#i had to stop myself from posting Even More

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER TEN

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @patscorner @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @slvt4her @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l

warnings angst (?), homophobia/homophobic slur, sexual innuendos, sexual content.

kalena speakss 🪽! so here’s the ACTUAL chapter ten, i accidentally posted a different version last night so if you saw that just completely disregard it lmao

July 2025 — Crypto.com Arena, Los Angeles, California 

“‘Preciate you comin’ out, man.” I nod, my hand giving a firm dap to Julian.

Yeah, the Julian who’s girlfriend I seem to be helplessly obsessed with.

We had just beat the Fever at home in a blow out on the second night of a back-to-back. My body is aching, and as soon as I left the locker room, I was ready to push through those metal doors and go home. Maybe stop for some dinner too. 

Until I heard it. The voice that has replayed in my head rather than in my ears for the last week and a half. That slight southern drawl with the occasional upbeat ending. It’s perfect, and I didn't realize how bad I’d missed it until now.

I meant it when I thought I needed a break. Maraye was running laps in my head, like a marathon. She’s all I seem to be surrounded by. But there’s so many issues, and Nika was right: I don’t need to be getting hurt again.

So I stepped back, wanting to figure out what I really did want. 

Now I know that I want her in my bed, hands in my hair, moans of my name leaving her mouth. More importantly, though, I want her to be mine. So damn badly. I wanted to grow with her, watch her succeed up close, to do all the things with her that come with a relationship. 

That shit was fucking terrifying. I can't remember the last time I let a girl get this close to me. To learn me in the way Maraye has been able to. Or even being able to learn her in the way that I have.

So when she stands there, next to Julian in her curve hugging jeans and a cropped shirt with my name and number, her eyes looking everywhere but at myself, I know that something is off.

“Congrats All-star.” She says to me, eyes looking at me but not really. She darts everywhere but at my eyes, which normally are her main attraction.

The All-star list dropped at halftime, Rickea and Dearica making the list as well. A smile spreads onto my face and I finally drop my hand from Julian’s. “Thanks, angel.” It slips. I shouldn’t have said it, not here in front of him. I knew I shouldn’t.

It was so natural, falling from my tongue like butter. 

I see his eyebrows furrow, looking down at his girlfriend as if she would stop me from calling her that again. 

“You comin’ to Indy?”

“I was thinking about it. Yeah.” Raye answers and it’s the first time throughout this awkward exchange that I actually see those eyes. Wide, doe, eyes that I know I could happily spend the rest of my life just looking at. “Uh, we. We were thinking about going.” She corrects when Julian darts his head to her.

I nod, wiping the palms of my hands on the side of my jeans. 

“I should probably head out, Ion wanna keep y’all too long.” I force out through the tension. I don’t want to leave. Because I know that as soon as I do, I’m going to force myself into more dry texts and ignore her calls and keep myself away from looking at that damn perfect face. 

“You sure?” Julian questions me. His tone is skeptical, like he knows something that I don’t. Or that he knows something that he shouldn’t.

“Yeah, I got some places to be at too.” I hum, pulling my phone out to look at the time. It’s not late, barely even 10 o’clock, but that slight movement is enough to make them both think I have other plans.

Maraye pushes her curls from her face, the bright white hallway lights make her gold septum glisten in her nose. “I’ll see you around then?” She asks, taking a step closer to me and we hug.

The only difference is this hug isn’t what I’m used to. It isn’t the hug where her arms wrap around my neck, mine feel on the swell of her ass, and I can smell every bit of the scent she chose to wear. That would be too risky.

So instead she holds me by my side, my arm cautiously around her shoulder while her palm presses into my back. It’s difficult for me to keep my composure because deep down I know that I should be able to hug her however I damn well please. 

And I can’t.

All because of him. It’s always him.

—

The hum of the engine is all that fills the car, along with the occasional voice of whatever rapper Julian has playing at minimal volume while I drive. 

It’s been like this for a minute. Just the two of us sitting quietly, my finger tips occasionally tapping against the steering wheel while he stares out the window. I’m supposed to be taking us to his place, we’d eat some dinner and maybe watch a movie.

“So, you and Paige, huh?” He asks, his voice so monotonous.

My hands start to sweat and nearly slip down the wheel. “What?”

He turns his head towards me and though my eyes are glued to the road ahead, I can feel the way his dark eyes are burning holes into my skin. 

“You and her. Y’all got something goin’ on? She callin’ you angel and you don’t do nothin’ about it?” His voice casually picks up, going from nonchalant to angry in a matter of seconds. I briefly look at him, and even through the darkness of the night I can see his light skin slowly build in a red tint.

“Paige and I are friends, Ju.” I breathe out. I know that’s true, even though it’s also a lie. Paige and I stopped being just friends the second I kissed her on my couch.

“Then why the hell is it that you been hanging out with her so much, but the second I’m around y’all wanna be all awkward and you wanna look at the floor?”

It’s my fault for thinking that he wouldn’t be able to pick up on our awkward exchanges, because the tension was very noticeable. It was my first time seeing her since that night in the studio. She’s been avoidant lately, and honestly I couldn’t even blame her.

She was over it. And I guess I am too. 

Yet, here I stand, lying to Julian once again and letting him think nothing is wrong. Keeping him at arm's reach when I should really be letting him go.

“I’m sick of fighting, Julian.” I told him. That’s also true. I am so damn exhausted from all the back and forth yelling, but right now I just really don’t want to have this specific conversation. 

“Answer my fucking question, Raye. Are you fucking her?” He yells, never taking his glance off the side of my face.

“What, no!” I look over at him again, my hands shaking while I grip the wheel. “Quit being so insecure! Just because I got good people in my life, doesn’t mean I’m fucking them. I’m with you.”

I hate this. This lying and manipulation. I fucking hate it because this isn’t who I am. I’m not an asshole. I’m not a cheater. Then here I am, doing everything I write about in my songs, hurting him just to protect my own image.

“Insecure? You think I’m jealous of that fucking fag? Like she can give you anything that I do.” He scoffs. His words hit my ears and as I process them, they taste bitter. Every gear in my head starts turning and I start to get angry. Not at what he said, but how he speaks about her. I waste no breath in defending her.

“Watch how the fuck you talk about her, Ju.”

We approached his apartment complex.

“Why you defending her?”

“Why are you calling her out her name?” I yell back.

He’s silent. We stop at a light and I turn my whole head to make eye contact with him. “Should’ve never that you get close to that fuckin’ dyke. You wanna fuck around with her, go do that shit then.”

I reach for the panel on my door, pressing the unlock button. The click echos through the car. “Get out.”

He looks at me surprised, as if he didn’t expect me to say that to him. “Raye.”

“No. You wanna talk to me crazy, you wanna talk about Paige crazy. So get the fuck out.” I reason. “Your place is right there. Walk. Get the fuck out of my car, Julian.”

He scoffs, slumping back against the seat. “Man, you crazy.”

“Get out of my car. You think I’m fuckin’ joking?” I laugh completely irritated. I reach for his phone, taking it off aux and throwing it into his lap. I look at him expectantly.

Julian huffs, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the passenger door. He hops out, looking at me with squinted eyes. “So you—”

“Close my door.” I cut him off, no longer looking back at him, but the green light that is blaring at me to keep driving.

He huffs, slamming the door and I speed off as soon as he does so.

I sit with my own thoughts. So much running through my head, but it all goes back to her. And suddenly I don’t care about the lying or the distance. I just want to talk to her. To talk to Paige.

I pull off into a nearby gas station, pulling my phone out of my purse.

can we talk?

It isn’t even a few seconds before the gray text bubbles pop up on my screen. Then they disappear and I groan.

Until they pop up again, this time fast and insistent.

Yeah we should

Come over?

I know better. Me and Paige don’t have a great track record of keeping our hands to ourselves when we’re alone. So I should text back that we should meet somewhere else.

That’s until she texts me again: Please?

send your addy

And she does.

—

My leg bounces from where I sit on a kitchen stool. It’s not in the anxious way, but in the distracting way. My arm is stretched out over the edge of the counter that I lean on. My fingers tug on my bottom lip while I look at her.

Raye’s been here for a few minutes, going on about something Julian has done. I was listening at first, I think he knows and argument being the specific terms that stuck in my head.

She stood in front of me, pulling her curls up into a bun on the top of her head. It makes the hem of that damned cropped shirt ride up on her body and expose gold jewelry on her belly button.

So yes, it’s hard to listen to what she’s saying when she’s practically tempting me right now. But I do listen when she says:

“I dunno. I’m done with all of this shit.”

If I were a dog, my ears would practically be perking up at it. I sit up straight, leaning with my elbows on my knees to get closer. To make sure I heard her correctly.

Throughout this whole encounter with Maraye, she’s only ever told me she was tired or that she was bothered. Not once did she ever tell me she was done, and that makes all the difference.

“You’re done? For real?”

“Yes. I dunno. It’s not that simple, P.”

I let out a scoff. “Yes it is. You aren’t comfortable ‘round him like you are with me. You don’t spend all day with him like you do with me.” I shrug my shoulders, slightly frustrated. I feel like I’ve given Raye enough evidence that I’m better, as cocky as it sounds. But yet here we are. “It’s hella simple. You jus’ don’t wanna admit it.”

“I didn’t come here for you to scold me.”

“So whatcha come here for then, huh?” I ask, standing up from the stool. 

My hair tumbles down my shoulders as I tower over her. Maraye’s eyes trail down my body and the white shirts that clings to each ridge of my body.

“You wanna kiss me? Wan’ me to fuck you? Wanna keep talking about him? What do you want, Raye? ‘Cause I know what I asked you to come here for.”

“And why’d you do that, Paige?” She responds, getting in my face.

I should be bothered and put up yet another defense. Then I’m reminded that she’s already defensive, herself. She’s frustrated from all the arguing that took place the minute I left her and Julian at Crypto. 

She’s mad. And normally I’d justify her anger, but tonight; it’s all our fault. We made a mess, started seeing each other in a way that we shouldn’t have and Julian caught on. He knows.

“Well for one, Ion wanna be a home-wrecker.” I say, throwing my hands up. “You might be over him theoretically and he might be a raging asshole, but I don’t do that shit, Raye.” And I don’t.

Fooling around, seeing multiple girls, I used to do a lot of it. I can admit that. Home-wrecking, however, has never been on my list.

Raye lets out a snort. “Spell theoretically.”

I huff and run my hands through my hair. “You’re so unbelievably annoying.” I respond, stepping away and walking past her to my couch but she tugs my arm.

“Okay, wait.” She laughs. “You’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

“Yeah, okay.” I stand in front of her again. This time we’re even closer, her hand wrapped around my wrist. “What do you want me to do?” It’s more of a statement than a question because she knows.

She knows I want her to breakup with him and choose me and then let me fuck her within an inch of her life immediately after. That, I could get behind.

“You wanna hear me say it?”

“Please?” 

Raye’s free hand trails up my arm. She’s so tempting, the words so close to dying on my tongue and not being heard at all. Her voice is so enticing, and she looks up at me through her lashes like I hung the moon.

“I… want you, to make a fucking decision.” My voice doesn’t waver as I look deep into her eyes. “You can choose whoever you want, but I can’t keep doin’ this. You choose.”

This is the closest I’m going to get to fighting her off. I don’t push her arm off of me or tell her to back up. This is the closest I’ll get, because I simply can’t get enough of her.

“Okay.” Maraye nods, clutching onto my bicep.

“Okay? That’s it? You not gonna yell at me for making you choose?”

She smiles and shakes her head. The bun on her head shakes a little, and it makes me smile too. “I’ll choose. You gotta give me some time tho’. Few days maybe?”

It seems pretty reasonable to me, though I’d rather she break up with him right this minute over the phone, that would be just a bit crazy.

“We got a road trip. I’ll be gone all week, that work?”

“You’re really serious about this, huh?”

“I just need to know. You pick him, fine.” I shrug. “But if you pick me, even better.”

She grins. “It’s giving Meredith Grey.”

Now I push her off me, listening to the way her laugh fills my ears and bounces off the walls. She stumbles back a tad before catching me on the couch. My back rests against it while Maraye stands in front of me, the spot between my legs becoming designated for her.

“C’mon. It was funny!”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m a sexy idiot.”

I hum, rolling my eyes.

It was things like this I missed. The laughter, the jokes, the comfort. Sure she was stunning, and the flirting and kisses were otherworldly, but this topped it. These moments with Maraye that were so hard to come by.

I like the way she looks when she’s looking down at me. It’s intimidating, but still so damn hot.

“A very sexy one.” I finally respond, sitting up more so she can see me better. “These jeans look incredible on you, by the way.”

“Yeah? You wan’ a 360?” Raye jokes.

“I want a 180, angel.” I reply. My hands reach for her hips, playing with the fabric of her belt loops. Raye brushes me off, making a frown spread across my mouth. 

She bows her head to check the dainty watch on her wrist. “It’s late, P. I should get home.”

“You could stay here with me.” My hands drop from her body, instead using my eyes to suggestively try and convince her to stay the night. It’s a joke. Mostly.

“And you were the one who said no more home-wrecking.”

—

My lips are pressed against hers, tongues swirling and spit swapping between the both of us.

It’s urgent. More urgent than any way Paige has ever kissed me before. She doesn’t give me a second to think before her finger is breaking me open and I’m gushing all over her. The stretch is so foreign, and I can’t believe how unbelievably full I feel with just one finger.

“Like this?” She asks after pulling back with a nasty suck of my tongue. I’m nodding at her words tucking my lip between my teeth. 

“Mmph yes. Yes.” A whimper rumbles from my mouth. I clutch into her shoulder, tossing my head back until it hits the pillow under me. 

My legs start closing in on themselves when she adds a second one. “I’m tryna make you feel good, baby. Why you fightin’ me?” Paige asks. Her voice as deep and hungry as I ever heard it. 

Her fingers curl into me, thumb rubbing tight circles on my unbelievably sensitive clit. She found it within a matter of milliseconds, it felt like. And the lights were off.

“He fuck you better than me? Huh?”

I barely hear her over the sound of my own cunt but that doesn’t stop me from shaking my head eagerly. “No. Fuck no, P. He doesn’t.” 

I’m nearly melting at the stimulation. Her voice in my ear and her finger’s scissoring me apart

“P.” I hiccup, nothing else filling my head except the pleasure I’m feeling. Her fingers are so damn long, tickling the deepest parts of me that I didn’t even know existed. She consumes me, swallows me whole. 

Her mouth finds my neck again, biting on my sensitive spot and making my eyes roll. I’m so close, my arousal already dripping past my cunt and onto the sheets below my ass. It’s messy. Wet and messy.

“You wanna cum for me, angel?” Paige teases, licking at the mark she left on my neck.

“Fuck, Fuck! ‘Mm God, P, you’re—”

“You’re doin’ so good, ma. I know you wanna cum.” She nods. “Just let me have it.”

“Paige!” I moan, reaching to grip her hand.

“Pretty fuckin’ girl. Cum, baby. I’m right here.” 

Her words add unbelievable fuel to the fire and my back arches underneath her body. She’s talking me through it, bringing me to the edge and I gasp before waking up.

The sun peeks through my blinds and sleep still crusts my eyes. I wipe them, sitting up half naked in my bed. 

I got home late last night. Closer to one in the morning. Paige was distracting, and I simply couldn’t just leave when she was begging me to stay.

My body is sweaty, my breath is embarrassingly ragged, and My panties are so soaked under the shorts I wore to bed. 

When I sit up, the duvet covering my body, I reach for my phone. Then I see them, the hundreds of texts and calls from Julian and the text from Paige.

Hope you make the right decision

I’ll see you when I get back ma 🫶🏼

[sweetkpopmusings]

miserable (you & me) | h. hyunjin <3

a/n: i have had these blurbs in my drafts FOREVER. "miserable (you & me)" is a song i've had on repeat since it dropped. i'm also a sucker for angst, so please enjoy these self-indulgent posts (they all have happy endings, i promise!) there will be one for each member, so stay tuned <3 pics not mine~

content: angst, happy ending | wc: 1k | warnings: none really! | pairing: hyunjin x gn!reader | requests:open

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

난 가망이 없는 미래에 손을 뻗어 날 부었네 / “i stretched out my hand towards a hopeless future and poured myself out”

of course it would be raining right now. the day’s weather had been normal, a smattering of clouds above and an overcast glow hinting that the weather might take a turn for the worse, but nothing was set in stone. that turned out to be true in a more literal sense, hyunjin realized, while watching people mill about on the street below with freshly opened umbrellas. he scoffed. what did you think would happen? what did you think would change?

the answer was nothing. but i had no choice.

you and hyunjin met up for your usual weekend get-together, returning to a favorite drink spot of yours after a few weekends of schedules keeping you apart. he had missed you so dearly, something that became achingly clear when his whole body lit up from seeing your face peek through the entrance. you noticed the buzz in his body when he greeted you, a sweet laugh escaping your lips. hyunjin’s heart melted at the sound, collapsing even more into endearment when you said, “i missed you a ton, too.”

a moderate number of people took up the tables and seats in the building, so there was a comfortable hum of casual conversation surrounding you. hyunjin, as always, was so closely tuned into the sound of your voice, he would’ve believed you if you said the place was completely empty. it was clichéd for sure, but he was enraptured by every single thing you said. he loved listening to all your thoughts, stories, jokes, anecdotes; whatever you were willing to share with hyunjin, he’d accept with open and grateful hands. you both laughed as you finished telling him an embarrassing story your friend shared with you the other day, and, so you could take a sip of your drink, you asked hyunjin, “how are you?”

without skipping a beat, hyunjin answered, “i’ve liked you for the longest time.”

seeing as that was quite the unexpected answer to your question, you froze. your brain buffered, face showing barely any expression, except maybe shock or confusion. hyunjin, perhaps realizing what just occurred, reacted with wide eyes and frantic apologies. if his confession hadn’t stopped you so sharply in your tracks, the endless refrain of i’m so sorry! i don’t know why i did that. i’m so stupid! would have drowned out the words he spoke so naturally. you didn’t have time to process, but you tried to protest against hyunjin’s incessant apologies. this, it seemed, was fruitless.

hyunjin, with shaking legs and fumbling hands, gathered his things. 

“hyunjin, what’re you–”

“i should go, y/n,” he responded quickly, too quickly for him to mean it.

your heart broke at the way his voice cracked when he said your name, “no, just stay for a minute. please, i–”

his chest tightened when please fell from your lips, but he couldn’t bear the idea of you begging him to stay, only to tell him you didn’t feel the same. yes, it was immature, and, sure, it was probably selfish. yet all hyunjin could think to do was leave. so he did, his goodbye all staggered breaths and darting eyes.

you turned in your chair, barely catching his gaze as he raced to who knows where, “hyunjin?”

his eyes caught yours, and he ripped them away before he lost his foolish resolve. he hoped he offered you a soft smile, something to say i’m sorry for this. i just want you to be happy, and i guess this is me trying to make sure you stay that way. the adrenaline rush meant he couldn’t feel his face, though. he had no way of knowing what he looked like when he looked back at you. 

hyunjin’s whole trip home consisted of pleas for his legs to move faster. if his steps hit the ground hard enough, he could ignore all the scolding voices inside his head until he was safe in his room. if he were honest with himself, he was outrunning the look of shock on your face, and the way your voice fell when you asked him to stay. hyunjin, as he caught his breath in his room, realized that running away from you meant he ended up in front of his window, facing a future of heartbreak. a sardonic laugh broke free from his lips. maybe if you did it the right way, at the right moment, you’d be looking at them instead. maybe you’d be thinking of something other than angsty plotlines for the strangers passing by on the street below. 

“or maybe i could be hurt much worse,” he whispered to himself. 

that was the last sound that shared space with hyunjin in the room. he sat, mind racing and leg bouncing, completely silent. until someone knocked on the door.

hyunjin shuffled to the entryway, instinctively opening it at a familiar knock, only coming to when he saw you standing before him. of course, no matter how hard he tried, his body would always end up right in front of you.

ignoring the way his deflated figure twisted your chest up in all the worst ways, you chided, “you know it’s rude to confess to someone and leave immediately after, right? you didn’t give me a chance to respond.”

you huffed as you spoke. hyunjin couldn’t help the endeared smile that graced his face when he watched your frustrated, furrowed brow turn into a cute, unintentional pout. 

he thought, they are more precious to me than they’ll ever know, and he admitted, “you’re right. it was very rude of me. while i may not deserve to hear it after the way i acted, would you mind telling me what you were going to say?”

your shoulders relaxed as the familiar shine in hyunjin’s eyes returned. his beautiful smile came back too, as he watched your face light up with a reply he’d only ever dreamed of before.

“i like you too, hyunjin. i have for the longest time.”as though his hands weren’t shaking from anxiety a mere five minutes before this moment, hyunjin reached out to you, pulling you into his home and into his arms. when you accepted his invitation and melted into his embrace, hyunjin thought, i’ll pour my heart out to them again and again, if it means we’ll always end up right here, together.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[balthazarusrex]

Wednesday Wip Game Fill 11/13/24

The fill I forgot to post last week for @post-and-out. Thank you for pushing my to write!

Requests were made in the amazing Wednesday Wip Game Community. Thank you so much for pushing me to write! I hope you check us out and play!

Written in tandem with @ditzyredrobin

BW24 - 269/Kit (CW: for needles, minor blood and injury)

-

Jason’s threads the needle through flesh with the ease of a man who’s done this a million times over, fingers nimble and quick yet with an air of caution. Their little bird was already starting to crash, hitting the wrong side of adrenaline, listing to one side. His eyes glazed over and the dark bags under his eyes more prominent.

On Jason’s other side, Roy is perched on the kitchen counter, swinging his legs like he was five. The tackle box of a first aid kit was spilled out between them, a fresh suture kit neatly laid out and ready.

“Can you stop?” Jason growls, not looking up from his continuous row of sutures. The cut was clean and not very long but the piece of shrapnel had cut deep—deep enough butterfly stitches weren’t enough. “I don’t know if you can tell but I’m in the middle of something right now.”

“I can,” Roy grins but continues swinging his legs.

Jason has to suppress a groan, trying to focus on the task at hand, but the steady thump thump thump of Roy’s socked feet again the kitchen cabinets made his jaw ache.

Deep breath in, hold, deep breath out, he reminds himself.

“I can finish up by myself,” Tim mumbles, words almost incoherent. He looked dead on his feet even before he was sat down. “I’m sure there’s a lot of stuff to do—I can’t —I can finish the stitches and you can—“

“Yeah, no, sorry to burst your bubble, sweets, but that ain’t happening.” Jason snaps. “You couldn’t even get out of your suit on your own. So stitches? That’s outta the question.”

Tim glared up at him, looking more like a child upset they weren’t getting a second round of dessert, than a fearsome Red Robin.

“Ahhh, you know you look like one of those little kid memes when you’re mad.” Roy grinned.

If looks could kill, the one Tim turned on him would’ve had Roy vaporized on the spot.

“Roy,” Jason warned. “If you don’t knock it the fuck off, I’m not going to stop Tim when he decides enough is enough, you feel me?”

Roy snickered, “C’mon, Jay, you know you wouldn’t let Little Red hurt me.”

Jason paused, shooting Roy a look. “What makes you so sure about that? This whole thing is your fault so as far as I’m aware, it’s fair game.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. You know you love me.” Roy pouts, crossing his arms. “And it was an accident and you know it.”

“Babe, I said I was sorry, plus it’s not my fault I thought you said go, not no. My comm was busted, remember?”

“There were options, Roy, you almost got him killed.” A green haze was starting to creep along beyond the field of his vision, liquid and oozing like the pit. “And you-“ Jason snapped, turning his ire on their little bird. “Why hadn’t you cleared out? If I remember correctly, you called the all clear before Roy got trigger happy.”

Tim’s expression twisted, and he looked down at his newly sprinted wrist and ankle. “I’m sorry. I thought I had more time.”

“Yeah, no, sorry isn’t gonna cut I this time. That was a stupid call even for you.” Tim opened his mouth to speak but Jason cut him off. “You’re lucky a broken wrist, a sprain ankle, and some stitches is all you got away with. For that, you’re benched.”

“No,” Tim snapped quickly. “You can’t do this you’re not my—“

“You want me to call Dickie.” Jason countered. “‘Cause I will and you know how he gets when one of his little birds is hurt.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Jason smirked, “Wouldn’t I?”

Tim grumbled under his breath but didn’t say anything else, earning a laugh from Roy.

“And you,” Jason turns to Roy. As far as he was concerned Roy wasn’t getting away with shit either. “You’re out too until Timmy is better.”

“What? Why me?” Roy said, aghast.

“Did the crime, face the time. You caused Tim to get hurt, you get to put him back together.”

[tiredassmage]

veilguard thoughts!

rook + solas parallels edition

spoilery ofc because my head's not full of cotton balls today and i haven't stopped chewing on it all since i finished the game! so! this is a little endgame heavy; you've been warned for what's below the cut <3

the final first playthrough counter has come in just over 67 hours and i am all but physically holding myself back from launching right into another one with another rook because i had a blast. i'll concede it was a bit heavy on the exposition in the first several hours, but what followed has certainly won my heart, and i think the game is visually beautiful.

but i'm not even looking to do a full review here, but i think one of the most fascinating things this game did was set up rook and solas. so, two parts of preface then: one, i was a little determined to love this game and hoped it would at least perform decent. that's my spite about it, lol, but that's not the point, so we're not here about that. two, one of my admitted concerns when they had first announced this game having its own protagonist was... that i wasn't sure there was another person to finish solas's story other than the inquisitor, and this isn't a solavellan thing for me, though my beloved canon inquisitor is a lavellan. solas's friendship wasn't the biggest hitch in inquisition for me, but it was important to my inquisitor. he wanted to prove his friend wrong.

i don't believe hallaren had a plan at the time for how to achieve that. he wasn't sure it was actually possible to convince solas the dalish were not as lost a cause as he seemed to believe, but he had to try.

and when i started veilguard, i wouldn't say i'd have anticipated the parallels of solas and rook, nor how well they ended up working for me. i admit: they got me. i didn't see that twist coming. and the hindsight of losing varric from the beginning makes a lot hurt (i say that as a compliment). i think it's easy enough to explain why i didn't see it, why (my, at least) rook didn't puzzle it out, but i also readily admit i'm historically bad at seeing these kinds of things, so you're free to be amused on your own time, lol.

anyway. regret. not becoming what you hate, what you claim to fight against. not being beholden to what you were or what you've lost. the game hits these beats several times, and i think its a real beautiful repeating thing they've done if you hammer all the companion's stories with the main deal, and i did the memories of the dread wolf as well. rook and the inquisitor have a conversation about it that about touches on all of it way more eloquently than i could summarize.

and, of course, part of the reveal is solas did dabble with blood magic on the matter of varric's death, did set rook up for the level of regret and grief they must settle with to trap them in the fade - a prison fit for gods, a prison fit for a god's regrets.

and this is where i transition into blorbo-specific thoughts. because i think part of what fascinates and delights me so much about the rook and solas, potentially two sides of the same coin deal is how tyr's relationship with solas starts and then develops.

tyr does not trust solas from the outset. which i think is where a very interesting presentation of similar (at their roots) choices begins, as varric says: in a bar, as all good stories. one of the first story notifications we get is how rook chooses to handle the bar owner: charm your way out, or a more direct approach, and we're told varric takes note of this.

varric's own plan is an appeal to solas's nature. to talk his way out. as is varric's way.

normally, i'd call tyr the kind of character (having played with him as an oc in various medias for oh... going on 2 years, is it? maybe 3? time's fake, different post) to also prefer talking his way out. but he doesn't believe solas will listen. so he rebukes varric's plan of just waltzing up and charming him with his babygirl eyes.

then at d'meta's crossing, he spares the mayor. not because he doesn't hear the concern that the greedy bastard will fall to said greed again, and not out of an entirely conscious mandate for live with the consequences of your actions, but... in hindsight with other choices, i'd argue it's... from at least a little of that kind of place.

he tries and fails to reason with the first warden. several times. in the heat of weisshaupt, and with the recent conversation with solas about whatever it takes on his mind, he ends up decking the man. the stakes are too high for risking the first warden staying on his high horse again if another attempt at reason fails, is the driver of the decision.

i'd chewed for a while on how that would seem to make tyr's commitment to "talking things through" indicated by that first choice in the bar inconsistent. it all seems justifiable at the time, and he didn't get to the place with the first warden he was out of intentional malice, but he still wound up there.

much of that is natural by the circumstances he was presented. by making calls with the information and under the conditions that were present at the time, as anyone, not just rook, would have to do under such circumstances, if they traded places. sure, some of it is also by solas's engineering of his conversations with rook. by setting them up to be a leader asked to make those hard calls. maybe even for arguably goading them a bit into a situation where whatever it takes was their only feasible option. which neve has a great comment on:

this is, i think, most directly about varric's death, but also, personally, i have to say is applicable for solas's intervention during blood of arlathan.

so, back to blorbo for a moment. tyr begins from a place that mistrusts solas's motives. the I'm quoting you here, "lies, treachery, and rebellion" kind of mistrust. and then, as things progress, as the team unveils more about solas's past in the crossroads and through the murals, it circles back to what I think motivated much of his comment to varric that talking with solas wouldn't work: that even if solas has any regret for what's happened, he's too stubborn to concede, too trapped by the mistakes of that past to ever admit fault, to hear himself sound like the 'gods' he claims to despise. tyr continues to take solas's advice into consideration the whole time, true, because it's... hard to discount the only potentially close to the problem kind of advice and knowledge they don't... exactly otherwise have themselves. he's not sure what the other shoe dropping in that equation is going to look like, but he's more convinced it'll happen than he is entirely happy with the situation.

the murals create... a hunch. or develop it. that rather than just being too prideful about the harm he'll cause by tearing down the veil, that solas is trapped in this plan by his regrets and guilt for actions of the past. at that point, tyr... has a better understanding about how they got to this point, but it kind of only solidifies his reservations that solas might actually be reasoned with.

the one moment this is changed, then, is during blood of arlathan. because frankly i think that was one of the worst experiences tyr has in the entire game. elgar'nan's influence in their minds, and an incident where they're trapped with no conceivable way out and potentially facing down an archdemon again, not so long after weisshaupt that the losses have stopped aching.

whatever his reasons or motivations and whatever else happens, solas saves their lives. tyr can't find a way around that one, and he's not even certain he wants to. because it's one of the definitive moments where he didn't have a plan, and he was terrified the tables had finally turned against them, and they'd fail.

it's not... trust. but tyr's also spent all this time working with his team on this concept that change shouldn't exactly be beyond anyone if there's a little effort put in. and whatever his own feelings are, varric wanted to believe in his old friend, and so does the inquisitor - both people he respects greatly, and he's constantly calculating their desire for a better outcome into the rubix cube that is trying to figure out how to stop the gods.

the problem then, is that solas all but instantly takes advantage of this... lapse. this faint relaxation of tyr's guard against his manipulations. that whole little incident with the fade after ghilan'nain's fall is all but immediately after, and its a betrayal nearly thrice or so over in rapid succession: that varric's been dead this whole time, that solas has manipulated him and how he feels responsibility for the team and the regrets that arise out of having to make hard choices, especially in times like these, and then on the other side of the fade, that solas has gone to minrathous, solas is playing "hero" about it all in tyr's and the shadow dragons' backyard. and to add salt to the wound, in minrathous, it's been blood magic all along.

and, y'know. solas says sorry, says he won't tear down the veil by his own hand, but hands rook the weapon to do it for him. sets them up again. so maybe that's more like... four or five times, depending on your count and categorization of it all.

and rook has a choice about all of this to make, a certain level of peace they have to make with it all to even get out of the fade. and how much to follow varric's advice about don't become what you hate - what you were fighting all along, or trapped by what you lost.

here's tyr's opinion that solas has more than likely been beyond reason because he's too far gone on his own path to even see that he's done exactly that: that he talks like elgar'nan's control, he's just dressing it up in a different way. that he's trapped by what he's lost and sacrificed and admitting that will be too much.

and here's tyr's inescapable bitterness of having been betrayed, of having spent so long trying to be careful with the god of trickery only to have danced right to his tune the whole time. a fiery emotional response for a threat to his home, to minrathous that he's tried very hard to protect and leave a smidgen better than he found it in this whole fight.

by circumstance... and by a little of solas's own design then, rook and solas confront the same trouble of what sacrifice being a leader demands. what cost is too high? how much is too much?

i had the pieces at that point for the ending with mythal, but now i had tyr bitter and a bit more resentful about solas - in a kind of pain about betrayal that was still asking why? about it rather than worried about if regret was present or meaningful. which is where this came from in my head akdfnas;dfnsadf

you're both thinking it. and the endings directly focus on whether or not solas succeeds in tearing down the veil, but the thematic part of it, to me, was... do rook and solas recognize where they might be held back? does tyr act on the pain and resentment of betrayal and swing blindly at solas as repayment? or is it bigger than both of them? is it about posing the question to solas about regret? how much is it like what drove solas to this point to act on that resentment? is it just retaliation? or did either of them learn anything from that prison in the fade?

and that's what makes the parallel, and it's what sets them apart.

and that's how, still, in the end, i have tyr who is willing to choose trying to reason one last time. for the sake of the advice of an old friend. for the people that brought them this far, the ones who chose to believe against the odds. and maybe, even, a little bit for himself. a choice against letting regret and resentment rule.

for the sake of it and because i couldn't get this game out of my head, i checked out the other endings, just to see, and i... think i like sticking with convincing him the best for both of them.

the trick with the dagger swap i think is the only other fitting course of action tyr might've taken from that point, and i think some of its elements reflect similar beats here about... learning from the past, if you will.

the accusation of likeness to the gods is still there. the banter about wits. i am a fool who finally met his match. one might argue that's for underestimating rook, which... fair enough, but i think... it also falls in line with solas's regrets, the appeal to be made to his nature, the... want, in the end, to be proven wrong. to find a 'better' way, as once he suggested to the inquisitor, and as mythal's release from debt and rook and the inquisitor's forgiveness, if you will, finally allows.

and that is... very satisfying to have said between them, when it's been on tyr's mind the whole time. and... they can both be proven wrong this way: for tyr, that solas wasn't beyond listening, and for solas, that there was another way.

for both of them that they could move on from what these trials have made of them, what they have done, and what they endured.

and man... man that was good. and so, so satisfying. it worked, veilguard. you sold me on these two as parallels to each other.

and that's just... one of many things in this game that gave me a lot of emotions, but this has already been. a helluva ramble, so if you've made it this far, congratulations and i salute you, lol.

i'm sure i'll do it all over again and have even more thoughts about even more rooks to throw around and chew on with this and what it'll reflect about each of them and that's. MMM. that's delicious. i loved this game. if my brain and time cooperates, i'm sure i'll have more thoughts and maybe even some writings for it in the future, we'll see where the blorbos take me. xD

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

Okay, I need to get this out of my system.

I have planned to post the sequel to my YOI novelisation in exactly a month from now. My beta said that the sequel feels like an actual continuation of YOI and a friend is even drawing a cover picture, which is just so amazing. But the more I think about it, the more it seems like I'm bound to regret releasing this story a couple of weeks later.

I won't lie. CYHMH had the total opposite of a dream start. I even paused the story for an entire year to get a beta reader because I failed to keep my audience interested and concluded that it was obviously bad. Or maybe it only did so poorly because it can't compete with other novelisations. I don't know and I don't want to know because if I learned the truth, I would probably shoot myself.

The story has 600+ kudos, but that's not reflected in the hits/chapter at all despite all the improvements I've made. The number of hits/chapter which had skyrocketed for a brief time span earlier this year (aka after I resumed posting the improved version) has decreased by 75% since June and hasn't recovered since. Often, I lose bookmarks and subscriptions within hours after posting a new chapter, which couldn't be a more obvious feedback.

I see this loss in interest also reflected in my chapter announcements and previews (not they had ever been great to begin with). Often, I'm the only person reblogging them because rarely anyone else does. On the other hand, my post that I would postpone the latest chapter due to the US elections was so popular and the contrast to the reactions when I finally posted that chapter was so huge that I wonder if people just want me to shut up and stop posting. To be honest, not posting would save me a lot of time and spoons because, let's be frank: writing for a mostly silent audience is just not it. (I have a little bit more engagement on other socials, but the downwards trend is the same there.)

There are only three chapters of CYHMH left to post. The story is at its climax and seeing the lack of interest and enthusiasm so close to the end is just so fucking disheartening after putting so much work into this story which I call my love letter to YOI. Maybe I don't write the kind of stories that inspire the majority of its readers to gush about it, but a part of me had been hoping for at least some people to be thrilled that the chapter was finally out. Or to be at least excited about the sequel. And I can't decide whether my writing just sucks that much to most people, if you're just silent because you only talk about my stories in some exclusionist fic club, or whether a sequel is just not wanted or needed due to the fandom being already saturated with that kind of story.

Would you guys prefer that I stop posting? If you really want to read my YOI sequel or just anything for that matter, I beg you to tell me and to support me.

[the-s1lly-corner]

An Eraser (Bloody Painter x Reader) (7MIH Ending 7)

only about four characters left and then we are done! wondering what fandom to do next hmm.... im also thinking of possibly making a quotev acc so i can more interactive stuff- having polls at the ends of these have been fun but quizzes sound so cool tbh reminder that there are polls at the ends of these to determine the next ending notes: reader is gn, admin is still trying to figure out how he wants to write helen outside of hc posts, hes got a bit of a crush on you cws: none word count: 1775

You reach your hand into the hat and pull out…

An eraser. Not the pink blocky ones you would usually see. No, it was one of those fancier malleable ones. The ones you see artists use every now and then… You didn’t even need to look around the room- there was only one person you could think of who would have something like this. You shift the eraser between your index and thumb and show it to Helen who only pats his thighs and rises to his feet. 

“Well damn, alright then.” Jeff said under his breath, seemingly disappointed that he didn’t get to delay the surprise of who you got until you were both shoved into darkness. Jeff flicked his head towards the hallway, “Closets down that way, you’ve both got seven minutes the second the door closes you got that?” His wide blue eyes darted between you and Helen- who had already joined you at your side. You didn’t even notice him closing in on you. 

You decide not to say anything, instead choosing to walk down the hallway that was motioned towards. Helen kept up with your footsteps, his own nearly perfectly matching up with your own. When you stopped, as did he.

It wasn’t until you made it to the closet door that he made his own move, and it was as simple as opening it and waiting for you to enter first. 

“Thank you,” You mutter under your breath and slip right past him. You slink into the back corner of the small space. 

The door shuts behind Helen, leaving the both of you in darkness. 

You tap your palms against the wall behind you as you scrape your head for something to say to fill the silence. Helen decided to be kind enough to break the silence for you.

“I never took you as someone who would play this game,” 

He catches you off guard. 

In an instant you’re straightening up and trying to come up with an explanation. Was this an accusation? Judgment? 

“I mean I don’t usually but-”

“I’m not saying that it’s a bad thing, I’m playing as well,” He gently cut you off. You suck some air between your teeth and fall silent. 

“You don’t seem like the type to play games like this either, you know… I mean, I’m personally fine playing… this stuff… but you kinda…” You fail to find the words. “Seem reserved to yourself?”

The air falls quiet once more for a few moments before it's broken for a second time by Helen. “I was encouraged to put myself out for tonight,”

You hum in response and move your hands from the wall to the bottom of your shirt, busying your fingers with the fabric. 

“Yeah? By who? …Pup right? I only ever really see you hanging around with him,” 

Helen nods. 

You look down to the floor and stare down at your shoes, then to Helen’s- dully noting that he wore boots… stained with paint, or perhaps blood. It was nearly impossible to tell in the darkness. 

“Well, I’m glad there’s one person here that you like- or at least enjoy enough! I remember you hardly ever left your room for anything when you first arrived here,” You give him a smile and hope that he could see it. 

“There’s two, actually.” 

You snap your eyes back up to his mask. 

“It was you who gave me the nerve to stick around for the games, if you didn’t come downstairs I’d have gone back up to my room… though I do wish I got the chance to talk to you before everyone gathered…” He paused. 

“Too many people…” He muttered under his breath. 

“But I bumped right into you- how come you didn’t say anything?” 

Helen’s head tilts to the side. It feels like his eyes were raking themselves over your body- from head to toe. You do your best not squirm under his gaze. 

“You took me by surprise… Nerves is all.” 

You hum again and clench your fists into your shirt fabric.

“How…” You start. Helen rights the angle of his head and you pull your eyes away from his mask. “How long did you…”

Was he admitting to having feelings for you or did he simply want to be your friend? You work your jaw… you could be horribly misreading this. You could make a fool of yourself. 

“How long did you have a thing for me?” 

Helen only chuckles softly- a sound that only lasts for a few seconds before its quieted. “For quite a while… months, now.” 

You open your mouth to reply but he’s already answering your question.

“I wanted to see how long until you approached first,” Helen takes a step towards you. He leans over you with a gaze still fixed right on your face. He smells of paints and iron, and you fight yourself not to scrunch your nose as the scent washes over you. “But I grow tired of waiting, and there’s no one here to steal you away- during the party, of course,” 

He stops right in front of you, leaving just enough space for you to make an escape if you wanted to. “I was hoping you would take out my eraser, even if we do not share a moment of intimacy having you just to myself for a moment is fine enough for me,” 

Your mind blanks for a split second at his words for a moment. 

You had nearly forgotten the outcomes of games like this- though you couldn’t find it in yourself to mind it all that much. You looked at his mask again to try to find his eyes, however you were only met with failure… you force your eyes to remain locked onto the mask’s sockets though as you try to find your voice again.

“I will not force anything on you, nor will I act without your word,” He softly spoke and backed up a few inches away from you. You finally release the hem of your shirt and reach forward- lightly gripping the sleeves that were folded and bunched against his wrists. 

“I… wouldn’t mind-” You grin up at Helen. It’s faster paced than what you normally preferred for relationships, but you had found yourself emboldened by the current setting you’ve found yourself in. “So long as this isn’t a trick to get my blood for one of your projects,” You teased.

…

“I’m joking of course… not giving you my bodily fluids before the first date,” You swat the idea down and pull Helen closer. He allows you to, even lowering his face closer to yours. 

“I wouldn’t… I’ve no spare canvases as it is already… a work with your matter requires one purely devoted to it,” He mutters into your ear. A shiver runs up your spine as he rested his hands on either side of you- effortlessly freeing his sleeves from the admittedly not very tight grasp you had on them.

Helen pulled away and settled his face in front of you, seemingly taking in every single feature of your face. You’d swear he could memorize every pore if he could, if it weren’t too dark. 

He was… close… to say the least…

Helen peeled one of his gloves hands from the wall and let the finger sprawl across his mask. He didn’t take it off or slip it upwards towards his forehead. Instead he shifted it to the side, shielding his face away from the door… but allowing it to give you a full view of his face. 

He looked… tired… more than you were expecting given the hours you assumed he spent on his paintings. Despite that, his blue eyes were nearly glowing with life. Or at least carried a sense of thrill in them- a stark contrast to the otherwise neutral expression pulled across his face… there was a light dust of red across his cheeks… faint in the darkness but you could just barely see it thanks to the proximity. 

Helen remained still and unmoving in front of you despite all of this, though.

Your eyes darted across his face, before his earlier words sparked an idea in you.

You make the first move and begin to lean forward to him, and gently press your lips against his. In an instant you can feel his mouth attempting to twitch upwards into a grin before he simply started to kiss back. Helen’s hands returned to the wall on either side of you and remained. Instead, it was you that decided to begin touching him; by choosing to run your hands through his black hair and move the strays out of the way. 

You both remained that way for… you weren’t paying attention- the only thing that caught you off guard and made you pull your face away from his was light flooding into the small room.

“Woah! Damn! Okay!” Jeff chuckled as he stood in the doorway. 

You shoot a glare at him- you didn’t hear him announce how much time was left… Did he give a warning? It didn’t matter now as your face burned hotter than it had when the door was closed. 

Helen doesn’t seem to pay much mind to Jeff. He only rose to his full height and pulled his mask over his face back to its original position. Only then did he actually turn to face the doorway straight on. 

“You didn’t knock, Jeffery.” He said lowly.

Clearly irritated. 

You pull away from the wall and follow after Helen as he steps out of the closet. 

“Didn’t think you’d actually have the balls to do anything… damn…” Jeff shot back.

“I owe a Nina some drinks, damn…” You caught him muttering as you passed by. You tried to fight the urge to step on his foot as you passed, instead choosing to focus on Helen, who was waiting on the other side of the hall for you. 

“Hey,” 

Helen nods to you. You chew the inside of your cheek as things fall silent once more… How does one proceed after something like this with someone as reserved as Helen? You shift your weight between your feet.

“Do you want to go somewhere else? You’ve gotten what you wanted from the party- and game-” You sheepishly smile up at him. 

Helen studies you hard for a moment.

“I would love that,” 

“Cool… cool nice,” You smile. He takes your hand after your eyes nervously dart over it. 

You weren’t surprised when he started to lead you to the stairs, and even less when he passed by your room and to his.

[bittersweetsthff]

read more fics since this last post and i have MORE goodies!! links below the cut :3

between death and damnation by quillifer

rated m. warning for major character death.

“Why are you always busy on Thursdays? You never used to be busy on Thursdays.” “I have a new standing appointment,” Ivan says, declining to elaborate.

Apparently, Ivan is dying. Till does not handle this news well.

reconstructive memory by yamscooper

rated m. post-round till is with the rebellion but everything is still wrong.

“I thought I told you to cheer up,” Ivan says. His hair’s shorter than it was in Till’s last memory of him. Shinier, well-styled. He’s wearing black. He’s lost some muscle, but his grin’s the same. A little showy, a little fake. Definitely condescending. He looks healthy for a ghost. He looks like he wasn’t shot four times. “You’re not a very good listener, are you?” Till’s throat closes up. “Ivan,” he rasps.

Ivan comes back after Round 6, with a few changes.

the knife i turn inside myself by calmthestorms

rated t. my favourite toxic straight couple! warning for major character death.

She’s bent over him, frozen, hardly breathing. Luka takes the opportunity to look at her—really look at her, committing her to memory. He wants to remember her wherever he goes after he dies. If he can’t have her in this life, maybe he can in another. “Don’t let go,” he pleads, soft and fervent as a prayer. “Hold me when I die. Please.” Hyuna turns her face away for a long moment, shoulders shaking as she breathes. Luka knows this motion, long-remembered from childhood. He tugs on a strand of hair, pulls her face back to his. “Don’t cry,” Luka whispers.

When Hyuna comes to kill him, Luka is already waiting.

shadow on the tile by GallifreyanFairytale

rated t. a luka character study (i think he's growing on me)

Hyuna takes his wrist in her hand, fingers circling around it completely, pressing hard enough to bruise. “I’ll break it,” she threatens. Luka laughs. It bubbles up in his throat and spills through his lips without his consent, a stream of giggles, as tears prick at the corners of his eyes. It’s hilarious. Snap his wrist, and he’ll finally have a distraction from the pain splitting his skull. He’ll finally have something else to think about, and an excuse to miss classes for a day, and a good enough reason to have painkillers pumped into his veins until everything is completely, blissfully, numb. “Do it,” he begs. “Hyuna, do it.”

on luka, migraines, and perfection.

a breath of fall by oceans_bluem

rated g. pre-round 6 ivan and a study of ivansua siblings. warning for major character death.

Sua, he thinks. Sua, will it hurt? Ivan is long past the moment for doubt. As soon as he saw his name matched against Till’s for Round Six, he knew what he would have to do. More than that, he’s long outgrown unnecessary questions. But some part of him is still the boy who flinched from pain before he learned to bite his tongue through it and craft his face into an expressionless mask. So he asks the only other person who knows what he is going through: Sua, he thinks again, will it hurt? Sua, of course, does not answer.

Or, Ivan prepares for Round 6.

not even in another eternity will you stop your lovely orbiting by quillifer

rated m. till through several time loops.

“What if I told you that you had a chance to do it all over again? You wouldn’t be able to change much—the fates don’t play fair—but you could settle at least one of your regrets. Would you take it?” Till knows better than to gamble; the risks almost always outweigh the benefits. Still, it sounded like Sua was speaking from experience. “Did you—” “I can’t answer any of your questions,” Sua says, cutting him off with haste. “Yes or no, Till?” Till swallows, staring at her outstretched hand.

déjà vu by quillifer

rated t. reincarnated ivti strangers :)

Truthfully, Ivan thought this kind of disease was the stuff of urban legend. He takes himself to the emergency room, unwilling to risk undue escalation. His vitals are fine. A doctor assures him that his lungs haven’t been taken over. “It would be in your best interests to confess, young man. Heartbreak is temporary. Organ damage is permanent.” There’s only one problem: Ivan isn’t in love with anyone.

thistlewood by quillifer

rated t. modern au till takes in a feral ivan

“You bite me, scarf down my food, then you have the gall to beg for more?” Ivan isn’t familiar enough with tonal nuance to understand that the other boy is being purposefully melodramatic. “Can you talk at all?” He tries a few more questions, none of which beget a response. After a beat, he picks a rock up off the ground. The gesture has Ivan growling, hackles raised, but he hurriedly throws it into the distance. Ivan listens to it rattle until it’s gone. Presumably, the kid can hear just fine. Heaving a sigh, he points to his chest. “I’m Till. Okay? Till. Who are you?” Ivan holds out his wrist. That’s answer enough, Till supposes.

reverse psychology by quinnpriv1

rated e. stalker till.

Till starts jotting down information in a notebook because his brain is scrambled at the best of times. If Ivan ever goes missing thanks to some rabid ex or a girl who’s pissed off because Ivan won’t date her, he needs to know what to tell the authorities. The notebook expands tremendously from humble beginnings. Tall. Dark-haired. Handsome. Broad-shouldered. Uneven smile, morphs into, Six-foot-one, twenty-six years old, something along the lines of a finance specialist, left-handed, Ferragamo moccasins polished to a shine, amongst a dozen other paltry details. He’s aware enough to acknowledge that he has an interest in Ivan—but he wouldn’t consider himself interested, not romantically. Ivan isn’t his type. Greasy corporate bastard with a wicked tongue? Nothing but trouble. And yet.

Hi hello! do you have any alien stage fic recs??

i most definitely do!!!

I've only read ivantill until now (cus the brainrot is real) so that's what I'll share here but once I'm done scouring the mizisua tag, I'll definitely return!

links below the cut <3

from ashes by petitfives

vampire till and vampire ivan. ivan is deranged and till suffers per usual. rating: explicit

"This is the face of the dog who has killed so many of my fledglings,” Urak says, snapping Till out of his reverie. “Remember it. It might be the last thing you see.” Till has never liked Ivan more than he does right now. Good, he thinks, as viciously as he can. He doesn’t think his prayers carry any weight, but he stares hard at the saint wearing Ivan’s face and hopes Ivan puts a stake through Urak’s unbeating heart. Or, Till gets turned by a vampire, and Ivan is a vampire hunter.

the silhouette in my peripherals by Anonymous

till in the aftermath of r6. rating: explicit

Ivan is gone, but he is still there. Or: how to haunt a person.

till death do us part (so why are you before me again?) by Aminori

ivan and till reuniting in the afterlife. <3 rating: teen

When Ivan had held his beloved’s throat, felt the pulse of life as his own ended, he had expected to not see Till again. … He had expected Till to live on. Had selfishly wanted it, in fact. But here his beloved was, in his arms, in a place that they were never meant to be reunited in.

And he wasn’t quite sure what to feel, anymore.

(or: Ivan dies. He didn’t expect to see Till again, but he did.)

break a heart, stitch it right back by yamscooper

till being jealous. rating: teen

If Ivan wants to laugh and giggle and twirl his hair at some girl Till has never met before, that’s none of Till’s fucking business. “I don’t think Ivan’s hair is long enough to twirl,” Mizi says. “It’s a figure of speech,” Till bites out.

a certain ivantill fan's origin story by gustavo

somehow luka becomes the #1 ivantill fan. rating: teen

Over the course of his preparation for the much-anticipated Final Round of the hit dystopian drama, Alien Stage, Luka discovers that he might be a lot more invested in his best friend’s love life than he’d expected himself to be. or: the fic where luka somehow becomes an ivantill truther.

breathe again in the world anew by aerivel

more ivantill reunions after r7. rating: teen

Till and Ivan reunite one more time. - “I can’t say I’m not disappointed.” The sound of a deep, gentle voice cutting through the air startles Till enough to bang his head against the tree behind him. Wincing slightly, he sits up and jerks his head to the slowly approaching man in white. “I thought you would win after all,” the man continues, slowing until he stood a few feet away. The man’s attention is stolen by the fluttering of a crimson flower inches away from his foot. Absently, he shifts his shoe and crushes the petals beneath him. It’s enough to spark something within Till. Ivan. It’s Ivan.

your shadow on the wall of my room by ephemeroptera_insecta

ghost ivan haunts till. rating: teen

Till won Round 6. He had his first kiss. He’s one step closer to winning. He’s also, notably, now being haunted. Or : Ivan comes back as a ghost. Till realizes what Ivan has done for him, and the feelings he buried for him out of fear. They navigate life (and death) as a man and his ghost.

what we’re allowed to do to each other’s faces by fakekniferealketchup

ivan lives and till escapes. rating: teen

When Ivan had died, the lens through which Till saw the world had fractured, rearranged, and stuck that way, like a broken bone that wasn’t set. A bleeding kaleidoscope of the past. A dozen years of memories clamored for fresh attention, to be reexamined, to be cut open so they could show off all the terrible wriggling things that had wormed around inside them and eaten them hollow. He couldn’t think of the garden, anymore; only of how stupid he had been. — - — Ivan lives; Till escapes the arena. There's no elegance in their reunion, but there is spit, and blood, and something close to forgiveness.

[icewindandboringhorror]

On average, what is the total MONTHLY amount that you spend on dining out*?

*(This doesn't only count going out to restaurants, but also stuff like picking up fast food to bring home, getting a coffee on the way to work, getting a premade sandwich from a grocery store deli during lunch, buying a quick snack from a convenience store or food cart whilst walking somewhere, ordering a pizza or any other food to be delivered to your home, etc.)

*(If you often dine out in groups/as a household: calculate and divide the costs so that you get a Per Person average. This is for YOU individually, NOT the total household/group costs)

(I'm sure polls similar to this have been made before (very common topic), I just haven't personally seen one that I can remember, so, I was curious to do my own! I was discussing this with a group of people today and it was very interesting to see how widely the number varied between individuals. :0c )

(Reblog for bigger sample size if you can, and feel free to explain your answer in tags if there's anything extra to add!)

[tytoalbatross]

god damn i do not post often but can i talk about intentionality for a second?? one second please

i'm gonna be talking about bg3 but this really applies to any fandom space. people will, surface-level, agree that a Black character is not getting enough content compared to their white counterparts because it's. obvious . take wyll, who is several hours behind on voiced lines compared to other origins despite being one of the original five (before they added karlach and whiteified her too but that's another post). it's hard to deny cold hard facts

but then instead of engaging in content that uplifts Black characters and creators, they'll go right back to pumping out more and more content of just their white faves. on its own, it's not actively harmful, but here's what the implication is, whether they acknowledge it or not: yes wyll has less in-game content, yes his writing didn't get the attention it deserved, therefore i don't like him as much. it only perpetuates wyll's lack of content by contributing to his sidelining in fandom spaces

what i would love for fans who claim to be allies to do is to step out of the comfort zone of their initial favorites (which can, in fact, be biased!) and start pursuing content centering Black characters with intentionality. like all things, anti-racism (actively pushing back against racism rather than simply "Not Being Racist") takes practice and effort. you can't really agree with us that wyll needs more content, then in the same breath say that it's because of that that he's not interesting to you . the point was right in front of you doing a jig and you still missed it

[quarks-pussy]

[Images description: Twelve pictures of Star Trek actors. The phrase "thank you for being both amazing actors and amazing people" is written across most of the images one word at a time, except for the two images in the middle. The middle images are of William Shatner, reading "not you!" and Robert Beltran, reading "or you for that matter". The actors in the other images are George Takei, René Auberjonois, DeForest Kelley, Gates McFadden, Wil Wheaton, Kate Mulgrew, Patrick Stewart, Siddig El Fadil (aka Alexander Siddig), Nichelle Nichols and Leonard Nimoy. End image description.]

Non exhaustive list of course. Many more such cases, in fact feel free to add

(insp)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

hello!! i just want to tell you that your art is so goddamn scrumptious, you are literally feeding my xmen brainrot and I find myself smiling when i see your art come across my feed. I love how you draw charles, pretty privilege and post (lets be fr he's serving every time)

i hope you always have fantastic brainrot and id kiss your blessed hands for giving us the gift of cherik and charles xavier, you are literally an icon

hope you have a great day ahead of you and more!! you deserve it !!

well i'ma absolutely have a wonderful mornin after readin this AWWWW thank you so so much !!!! i haven't been postin xmen long, so it's been really heartwarmin seein the warm reception to my work in the wonderful tags people have been leavin on my posts- and especially gettin to answer the lovely asks y'all've been sendin in (❁´ ▽ `❁) !! im glad people also like my goofy text posts and esp quotes from my brother he really has no right being so funny at the most random times

i hope to be xmen posting a while: ive got at least 60 years worth of stuff to look through and ongoing, so i dont imagine my interest'll wane anytime soon :]] !!

[motherforthefamicom]

redownloaded an old art program

[riverofrainbows]

Lately I'm hearing a lot about PDA and autism (PDA = pathological demand avoidance) and it's very good that people become more aware of it and are able to learn more about their own needs. However i often see it framed as like a type of autism, as in PDA autism that's just this thing that happens randomly.

But it isn't just a flavour of autism or something that comes from who-knows-what, it's a trauma response. To having forced yourself to do so much shit that goes against your needs, to feeling like you have to/having to force yourself to do things that go over your capacity, that disregard your needs and do harm to you. Including things where people don't even know their own needs and can't communicate them.

It's a trauma response caused by a lack of autonomy and accommodations (from yourself for whatever reason and your environment). To the point where having to do anything, hearing any demand causes this message of doom to your nervous system

And there is a very simple but not easy solution to it, with the potential of even a cure: Do not force yourself to do anything until your nervous system has healed. Now this is very hard to be able to do, which is the difficult part, because most of us aren't in an environment where we can do that, often have to work etc to survive and don't have people support us for a few years while we do not acquiesce to any demand. Additionally, many of us don't even know how to honor our needs because we trampled all over them for years, were forced to mask them and might not even know what they are or how to recognise them in ourselves.

A possible way to at least some healing of our nervous system is getting to know our needs and working on meeting them better, to try and build down the mask and only conciously use it where necessary but for example not at home or in a safe space, and try to have as many safe spaces to unmask as possible. You might only be able to start while completely alone but even that helps. Another point is decomposition time, soup time as i call it. Where we take however much time we have available, preferably at least a couple days, whenever we can, and do not force ourselves to do anything, even hobbies or getting out of pyjamas, except staying alive, and just drift like driftwood. This also massively helps with autistic burnout.

One additional tipp to recognising our suppressed needs and wants is that when you think "Oh i want this" but immediately shut yourself down: try to recognise this happening and ask yourself "Why can't i do this?" and if you don't have a good reason why not, try doing the thing you want. Might be something as simple as a juice packet or be some leftover rule from childhood. Similar for "I don't look forward to that": if you don't have a reason why you have to do it, and do it exactly this way, consider not doing it. For example you don't have to go to an outing you are very uncomfortable at. You don't have to do the dishes a certain way even tho it's awful sensory wise. Try finding those small impulses and listening to them. It gets easier over time.

This PDA trauma response is also one of the factors of executive dysfunction. Especially for things like when we can't even do our own hobbies or plans we had that we enjoy. Other reasons for executive dysfunction are difficulty transition tasks, sensory issues that make us avoid a task, pending decisions related to the tasks, unknown elements of a task, or not wanting to interrupt the current activity such as listening to music or watching a show (especially since these are big tools for escapism and distraction/coping to keep emotional distress at bay or otherwise aid in emotional regulation).

Btw this whole essay is built on my own experiences, i am not a psychologist or professionally qualified in some other way. So do take this with some critical thinking as my sources are "it's in my head" and we should never take (mental) health advice on the internet without thinking about whether it makes sense and applies to us, and do additional research if any questions or doubts or further thoughts come up.

[a-shadowedvales]

when jane's powers return in season four (and because they were regained by her confronting and accepting her past, rather than being retraumatised with it!) they're stronger than they ever were. when she starts getting a handle back on them, she very quickly comes to realise not only have they affected her, but her mother, too. one of the biggest losses that came about with her losing them was the fact that she could no longer visit terry in the void; while there was no real communication there, it did allow jane to sit with her, and gain a little more connection than she could in the real world. when she first visits the void after their return, it takes her three hours to find terry, something that is both unexpected and incredibly worrying. but when she does, it's something of a miracle. jane's increased strength and control over the void actually wakes terry up from her catatonic state, but only in the void. there's no way to help her mother physically, but she does do so (unbeknownst to her) mentally. terry is reborn in jane's newfound control over the vale of shadows; she becomes the woman she once was, and while her body remains frozen in a "good dream", her mind connected to jane's own allows her some freedom. jane is able to speak to her mother in the void, is able to be held by her, and while it's still unfair and jane cannot stay in there forever, it's something. this only lasts for about eight months, as each visit slowly begins deteriorating terry's physical and mental state, and jane's health begins declining after spending hours upon hours in the void each and every day.

when jane finds out these visits are actually killing her mother on the outside, she deems to stop, but terry expresses the importance of them being able to speak, that she'd prefer to die on the outside, if it meant she could have just a few months with her daughter like this. terry and jane's connection was always so strong, which ultimately led to terry "waking up" in the void, but even jane's newfound strength cannot save her from the harsh realities. each visit nearing the end of those eight months, terry fades more and more, becomes weaker in the void, and her real body eventually gives up. jane's in the void when her mother eventually passes on, and physically feels their connection weaken, like some part of her suddenly becomes lost in the shadows, a part she'll never find again. jane falls into a depressive state for weeks after her mother's death, given she's technically lost her a second time, but soon comes to realise she was lucky to have even shared those eight months together. it was better than nothing at all. there is a proper burial and funeral, (and when jane dies, she's buried next to her mother) which allows jane some sense of closure. she never fully recovers from losing terry, nor from the fact that she never had a proper relationship with her, but she does eventually find some peace with it all.

[sysig]

DAX is just so expressive ♥ (Patreon)

[derpinette]

sometimes i will get bored & go through someone's entire blog since its creation