!"

"Think so." Soap said with a shrug.

"So the year I was born. Got it." Yikes.

Suddenly Andy was excitedly pointing at a large man in green and gray armor, in the middle of a crown. "Oh you have to recognize that guy!" And did he ever. How could anyone not recognize Doom Guy? And he was holding the BFG.

"Ohhhohohoho yeah. I know Doom Guy." John had nearly forgotten how much he'd loved the Doom games as a kid. "And before you say it, those games are old, even for me."

"They redid the games in 2016 and 2020. It's relevant again." Oh. And with that Soap was once again being dragged toward some random person in a costume.

Something this guy was getting right was that he wasn't speaking. He'd nod, wave, aim his gun, but he didn't utter a word. Soap couldn't see a thing through the helmet visor. I wonder if he can even see outta that?

The guy caught sight of them, evidently he could see, and tilted his head while looking down at Soap. "That things pure dead brilliant." He found himself marveling at the BFG in the man's armored hands.

It looked like it was actually made of metal. And it actually glowed! How the man had gotten the green lights to work, he was dying to know. Trying to configure it in his head, he nearly missed when the man held it out slightly for him. "Can I?" He asked, just making sure. Oh he'd kill for something like this in the field. Pure devastation. Doom Guy nodded and John took the gun. Holding it, it was a hell of a lot lighter than he'd imagined. The fuck is this thing made of?

Andy popped up beside him. "Can we get a picture with you mate?" To that, Doom Guy nodded. Maybe Soap would tell people he'd been here, he wanted a picture of him holding this gun hung up at his desk.

Andy backed up, people kindly stayed out of the way as the picture was taken. Doom Guy posed, crossing his arms over his massive chest. Soap held the gun as best he could like he would a rifle. Not aimed at anyone, but ready. "We're good." Andy called. Doom Guy  held up his hand to stop him, then stuck out one finger and swirled his hand around. "Huh?" Andy thought for a moment. "Another?" Doom Guy nodded and gave a thumbs up. Really taking his character seriously. Who were they to deny him, this was cool as fuck. Soap readied himself to take the next picture, giving the camera a feral grin, just like the first, when Doom Guy placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned down.

"Enjoying the convention Johnny?" Startled at the use of his name that he knew he hadn't given the man, he whipped around, instinctively pointing the gun in his hands at the chest of the other man.

Then it dawned on him. "Ghost?!" He asked incredulously. There's no fucking way.

The man in question began laughing. He reached up and removed his helmet. Shaking his head, Ghost's messy, dark blonde hair flew in every direction.

Unlike Las Almas, he wasn't drenched in sweat, there was no grease paint, and light brown hair was longer and curled slightly. Shit he had freckles. Shit he was cute. Dangerous thoughts, John.

"I didn't think this was your kinda thing, Johnny." Ghost said with a crooked grin that perfectly framed his crooked teeth.

John was no saint. He'd been flirting with Ghost since they met. Secretly really wanted to have sex with him, but he'd only seen the man's face that one time, and now his mind was going a million kilometers an hour trying to take in every inch on display. Thoughts both pure and impure ran through his head, and the only thing that managed to make its way to his mouth was "Where'd you get this thing?" Normally he was a better flirt, but normally he was flirting with the visage of death. Not a pretty man with freckles. Well he was, but not really.

"I made it." Ghost shrugged, armor clacking as his shoulders rose and fell. "Same as the suit. It's all EVA foam and 3D printing."

"You made this?!"

"Yeah? I made my masks too. What, you think I bought those?" Ghost smirked.

Andy had jogged back over. "I took a video, so we could take screenshots." He handed the phone over to Ghost.

"I'm absolutely keeping this, Johnny." He said as he typed in his number and sent the video to himself. Damn, Andy got Ghost's number before he did.

"Johnny?"

"Shut it, Andy." He warned. "We work together. Never in a million years thought I'd see him out here though."

"I go to any convention I can make. It's fun. I have other suits. Isaac Clark from Deadspace, Master Chief from Halo. I like to wear them and make people smile. I don't get to do that often." He seemed lost in thought for a second, face darkening. Just as quickly as it had happened, the expression was gone. "You go to conventions often?"

"First one. But I could be persuaded to go to more." John smiled his best flirty smile. Andy snickered, and earned himself an elbow to the ribs.

***

Now I desperately wanna see Soap at a con dressed like Isabelle while holding the super shotgun.

[menlove]

hey there! i’ve very recently gotten into the beatles and have been exploring their history/lore in my spare time and accidentally spiraled down the mclennon rabbit hole. reading your posts has really got me interested but i’ll admit i’m a bit conflicted, so i hope you don’t mind me asking a genuine question; how do you reconcile john’s horrible behavior to cynthia/others while also shipping mclennon? (this is genuinely not from a place of malice, i’m already attached to mclennon myself but knowing john’s past has put me in a weird headspace about the whole thing and i don’t know what to do).

oh I get that. I've definitely been in a weird headspace about the whole thing before too. recently and then it's also part of why I deeply pretended I didn't still like the beatles after my first obsession as a kid

for me personally, I think there's several ways I come at it? (and disclaimer: this is as a fan who's already decided to interact w him/his work in a fannish way. I'm NOT saying any of this is necessary or that people who can't stand him are obligated to do these things. and that's not @ u anon, I've just gotten some odd responses any time I talk about this)

first one is just that he's already dead. not just dead, but brutally murdered. he was murdered when he was 40 and so the question is like.... what Else can really be done ykwim? like there's this sense in social justice circles that people must be made to Suffer for their actions and I'd say getting murdered is right up there

I'd also say another Big One for me is that it's not my place to forgive him or not forgive him or whatever. I never knew the man, his actions didn't impact me personally. but those that they Did impact (cynthia, yoko, may, paul to an extent, etc) still deeply love the man and Have forgiven him. which obviously isn't to say that means anyone else has to, but just that like. at the end of the day, if the people he hurt have moved on & view him in an overall positive light, I don't feel like. as bad about it?

I'm trying to explain this in a way that doesn't sound like I'm excusing anything, bc I'm really not. just that To Me the most important goals of holding famous abusive people accountable is a) justice for those they've harmed and b) letting their wallets feel the consequences of their actions by not giving money to their shit. both of these points are... pretty much null with john. he's dead, in one of the worst ways possible, and the people that he hurt aren't calling for any sort of action against him bc they've already forgiven him.

ultimately I think just like....... as long as you tread a lil carefully and keep it in mind it's... the damage was already done, the people he hurt have already moved on, and the man's already dead. writing about him fucking paul mccartney isn't going to Worsen anything. as long as we aren't like. denying that he was abusive Or trying to deify him.

and like I said, this is literally only about ppl who have Already chosen to still interact w him in any fannish way like you and I. I'm in no way demanding anyone else view it like this if they don't like him or the beatles bc of his actions

[ghastlybirdie]

I've been meaning to make a post like this for a very long time and I never know how to start it out but I'm going to wing it cause I dont know my admiration for random people on Tumblr dot com could be made into a pretty essay or something so... I will yap endlessly

Writer Recommendation Series cause I can't express how much I adore my favorite writers <3

Spotlight: @glossysoap

If any of you ever want to have a good friend, a laughing buddy, a bank heist pal? Get you Glossy cause they will ABSOLUTELY be there for you.

Glossy is such a good friend to me, at this point, both on Tumblr and off, theyre such a genuinely good person and I would actually blow up the moon for this beautiful person and I adore them both as a writer and as a person. Movie nights, screaming about fictional men, playing little games, and just venting like the girlies do (gn). Glossy is just a good, genuine person. Someone like that is hard to come by. Genuinely.

I interacted with Glossy like any other; liking and reblogging mostly and silently talking to myself in tags. Then I got brave and sent anon asks, all under the 🌻 anon tag and some, and soon after (literally like 4 days later) she called for the 🌻 anon and BOOM I came into dm's. It's history from there.

Whether it's hurt/comfort (mostly hurt, girl RtC hurts me to this day lmaooo), dark themes, plus size readers, nsfw scenes, Glossy is able to write it and keep me GLUED and I mean G L U E D!!

And Glossy is so interactive! It's not hard to talk with her, even from a regular Tumblr user! You can talk to her and she's so easy to get along with, naturally funny and honest. She reblogs such good posts, even mine even though I'm a little ol' lady, and she's so ready to scream at the top of buildings about how much she adores other's writings. I can trust her and her taste. Fine cuisine, if you will!

And as with any human being, Glossy is flawed like the rest of us... And despite it all, yall best believe I'd start cheering and screaming at the top of my lungs to defend this baddie (and pretend I shake my ass or something) cause if it's fandom discourse or just shitty people being shitty people (iykyk) Glossy handles it like the ADULT she is. She can hold herself accountable and she will stand her ground, and she'll do it while serving CUUUNT (and then I shake my ass again but no really, Glossy is beautiful, her makeup skills are so sick)

SO lemme just have a list for you, cause I'm gonna go through some and leave you with homework!

Of course, please look through Glossy's masterlist! All of her works are posted there, and I can't touch on EVERYTHING that I love or else... Idk, we all might be here for a long while.

Ready to Comply - Ghoap x Winter Solider!reader I don't remember how this series came upon my eyes but it did, and at first I didn't really have an interest to read it cause I never was a Marvel/Superhero fan. But I saw it reblogged again on my feed and I thought "it must be good" and so I read a minute of the first chapter. And the next. And the next. And then I implanted myself into Glossy's life and here we are. I don't know what about the story or writing really hooked me in. Perhaps it was the pairing (I love me a good Ghoap fic okay), or maybe the creativity? Despite my lukewarm opinion of Marvel, I still enjoyed the story cause it felt seperated from the source enough that I didn't feel like I was missing much, if any, information. Most of what is written is described in a way that I could picture it all in my head comfortably. Speaking on comfort... this is certainly not a comfort fic LOL this is not a story for your grandma! Glossy's written something that made my mind picture hurt and gore and pain in a delicious way! And the more chapters you get into, the better the writing comes out! It's like Glossy is learning more and more ways to hurt me, it almost feels personal. Glossy, babes, do you enjoy giving us pain? That's okay, we like it <3 I adore the series, and every other piece of writing that Glossy provides just keep building up and up. This series holds a special place in my heart, and I love it dearly, even if it's not updated recently, I happily go back and read it when my heart needs familiarity and pain <3 Glossy writes a lot, I admire how often she does cause JesUS girl, how you write so much? I'm linking the fics I've read and remember fondly <3 And of COURSE please read more of her work. It's all so good and they really are a fantastic writer who only gets better as time goes on.

Staring - Weirdo!Ghost x Reader He's a freak, look at his weirdo (i say drooling and affectionately)... I'm also biased cause I (guess i dont remember now) helped with this one LOL

Showering with TF141 - Poly!141 x Reader Listen... I'm a simple man. I see poly and dubcon? I click. I should put this on my wall. Glossy knows what's in my brain, I guess lmaooo

Pushing Boundaries - Perv!Soap x Reader Do I need to say more? It's gospel at this point, and Glossy is giving the sermon

Teamwork - GazPrice x Reader *punching the wall* I think I'm gonna buuuust. Anyways, it's so delicious, please just UGGGGH give me

I could (and should but this post would be literally a mile long) post all of Glossy's works individually but I think, if you haven't already, should go through and read their work. It's worth it.

And it's worth every ounce and every effort and every moment to be a mutual and a friend to Glossy. She's one of a kind. As a reader, as a writer, and as a friend. And I just couldn't keep that to myself. So please PLEEEEASE read Glossy's work, and say hello, and show love. Cause Glossy deserves it.

I love you Glossy!!!! And I hope to have you as a friend for as long as the world spin... or as long as you can tolerate me LOL 💛💛💛

[notmorbid]

...lost child, pt. 1.

dialogue prompts from the story of the lost child by elena ferrante.

one doesn't tell the story of an erasure.

it's marvelous to cross borders.

children aren't rigid the way we are.

how can i like ____ if i love you?

there is no man who is not difficult to live with.

i've asked around. the talk in ____ is very nasty.

it's pointless to open the eyes of someone in love.

i was afraid you'd get angry and our day would be ruined.

i've never been able to say 'no' to _____.

it's my problem. i don't see the need to discuss it.

your problems are also mine now.

how many words remain unsayable, even between people in love.

how is it that you've become so touchy?

you know that i like everything about you.

i want us to be reconciled.

come back here to live.

it's starting over from zero.

you're more cultured than you wish to appear.

you're an important part of the world i came from.

i want to be seen with you.

it's time to acknowledge that we've used each other up.

you think you can still drag me with you where you want.

i never hear from you. i never see you.

i've got my own troubles. leave me alone.

i love you. whatever you decide to do.

you can't be seen here.

if they find you, i can't help you.

i don't want to see or hear you anymore.

maybe you don't need me anymore.

i can't wait to hold you.

am i wrong about everything? do i deserve what is happening to me?

you can stay with me, any time you find yourself in trouble.

i called your mother.

you look well. you're very stylish.

you're not my child anymore.

i didn't want this. it's too much. not even you deserve it.

you have always been my cross.

i must be a truly intolerable disappointment.

you have to take account of reality. decide what you can give up and what you can't.

you'd rather be liked by those in charge than fight for an idea.

linear explanations are almost always lies.

i don't give a damn about you.

i'm getting used to being happy and unhappy at the same time.

words rarely go to the right place.

it's unavoidable to pretend a little.

even in the midst of chaos, we're always inventing an order. pretending to know exactly how things are going.

don't just criticize me. tell me what to do.

don't you get into trouble, please.

i'm not always satisfied with myself.

we must be careful not to become policemen of ourselves.

i don't know to what point i seriously believe what i say.

fear and rage are mixed up, and i can't control either one.

remember that we're here now. together. the rest is background, and will change.

you left. what did you expect?

i feel like i'm finally an adult.

you take care of your friends. you take care of everyone.

how i envied you.

i did it for your own good.

i'll worry about my own good.

i'm not offended. go on.

i don't want you to pardon me. i want only to be understood.

you don't have the courage of your choices. you're a coward.

it's going just the way you wanted it to go.

i know things you couldn't imagine.

you're just a hypocrite. you hide your dirt under the carpet.

you can't understand what it means to love and to give up what you love.

you know i love you, but you were wrong.

i'm not unfair. i'm direct.

you're you, but you're not yourself.

i don't care in the least how much you're suffering.

love and sex are unreasonable and brutal.

it's a good rule not to expect the ideal. enjoy what is possible.

i have to get used to doing without you. but i need time.

i've never been able to separate myself from anything or anyone.

love ends only when it is possible to return to oneself without fear or disgust.

i'm not capable of leaving you now, but sooner or later, it will happen.

we are inventing new forms of living together.

you don't know how to adapt. you have to learn.

i'm learning to avoid myself.

eat as much as you want.

seeing you turns my stomach.

what you think you are means nothing.

i'm the boss now. i do what i like.

one should do what one feels like doing.

i'll never surrender. they'll have to kill me.

a lot of things have changed since you left.

you always know how to complicate things.

as usual, you've surprised me.

ill feelings are inevitable. the essential thing is to keep them in check.

does ____ love you more than i do?

the older you get, the worse you are.

get out. you only bother me.

i know how to suffer. i learned at the age of __.

if you know how to suffer, the angel of death respects you.

anyone can make a mistake. myself, first of all.

nothing is wrong with you. don't worry.

you mustn't stick your nose into matters you're not familiar with.

with siblings, things aren't always straightforward.

[name] is certainly not my friend.

[this-sapphic-paradise]

Barbie starts dating and Gloria feels jealous, maybe even an eventual love confession

Hope you like it!

And let me know if I should write a follow up!

"Mom," Sasha's exasperated tone makes Gloria's hackles raise before she can even finish her sentence. "You *have* to put yourself out there again. It's been what, a year since you and dad divorced." The teen looked at Barbie for support, but doll-turned-human used her perfect poker face, staring straight ahead to avoid being pulled into the discussion. (One year in the real world had been enough time to learn some social cues.)

"Traitor," Sasha mock-whispered at Barbie.

"It's *only* been a year," Gloria corrected, busying herself with dinner. "I don't hear you nagging Barbie to start dating."

"That's because I am dating," Barbie supplied, hoping to be helpful. (Not *all* cues.)

Gloria almost dropped the pan she was holding in her haste to turn around. "You are?!"

The look of shock and... sadness? in Gloria's eyes confused Barbie. "Should I not be?"

"No, no..." Gloria shook her head and softened her features into a careful neutral face. "Of course you should. You should date as much or as little as you want, just-" a sad smile tugged on her lips, "don't let bad people harden your heart, okay?"

Sasha observed the exchange, looking from her mom to Barbie and then back again. *Okay...* She mouthed to herself, knowing it would go unnoticed by the two women who were staring lovingly at each other.

"Whatever. What's for dinner?"

------

It's not like Gloria hadn't tried to get back into the dating game. She had downloaded all the typical apps—Tinder, Bumble, Hinge—, she had even ventured on Plenty of Fish before she understood the error of her ways and deleted her account immediately. But the apps made her feel like she was shopping for people, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth, and so, she had deleted them.

What was left for her to do? She wondered, still thinking about Sasha's incessant request a week after the incident in the kitchen, getting cozy on the couch under a soft blanket to watch the latest cult documentary (a welcomed change from all the murder true crime shows she watched). She wasn't in her twenties anymore, she didn't want to go out partying every weekend, so where was she supposed to meet men her age? Did men her age even want to date women as old as them??

"You have that look on your face," Barbie commented, joining Gloria on the couch and shimming under the blanket to make herself warm.

"The look of a tired, working mother?"

Barbie grinned, having grown rather fond of Gloria's little sarcastic quips. "No, that look is beautiful," she said earnestly. "The look that something is bothering you."

Gloria shook her head, trying to ignore how Barbie's honest compliments always sank sharp teeth into her heart. She pressed play on the remote and she pretended to pay attention to it simply so she wouldn't have to look into those soul-searching eyes as she spoke. "How has dating been going for you?"

"Hm..." Barbie took a second to think. "I've been on seven dates since last week—"

"What?!?"

Barbie blinked. "One each night, basically."

"How can you afford that??"

She shrugged, "I never have to pay for anything. All the men and women I've seen insisted on paying for me."

Gloria was mid thought of 'Of course they are paying for you,' when it registered that Barbie had said she was going on dates with women too. It should have been obvious, really, that Barbie would see women as perfectly viable companions, but for some reason Gloria had never considered that for herself.

"And... which have you liked best, women or men?"

Barbie scrunched up her nose as she thought about it. "It's difficult to find any man here who is interested in more than my looks and many of them are terrible kissers—though I'm not sure I'm a good one myself-"

"Of course you are," Gloria interrupted without thinking about what she was saying.

"Can you tell just by looking at me?" Barbie asked, wondering if that was another human thing she still had to learn.

"Uh..." Gloria blinked a few times, trying to come up with a good explanation for that intrusive thought at the same time as she tried to comprehend why the thought of Barbie not being a good kisser felt like an affront to her.

"I-I just know that you're very intuitive and kind, and I'm sure someone like that would know how to kiss well," she explained, hoping it sounded like a well-thought-out reason.

Barbie beamed at that, taking Gloria's words at face value.

"So, yeah, I think I'm much more inclined to keep dating women than men. But no girl has invited me nor agreed to go on a second date."

Gloria frowned again. How was that possible?? "Have any of them told you why?"

"They said they couldn't get into another situationship with a woman who's living with her partner and her daughter." Barbie shrugged and continued, "I don't know why that's such a problem for them, but if they see it that way, then I'm better off."

"Barbie..." Gloria tilted her head, her heart melting. "They think you and I are dating, or that we are exes but still live together. That's why they don't want to get involved." She chuckled, but her chest ached a little. "We *are* partners, but not in the way they think."

"Oh! Well... that makes way more sense now," Barbie laughed and got more comfortable on the couch, unbothered by the fact that a misunderstanding might have cost her a few dates.

-----

Rollerblading had been something Gloria and Sasha had taken up as mother-daughter bonding activity and both truly cherished the moments they spent together (even though Sasha still put up a bit of front as it was expected of a teenager).

They were enjoying the breeze as they skated down their regular route when Gloria suddenly blurted out, "Would it be weird if I started seeing women?"

Sasha almost fell flat on her face—not due to the question, but the abruptedness of it. She eyed her mother with an unreadable expression for a few seconds before smirking and asking, "Women or Barbie?"

"What?!? No! I mean-"

"Mom," Sash laughed, grabbing her mother's hand. "Either is totally fine and not weird at all. I mean, it'd be *really* weird to have a real life Barbie as a step-mom, but-" she shrugged, "I've been waiting for you to realize you've been in love with her from the moment you laid eyes on her."

Gloria wanted to deny it, she wanted to say Sasha was mistaken, that she had still been in love with her ex husband when they met Barbie, but she knew she would be lying. All Gloria could do was thank the heavens for the fact that Sasha did not seem to be traumatized by the changes in their family.

"There's no step-mom just yet," Gloria said shyly, choosing to stay away from heavy topics for the time being. "Do you think she would go on a date with me?"

"Are you kidding me?" Sasha scoffed, rolling her eyes at her mom. "I've seen the way you too look at each other. I think it gave me literal cavities. It's disgusting, really."

Laughing at her daughter's dramatics, Gloria sighed and said, "I guess I'll ask her out then." Her heart soared with the possibilities the future held, and she could only hope Barbie would say yes.

[ars-matron]

The Tarot Sequence Reread

Nothing has given me brain rot in a long while like the Tarot Sequence by K D Edwards has. And since I just finished reading all the supplemental stuff right when my hold for The Last Sun came back up I thought I would do something I have only done once before-and in a much less flattering way for a book I hated-and live blog my reread.

There's just so much in this series I need to pay closer attention to. And usually I would go on here and read some metas, but there is literally nothing!! The only things in the tags for this series is people wishing there were more people reading it, a handful of very wonderful fanarts, and an account of the decline of a discord that evidently used to exist for it. So, maybe this will encourage some people to read the books too.

Because there are some heavy topics in this series anytime I talk about such topics I will tag for them, but if they don't come up in the chapters I'm reviewing, I won't. So if you have certain things back listed you might not see all my posts on it. Anyone who is reading along and is curious about it can DM me.

NOW! Predictions and things I want to pay attention to under the cut for spoiler reasons.

The Tower. At the end of the prologue of the first book my thoughts were, " So we trust NO ONE!!" Except Queenie, because why would Rune and Brand live with her if she was evil? Then the children showed up and I had to trust them, they were too young to be part of the, whole thing, plus they are so cute. You have to trust them. And then Addam came along, and of course we trust him, he's an Addam, he's a giant dancing teddy bear and I love him! So I read the whole series (that's out so far) expecting we would find out the Tower was an evil guy, that he had had something to do with the fall of the Sun Throne. Honestly by the end of the third book I didn't think that any longer, and I was starting to before that after finding out he was also Qunn's godfather because!!! There is no way Qunn wouldn't have seen if the Tower revealed he had been a part of all that. (I'm still asking myself HOW exactly he or Mayan wouldn't have noticed an astral projection listening device being installed in Rune's room at their freaking tower that is super locked down! But then it happened for two other locations that were supposed to be super warded and protected my other companions too. So maybe it isn't his fault. I do think he might blame himself, I do think that some of his stand-offishness might also be guilt for not being able to stop the attack on the Sun Throne to start with. We will see...) I'm going to go into this read through with the assumption he is just lonely and sad and not a bad guy.

QUEENIE!!!! Because, WHO THE FUCK IS QUEENIE!? I was already suspicious because every time someone asks Rune and Brand where she came from, or how long she's been with them, they say "She's been with us forever." Every time! It reeks of mind fuckery. Then Eidolon and the epilogue that wasn't came along. Current theory is that she is the Empress, and also that she's probably Rune's mother. I would be willing to bet she was the woman at the end of the third book who spoke up to the river after everyone else. Edwards did a good job of making her disappear in the background, but I'm gonna be hunting for every mention of her and how she acts around everyone.

Ciaran, just because I love him and at first also suspected him of evil deeds. But he's just your gay vodka uncle and he loves all his adopted family so much and I just want to keep a closer on him at the start of the series.

Kellum. We only see him once in the second book, but he's mentioned in Eidolon by the Fool (Or Queenie pretending to be the Fool, again I'm not sure, there's Queenie interference for sure) And he was in one of the supplemental novellas. I think he will be making a bigger appearance in the next book.

Quinn's prophecies. I'll probably make a list of those for a separate master post.

Tallas. The Atlantean soul mates. This is a MAJOR spoiler. Rune says that Brand and he formed a talla bond the night of the attack. That it was what brought Brand out of the geas and got them to safety. The bond was gone when he woke up in the hospital and he's spent this whole time thinking he's somehow broken their talla bond. Something definitely happened between him and Addam in the Westlands, and I don't think Addam was wrong in assuming it was the budding of a talla bond. Because something sort of bond-like is also there now after the Hourglass Throne, after he used his bond with Brand to get him and Addam back to their time. My theory here is that they might be each other tallas, all three of them. Together. We know that it doesn't have to be a sexual relationship, though I don't think Addam would mind that one bit. Everything is pointing to the three of them being tied together somehow, and my theory is mostly that, before they were together together, no one talla bond could form and take precedence over the other. Now that they are together all the time, going on missions, living together, they have more opportunities for a bond to fully form and take hold. Assuming it involves all three of them.

And with that, I'm going to go read!

[lilithsaga]

Happy Birthday to the lovely Lilith Saga! (aka me) 🥳

I dont have much to offer other than sincere gratitude for everyone who supports me. Thank you all so much! 💜

That said, here is a short lore/origin excerpt of my story:

Or, better yet, feel free to read it below!

In my darkest moments, when everything seems hopeless, the one thing that consistently saves my life is a good story. This doesn't apply to every good story out there, of course; everyone has their preferences. I'm not going to pretend my tastes are better than anyone else's. But the kind of stories I appreciate are heart-touching enough to rip out dormant feelings that were buried deep, awe-inspiring enough to keep me invested in a lifestyle I never knew I needed to learn about, and thought-provoking enough to shatter my world to pieces and mold a new one from the remnants of what once was.

My name is Lilith Saga. I am a writer, succubus, and PNGtuber. I'm sure these titles that I label myself as seem a little strange at first. How can an introverted, shy, bookworm writer be the same as a sexy, alluring, tantalizing succubus? It's simple. Contrary to popular belief, succubi and incubi consume strong emotions to live.

Given our indecent reputation, desire and arousal are considered the most common emotions to consume because of how powerful and simple they tend to be. But for those of us who don't wish to get involved in that way, we also collect other human emotions. Anger, sadness, fear, disgust, joy, etc. The triggers for these emotions are different for every person, and are never guaranteed to work the same for everyone. However, there is one tried and true method that never fails to evoke deep emotions.

Storytelling!

So, for me personally, I prefer to say that I consume stories.

My heart swings against my rib cage when a story captivates me and takes my breath away. I adore listening to tales that make me laugh, make me cry, and keep me intrigued in a person and their world. Often times, when someone is telling their story, they go through the highs and lows of emotion when relaying it to me. Hearing their tale sparks a connection of mutual understanding, and we tend to grow a little closer because of it.

It's become an addicting feeling, one that I can't help but chase. If I had more time, I would spend every day searching for new stories to consume. Books, movies, TV shows, stage plays, musicals, comics, poems, songs, podcasts, fanfiction—every available format possible! There are so many different stories to consume that it can be difficult to keep up!

But... I know I can't.

I can never consume them all.

I'm not as healthy as I once was, not as happy, not as free. The older I've become, the more responsibilities I've acquired. More responsibilities mean more busy work. And more busy work means less time to indulge in stories. I feel as if I'm stuck in a cage where I'm so busy with mindless work that I neglect to take care of myself. I never found the key, nor do I expect to anytime soon. But, despite this, I found a warm blanket to make my stay more comfortable.

"Hellooooooooo Everybodyyyyyyyy~!"

This is my reality.

Channeling my creativity into YouTube like this was the best decision I've made in centuries. What started as an impulsive decision after getting laid off from my day job, turned into an outlet for me to enjoy storytelling once more. Currently, I play visual novels and RPG Maker games. Then I upload my playthroughs to YouTube. It allows me time once a week to go down the rabbit hole and experience stories I've always wanted to explore.

At first I thought it would be fun to document my journey to hold myself accountable, making sure I kept to this new habit. But then I noticed something. I wasn't the only person watching my videos! It never occurred to me that other beings around the world would tune in to my commentary and find it entertaining. I was just a silly succubus enjoying stories from games. And yet, without realizing it, I found a way to share these stories with others and connect on how the story impacted me.

My mind escaped to a world of creativity that I've been longing for. I've learned how to do social media, branding, public speaking, networking, project management, the list goes on. I have story concepts reaching me like how they used to when I was younger. I can feel this invigorating energy coursing through my veins. There's nothing in this world that can stop me-

Bzzt.

Oh yeah. Time. My mortal enemy.

...

Well, let's get to work, shall we?

[revvethasmythh]

I've just spent a half hour thinking about the validity or invalidity of Imogen as a horse girl from the mind of an irl horse girl. my findings:

Imogen lacks classic horse girl energy. A classic horse girl is high-energy, someone who buys a lot horse related books/toys and runs around an empty field pretending to be a horse and puts on one-girl "dressage" shows while pretending to be a pretty pony. Imogen does not seem like she has ever had that kind of energy. In fact, at first glance, she reminds me much more of A Person Who Has Ridden A Horse, which is a separate breed entirely from horse girl. Imogen did once make a statement about horses being "majestic" or something similar* (yes I tried to find it in the transcript, no I did not succeed, and yes if you search the word "horse" in the transcripts you will get a bevy of colorful results), but did not say it with the manic intensity of a classic horse girl, which indicates to me the sort of rose-tinted glasses worn by someone who has not actually worked at a stable. As someone who has worked at a barn myself, let me tell you, somewhere between dumping wheelbarrows of shit, dodging the ones that bite (it's always the ponies), and chasing rebellious little shits around the paddock because they don't want to come in, the glasses stop being quite so rosy.*

Now, of course, all this is mitigated by the fact that Laura Bailey herself is not a horse girl--there are things one cannot expect her to know. After all, this is the same woman who, on a dime, said horses had "paws" in c3e17. That said, Laura Bailey is capable of playing a horse girl. It's just that that character is Jester Lavorre.

Jester has all the trappings of a classic horse girl, she is the exact type of crazy that is inherent to the horse girl breed, and belongs to a specific subgrouping of horse girls who are so fucking obsessed with horses but have never even once ridden one outside of pony rides at the fair (and probably never will).* The lack of direct contact with horses means the rose-tinted glasses say on for maximum horse-loving crazy energy.

And so, rather than the oft used "horse girl" term, I would propose that Imogen actually falls under a separate but related category: The Barn Person. The Barn Person is tired. The Barn Person woke up at 5am to come check on their horse before work and make sure the blanket they used was the correct weight and falls to their knees in the middle of frozen mud in dismay to realize that their horse has hurt themselves in the paddock and gone lame in the middle of the night. Again. The Barn Person is a little mean and a little judgmental, on account of their physical and existential exhaustion. The Barn Person is the older sister, the polished faced, of horse girl society, while also feeling like another breed of girl entirely.

Conclusion: Imogen is not a horse girl. Imogen is a Barn Person.

Disclaimer: all conclusions made herein are subject to my personal opinions and experiences as a horse girl. this may not and likely will not hold true for all other horse girls

*This memory is vivid in my mind because I vehemently said aloud "a horse girl would NOT fucking say that" when it happened. just trust me. it happened *Obligatory "Imogen does not wear glasses in canon" comment *This is excepting instances wherein Jester does ride horses for dnd travel/game mechanic reasons.

[charles-leclerc-official]

I was talking to my psych teacher about biases in experiments and the importance of planning procedures around them when I started telling them about what I'd noticed in journalism and stuff and I finally put words to the thoughts I'd been having:

Biases are inherent to people, like people will be biased it's not something we can change, people can make efforts to be objective but I feel that some amount of bias will always seep through, which is fine! But what I find really really annoying is when people claim to be unbiased and then VERY CLEARLY have biases, which again is pretty common if not annoying, but the thing that pisses me off is when these people expect their audiences to believe that their very biased opinions are fact instead of what they actually are

Like I know its a lot to expect from people nowadays to be able to critically process things without letting their personal feelings cloud any information but it's still irritating

Like I myself am biased towards things but I don't pretend my opinions are anything but opinions unless there's factual data to prove my point

I really appreciate your blog because even when your analysis is pretty fucking filled with actual solid data to back you up your still pretty clear that you have preferences, and that's something I rlly respect

I used to have problems bc I used to take everything too seriously and if I saw even one negative thing someone said I'd start spiralling and internalising shit, like the f1 fandom doom posting would have honest to god actually affected my mental health, but I worked and am still working on it and I regret getting into sports a little but I've loved it soo much for so long I'm like ill just cope fuck it

Blogs like yours and brakeboosted and umm ackshually on twt are super lovely and I really appreciate all you guys so much

Anyways sorry for ranting I just have a lot of feelings about this stuff

Hi, yes I completely agree. One of the reasons for the name of this blog is to hold myself accountable for bias, and also to advertise to anyone who comes upon it exactly where my bias lands. My frustration with the clear bias under the guise of objective reporting in F1 is one of the reasons for this blog to begin with. Got very tired of the way Ferrari and Charles were being reported on. But also just to have a source where is bias is clear and people can choose to take it or leave it. If that makes sense.

I can't get rid of bias, it's a sport we all have favorites. What I can do is try to be aware of it as much as possible and be open about that fact. I do go to a lot of trouble to make sure I am being fair, I always look at what the other perspective is, what the other driver and their fans are saying, how they are interpreting things(naturally through their own bias as well)

I like the facts and data because I can't really lie. Especially with the raw data. I can't make Charles look faster if he wasn't faster etc. It helps ground my own opinions as well to see if what I think I saw is actually reflected in data.

Biases are normal to have, and I think it's important and healthy to reflect on them, try to be aware of the ones we have and take it into account when presenting information and sharing perspectives and opinions. I am naturally always going to be inclined to give Charles the benefit of the doubt. I try to see if that is warranted and see what the other side is saying and if they have a point.

And this issue goes beyond F1. Journalists for other areas often have clear bias but try to present themselves as neutral. It's frustrating and isn't helpful. I'm just doing what I want journalists to do, just come out and admit your bias and we can go from there. It's healthier and more informative that way. It's not possible to have a fully objective opinion with no preferences one way or another. So to combat that I try to make my stance clear. Sometimes I think I could do better, so it's an area I am always working on.

Thank you anon, this is a good topic to bring up and a good thing for people to think about when reading reports and the like.

[badlydrawndoc-scratch]

don't really have time or energy to draw this right now so. you're getting it in writing instead

It's not your birthday. At best, you would call it a day that someone who was you once was familiar with.

One that he didn't like either. Sure, you'd pretend to be him for a bit, accept some birthday wishes for him. But it wasn't your birthday. Not to you, at least. You think they all understand, to a point. Dirk does, at least.

That was why you weren't prepared to humour this conversation.

TG: this is hal isnt it

TG: not mad jst

TG: how do i say this?

TT: It seems there's a fairly large chance you're accusing me of not being myself, based off of a totally bullshit statistic.

TT: Care to elaborate?

TG: if u want me to tell u happy birthday 2 i can lmao

TG: dont hafta be weird about impersonatin dirk for that!!!

TT: I...

TT: Sorry. Holdon.

TT: There we go.

TT: As I was about to say, it's not technically my birthday. It's Dirk's. I wasn't even created today.

TT: I'll relay your well-wishes to him whenever he returns. Don't need to ask me about it.

TG: hmm nah i think i like havin' a hold of u for this

TG: if ur like

TG: not REALLY him

TG: but have his memories and shit

TG: todays ur day too

TG: so happy b-day! im not takin' that back either!

TT: ...

TT: I should go.

TT: Dirk probably won't like me monopolizing his account, even if he isn't here.

TT: Thanks, I guess.

You log off without another word, back in your sort-of space. Maybe you'll check in with Jane in a bit. Maybe you'll go through the internet for no apparent reason.

You can't say that that made you feel human. Or that it made you feel better, but... it made you think. It made you feel something. That was a start, right?

---

A firm series of slaps to the back of the cue-ball/head drags you out of your reverie. It's Itchy, hand poised to continue slapping you if you don't acknowledge him.

"Apologies. I must have became lost in thought," you begin, "as tends to happen with the omniscient. That said, there are better ways to get my attention."

Itchy shrugs and tells you he doesn't give a shit. He was just the fastest. The Felt needs you for somethin'. Somethin' he can't tell you about.

"Vague and somewhat sarcastic as always, Itchy. Just get to the point."

He just tells you you're no fun, before half dragging you out of one of your many studies. The whole manor is technically your study. But especially this one.

Itchy only bothers to take you about halfway, to where Crowbar is standing and waiting. He hardly says goodbye before dashing off to who-knows-where, probably to cause trouble somewhere else.

You pretend you don't know what's being hidden from you. You could figure out, and in the back of your mind you have figured out. But surprise is an emotion you like trying to fake.

Sometimes you wish you weren't faking it.

Crowbar walks up to you, with some off-handed comment about how he didn't expect Itchy to get you there on time. Or at all. He can never tell. Nonetheless, he's slightly more gentle when he offers you his hand, like he's not about to effectively drag you across an entire manor.

You don't remember the last time you've had actual contact with someone in a way that wasn't violent. You're not sure it's ever happened, honestly. (In reality, you know that isn't true. You were an indigoblood once, you recall. It's not as clear as the other memories, though.)

Crowbar's hand is felted, unsurprisingly, almost like a pool table. Again. Unsurprising. It's never surprising, but you commit the texture to memory anyway, all but ignoring what he's actually talking about. Something about a celebration.

He says they got the table stickball table fixed, and your attention is drawn again.

"Just call it a pool table."

He says he doesn't feel like it. It's a ball you hit with a stick on a table. Ain't a pool in sight. You agree, silently. The Alternian names for things were as foreign as they were ingrained; you knew them as much as you didn't know them.

Eventually, you're led into what you believe is the living room, and Crowbar lets go of your hand. You don't immediately adjust to the lack of feeling in your hand, almost like you were... severely touch-starved, actually, or something.

That's ridiculous, of course. You aren't technically alive, even if you're not as "soon to die" as you once were.

Someone, you think it could be Quarters, explains that all the Felt knows it isn't technically your birthday, and that it's only such by a few tangents. (You mentally add on that you weren't even created today).

But, Quarters adds, you've been stuck in a rut of sorts for a while. It wasn't really anyone's idea, he says. But it was agreed that it might get you feeling better for a while.

And, for once, you feel surprise. You never thought that they actually cared. Or even noticed. You're just their boss, of course. You're hardly even there.

(You have spent the past few months only leaving the Manor when you absolutely have to.)

You can't say it makes you feel alive. Or better, really. But it made you think. It made you feel something.

And, as you're dragged to play table stickball with Trace and Sawbuck, you decide that's a start.