#i just need to be able to recommend them to people without making them jump through the hoops of piracy

[devilofthehounds]

[image id: An edited version of the "McDonald's Alignment Chart" meme. Written at the top is "Children Yelling: McDonalds! McDonalds! McDonalds!" To the left and below the text is chibi art of the Caligula Effect Overdose protagonists. The main part of the meme features a triangle with the three corners labelled, each featuring a character from Devil Survivor 2. The top corner is labelled "We have food at home" and features Io Nitta. The bottom left corner is labelled "*Pulls into the drive through as children cheer* *Orders a single black coffee and leaves*" and features the Devil Survivor 2 protagonist. The bottom right corner is labelled "McDonalds! McDonalds! McDonalds!" and features Daichi Shijima. /end id]

Bought Caligula Effect Overdose on sale, so have a niche crossover meme featuring an OT3 and a dream headcanon.

[kingdoms-and-empires]

Adoriel's Tears Review

I recently had to go travel and read a few works that I never got around to reading but was interested in.

PLEASE REMEMBER THIS REVIEW IS DONE BY ME AS A READER AND IS MY OWN OPINION.

This means I will review in accordance to my own tastes, how the game caters to me, and what I feel. Do not take my word as gospel, what I may not be interested in or dislike, may be what YOU are interested and love!!!

@adoriels-tears-if

Synopsis:

Adoriel's Tears are a gift.

A light offered to the inhabitants of Terrybiël to end the conflicts that oppress the Four Peoples and eradicate the evil that was crawling on the continent.

But every light has its shadow and sometimes gifts are poisonous. For if magic comes from the heart, it takes a soul to master it, and fortunate are those who manage to find it. Without a counterpart, without a familiar, a Tear is nothing.

Just a curse. A child of madness. The darkness on Terrybiël. What must be destroyed before they destroy you.

Adoriel's Tears are a gift. At least for the others.

You're long past the point where your heart and soul should be singing together, and yet you're gifted. That's what made you lose everything you had as a child. Now, an opportunity presents itself. Should you take it, is it the right thing to do?

Without a soul and with a magic you can't control, the journey will be a risky one.

Especially since the smell of madness and blood is getting heavier and heavier on Terrybiël. Will you be able to fix everything, to find what you're looking for? Nothing is less sure.

And yet, this voice is calling you, whispering:

Come ! Come to me ! Come to me and don't be afraid.

Review:

The Good: Tobias is Ken, do not fight me on this.

Also, i wasnt aware what Snow was until i looked it up:

SO FREAKING CUTE!

Anyways, I had a lot of fun with this one. It lures you into a false sense of security and wholesomeness only to abruptly show the player and MC the reality of the world. That their mother had been protecting them for a reason. The family dynamics, relationships between characters, and drama crafted got me in my feels enough to care! I also got to name my plushie rabbit Optimus Prime, which was fucking hilarious:

Also i had alot of fun with the parental drama the MC can have with their father

Ashleyn:

And with his fuckboi bros:

Adoriel's Tears does that thing really well, that thing that lets the reader fill in the blanks and make up their own assumptions for the characters until we actually meet them. Plus it lets us act out and be brats so we can break the hearts of all the adults around us that try their best!

Also there's moments like this:

That honestly just adds that bit of humor that works without cause friction for the rest of the tone.

There was also a specific passage that felt emotionally charged and intense. Youll know what im talking about once you reach it, because it is very memorable. Without spoiling, it feels like justice coming forth to smite those that have wronged you.

The Bad: I know that Chapter 1 is a transfer from the original Choicescript, and it shows. The author has already expressed wanting to polish and clean it up, which i think is the right step as the second chapter and onwards have a clear jump in quality. There were numerous spelling and grammatical errors, but given that chapter 1 is four years old, and that the author is not a native English speaker (is French) that can be excused and fixed. I was able to submit errors I came across, so the author will be able to fix what i found in a future update. I do recommend that those who play any IF out there to submit anything they find as authors need us to beta test! Their eyes literally begin to glaze over the words theyve seen for the thousandth time lol.

The Ugly: I encountered moments where the MC feels very sensitive and too friendly, or the opposite where the choices can give an extreme negative reaction in response. I'd like for the inclusion of a more middle ground MC. In addition to that, there where times where my immersion (self insert, remember) broke as my boy MC felt too "feminine" without letting us choose to act it or not. Idk how to describe it other than that lol, but it stood out to me.

The Aftermath: I would recommend this to anyone that wants a good family dynamic/drama, and if characters and their relationships with each other are important to you. There's a lot of promise, potential, and "oh shit" moments that can/will happen (18+ tag, remember?) that only leaves me wanting more. The worldbuilding done allows for some really gripping story telling, and from what we see so far, itll impact the story. Seriously, the worldbuilding here is unique, and WILL stand out as we keep seeing the same ole same ole elsewhere in this genre. It's a fantasy story that keeps itself grounded by using likable characters who have realistic flaws that provide entertainment for us.

[starhvney]

𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝟑 | 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟏𝟖: 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋?

𝐂𝐖: ptsd and descriptions of depression and anxiety, descriptions of reader’s hair being short, reader has scars, reader is medicated

𝐀/𝐍: this is the last chapter of subject 3! but not the end of this story…

𝐖𝐂: 8,800+

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐑: the absolutely amazing @arienic! she's so cool guys

𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒

Your parents had brought you your favorite pair of pajamas to change into. The fabric's softer than you remember, soothing against your skin as you were ushered into the back seat for the ride home. After you'd settled in, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you were given your phone in a plastic bag. The screen was cracked, and when you turned it on a black line went down part of the screen. Apparently it had been dropped off the side of the road, likely to keep from tracking.

 Still, it was usable.

“It’s probably best for you to wait until you’ve settled in at home to respond to anyone's messages. And I highly recommend waiting until going on any sort of social media platform.”

Maybe it's for the best that you wait, because as soon as your phone turned on you were overloaded with more messages than your screen could even keep up with.

302 messages, 107 missed calls… So many random message requests from people you didn’t even know on social media.

Even if you weren’t still groggy from all of the anti-anxiety medicine, you don’t think you'd be able to even start unpacking most of this. Like the doctor said, it was best if you waited for a moment. You’re not even sure you can trust your parents at this point; not with how much they were clearly hiding. You’ll question them later. Later, not now, because right now… well, it’s just too much to think.

☆

The warm draft of the afternoon is gentle on your face as you gaze out at the street, the curtain sheers swaying behind you with the wind before settling across your back. This repeats in a rhythmic motion as you stay perfectly still with your chin on the edge of your windowsill, watching the world turn without you.

A silver car had pulled into the driveway about ten minutes ago, and since then there had been distant voices downstairs, too faint to make out but loud enough for you to know someone else was here in the house. So when there’s a gentle knock on the doorway of your otherwise silent room, you don’t startle or jump like you had been doing for the whole week you’ve been back.

“Good afternoon,” a man greets.

It takes effort that you don’t have to turn your head, still slouched against the wall as you examine the visitor. He has a kind face, the wrinkles that were imprinted on his skin showing he’s done a lot more smiling than frowning in his life; his voice is perfectly modulated and low in timbre.

“I’m Dr. August McCoy, do you remember me?”

He was the kindest doctor you'd spoken to in the hospital. You nod.

Dr. McCoy gives you a small smile and steps into your room. “Wonderful.”

You probably need to move now, to sit up from this spot you’ve been planted in for hours. So, after taking a moment to gather your energy, you do. The joints in your knees ache as you unfold your legs from beneath you, hands leaving your lap and flattening against the hardwood floor.

“Oh no, you don’t have to move. That’s quite a comfy spot you’ve chosen.” He smiles gently, walking closer and gesturing to a spot across from you, by the other side of the windowsill. “If it’s alright, I’ll just sit here with you.”

You nod again. With a quiet grunt, he takes a spot a few feet away from you, rubbing his knees when he’s settled in a cross-legged position.

“These knees don’t work like they used to,” he chuckles lightly, setting down a notebook and pen next to him before his brown eyes pivot back to you. “You seemed like you were pretty lost in thought, there.”

Yes—surely in the long period you'd been sitting here in silence, some train of thought had passed through your mind. But, truth be told, you hadn’t been thinking. Not at all. The emptiness making itself home in your chest was the only thing you could focus on, its heaviness pulling in your soul like a black hole, slowly consuming you.

“Ah, perhaps not thinking at all,” Dr. McCoy answers for you. “Simply sitting in silence and letting your mind rest is also quite the healthy practice.”

“I wasn’t really thinking about anything, yeah,” you admit. You're relieved when he hums in understanding.

“I see.” He casually rests his elbows on his knees. “Well, the last time we talked, you mentioned that you were going to talk to the couple who found you. How did that go?”

Donna and Logan. They came by to visit you a few days after you’d returned—by your request and their—or at least Donna’s—eagerness. She was a sweet woman with an endearing Southern accent. Her husband wasn’t so sweet in comparison, but he at least seemed to want to know if you were alright.

They'd been on a long drive back from their honeymoon when you'd ran onto the road, covered in blood, and collapsed in front of their car. Donna told you she recognized you when she saw the news, that she remembered you as the “cute little girl who came in the store with that punk ass Gene” sometime during the school year. After she brought it up, you remembered her as well—though at the time, skipping school and the… stalker were your biggest concerns. You thanked them both for saving you, and she gave you her number in case you needed any help, including “kicking Gene or any boy that gives you trouble's ass”.

“It was nice,” you tell Doctor McCoy. “Donna's… She's a good woman.”

“Yes, I’m positive she is.” He pauses. “After you had that conversation with them, can you tell me what you thought; what you felt?”

You glance away, back out to the street. After Donna had gone off about simple teenager problems like boy drama, the memories of your life last school year came flooding back.

“Ah, I see something there,” he notes, reading you like a book. “A thought? A question?”

Silence falls as he gives you time to answer.

“Will I ever be normal again?”

He smiles, tilting his head. “Well, what is normal?”

“...What?”

“To answer your question I need to know how you define normal. It varies from person to person, you know.”

“I… I don’t know. Happy. Not always feeling like something bad is going to happen.” You sigh, shrugging. “Like how I was last year. Even though I was still worried about things happening, I still had fun.”

He nods, looking very assured of himself. “Then yes, you can.”

“…How do you know that?”

“Because! If you want to get better, then you shall.” He leans forward again, tapping his finger against the side of his head “The human mind is the most powerful thing anyone can own. You can heal yourself by just believing more than any pill I give you.”

You lower your head. “You’re making it sound like it’s simple.”

“Oh, I never claimed it was. It’s going to be a very difficult journey, and you’re likely going to fall down, many many times. But… you know what?” He turns his finger towards you. “You are a very strong young woman. And the fact you’re thinking about getting better instead of just giving up is a big enough sign to me that you have the strength to get through this.”

“What should I do then?” you whisper, looking back up at him.

“Well, for starters, you said you want to be “normal” again, yes?”

“Yes…”

He gestures out the window. “Well, what would a 'normal' girl your age be doing right now? Where are your friends?”

The start of your junior year began yesterday. 

“At school.”

He leans back, now gesturing to you.

“Then why don’t you return to school?”

Return to school?

Was that even possible? Whoever had taken you still hasn’t been found. You’re a risk, a liability. The special treatment on top of having to deal with everyday high school issues… would that have to be your life? Were you supposed to deal with Ivy shit-talking you while downing your daily Citalopram at the same time? Could you do your Algebra homework while dealing with night terrors and only getting three hours of sleep again?

He chuckles. “Oh, that’s quite a face you made to that. I don’t blame you for not wanting to go to high school right now. I mean, being surrounded by so many people your age at such a time in your life…  Well, that sounds like a nightmare, doesn’t it?”

That’s an understatement. “Yeah.”

“That’s understandable. But, sometimes, the best way for people with PTSD to be on their way to becoming 'normal' is to simply return to the same life they had before—even if it’s a bit out of their comfort zone.”

Talking right now to this man one-on-one feels like pulling teeth, never mind going to a place with hundreds of kids your age every day. It was daunting before, but now… isn’t it almost impossible to imagine? Would the childish bullying you endured last year get worse, or will everyone treat you like a ticking time bomb?

“How am I supposed to act normal in school when everyone knows what happened to me? They’re going to treat me like I’m some—some case.”

“Oh, you will get quite some attention at first, good and bad,” he says lightly. It’s a little aggravating. “But, with time, that will fade, and your friends who truly care about you are the ones you can trust to help you through it.  I heard from your mom that you have a pretty great group of friends. Don’t you?”

You glance at your wall, covered in photographs, drawings, and notes—all from just one year since… today? No—yesterday. “Yes.”

“Since you mentioned you were having some trouble trusting people, I want you to take a moment to think about the friends you truly trust.” He emphasizes his words with a determined closed fist. “Do you have a diary?”

A journal with beautiful gold gilding lays on the corner of your desk, untouched since summer.

“...Yes. My friend Nana gave it to me.”

“Then, I want you to read over your journal and think about all of the people you know through the perspective of the journal, not through your current perspective. Then, on a sheet of paper, write down every person you trust. Don’t write down people you don’t trust, either. Only a list of people you know you can rely on. Maybe this Miss Nana can be one of the first you write down, yes?”

“Why not people I can’t trust?” Your eyebrows pinch together.

“Because, just like you have, people can always change. You don’t want to doom someone to be permanently on your untrustworthy list, just like you don’t want people to treat you differently because of what happened.”

“...Even people who I know are bullies?”

“Well if you already know that they are, you don’t need to write down that you need to stay away from them, do you? You seem to already remember!” he laughs, clasping his worn hands together. “Make that list, and think about what you want to do. Maybe try hanging out with the friends you trust after making it, and then decide from there if you want to return to school or not. How does that sound?”

☆

You stare down at the blank page on your desk, a freshly sharpened pencil twirling mindlessly between your fingers. Your hair was still damp from the shower; your goal of feeling warm under the running water quickly losing its appeal as you shiver in your chair. 

December 29, 20xx

Nana gave me this journal. It’s so pretty that I almost don’t want to write in it and mess it up. But I figured I shouldn’t let her gift go to waste, either. She’s always been so sweet. This isn't the only thing she got me, either—there's way more sitting on my bed right now, and all because she was so grateful I’ve been a good friend to her. I wanted to tell her that I was even more grateful that she and everyone else was friends with me, but I can't remember if I actually said it out loud like I meant to.

Speaking of gifts, actually—Vylad really loved the gift that I gave him! I was a little nervous he wouldn’t be all that excited about it, but I should’ve known better. He was as grateful and cheerful as ever. I’m really glad he’s become a part of the friend group, not just as Garroth’s little brother but as himself. I kinda wish Zane would try, too, but also… I don’t know what his deal is. I’m still mad at him for trying to be one of Gene’s little gang members. For how amazing Zianna is, I’m surprised he’s turning out to be a bit of a punk. It might be because of Garte. No, it definitely is. I just hope he gets his shit figured out before he starts doing stupid stuff to be “edgy”.

Anyway, right now everyone’s doing their own thing with their families, but I think we’re going to go to Laurance’s house for fireworks and stuff on New Year's? I’m pretty excited, cause I haven’t been to his and Cadenza’s house yet. Apparently they have a few sheep that their dad takes care of? So cute! Cadenza told me she was going to show me some string she literally spun HERSELF from the wool to use for making clothes. She is so much cooler than me.

You suck in a breath, then bring the graphite down onto the dauntingly white page.

People I trust:

Nana

Vylad

Garroth

Zane?? Not really 

Definitely Zianna

Laurance

Cadenza

Next pages…

January 8, 20xx

It’s the first day back from the break, and surprisingly enough I still haven’t had to deal with anybody being rude. At least for now. It’s pretty great, actually. Instead of being a loser freak everyone points and yells at, I’m just a normal loser with some cool friends. I think after Katelyn and Lucinda stood up for me and cussed out enough people, everyone took the hint and turned on Ivy. Who knows if that’ll last, though? I bet she’ll find a way to be as popular as before. But I’ll bask in my victory until that happens.

Gene, Sasha, and Zenix surprisingly have kept their word and haven’t messed with me. I caught them looking at me today during lunch, and Sasha even smiled at me in a not contemptuous way. I still don’t really like them, but… I don’t hate them, either. I guess we have some sort of weird mutual respect for each other now.

February 14, 20xx

Dante and Travis are weirdo little goobers, but they’re hilarious. I thought today would be kinda boring, but they started the day bright and early by attempting to use their best one-liners on me? All of them were shit, but it was entertaining, to say the least.

Also, PDH does this event where you can send flowers, candies, and sodas to people for Valentine's Day. I thought I was getting pranked when I got my entire desk covered in gifts. Some were from my friends (Teony sent me like three things, love her), but a bunch were from anonymous senders? I tried questioning everyone about it but—well, if they knew anything they were doing a good job of acting like they didn’t.

Aaron gave Aphmau a ton of gifts, one of them being a cute plushie. I was a little nervous about them being a thing at first, but with the way she talks about him and how sweet he is to her, I think I’m opening up to it. I still haven’t talked to him much at all, but he seems cool enough when I do. Maybe he was just going through something when school started up. Kinda like me. His friends (some of the werewolf kids I’ve kinda met—Blaze, Rylan, Dottie, and this kid named Daniel) seem pretty fun to be around, too. Anyway, I’m just glad Aphmau gets to have a boyfriend that treats her well. Sylvanna is not super happy, and I understand her overprotectiveness… to an extent. I guess we’ll see how that situation unfolds in the future.

Okay…

People I trust (cont.):

Katelyn

Lucinda

Maybe Gene, Sasha, and Zenix??? Maybe not.

Dante

Travis

Teony

Aphmau

Probably Aaron

Sylvanna

That’s already eighteen people you know at least aren’t wishing for your demise, and most of them are likely still waiting for a response to their messages. You’d replied to a few, but it was hard to know what to say.

“Hey, twentieth person to check in on me! Yes, I am super traumatized, and life will never be the same, but I’m doing great! Alive and well!”

Yeah, probably not.

Eighteen people is a lot of people to trust, doesn’t it? But, you suppose that’s the point Dr. McCoy was trying to make. Still, for this many people (or at least fifteen depending on how accurate you are about the Shadow Knights) to care about you… you guess you hadn’t really counted just how many people you’d become close with over the last year.

Above you on the wall are all of the pictures you’d accumulated; the memories held within the glossy paper are so fond, so warm in your heart, and yet… so distant.

Aphmau and you in your uniforms, posing by the entrance of the school. Your eyes look a little glossed over from how anxious you felt that day, but it was a little funny to look back on.

Katelyn, Nicole, and you: sweaty and laughing after practicing volleyball in the gym. That was the day Katelyn started begging you to join the team.

A candid of Lucinda applying your makeup for prom. You felt so pretty; she had taken extra care to make sure it was perfect for you.

A funny note Dante wrote you in class. He’d drawn a really stupid iteration of the teacher, and you almost got caught cause you'd laughed so hard.

Everyone sitting out on the Ro’meaves' back porch. Zianna had insisted everyone pose for pictures. You were cuddled between Teony and Nana, their arms draped over you.

The collaborative drawing you guys did at the Fall Festival. Garroth’s looks so silly—you remember having to defend him against Laurance’s teasing for a good five minutes. It was so hard to stop laughing.

A selfie Cadenza had taken with you, Aphmau, and Laurance in her car. The siblings’ silly bickering and good music taste started becoming the highlight of your mornings.

Travis, Vylad, Aphmau, and you at the movies, and the ticket you used. You all watched a corny romance movie Aph had begged you all to see with her.

Oh my God… why haven’t you talked to them? You cover your mouth, the features of your face crumpling as a whimpering noise leaves your throat. Why haven’t you seen them?

Shakily, you stand and reach for the closest picture pinned to the wall, weak fingers pinching onto the photo and pulling hastily. It gives easier than you expected, and your socked feet slip from beneath you, sending you tumbling down onto the floor. The tack holding the picture up slips from your grip in the process, finding itself unfortunately underneath you when you crash against the wood, lodging the pointed end right into your hand.

“Ah!” you hiss, tears springing to your eyes. Your turn your palm over to look at the injury. Damn it. “Ow…”

The pain's brief, replaced by a dull throbbing as you sit up. With a grimace, you pinch the thumbtack between your fingers, slowly removing the sharp metal. Though, where blood should’ve gathered in a small drop, the skin immediately seals over the puncture, as if nothing ever happened.

You wipe your face, aching weeps turning into a deep frown.

People I trust (cont.):

My parents…?

You recognize the footsteps of your mother approaching the doorway. “Sweetheart, are you okay? What was that noise?”

Staring at your palm, you offer a bitter response. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“...Are you sure?” She’s quiet, just as cautious as her footsteps as she inches towards you.

“Sure. It healed up in a second, anyway. You know how better than I do,” you snip, whipping your head up to glare at your own image reflected back at you. Her eyes are much more worn, though, the lines in her face creasing as she kneels down to your level.

You don’t want to be mean to her. She’s your mother. But why was she keeping things from you?

There's a shameful twist in the corner of her mouth. Tentatively, her hand reaches out for yours, fingers trembling as she waits for you to take them. Even through the bitterness, the confusion—you take it, your cold skin warmed by hers.

“I… I know you aren’t stupid.” She squeezes your hand. “We do know things about… who it was that took you—”

“Then why are you keeping it from me?” Immediately, your voice raises. “It happened to me! I of all people deserve to know why!”

She tilts her head, her expression pained as she looks at you. It’s love and guilt in one confusing mix.

“I know. I know. And I’m not keeping anything from you on purpose.” She sighs, her shoulders sagging and head dropping. “There are… mistakes your dad and I made. We trusted people we shouldn’t have trusted, and—”

She sucks in a sharp breath, her eyes welling up with tears. “Baby, I’m so sorry. There’s things we kept from you because we thought that—maybe… maybe it'd be easier to protect you if you were in the dark, but…” She closes her eyes, swallowing. “We realize now that was a mistake.”

“...Then why won’t you tell me?” you whisper, your own voice trembling. “And why are other people involved? The Ro’meaves, Sylvanna, Katelyn’s dad—Travis’s dad? The Lycans? Mom, I’m so—I just—I'm so confused—”

“I know it’s frustrating, sweetie. And I don’t blame you for being upset with me. You have the right to be.” She nods, opening her eyes again and squeezing your hand again. “Right now we’re all planning to tell you and… their kids together. In a meeting. We're just trying to figure out the best time to do it. I promise you. We’re going to tell you.”

Your heart drops as the suspicions that have been haunting you for the past few weeks are confirmed, outweighing the relief in the fact that you would be brought to light in everything else. The words that leave your mouth next are panicked and rushed. “Why do they need to tell them, too? Are they targets?”

Her free hand reaches out, clasping onto your shoulder in an attempt to steady the spiraling of your mind—of the possibilities that were already forming into nightmares. “No, no, everything is okay now.”

It was getting hard to breathe. Your lungs strain to get in a full breath, the muscles tightening like a vice and causing your head to spin. “No, the person who did this is still out there. They’re going to get me again, and then they'll go after them! And then maybe, they—mom, what about you, mom—”

“Shh, no they won’t,  baby.” She swipes at your face. “You and everyone are perfectly safe now. Your dad and I aren’t… to let anything like… to… or any of—”

No. No, no, no.

Her voice is—it's gone, overpowered by a terrible ringing in your ears.

There’s the metallic clang of a door shutting to your right, and suddenly the room is dark. The bitter taste of blood stings your tongue, and long, shadowed fingers creep along your shoulders. Ready to dig in and rip apart your flesh. It’s going to get you. It’s going to get you. You never left. You never—

“Look at me…” The owner of the gnarled hands taunts you, in a voice so menacing and deep that you find yourself curling down into a ball, trembling and begging for it to stop, for it to spare you from its malicious intent.

“Look…”

It calls your father’s name.

“Help her!”

Strong, warm hands tug you up by the arms, wrenching you from the dingy stone floor and onto your feet. When the soles of your feet settle flat beneath you again, they’re greeted by the rug in your room instead, the material warmed from the sun shining through your window. The hands that hold you now are lifting you up, sturdy and protective—no claws. No claws..

“Sweetheart. Sweetheart, look at me.”

Your father’s eyes stare down at you, full of indescribable pain as his eyebrows furrow, creasing his forehead. Your mother is behind him, though her face is turned from you as her shoulders tremble.

Oh.

Your heart still pounds, blood swirling through your veins much too fast; fingers prickling at the tips, lips numb.

“I–I’m sorry.” A lump sits at the base of your throat, choking your next words. "I'm so sorry, I—I'm sorry, I don't know—"

“Don’t.” His voice is strained. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

He pulls you into his arms, cradling your head to his chest, where it shudders with a shaky breath. You close your eyes, trying to ignore the lingering panic trying to trick you—trying to convince you that you were still clawing at bars to escape your surely lethal fate. That you were still there, with all the stone and grime and—and blood. No, you were in Dad’s arms. He wouldn’t let that happen, would he?

What was it that Dr. McCoy told you?

“...it can be very disorienting when you get intense flashbacks. But when it feels like you can’t get out of that memory, I want you to use the 5-4-3-2-1 technique. Do you know what that is?...”

You see… the color of your room’s walls. The pile of letters you’d received at the hospital lying on your bedside table. The sun glinting off the medal you won at the Athletic Fair. The fuzzy pink blanket from Nana, hanging off the side of your bed. Your mom coming to stand beside you, wiping her face as she joins your dad in embracing you. 

You can feel Dad’s arms. Mom’s. The light breeze through the cracked window brushing against your skin. The soft rug under your feet.

You can hear the cars, when they occasionally pass over the street below. Your parent’s synced, yet shaky breaths. Dad’s calming heartbeat against your ear.

You can smell your mother’s perfume. The lingering scent of the candle she’d burned somewhere in the house.

You can taste the leftover saltiness of the tears that had landed on your lips.

“We want to wait until it’s a good time to tell you,” your mom whispers, her fingers squeezing against your shoulder. “Because we don’t want you to hurt anymore. I’m sorry, baby. I know it’s hard, but please trust that we’re doing everything we can for your safety. Not just your physical safety, either, but your mental wellbeing, too.”

…You know.

Of course you do.

…They’re confused and scared too, aren’t they?

When they held you as a small child in their arms, did they ever think the sweet laughter and innocent twinkle in your eyes would slip from their fingertips in this way? They never imagined the baby they once rocked to sleep would grow up to be someone they didn’t recognize, someone broken and distant, trapped in a world of pain they couldn’t reach. You were gone, scared you’d never make it out—but they were scared too. They’re trying to cope as well, aren’t they?

People I trust (cont.):

My parents.

☆

You stare at the dark screen of your new phone, fidgeting with your hair and trying to recognize the face staring  back at you. With a held breath, you lift your chin, fingers brushing along the scar that swept across your neck. It was so straight and smooth, the indent lacking any evidence that whatever caused it was violent. Though, when the pad of your thumb trembles over the healed wound, it fills you with a sense of dread; like this is the defining line between the girl you once were and the unrecognizable one you were now.

“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” Dad asks, interrupting the silence that had strung out over the car. You glance up at him through the rearview mirror as he mindlessly taps his fingers against the steering wheel. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. You can still back out.”

“No, I do,” you murmur, turning to look out at the wealthy neighborhood around you.

You're only a minute from the Ro’meaves’ house, now. Your lips press together as you steady your breaths, the long driveway leading up to the tall brick colonial home—a familiar sight. Several cars already fill the driveway, and though you recognize them as belonging to the very people you had begged to see, the fact there are so many of them is daunting.

All of their eyes, their expectations—everything would be trained directly on you. Will they hesitate when they realize how much you’d changed? Will the month of separation feel more like a year? Will you still fit in their puzzle, now that your edges were jagged? Will they still try to make you belong, even if your image is awkward beside theirs?

Truthfully, you couldn’t tell if the tightness in your chest is excitement or anxiousness. The two could be interchangeable, after all. But as you wipe the sweat from your hands on the fabric of your clothes and the car comes to a stop, there’s nothing you want to do more than jump out and run inside.

Everyone seems to be inside, but then you notice a familiar boy jump up from where he'd been waiting on the front porch steps, his light brown hair bouncing as he sprints to your car. Before your parents even have a chance to get out themselves, PDH’s soccer captain himself is flinging open the car door, eyes wide and hopeful as he looks you over. 

“There she is!” He leans forward with a wide grin, arms spreading for a hug. From how his fingers are twitching, he looks like he wants to lunge on you without a question—yet he holds himself back, waiting for your reaction.

“Laurance!” you cheer through the surprise of his swift greeting, unbuckling your seatbelt and turning into him—a sign he takes in full stride as he pulls you into him.

He makes a happy noise as his arms squeeze around you and he pulls you out of the car, your feet leaving the ground when he spins around. You can practically feel the joy he radiates, the warmth of it seeping into your skin and rushing into your lungs, forcing an eruption of giggles from your mouth. The sound is… odd. Not because it wasn’t right, or it sounded weird, but because you forgot what it felt like to feel this giddy—to have someone be this elated to see you. How could you forget?

“Wasn’t everyone supposed to wait inside?” Mom chimes in lightheartedly as Laurance sets you down, tucking you under his shoulder.

“Well, yeah…” he chuckles sheepishly. “I made an excuse that I was taking a phone call so I could be the first one to see her.”

“Oh, how sweet,” she coos, eyes darting to meet yours slyly as she walks towards the front door.

Your dad hasn’t said anything, but as he passes you to follow Mom, he gives Laurance’s shoulder a rather intimidating clap, patting him a few times with a serious look before moving on. The boy smiles nervously in return, before guiding you both after them, squeezing your shoulder as you go.

“Are you doing okay?” you blurt. 

He smiles down at you, an amused huff leaving his lips.

“Today? I’m way more than okay,” he reaches up to poke your cheek. “Thanks to you.”

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and basking in the moment, before you step up the stairs. The cheerful chirping of the birds, the smell of freshly mowed lawns, the distant sound of your friends laughing and talking in the house; you really were here. You were safe. And now you can actually imagine it: being… normal again. Soon enough you’ll be surrounded by their warm laughter, able to join in on all the inside jokes and cuddle up by everyone’s side. This is real. This isn't a distant dream—it isn't just a sliver of hope to cling to as you curl up on the dirty floor.

You see your parents walk in first, the muffled voices beyond the door loudening as they slip through, leaving you and Laurance alone for just a moment.

“I was there everyday when you were asleep, y’know? Well, except for the day when you actually woke up,” he says suddenly—you think that somehow, he'd sensed your need to prepare yourself. “I was pretty upset when I found out the cyclops got to see you before I did.”

You offer a quiet laugh. “Still refusing to let up on that nickname, huh?”

“Of course. The little twerp deserves it.”

Laurance guides you the last few stairs up, making the distance between you and nearly everyone you hold dear only a polished door away. You hold your breath, chest feeling tight again as he reaches out to close that distance, his hand clasping the metal.

Before he turns the knob though, he pauses, peeking at you from the corner of his eye.

“You look nervous,” he whispers, nudging you with his elbow, “and a little teary-eyed. You okay?”

“I just…” You take in another, shaky breath, licking your lips. “I’m so different now. And not just in how I act, but I also… look different.”

He smiles warmly, reaching up to pinch a lock of your hair between his fingers. “I don't know, you look as cute as ever to me—the pixie cut suits you. And you sure as hell seem like the same girl I’ve been getting to know for the past year.” He leans in closer. “I promise no one is going to think differently of you or act weird because of it. If they do, I’ll beat their ass for you. Understand?”

You try to roll out some of the tension in your shoulders, sending him a grateful look. “Thank you, Laurance.”

“No need to thank me.” He straightens, patting your head before finally letting you go from under his arm. “Ready?”

“...Yeah.”

The door pushes open, and Laurance takes the liberty to step forward first, holding the door open for you. The first thing that hits you is Dante's unfaltering, boisterous laughter, even as Nicole and a few other girls yell at him to your right—likely about whatever dumb joke he made. The next thing that hits you is the sophisticated scent of jasmine and amber that permeates throughout the house, thanks to Zianna’s investments in luxurious candles. The smell's welcoming, familiar, reminding you of a time in your childhood you can't quite remember.

You step forward, glancing over to the doorway to see Garroth leaning against it, arms crossed as he watches the group of rambunctious teenagers in his living room. Even as your hands shake and your breath trembles, you don’t hesitate to stride forward, placing a gentle hand on his arm as you step by his side. His head is quick to whip towards you, his amusement with the scene ahead of him replaced by a tender look in his eyes and a quiet, fond call of your name.

As he wraps his arm around your shoulder, you look ahead, feeling the corners of your lips curve up and the heavy pit in your chest lightening. Katelyn has Dante in a playful headlock, rubbing her knuckles into his skull as he thrashes and tries to escape. All of the girls—Lucinda, Teony, Nana, Nicole, Cadenza, and Aphmau—cheer her on, declaring her as their knight in shining armor and giggling at his pain as they lounge on the couch. Vylad and Travis were laughing along too, seeming to agree this punishment fit for whatever the mischievous boy had blubbered stupidly from his lips.

Travis was sitting on the floor, cackling with his hand over his mouth. He looks… a little different from what you remember, hair trimmed to flatter his face more and skin clearer. His eyes shift slowly to your direction when he sees you from the corner of his vision, the bright green somehow lighting up even more, his eyebrows shooting up on his forehead. His hand comes away from his mouth as he points directly at you with a wide smile.

Oh! His braces are gone. Did that happen before or after you saw him in the hospital…?

“She’s arrived!” he announces theatrically, pulling everyone’s attention to you.

At first you flinch, almost pierced by how they lean forward and stare at you with wide eyes. Even though alarm bells set off in your head, and the urge to turn and hide in some corner is powerful, so is the bittersweet tenderness and care you force yourself to see in each and every one of their faces. Shouts and cheers of your name replace the previous bickering.

They’re all on the list. You know them. You trust them.

It feels like a bright light has been shined against you—and not a spotlight highlighting your new flaws or your hesitations, but a beacon chasing  the heavy weight from your shoulders; permeating your soul, warm and loving. It's so real, so genuine, that the light burned away at your fears and replaced it with hope.

They love you.

Laurance—who was still behind you and Garroth—ruffles your hair with his hand before nudging you towards them. Your footsteps stumbling forward is what breaks the unspoken barrier, encouraging Nana to leap up from the couch and rush over to you. Everyone freezes when she practically jumps on top of you without a second thought, breaths held as you yelp from the sudden weight.

You lower your head onto her shoulder when she nuzzles her face into yours, raising your arms to hold her back. Her voice comes through cotton in your ears, the pleasant melody harmonized by everyone else's as they join in, arms overlapping and warm breaths mingling, heating up your cold skin; praise and greetings fizzling out into a peaceful embrace. This group hug is lasting much longer than usual, but you won't be the first to pull away.

“Sooo… are you gonna come back to school?” Dante suddenly cuts through; he's answered by a chorus of groans.

“Dude, can you not talk for, like, five seconds?” Nicole hisses.

You feel him shift to your right when he laughs defensively. “What? I’m just wondering!”

Nicole pauses her beration of him when you start to laugh, shoulders shaking. You missed this.

After the group's settled into a comfortable silence, you say, “Actually, I think I might,” earning a few shocked gasps.

“Wait, for real?” Nana squeals, jumping up in her excitement and nearly toppling everyone over into a huge doggy pile.

“Y-yeah,” you say through stuttered laughter, focus quickly shifting from the conversation to staying on your feet as the whole group shuffles around.

“Are we gonna keep talking like this or can we sit down and give her some space like normal people?” Cadenza interjects, grunting under her breath. You look up to see Laurance ruffle her hair, the boy laughing when she sends him a deadpan look.

“In what world have we ever been normal?” he snorts. “But she’s right. C’mon guys.”

Soon you find yourself settled on the couch, squished in between Teony and Lucinda while Aphmau and Travis cling to your legs. Everyone else is sitting on the coffee table or on the couch as they lean in, latching onto every word you say.

“When will you be back?” Teony continues the conversation, fingers gently rubbing circles into your back as she tilts her head. Everyone else nods along, intent on knowing the answer.

“Probably in a couple weeks, maybe two from now,” you murmur, biting the inside of your cheek. The attention was getting to be just a little overwhelming, so you shift it back to them. “...What’s school been like this year?”

Everyone glances at the other, trying to gauge who should go first.

“Well, volleyball season just started—we still haven’t had our first game yet, though.” Kate makes a point to make eye contact with you as she adds, “We still have an open spot on the team, by the way… just saying…”

“Can you not talk about that sport for one second?” Lucinda teases, reaching over to pinch Katelyn's side and dodging a slap to her shoulder with a giggle.

“I’m just suggesting it. In case she wants to find things to do when she comes back,” Kate huffs, looking back to you. “Even if you don’t want to play, being a manager could be fun, too.”

“Hey! I was gonna ask her to be our manager,” Laurance argues, crossing his arms and sending her a dirty look, earning himself a fierce glare in return.

“Nuh-uh, she’s definitely gonna be the baseball manager,” Garroth chimes in, his hand covering Laurance’s face and pointing at himself insistently. 

“Okay, you sports nerds.” Teony rolls her eyes. “She can decide that later. Why don’t we update her on other things?”

“How about the entire werewolf population in the school now looking to Aphmau as the Alpha,” Vylad says, waggling his brows and nudging the girl’s shoulder. Her cheeks warm, and she sighs under her breath.

“Oh yeah. That’s a whole thing I’m glad I’m on the outskirts of.” Katelyn leans back on her hands, shaking her head. “I don’t even wanna know about that Ein dude that keeps clinging to her everywhere she goes. Just seeing his face pisses me off.”

“...Who is Ein?” you start, not quite sure how to unpack this as you glance down at Aphmau. “What about Aaron?”

Her face drops and she wrings her hands. “...Um, he’s not going to school here anymore. His parents made him graduate early and go to a private college. That’s what he told me before he stopped talking to me, at least.”

You frown, recalling the conversation you’d overheard in the hospital—what the Lycans had said.

“…And just what are we supposed to do about this? We can’t send our son back to that school. What if he’s taken by those psychos, too? That girl is lucky she made it back in one piece!”

“Aaron won’t be staying anywhere near that high school or your kids.”

Derek, was his name? Was he really serious? Would he really do that to their son? Even force him to stop talking to Aphmau, who was basically his girlfriend?

You stay quiet for a moment, reaching to pat her head to soothe the saddened expression that had started to form on her face. “I’m sorry.”

It’s your fault, isn’t it?

“…It’s okay.” She shakes her head, smiling. “It’s a little stressful leading a bunch of kids, but it’s kind of fun! And it gives me more experience as a mentor, I guess.”

“Following in my footsteps,” Teony coos, placing a hand over her chest.

You glance over at Laurance, lips wobbling. “…Baby’s first leadership role?”

His face lights up in recognition; he snickers. “She’s growing up so fast…”

“What? Ugh, this again!” She kicks out her feet childishly, looking back up at you with reddened cheeks. “Anyways! About Ein!”

You raise your eyebrow in amusement at her not-so-subtle change in topics.

“Why do you wanna talk about Ein so bad? Interested?” Dante butts in before she can continue. She groans, taking her jacket from her lap and chucking it towards him—she misses by a good foot.

“Shut up!” she huffs. “No way!”

“You better not,” Katelyn says, tone protective. “That guy has a bad rep, probably for good reason.”

You frown, glancing back down at Aphmau.

“He’s actually really nice once you get to know him,” she’s quick to defend. “You guys shouldn’t believe all the rumors you hear about him…”

“Speaking of rumors, there’s already a few circling around. I've heard some about Laurance and Garroth having girlfriends.” Lucinda quirks a brow, looking the boys up and down with pursed lips. “Seems the fan clubs are only getting more intense this year, hm?”

The two boys make similar faces, lips curling in discomfort and eyebrows pinching.

“Uh, let’s not…” Laurance mutters, scratching the back of his neck.

“Ahem! Sorry to interrupt, kiddos, but I’d like to steal the sweet girl away for just a second!” Zianna announces from the doorway, waving at you with a smile. “Do you mind?”

“Oh, of course not…” You rise up, untangling yourself from limbs and stepping around everyone's pouting faces.

“Be right back, yo!” Zianna cheers to the teens, placing a hand on your back as she leads you towards the garage.

“Mom…” Vylad and Garroth sync their groans of embarrassment, earning an amused laugh from her before the two of you step through the door.

Parked inside is a new Toyota Highlander, the pretty grey-blue paint looking freshly polished and shining under the overhead light. Huh, Zianna must’ve wanted a new car. Her SUV must’ve been parked outside and you didn’t notice.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” She reaches into her pocket, turning to face you. “Are you happy to be here with everyone?”

What exactly did she call you in here for…?

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m happy.” You rub your arm. “I’m happy to see you again, too, Zianna.”

She tilts her head, smiling softly. She seems emotional at your words, and you're suddenly reminded of how Garroth once described her as a delicate flower. You can definitely see it now, as her eyebrows turn up.

“There’s a reason I always call you 'sweetie',” she sighs, pulling something from her pocket and stretching it out towards you. “I wanted to give this back to you.”

The locket.

It glints in the garage lighting as her fingers tremble subtly, the surface slightly scratched. Despite this, though, it looks as freshly polished as the car next to you, like she'd made sure to take great care of it. When you close your eyes, the dark street of that night and the harsh slap that knocked you down and sent the locket flying replays for a split moment.

“It didn’t quite have the use I intended it to, but it’s yours. So if you want it, you can keep it…”

You breathe deeply, ignoring the shuddering of your lungs when you do so, open your eyes, and take the necklace into your hands.

“Thank you,” you murmur, glancing back up at her.

With her eyes a little more watery than before, she’s quick to turn her head, gesturing to the Toyota as she clears her throat. “How do you like this new car?”

When you turn to take in the vehicle again, you don't miss how she brings a hand up to swipe underneath her eyes.

“It’s really nice.” You nod. “It was the first thing I noticed when we walked in here.”

“Well, good,” she smiles, reaching in her other pocket and pulling out a set of keys. “Because there’s something else I want to give you.”

Your brow furrows when she holds her hand out again, dangling the set of keys in front of you to take. She tilts her head for you to take them, but you’re frozen, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“...What?” you breathe.

“After everything that happened, I was talking to your parents and they mentioned how you shouldn’t walk alone anywhere anymore,” she explains, shaking the keys gently. “And while my boys and I are perfectly fine with being your chauffeurs, Garte and I decided you should have a car of your own, in case a friend can’t be there.”

You close your mouth—it’s your turn to tear up now. “I… Zianna, I really can’t accept this. This is too much…”

“It’s not too much,” she insists. “I won’t give this car to my boys, so if you don’t take it, it will keep sitting in this garage until it doesn’t work anymore, so I’d suggest you do.”

There’s no words to even begin with as you take the keys, blinking rapidly and shaking your head. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything, dear.” She pulls you into a gentle hug, petting your head in a motherly display. “Just guaranteeing your safety is enough  for me.”

You hug her back, sniffling as you stare at the car. Sure, you might be able to accept a few flowers and teddy bears, but this? The Ro’meaves may not be running out of money anytime soon, but this is still an insane gift for someone that wasn’t even their own kid.

“Also,” she continues, “I won’t pressure you to join in if you don't want to, but I’m making my boys take some self defense classes, and I think it would be great if you attended as well.” She sways a little, rocking you with her before letting go. “I believe Aphmau, Travis, and Katelyn are going to do it as well. You don’t have to answer now, but it’s something to consider.”

“I will,” you murmur, too overwhelmed to consider it at the moment—even if it was a good idea.

“Oh, and one last thing before I let you go, sweetheart,” she says, quickly dashing over to the passenger side of the… of your car, reaching in and pulling out a small bag. She giggles when she turns around and catches your wide-eyed expression. “I promise it’s nothing big.”

You press your lips together, accepting the bag quietly and looking inside. Inside are two things: pepper spray and a…

“A taser?”

“Stun gun. Thirty-thousand volts!” she chirps, much too cheerful for someone who'd just casually gifted you two highly pain-inducing weapons.

“Uh… Thank—thank you.”

“Again, sweetie, not anything big.” She waves her hand dismissively, taking the bag from you and placing it back in the car. She gestures back to the door, smiling. “I shouldn’t keep you for any longer. Your friends are waiting for you!”

You nod slowly, following her back out. As soon as you enter, everyone is quick to pull you back right into the center of the group, the conversation flowing once again about the silly, mundane things of teenage life. As the minutes ticked into hours, not once did you find yourself bored, the calming voices almost surreal to listen to as you sink into the couch cushions.

How easy was it, to take all of this for granted? A few weeks ago, you were sure moments like these were distant dreams, ones you’d never get to experience again. Such simple moments; the way Lucinda overdramatized her stories, or how Katelyn and Nicole would lean close to threaten someone playfully. How Vylad smiled wide at anyone he made eye contact with as he looked around the group, or how Nana would squeal anytime anything cute or romantic came up. How Aphmau giggled at every corny joke. When Cadenza dramatically sighed or tossed her hair. How Laurance always made sure someone got their word in when they were interrupted, and how horrible Garroth is at controlling his expressions when someone is telling a story. 

There’s a quiet understanding in your chest. You'd thought the edges of your puzzle piece were too jagged, but they aren’t. You slid right back into place. Even if the paint was a little chipped, a little smudged, you fit. Despite everything, you're still you. Everything is falling back into rhythm.

You almost died at seventeen. But you didn’t. This is reality now. You’re alive, and real. Being safe is real. Being protected is real. Being surrounded by the people you love—that's real. This is… normal. What you’ve always wanted since the beginning.

You could be normal again.

…Right?

©starhvney 2024. do not plagiarize, feed to any AI, or repost my works to any sites.

tag list: @orinlin @pain-in-the-ashe @youmake1mistake @arienic @wasting-away-on-the-internet @angelhyperfixates @remiechu @valentique @kalegrinch @izzybella1807 @marst4rz @vyladsgirl @rune-balot83

[spreadingawarenessandlove]

FUCK ALL THE PEOPLE BASICALLY DEFENDING WILLIAM GOLD (WILBUR SOOT) BY SAYING HE'S AUTISTIC.

(starting notes: this is most likely going to be very much rambling and jumping from one thing to another. I am just very upset about the situation and what some people are saying about it and needed to clear my head.)

I, myself am autistic and ADHD and regardless of whether you realize it or not, you are stereotyping autistic people by basically saying that they don't know when to stop when asked and can't understand boundaries. Well!! spoiler alert!!! WE DO UNDERSTAND BOUNDARIES. AND IF SOMEONE ASKS US TO STOP IF WE'RE HURTING THEM/MAKING THEM UNCOMFORTABLE? WE WILL!!! WHY??? BECAUSE IT'S BASIC HUMAN DECANCY.

Autistic people are people too. With feelings, emotions, opinions, and boundaries. Just like every other human being on this planet. We are human, just with a more different mindset than most. And most Autistic people try their best to respect people's boundaries and to listen to people when they say no or to stop. If William Gold really is autistic and has a known habit of biting, he could have easily gone on Amazon and gotten a chewing necklace to help with the habit. They're like $5-11 and they almost always come in packs of 3-5 or more. I've had several throughout my life, and they really do help with said habit. So he has NO reason and NO excuse to be biting someone else instead. ESPECIALLY TO THE POINT THE PERSON IS SCREAMING AT THEM AND USING A SAFE WORD TO STOP.

And you people have to keep in mind that the biting isn't the only awful thing he's done to Shelby. He has physically abused her. He had pinned her down and had told her to try her hardest to get him off with full knowledge that she has been $e×ually assaulted before and then said something along the lines of that, he was so much stronger than her and that "she wouldn't be able to fight back". Had likely loved bombed her at the beginning of the relationship to make her stay(which, if you didn't know is a big red flag). Threw away almost all of her things after they broke up without even telling her. Manipulated her and gaslighted her (saying he wanted kids/marriage and then further into the relationship telling her he never wanted that & never said that) plus A LOT more.

Long story short:

-The autistic excuse is a load of fucking bullshit.

-PLEASE do some research about Neurodivergent people before you say anything relating to them online.

-While you're at it, research different kinds of abuse and manipulative behavior because you obviously don't understand that THIS? BITING someone to the point it HURTS AND THEY ARE SCREAMING? IS VERY CLEARLY ABUSE.

-Stop defending someone who already owned up to it (in the most shittiest and self-centered way possible, making it all about himself and also not even mentioning her NAME ONCE).

-Get off whatever social media platform you're on and either go play a game, go outside, read a book, or go to sleep if its late.

-And Always Support The Victim. NEVER The Fucking Abuser.

___________________________________________

(Final notes: I seriously recommend that you watch Shelby's VOD of you haven't and read these websites start to finish. You'll find a lot that relates back to William's behavior. Both inside and outside this relationship.

Shelby Shubble VOD

After reading them, I still recommend that you do more research about the topics I brought up. It could save your life one day.)

[salted-bird]

One of the things I love about Limbus' Abnormality encounters, besides how cool the designs are, is the way the game uses them to tackle the topic of performative empathy vs actual empathy.

You can't just try to fix an Abnormality's core problems and expect it to work. And it's not because the Abnormality will attack you before you get the chance to do anything, rather, following this approach is a consistent way to hit your own party with demerits due to the simple fact that YOU ARE THE ONE HURTING THE ABNO IN THE FIRST PLACE.

Trying to remove the Umbrella Fox's umbrellas is incredibly painful for it because it involves tearing off chunks of its flesh, mimicking the Weeping Toad's cry will cause it to flee because what it actually wanted was someone who would listen, removing the brambles will make the Bride and Groom sad because it means you are destroying their home, giving water to a blazing metal bull obviously isn't going to help, etc.

Your intentions can be good, but as the Umbrella Fox itself puts it, solutions without "forethought" have the potential to be incredibly harmful.

Which brings me to the similarities this has with IRL ableism, and how often body-abled people will tell you to do X thing under the claim that it will help you feel better (or even cure you) without considering the implications of their own suggestions for a single second. Some wonderful examples of this are telling someone with a respiratory disease or injury to just "take a deep breath", telling a person with chronic fatigue to "go jogging, it will give you more energy" or recommending to an autistic individual that they "learn common sense".

I'm sure you can imagine yourself (or know from first-hand experience, sadly) the rest of horrible 'magical solutions' disabled people have to hear on a regular basis, so back to the point, this type of acts share the same kind of impulsive and patronizing empathy as the "help(?) this Abnormality" choices in Limbus Company.

Not only do they not help anyone at all, in reality they are an active detriment to the physical and emotional wellbeing of the target you are supposedly trying to help with the action. In the end, the only benefit obtained is that you get to say you TRIED to help someone, hence the performative part of this behaviour, it makes you look good to others and to yourself by awarding you some imaginary reputation points that mean nothing.

Now it's very possible that you are thinking (or not) something about the lines of: "But hey, I unplugged the electric sheep being sacrificed to fuel a city, and I also sprinkled water on the tree suffering from a drought, I did have success helping a handful of the Abnos!".

This may appear to contradict my logic as described above, but I want you to consider a key difference between the Abnormalities the game does let you help and those for whom trying to do so is an insult. The former group suffers from external circumstances that can be changed through concrete actions, the latter faces permanent issues because of the very way they are.

So on the first camp;

-The Electric Sheep doesn't suffer because it's electric, it's suffers due to being exploited for energy.

-The Desert Twiggy Ghost Tree doesn't suffer because it's allergic to water, it suffers because it doesn't have access to any water.

-Similarly, the Electric Centipede only suffers because people are experimenting on it and you choose how to torture it.

You can liken them to disabled people with low-support needs, whose difficulties would in theory go away once you implement a social model of disability because the problems they face are, as the name implies, mainly social.

Now, contrast this with how for example, removing the brambles from the Rose Thorns Cross involves destroying its very body, and you should notice the theme Limbus is trying to convey through these encounters; Nobody is the same.

Sure, jumping the gun may work sometimes, if the problem is small enough to be dealt with through individual action, but more often than not the reality of what the other person is going through is so different from yours that an attempt to force your own experiences and judgement on them is only going to result in pain, and what's worse, pain for both parties if you genuinely were trying to help.

Which is not to say there's no point in desiring to offer help, my favourite part about how Limbus handles its event choices is that it teaches you a lesson about the value of simple understanding.

Tearing off its umbrellas won't help the fox, but going past its threatening appearance to show that you care by petting it will, the same goes for the gloomy frog that is so grateful to you for listening to its woes that it leaves one of its eyes behind as a gift. You don't need to change the Abnormalities' nature as Abnormalities to make them happy, being there for them and accepting them as they are is more than enough.

I could write more about the parallels between Abnormalities as a group of "non-humans" that go against the general idea of normal while existing solely to be exploited for resources and the way IRL disabled people are exploited by doctors and pharmaceutical companies for easy money while society at large doesn't care, but in the end the message is simple, imagine a world where instead of treating them like children or even complaining about them, abled people showed those with disabilities this type of empathy, the real type.

[liyacreate]

(obey me) maybe how the characters quietly show their affection towards Mc? Like bringing trinkets or lingering near them? Love your writing!!^^

Omg that's such an adorable idea!! I enjoyed writing this!! Also thank you!

Also also I changed up the format for this one. Bullets felt more appropriate.

Dateables vers.(Coming soon)

Lucifer

He's a very busy guy but nonetheless he want you to know he cares

Whenever he sees you working hard, he likes to make you a cup of coffee, chocolate, or tea (depending on what you like, he also likes to remember how you like it)

If you work too hard, he makes sure you get enough rest and are at least taking care of yourself

Likes to gift you things that he knows you'll use (he remembers when you say you've run out of something or when you say you need something) which he usually just leaves in your room with a note if he's too busy

He likes to give you headpats whenever you do a good job

Manz is a crow, he gifts you any shiny thing he thinks you'll like

Mammon

Mountains of gifts which he makes sure is bought using hard earned money

He also likes to take you shopping a lot

Yknow how in the game they say the people in Mam's good graces gets very lucky in the money department?

Yep you've become the monarch of luck now

Very clingy pt. 1

He WILL make sure he's touching you be it a hand on your shoulder or your arms are so close they're touching

If he can't touch you in any way, he gravitates instead to the closest he can get to you

He also makes sure everyone in the room KNOWS they can't mess with you or else they'll be messing with him as well

Manz is protective

Leviathan

His love language is gushing to you about his favorite manga or anime

Whenever he's excited about something, ymhis first instinct is to send you a bunch of messages about it

He also likes to buy merch he thinks you might like whenever he's buying merch for himself

Very clingy pt. 2

He doesn't outright make physical contact because he's scared he'll cross a boundary or you'll hate him but he does definitely want to snuggle up to you all the time

If you convince him enough that you're fine with it, he'll start off with holding parts of your clothes to make sure you're near and after a while he'll warm up to actually holding you

Satan

Lots of book recommendations and poems

He also entertains any questions you have, no matter how ridiculous it is, and he'll always think about the question seriously no matter how silly it is

Whenever you are falling behind in class, he makes sure to help you

Sends you a lot of cat pics throughout the day

The cat pics vary from adorable cats that will make you coo out loud or chaotic cat memes that he knows will make you snort

He also likes to stay close to you whenever the two of you do your reading sessions (or when he's reading a book and you're on your DDD)

I feel like he's be one of those guys that leaves little notes here and there for you along with flowers

Asmodeus

Always makes time for you, usually at night when he loves to do a nightly routine with you

Loves using the best products he recently bought with you

Very clingy pt. 3

He MUST have some sort of contact with you

He gets pouty when he doesn't

Whenever you're out in a very crowded place, he keep an eye on you to make sure you're ok and having fun even if he gets surrounded by a bunch of people

Secretly makes sure no one dares make a move you wouldn't like

Also for some strange reason, you never have any bad rumors about you and if you ever do it always only circulates a day or two before it stops

Beelzebub

You are one of the few that have the privilege to be able to take some of his food without dying

He even offers you food at times

He also likes to linger near you

Whenever you're out or even just in the same room, he likes to stick close

He wants to always be ready to jump in if you're ever in trouble

He also always offers to help when you need to open a very stubborn jar or carry heavy objects

Beel is always willing to help you out with anything

Belphegore

Clingy pt. 4

He always finds a way to lean on you whether it's sitting down, standing up, or lying down

If you're sitting, he'll either have his head on your shoulder or lap

If you're standing he somehow ends up sleeping while leaning on your back

He also leaves little enchantments in your room to make sure you always have nice dreams

Have a reccuring nightmare and tell him about it? Surprise! It's gone the next night

[ninjaturtlecosmo]

Not gonna name any names, but I really feel like a lot of times these days, when it comes to people who make content online that involves reviewing a piece of media, they really don't know anymore how to make an unbiased critique of said media..... Yes, I am once again talking about some people who criticize Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss, but I am able to tell the difference when someone is giving a genuine well worded critique of either show, versus people who let their bias show the entire time without giving any actual criticism about how either shows could be improved. It really annoys me too when it's a video on YouTube or Tiktok, and I end up clicking away from the video because the person who uploaded it is just talking in a really angry tone the entire time, because like...... dude, you're allowed to point out flaws you see, but why are you getting so mad about it? By letting everyone hear how much something in a show you're trying to critique pissed you off, you're making it harder to get your point across and make a constructive argument, and therefore making it hard for others to take you seriously as a critic.

It's not just Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss critics that made me want to talk about this though. Just yesterday my YouTube feed recommended me a video someone made reviewing an episode of the 2012 TMNT show..... and I clicked away after about 2 minutes for 2 reasons; one being that when April complained about how tired she was from ninja jumping across roofs with the turtles so much, the person who uploaded the video spent said 2 minutes just ranting about how she took dance classes and how rough they are and how April wouldn't survive them....... something which has NOTHING to do with you reviewing a TMNT episode. Like, it's one thing if you're making a comedic roast about April, but you're making a review about a TMNT episode, why do we need to know about your experience with dance classes? This is TMNT, not Angelina Ballerina. That, and after those 2 minutes, I just knew the whole video was gonna be that person just hating on April for 10 whole minutes. Look, I don't really like 2012 April either, but do we really need 10 whole minutes of someone just hating on her for a video? Those are 10 minutes that could have been spent making or doing something else, instead of expressing an unhealthy hatred for a fictional character.

I have a feeling the person who made said TMNT video is really young, and one person in general that I came across on YouTube that makes Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel "critique" videos is about 18, and they also spend a lot of their time just talking about how much parts of the show piss them off..... and I have to know, are schools just not teaching kids how to make constructive arguments without showing their bias anymore, or do they just not care?

Honestly, if you want to watch genuinely good review content, just watch MangaKamen and uricksaladbar on YouTube. Both are way better at making constructive criticism towards the content they review, and they actually make you think about how stories can be improved and made good, instead of just raging about their problems the entire time.

[fabdante]

Hello again Fab! Loved reading your thoughts about Infamous band headcanons- thanks! Following that- you mentioned a love for the 'contemporary indigenous music scene.' It made me curious about who your favs were! Do you have any recs (for those of us who may be unfamiliar) or any particular artists/groups/tracks you would wanna shoutout? :D

👀 yes i would like to talk more about this!!

ok so quick disclaimer: i am far, far from an expert on indigenous music and i am myself not indigenous which like the music im going to share is, i am just very enthusiastic about the fact this music exists and i think it's really cool what people are doing with it. there's a lot i can't cover here and i would really implore anyone interested in this, particularly if you like anything here, to look into what indigenous people are saying and suggesting (or even look into what indigenous musicians themselves are sharing!)

so how this is going to work is im going to imbed a video per band/group/musician and then link some more songs to listen to, because that way no one has to jump off the post and you can get the general vibe of the group before listening to more!

though this will make the post kinda long, even with me trying to be brief, so i put it under a cut!

note: skip down to black belt eagle scout if you want something the most related to your initial ask about delsins band asdfghjkl. that's who i thought of first when receiving the ask and while i think delsins band would probably have a different sound, black belt eagle scout was on my mind the whole time asdfghjk

now onto the rest of the post!

my first recommendation is probably halluci nation, they're probably the one people know of the most? i also recommend them first because they're who i heard first. their song electric pow wow drum was in commercials and stuff for a minute. they do like a mix of pow wow music and dubstep, which i think is really cool.

i'm going to immediately break my rules but that's purely because these two are my favorite of their songs and i think more people need to hear them (also the art is really cool and by artist nalakwsis):

Also honestly their entire album, We are The Halluci Nation, is worth a listen to. Here's the first song off the album to give you not exactly the vibe you're in for but really just a strong thesis statement to what the group, and the album, is about

There's also Tanya Tagaq. I think she's fairly known? Her work heavily features throat singing! Her work has been featured in some films and stuff (you might remember the first song I'll post from commercials for Thoroughbreds):

More Tracks: Rabbit, also she was featured on this Halluci Nation track, Sila

SIMILARLY staying on contemporary throat singing for a moment, I would also like to mention the underrated Piqsiq! I haven't had the chance to dive as deeply into their discography as I would like (hopefully soon!) but I love what I have heard!

More Tracks: Ahiani: Elsewhere

Staying on trend of artists I've heard more recently but haven't been able to dive much into the discography much yet would be Black Belt Eagle Scout!! (This was who first came to mind upon receiving because there's definitely a vibe there):

More Tracks: Indians Never Die, My Heart Dreams

I also think people are generally unaware people are still making traditional music, in traditional ways! For that I would like to turn attention to some of these songs:

i also legally cannot make this post without mentioning redbone, the band behind hit come and get your love, who were themselves entirely indigenous and blacklisted after making the song we were all wounded at wounded knee

and again like there's tons and tons more artists, this is just a brief mention of some of the ones i first heard and some of the ones i'm interested in listening to more of and what not. like with any minority, where there is a music genre, you will find indigenous people making music there so if any of this interest I recommend googling around and seeing what people are talking about in indigenous circles, in music circles, who the musicians are collabing with, etc etc

i just think it's really cool that this is happening because, historically, there's been a lot of bans and limitations on what indigenous people were allowed to do with their cultures so it's really cool to see people doing stuff like this.

EDIT:

I KNEW I WAS FORGETTING SOMEONE I HAD WANTED TO MENTION!!

Silla + Rise are ALSO a throat singing duo! (I think throat singing is very cool and it is very cool what these musicians are doing in this space)

[ts-witchy-archive]

Hello! I've seen a bit of wiccan (?) things for a while, if I were to start I wouldn't even know how to start though. (my autistic ass does not leave the house and my mom would probably think it's weird to make strange concoctions of things) I also don't really know how deities work and how do you find out which one your communicating with? Tbh I've always felt like someone is around but whatever god it is seriously fucking hates me /hj Been better since I started medication but like the luck I have is 50/50 good bad and that is probably not normal. If you answer this it'd be very helpful.

Hi! Thanks for the ask!

I just want to start by defining a few terms for you :)

Wicca/Wiccan: A pagan religion that focuses on nature, magic and witchcraft. It was founded in the mid 20th century and Wiccans primarily worship 2 Gods which are personifications of nature.

Witch: Just a person who practices witchcraft. It's a non-gendered term and a non-religious term/practice. Not all witches are Wiccan but all Wiccans are witches. Witches can be absolutely anyone

Personally, I'm not Wiccan so I can't really tell you much about that but if there is one thing I know, it's witchcraft! There are many different places to start but I'm going to condense it down as much as humanly possible. It'll probably feel like a bit of information overload so just try to take it slow and relax. Enjoy the learning.

My favourite book for beginner witchcraft is 'Witchery: Embrace the Witch Within' by Juliet Diaz. She is a fantastic author and wonderful human. Everything about the basics of witchcraft you could need is in that book (imo). You should be able to find a pdf online if you can't get a physical copy.

As for youtube channels with solid content:

Harmony Nice: She covers everything Wicca. She has a playlist with all her Wiccan/witchy content witch is linked here

The Witch of Wonderlust: Olivia has been a favourite witchy youtuber of mine for a while. I wouldn't recommend jumping into her videos without any prior knowledge but once you have a grasp on the bare bones it should be okay. Here is a playlist she made with everything you could possibly need when beginning witchcraft. SOrt through the videos and see what peeks your interest.

The Hearth Witch: Another wonderful account if I remember correctly. Her videos used to be on the longer end (30-60mins) so if you have a short attention span then maybe not but she has a wealth of information.

I also recommend joining a few discord servers, following a few pages on tumblr just to get acquainted with the community and terminology.

Okay, on to the deity work situation. Deity work is generally considered more intermediate in the witchcraft community. key words being 'Deity WORK'. Worship is completely fair game. Setting up an altar, praying, leaving offerings, doing activities in devotion to the deity is absolutely something you can do relatively quickly.

As for IDing a deity, most people do it through 'divination' which is things like tarot, a pendulum, dice, bone throwing, and other ways. Most people also ask for signs that a specific deity is 'reaching out' to them or wants them to pay attention. You can also politely ask someone who is volunteering their time on tumblr or a discord server to find out for you via divination. If they don't say their doing free readings, obviously, don't ask.

Finally. luck is luck. It makes no sense for a literal God to hate a human. We all have periods of shitty luck and awesome luck! I wouldn't blame that on anything. Sometimes bad things just happen unfortunately. But sometimes amazing things also happen, even if it's just as small is finding 5 cents on the footpath.

That was so long. Congrats if you made it to the end because I nearly didn't when writing this. I hope this helped a bit. Feel free to reach out if you need a hand with anything. Thanks :)

[seidenbros]

Don't Panic, I'm a Mechanic - Part 1 Lover's Lake

Pairing: Mechanic!Eddie x Shy!Plussize!Bookstore!Reader

Warnings: modern AU, female reader, allusions to smut, fluff, insecurities (body image), I tried not to include anythign about yn's looks uncluding skin colour, so if there's anything you find, anything I can make better, please let me know, cause I wanna try to make you all enjoy this, best friend Steve, very shy y/n, teasing and petnames (princess), mutual pining, eddie &reader are 29/28 (let me know what I misses)

Word Count: 2198

Author's note: here we are, I'm not gonna have chapters in themselves, like the next part won't start exactly where this one leaves off. There might be shorter blurbs or longer parts, I don't know yet, but they will (hopefully) appear in order.

Summary: You like Eddie, Eddie likes you, but you are too shy and cannot talk to him properly. Especially not when he keeps teasing you. Meanwhile Eddie thinks you don't like him like that and just get flustered beause he teases you. A day at Lover's Lake suddenly brings a little change when Eddie sees what book you read and you get closer than you've ever been before.

Part 2

The unmistakable sound of a motorcycle made your ear perk up. It wasn’t just any motorcycle, you knew exactly who it belonged to. Even the sound of his motorcycle made your skin tingle and your heart beat faster. What it was about Eddie Munson that made you behave the way you did, you couldn’t tell, but he’d gotten to you the moment you’d set eyes on him.

For some time now, you’d been part of the same group of friends, because Steve had pretty much adopted you when you’d moved to Hawkins, Nancy had become one of your closest friends as well, and when you’d been introduced to Eddie after some time, he’d taken your breath away, and he’d occupied your thoughts and fantasies. But you were never able to say anything. Well, it was hard for you to speak at all sometimes, when he was around. With everyone else, it wasn’t a problem at all. You were witty, made them love, showed how enthusiastic you could become about something you loved, but with Eddie? Your mouth betrayed you, and you weren’t able to form coherent sentences sometimes. Especially not when he called you princess. Rationally, you knew that he called a lot of people that, but when he used that petname for you and gave you that little smirk, you were close to a heart attack. He was only teasing you, you knew that, but it still got to you.

Today, you spent the time with the others at Lover’s Lake. You’d planned this day ahead, so Steve had brought pizza and beer along, and you’d helped him carry everything, cause he’d picked you up and taken you along with him. You’d gotten into a bit of a rush in the end, so you’d just grabbed two books from your table to bring them along. You never left the house without a book, no matter where you went, even if it was just to go grocery shopping. Ever since you were little, you’ve stuck your nose in a book, so it was probably not a big surprise that you were working at a bookstore now. Whenever someone needed a book recommendation, they could come to you and ask you about it. There was a good possibility that you knew just the right book for everyone.

You sank lower in the water when you watched Eddie approach. While he walked, he pulled the helmet off, shaking out his locks. When he found your spot, he put down his bag as well as the helmet and took off his leather jacket. You felt your whole body heat up when he lifted his hands to put his hair into a low bun, his shirt riding up to reveal just a little patch of his stomach, but enough for you to see that little happy trail.

“What’re you looking at?” Steve’s teasing voice was close to your ear, making you jump slightly, before you duck under water completely, nearly letting out a frustrated scream. Steve knew you too well. Way too well, and he always managed to tease you like that when it came to Eddie. But he’d promised never to breathe a word about your feelings. Nancy had found out all by herself, and she had also promised you not to say anything. She only tried to encourage you to say something to Eddie. Yeah, but that wasn’t possible if you always managed to stumble over your words when it came to him. With everyone else, it wasn’t a problem at all, but Eddie…

When you came back up for air, Steve was grinning at you. Goddamn, you should have known that Eddie would be here as well, that he’d come by when he’d finished work for the day, but you’d somehow forgotten about the time, because you were enjoying yourself with the others. Otherwise, you would have been out of the water, wrapped in a towel or dressed again already when he got here.

There were days when you felt really good in your own body, but then there were days when you just wanted to vanish, when all the insecurities bubbled up. Usually those days were rare, and your friends hyped you up so much that you felt comfortable in going for a swim with them, in putting on a bikini and joining them. But with Eddie around, you somehow felt more aware of the size of your body. Not that you thought that Eddie would judge you, he was one of the least judgemental people you knew when it came to something like that, but… still, something in your head switched and made you want to put on some more clothes, or go swimming with a shirt over the bikini.

“I should… get out of the water,” you let Steve know before you swam to the edge and got out of the water. Eddie’s eyes were on you the moment he spotted you getting out, and he didn’t take his eyes off you. That was only more reason for you to walk quicker to grab the towel to wrap around your body. You didn’t want to be rude and sit down somewhere alone, you were friends after all, so you hurried to your clothes and put on the flannel you’d brought with you that hit you about mid thigh, grabbed a book from your bag, and walked over to Eddie.

“Hey Eddie,” you managed to say, before you sat down on the landing stage, leaving a bit of space between the two of you, dipping your feet into the water.

“Hello princess, already enough swimming fun for today?” Eddie tilted his head to the side, eyes roaming over your body until they focused on your eyes. God he really couldn’t get enough of looking at you. Especially when he saw you talking with someone else about something you really loved. Books most of the time. He just wished that you would talk to him like that, but there was something holding you back. He was pretty sure you didn’t like him all that much, at least that was the feeling he got, but Steve had assured him that this wasn’t the case. Steve, who always managed to make you laugh. Steve, who even made you squeal when started tickling you to make you loosen up. Steve who was always there to save the day for you.

Honestly, Steve was Eddie’s friend, a good friend even, but when he saw you two together, he couldn’t shake that feeling of jealousy that crept up on him. Rationally, Eddie knew that there was nothing going on between the two of you, but his poor heart didn’t really listen to that all the time. Especially not when you were so open and always smiling with Steve, and with him… you always seemed to have nothing to say, when he knew for a fact that you told wonderful stories.

“Yeah… just… need a break I guess,” you managed to say, focusing your eyes on the water in front of you, nibbling on your bottom lip.

“Too bad, I thought I could join you, but maybe I can convince you to get in the water with me again.” He smiled at you, his eyes scanning over your thighs, then slowly up your torso to your face. To the way your teeth bore into your lips, the way your nose scrunched up slightly before you answered.

“Yeah… maybe.” That was as good as he was gonna get, he knew that. But he was determined to at least get you talking a little bit, so he asked about the one thing he knew you were passionate about.

“Whatcha reading there?” Eddie nodded towards the book in your hands. Since you had no idea which book you’d taken, you simply handed it to him.

“Haven’t started reading it yet,” you managed to say, looking over at Steve, who asked you without a sound, if you were alright. You weren’t really, but that was because of your heart beating for the metalhead next to you. The guy who made you so nervous that you had trouble speaking. But apart from that…? So you nodded.

“See Jane Score,” Eddie read the title, turning the book over to read the blurb on the backside. You tensed next to him, figuring that you had grabbed the one steamy romance novel from the table. There had been five books altogether, all of them different genres, and you had chosen that one blindly. Fucking perfect. It was the second book in a series you had just started, and the first one had already made you squirm in your seat when you’d read it. Maybe because it combined ice-hockey and the steamy romance aspect. But now that Eddie held it in his hands, you felt your whole body heat up again, your flannel suddenly feeling way too tight and warm for this day.

“Sounds interesting,” he said, looking at you with a twinkle in his eye, when he handed the book back to you. “Should maybe give it a read myself.”

You took the book back from him, his fingers lingering on yours a moment too long, but you tried your best to ignore it, putting the book beside you.

“It’s not… it’s completely different from what you read most of the time, so… I-I don’t know…” You sighed, shaking your head.

“If I’ll like it? Gotta have to try to find that out. Besides, I wonder what makes you tick, what you enjoy.” He winked, before he slowly got up, rising to his full height, before he whipped his shirt over his head.

“W-What are you doing?” you asked, eyes wide with surprise, because you hadn’t expected this at all. For a moment, your eyes were glued to his stomach, before you were able to shake your head and rip your eyes from him and stop your mind from wandering. What he did to you with his mere presence was simply not fair.

“Getting in the water, what does it look like?” There it was again, that smirk that made your knees weak. “You gonna join me?” The soft smile on his lips, the pleading look in his eyes… you weren’t able to say no. Gone were your insecurities for the moment when you started unbuttoning your flannel again, while Eddie dropped his pants and pushed them aside.

“Lemme help you,” he offered, holding out his hand for you. Without thinking about it, you took his hand, expecting him to just help you up, but instead, he pulled you flush against his chest as soon as you were up. Your boobs were squished against his chest, your eyes set on his lips, slowly moving up to look into his deep brown eyes. God, you were sure, he could feel your heart beating, could probably even hear it.

“Hold your breath,” Eddie mumbled before he jumped into the water with you. You managed to do as you were told, but once beneath the cold water, Eddie let go of you, even pushed you slightly towards the surface, because he didn’t want you to swallow any water or lose your breath. He stayed below the surface a moment longer. When you came up, you gasped for air. The water managed to cool your body down a bit after everything Eddie had done to it, to you with his presence and the closeness just now.

Every single one of your senses was on high alert, your skin tingling, your heart racing, your thighs clenching together just because of Eddie. Eddie who was gone a moment longer before he popped up again a bit away from you, pushing the loose strands of hair from his face to look at you.

“You alright? Didn’t wanna tackle you like that.” A look of concern crossed Eddie’s face, but it was quickly gone when he saw the pretty smile on your lips.

“‘M alright… Was getting a bit hot anyway.” But that was not exactly due to the weather.

“Yeah… Yeah me too,” Eddie admitted, but he was quickly called over by Dustin and diverted his attention to his friend. He needed that, needed the distraction from you. because he’d pushed you away from himself beneath the water for a reason. A reason that was very prominent in his boxers right now, so he really had to cool and calm down, and definitely stop himself from thinking about your soft body beneath his, his hands all over you while he was buried deep inside you. Needless to say, you’d had the same thoughts being flush against him, but neither of you did anything about it, and instead, you’d be spending your evening in bed, writing up another scenario for your readers on tumblr with your original characters Wallace “Ace” and Heather… Steve was the only one who knew about that, and he was your biggest fan. He just had to blend out that you had modeled Ace after Eddie.

Tag-List: @hellv1ra @sweetpeapod @eddiemunson95 @e0509 @munsonology @niceboyeds @loverology @bolontiku @tessab154 @m00nlight101 @tellhound @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @bellamy-barnes @hardysbitch @give-em-hellfire @samlealea @hacker-ghost @kirsteng42 @princesseddie @anaisweird @harringtonfan4 @ethereal27cereal @goldenkinglouis @goldylions @lightvixxen  

Tagged a few of the people who asked about it and who I thought might be interested 💚 let me know if you want to be added or taken from this list 💚

[accessibleagere]

Accessible agere #2: image descriptions

Time to talk about image descriptions!

What are they?

An image description is using words to say what's happening in a picture. For example, a photo of a red ball would be described as "a red ball."

Why are they used?

Image descriptions help people who are blind or have low vision, as well as some people who have visual processing issues, to be able to know what an image is, the same way most people would with their eyes.

How do I write one?

I'm not the best person to explain, because my language issues make them difficult for me to do, so I'm using information from other websites (linked at the bottom of the post.)

Think about what's most important to you or jumps out right away when you look at the image you're describing. What is the main focus of it? If you were telling someone about it, what would you say to them?

Don't over complicate it! Use simple, easily understandable language and put the most important parts first and in the most detail. Try to keep it to 125 words or less if possible.

How do I add them to my images?

Tumblr has the ability to add descriptions to images! Click the three dots that appear on an image in a post you're making and select "add alt text." Pictures that have alt text added will have a badge that says ALT that you can click to show the text.

Can I add them to someone else's post?

You can't directly add them to an already posted image without editing the post, but you can reblog and add a description in regular text.

Do I have to do them for every image? What if I can't?

Ideally, every image would be described, but that's not always possible. You might not know how to describe something, or you might not have the energy for it. You can try reaching out to other people for help with it. If it's an image of text, like a interaction banner or a screenshot, you can put it through an image to text converter. If you can't describe it at all, tagging the post as "undescribed" can help people who need image descriptions to avoid it by filtering it out!

(Sources / recommended reading: https://uxdesign.cc/how-to-write-an-image-description-2f30d3bf5546

https://www.accessiblepublishing.ca/a-guide-to-image-description/ )

Thank you for reading! Questions? Comments? Requests? Feel free to reply or send asks, just keep things polite!

[ruinaimagines]

rodya x reader hcs maybe..... :3

Uh yes, absolutely. Wife.

Rodion x Reader Headcanons:

Rodya’s casual demeanor and confidence make her a partner who is not afraid of complimenting you and being affectionate when she sees fit. Given her general indifference to others’ opinions this includes when in the presence of others so long as you yourself do not mind.

At first it can be a bit difficult to tell whether or not she’s interested in you, or just being friendly like she is with any other. You’ll find though that through lingering touches, devoting more time alongside you, as well as almost trying to impress you in some ways that it is the first option.

Fret not though if you’re a bit oblivious. Much of what Rodya does is just her winging it. She is not devoid of anxieties, in fact she has plentiful self doubt, it is just hidden under a guise of boldness. I can see her confessing as a risky and impulsive jump into the unknown as she does with many things.

She’s very observant of the body language and the mood of others, being quite the empathetic and compassionate person. This extends especially to people she hangs around in particular. Even if you’re doing a good job at hiding something she will be able to sniff it out.

Has an excellent ability to raise the moods in solemn situations, assuming that they aren’t bad enough that it would be inappropriate to do so. If you’re having an off day, you can worry not because Rodya will manage to pull you out of it. Whether it’s by words, or actions, she knows what to do and hates just leaving you upset.

Very physically and verbally affectionate! This tall woman will randomly walk up behind you and drape her arms over your shoulders in a hug if you’re shorter than her, resting her head sideways on your shoulder. Encourages you to sit next to her, and if this is on the bus sorry to whoever was next to her but they’re kind of getting kicked out of their seat

I wouldn’t describe her as needy by any means, but she is quite the tease. If you’re in the middle of something that requires your full attention, she might huff about it. It’s all fun and games though, she doesn’t actually mind.

You might expect that being in a relationship with this woman would be rather eventful due to her relatively strong personality, but something you’ll find is that a lot of the time she just enjoys sitting in silence and small talk with you. She’s an extroverted individual who’s good with people, but that doesn’t take away the fact that sometimes she just needs to slow down from everything.

Sometimes you can catch her staring at you or whatever it is you’re doing, occasionally accompanied by a question or two as she props her face up in her hands, leaning over to look. Honestly kind of nosy, might even scare you if you aren’t paying attention because you’ll just suddenly hear “Whatcha working on, hmm?” over your shoulder. Chances are she won’t be leaving without an answer too.

You can always tell when she wants a favor from you because she will get a certain tone of voice and a loose, mischievous smile. Doesn’t even need to open her mouth because next thing you know she’s wrapping her arm around you and going “Heyyyy~ You busy?” Makes it out to be something really big she’s asking of you when it usually isn’t really much of a problem. Definitely will call you any nicknames if she has them for you. If you’re unavailable for it she won’t press too much either, usually just accepts it and finds someone else or does it herself.

Teases you a lot. Prepare for it, because it comes in basically any form or way she sees opportunity for. If you’re shorter than her, this includes holding things away from you, randomly picking you up. Will enjoy flustering you and getting on your nerves in an impish way (nothing too serious). I do recommend establishing some boundaries if there are anything off limits, because even though they can seem a bit rude she does it out of love and in a play-fight manner. 

RIP if you don’t like PDA because she will almost never leave your side and will be very vocal about her care for you. You seem embarrassed? That encourages her more. Is constantly leaning on you, playing with your hair, holding onto you, whatever it may be. There is no subtleness.

The good news is she isn’t absolutely unbearable, while you two have become a bit of an infamous couple, she has enough decency that people don’t dread being in the same room as you. A lot of the time the reason you’re so aware is because you’re the recipient.

Rodion will take risks for fun all in the sake of having a good time and dragging you along. Takes rules more like suggestions, and if you’re on a date and she sees a scenic place behind chain link gates and ‘no-trespassing’ signs she will find a way to convince you to come along. To her unless they are explicitly very dangerous private properties, it’s all fair game as long as no one sees you, right?

If you’re as adventurous as her, great! Though admittedly that will probably get you into some messes. If you’re a bit apprehensive she is a very smooth talker, and will encourage you to come along and that there’s nothing to worry about. I mean, look at the place, it’s completely vacant! No need to fret, you’re just taking a peek.

Whether you realize it or not you will be coming with her unless you genuinely convince her otherwise. She keeps a very close eye on you, reassuring you and settling down in a spot with a beautiful view.

She is all for trying new things, and depending on just how intricate and fun it is to get to, you might end up having a new hangout area in the city if you’re staying there for a bit. Some place up and away from the usual buzz of the population. Just you two.

If you do get caught well.. Rodya’s charisma has had to save you one too many times. Usually it’s only by thugs on the street or those part of lesser syndicates, still through carefully selected words you usually get of there without a scuffle. 

She laughs about it later, to her that’s just part of the fun, and even if you are a bit anxious her bright attitude to the situation will help you loosen up too. For now, you’ll have to settle in a familiar place, but you got an interesting story out of it!

Without a doubt takes you to get drinks and the two of you are so rambunctious, she finds everything funny and because of her stupid humor, even if you aren’t under the influence you can’t help but laugh along. Tears are in her eyes as she’s wheezing and grabbing onto you for support, nearly collapsing in her seat.

Whenever she’s out shopping she will buy you little things she thinks are cute and that remind her of you. Usually these are little keychains either with charms or plushies on them, especially if said plushes look a little wonky. She says it gives them personality.

[deathsplaything]

LOCATION: The Sugar Pot TIMING: Current PARTIES: Alistair & Booker (@detectivefinlee) SUMMARY: Booker goes back to the Sugar Pot to get some tea and hang around. Lucky for him, Alistair is working the counter.

“If I may… what makes a person jump from pharmacology to tea, doctor?”

He had been to this tea shop once already with his kids, just a few days ago. They had struggled through convincing their father which teas he ought to buy as loose leaf to keep at home: the point being that they were supposed to be caffeine free and relaxing, but of course he was immediately drawn to all the black teas. The floral ones sounded so… well… not really his thing. But he had relented, allowing them to make the choices for him while he planned to come back another day and at least get a cup of that masala chai stuff. That had smelled nice. 

Stepping into the Sugar Pot alone today, Booker felt a small smile creeping on him and quickly cleared his throat to dismiss it. No need to be grinning like a fool when there wasn't even anyone with him he could blame as having told a good joke. The place was cozy, and it was the local crafts on display that had triggered such a muted but present reaction from the older man. He loved crafts. He wasn't very good at many of them, but he enjoyed picking up little knick knacks from local artists to set on his mantle and among his books on their shelves. Fingers dove into the pocket of his jacket, alighting upon the small, needle felted barn owl that waited patiently for its turn to be left someplace where someone else could find it. That was the one thing he'd found he did have talent for, and at the behest of Amos and Avery, the detective had pursued the hobby. He'd been at it for about ten years now, and while he'd never made any money off of it (that wasn't his goal), he did like carrying a few with him any time he went out and leaving them in odd places. He didn't usually witness their discovery, but on the rare occasion when he did, it always brought a smile to his face. 

Wandering among the crafts for a few minutes before making his way slowly to the counter, he shifted his attention from the products to the people, analyzing them without meaning to. Not just the employees, but the other patrons as well. There was a man in the corner who wore a suit and sat with his laptop open in front of him, looking overworked and undervalued. Booker wondered if he had ever looked like that man. Probably. His hazel gaze flitted from one person to the next, his mind picking up and storing little tidbits of information as it went. Finally, he let his focus settle on the person at the counter. “... ah. I've forgotten the name of it,” he admitted with a soft, breathy chuckle. “It was the black, spicy tea. Started with an M, I think?” A movement caught his eye and he glanced to the side to see someone else striding out from behind a curtain that separated the shop from its back rooms. “Sorry, don't mean to be a bother. I'll just have a cup of whatever you recommend. For here.”

—

Standing behind the counter while Melody did inventory in the back, Alistair was rather confident in his abilities to get things done despite his lack of eyesight. With Melody, the pair were able to create a space that was accommodating for Alistair, to be able to work despite his disability. He loved it there for that reason, that he could truly never hate his job despite what he did before. He perked up at the sound of footsteps coming in through the front (they had the front door open on account of the beautiful weather). He waited patiently as the customer walked about the store, and Alistair took a moment to look through Brutus’s eyes, who was peering over at the newcomer, though kept his head down on his front paws, debating on drifting back to sleep. The man was taller and had his gaze fixed on the artisan crafts Melody had adamant that they sell to support local artists.

Alistair severed the connection the moment that Brutus closed his eyes again. No need to force the pup to work when he was content on relaxing and dozing off. The footsteps neared Alistair, and the redhead snapped to attention, his unseeing gaze settling on looking at the man as soon as he spoke, indicating where his mouth roughly was. “Well that’s not a problem,” Alistair decided with a soft tilt of his head to the side, a friendly smile crossing his features from the normal stoic expression he was so keen on wearing. He heard the back door close softly, which meant Melody was no longer in the back. She gave a pleasant smile to Booker before joining Alistair behind the counter to help him make whatever it was the customer decided to order.

“So you like black teas, and you like it spicy. Might I challenge your love for spiced black teas and introduce you to a Saigon chai? It’s black tea from India, and has cinnamon, ginger, pink peppercorns, cardamom, and cloves with some vanilla and cinnamon flavoring.” He tapped his fingers as he listed off the ingredients. It was popular with a lot of people who visited the shop, Mack included. It was obvious upon speaking to Alistair that he took tea rather seriously. Through knowing what flavors might work based on people’s desired tastes and listing ingredients that would work together, Alistair had it figured out. He was proud of what he did, despite it not being pharmaceuticals. He could still use it, kind of. There were herbs they sold that helped with certain ailments that people sought him out for. 

“But if I couldn’t challenge what it is you’re clearly after, which is the masala chai…” He made a little face, then nodded his head, setting to work on making the masala chai that the stranger was after. “Masala chai has cardamom, ginger, cinnamon, black pepper, and cloves. But if it’s true spice you’re after, some of our customers like it when I add red pepper flakes to it.” These customers, of course, Alistair had sussed out as zombies. He wasn’t so sure that this customer was among them or not, and nor did he really care. Melody watched Alistair as he flitted about the space, picking up a mug, grabbing the spices needed and depositing them into a tea bag, then adding the hot water and steamed milk into the mug and turning around to present it to the customer. “Masala chai, no red pepper flakes,” Alistair announced with a tight smile. “Though I will have to show you that Saigon chai sometime.”

—

Booker listened intently as the other person spoke, explaining to him the difference between these teas (he hadn’t realized there was more than one kind of ‘spicy’ tea, though it seemed a foolish thing in retrospect), committing what was said to memory. Before he could answer on whether or not he’d like to challenge his palette (which was pretty nonexistent when it came to tea, anyway), they were going about making the masala instead of the saigon, speaking all the while. He had noticed the way their gaze had not fallen on him until he spoke, and he noticed now the way in which they moved, the way in which the whole place was arranged, and of course, the dark lenses indoors—the most telling piece of evidence. He made a mental note to be conscientious of that.

“Fascinating,” Booker interjected softly. “I never would have thought to put something like that in tea, of all things.” He accepted the drink when it was offered, his gaze jumping between the two strangers as an easy smile flitted across his grizzled features. “Is that how you get people to come back? Tell them about all the things they could be enjoying while making them something else?” It was clear by his tone and the grin he wore that he wasn’t upset or offended by it, but rather amused. “Smart tactic. I’d love to try that Saigon chai some time.” Fishing out his wallet, Booker paid for the drink (at which point the woman intervened), then returned his attention to them both, addressing them at the same time. “A pleasure to meet you both. I’m Detective Finlee. Booker, to be less formal about it.” It wasn’t a matter of pride that encouraged him to introduce himself as such, but rather his way of cracking open that door that so many people kept tightly shut all their lives, thanks to a general lack of trust in authority figures. Not that he was particularly authoritative, neither in personality or responsibility, but still. If someone he met had a problem or concern or knew something that they wanted to share but felt they could not, he wanted to present himself as someone they could reach out to. “Just moved to town.” He paused, squinting his eyes for a moment as he recalled an earlier online conversation. “... I don’t suppose this is the establishment that was being asked to serve shrimp broth, was it?”

—

Alistair smirked as Booker called them out on how they suggested similar items. It was something they often did with people who seemed eager to learn, more to help them expand their horizons than to get them to come back. Still, it often worked out that they came back anyway. “A detective indeed,” Alistair replied with a knowing smile creeping over their lips. “A pleasure to meet you, Booker,” Alistair spoke with a nod of his head in the direction of the man’s voice. “If we’re using fancy titles, I’m Dr. Alistair McKenzie, a former pharmacist turned tea maker.” They waved a hand towards the sets of apothecary shelves. “Hence the overall aesthetic of the shop.” They explained with a simple shrug. 

“This here is Melody, my lovely partner in crime.” They nudged Melody, who simply gave a bright smile toward Booker, waving a hand. “Just moved here, hm?” Alistair thought for a moment, then remembered the conversation they’d had online with someone who had just arrived in town and gotten the attention of the shrimp cult. “Ah, yes. I remember you now.” Alistair spoke, and nodded their head slowly, fingers pressed against their chin. “A pleasure to meet you in person, I will not be serving you shrimp broth no matter how much you beg.” Alistair’s voice was easy and chipper despite the strong detestation against shrimp tea.

“So you’re a detective with the police then?” Alistair asked casually, suddenly, more than ever, aware of what they had done in the backroom of their shop. “Fancy title, that.” Alistair picked up the discarded rag to begin to wipe down the countertop to keep their hands busy while Melody slipped toward the back of the store, allowing the two to speak without getting in their way. Alistair hardly showed interest in talking to strangers, and she desperately wanted them to make a single friend, she was desperate.

Before Alistair could open their mouth to speak again, Brutus was getting up from his spot in the corner, stretching and letting out a big yawn, then trotted over to Alistair, tail wagging, nosing their hand to let them know that he was awake and ready to help. “Oh, and this is Brutus, he’s my eyes.” They patted the top of Brutus’s head, then slipped their slender hand through the lead of the harness. 

—

Booker laughed, shaking his head. “Dang, and I really had my heart set on some shrimp broth… ah well, suppose I’ll live.” He watched Alistair wipe down the counter while sampling the tea he’d been handed. “Mm, yeah. Currently off duty, but that’s subject to change at a moment’s notice. The more I learn about this town,  the more worried I am about my free time.” There was a pause as he took another sip of his tea, then glanced down at the mug. “Oh, that’s… good, actually,” he admitted, somewhat surprised. “Sorry, nothing against you, I’ve just always been more of a… coffee guy. But… trying new things.” 

He glanced around the place again, gaze falling on the dog as it walked up to its owner, who introduced them. “Hey, Brutus. Handsome fella, aren’t you?” There was a questioning rattling around in his head, and after the dog looked at him and chuffed, he felt compelled to ask it. 

“If I may… what makes a person jump from pharmacology to tea, doctor?”

—

Alistair hummed in response to the man’s apparent disappointment with no shrimp broth, rolling their eyes playfully. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m sure there are plenty of places around that would be more than happy to serve you soup.” Alistair lowered their head with a raised brow as if trying to make a point. “Tea and soup, while both hot liquids are not the same. I’ll die on this hill.” Their playful annoyance turned to a genuine smile as their work was complimented. “I’m glad you think so,” they responded. “Though between you and me? I’m also more of a coffee person.” They spoke it in a whisper as if such a statement were sacrilegious. And when working in a tea shop, it certainly was.

“Your doctor tell you to lay off the coffee? That seems to be the biggest reason for coffee people to step foot into my shop,” Alistair remarked with a smirk, crossing their arms over their chest after discarding the rag on the countertop. Brutus was busy wagging his tail a mile a minute at the compliment from the stranger, seemingly happy to be acknowledged. “Brutus, suidhe,” Alistair commanded, and the dog sat down, tail still wagging.

Then, the man asked the question that everyone seemed to want to know. It wasn’t a hurtful question, he was well within his rights to ask it. Still, every time he was asked, it stung a bit, a sinking feeling in his chest. “Turns out they don’t let you continue to be a pharmacist when you can’t see anything,” Alistair explained, waving a hand in front of their eyes for emphasis. “Melody had a mission to open a tea shop, and I decided I could use my knowledge of herbalism to put towards good use, that way not everything was lost.” They shrugged a shoulder as if the question didn’t bother them nearly as much as it did. 

—

So it wasn’t something the tea sommelier was born with, but rather an injury that came later in life. Late enough for them to have already had an established career as a pharmacist that got ripped away from them. “Sorry to hear that,” he apologized, recognizing that it might’ve been an insensitive thing to ask. He couldn’t help himself, sometimes. Sensitivity was not something he often had the luxury of affording in his day to day work. “There’s always a push for more accessibility, but I guess it makes sense that some things just require certain senses we don’t all possess. A shame.” He paused to take another sip of the tea, shaking his head as he lowered the mug again. “For whatever it’s worth, which I suspect isn’t much, I don’t think everything’s been lost. If you can get an old stuck-in-his-ways curmudgeon like me to enjoy tea, I’d say you’re doing something very right.” 

The man scanned the shop again, spotting an open table by a street-facing window. “Well. I’m going to have myself a sit at the window seat over there with this perfectly un-pepper-flaked tea, but if you find yourself with time and a desire for conversation… my afternoon is free.” All he intended to do that day was loiter in the shop and work on a felted fox that was kept securely inside a tin tucked into the inner pocket of his jacket. After politely excusing himself, the detective made his way to the table and took out his felting tin, setting the little half-finished fox in front of him and rooting around through his materials for a few moments before resuming his project. 

—

It was hard to get Alistair to give someone a genuine smile, but Booker? He’d done it. Before Alistair could process what was happening, a soft smile curled across their features, warm and inviting despite how hard the necromancer tried to appear anything but. This person, whoever he was, decided that Alistair was worth their talents and that not everything was wasted because they were good at what they did. People didn’t go out of their way to tell them that, and it was very much appreciated. “Your words are kind and very much appreciated,” Alistair spoke in response, nodding their head once. 

It was a rare opportunity that Alistair had a chance to make a friend, to sit down and talk with someone close in age. Most people that came in were either elder spellcasters looking for ingredients for a spell, or young people looking to get their fix of the latest tea. And there was Booker, inviting them to join him. Melody finally looked up from her counting in the back of the store and made her way to the counter, whispering to Alistair to go make a friend for once that wasn’t her and Tommy. Alistair grumbled something unintelligible but discarded the rag onto the counter and sauntered over to sit across from Booker. 

Something about Booker brought back that gentle side of Alistair that they kept locked away tightly, that this was someone that they could trust and befriend, even if they hadn’t allowed themselves to do so in quite some time. Brutus trotted over to his companion, laying down at Alistair’s feet to let the spellcaster know that he was there. That’s where they would sit, slipping in between conversation and comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s company.  It was something that Alistair wasn’t afforded, thought they would never be allowed to have again, a companion in someone else. A friendship where they thought friendship wouldn’t be allowed after losing all that they’d lost. But Booker? Booker opened up a piece of the necromancer they’d long thought lost, a piece of them that was kind and considerate, that wanted to have a friend and someone to spend time with. That’s what they’d learned that day, that maybe, just maybe, not all hope was lost.

[allylikethecat]

Just read your reply to an ask about a fix of matty singing them to sleep and the suggestion/idea of fictional Matty singing fictional George or vice versa to sleep has me wanting to eat my hand and sob (in a good way) 😭

The best way to deal with your self imposed stress of not finishing a fic by your self dictated deadline is obviously to work on a different one 😂 I felt really bad that I wasn't able to fill that one prompt request for that anon looking for a matty x reader blurb where he sung the reader to sleep (I don't see myself ever writing x reader fic i'm sorry!! there are so many wonderful talented people who do though! that's just not my writing niche unfortunately) ... but like was totally down to write one of him singing fictional!George to sleep, and then I saw that YOU lovely anon had sent this in in response to that ask, so obviously I had to jump it to the top of my massive list of prompt fill requests that I really do promise I will finish in 2024 lol

So, alas, here it is, Fictional!Matty sining Fictional!George to sleep. I hope you like it, if not let me know and I will attempt a take two! Thank you so much for sending this in though, and for reading, and being so lovely and supportive! I hope you have a very happy new year and a great rest of your week!

❤️Ally

Singing to sleep

George was sick, and George never got sick. Matty was at his wits end, he was the one with the shit immune system. He was the one who didn’t take care of himself and allowed his body to get run down, seeming to constantly be coming down with a perpetual case of the sniffles. George did yoga. George remembered to eat, and drank water, and got the recommended eight hours of sleep each night. He wasn’t supposed to be congested and running a fever, a trail of used tissues laid out like bread crumbs as if he would lose his way back to the bedroom without them. 

George wasn’t supposed to be arguing with Matty that he wasn’t sick when he clearly was. Shaking his head, his voice rough and nasally, insisting that he was fine even as he had to halt his argument every few minutes to cough. George was not supposed to be sick, and with a sinking realization, Matty was learning that George was an even worse patient than he was. 

“Please,” Matty begged, he knew he looked ridiculous wearing the frilly apron his Mum had gotten him as a joke when they had bought the new house and Matty had shown her the high end kitchen as if he was going to actually use it. The joke was on her, he was wearing the apron and currently trying to use the kitchen. “Please just go lay back down.” 

“I’m fine,” George rasped again before breaking off into another coughing fit, his arms wrapped around himself as he shivered. Matty glanced at the clock on the stove, it was still too soon for him to take another dose of paracetamol. 

“You are not fine!” Matty snapped, turning away from the stove and the soup that he hoped was simmering and not boiling, he wasn’t entirely sure of the difference. He waved his wooden spoon at George for dramatic effect. “You need to go lay down and get some fucking rest so you can get better!” 

George opened his mouth and Matty waved the spoon more aggressively, flicking his wrist at George. “No, no arguments, upstairs, now please, let’s go.” Matty said, nudging George’s shoulder so that he could guide him towards the staircase. 

George sighed, breaking off into another coughing fit, his shoulders shaking before doing as Matty said. He padded barefoot towards the stairs, Matty hot on his heels to make sure he actually got into bed instead of trying to snag his work laptop out of the office. The soup would be okay for a few minutes without him, Matty thought as they climbed the stairs. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to be watching for anyway, or what he was even supposed to do if it did do something. 

Realizing he was still holding the spoon, Matty sheepishly sat it down on the dresser, brushing past George to fluff up his pillows and blankets.

“Get in the bed,” he said, holding his arms out as if he was a briefcase girl on a game show.  

“You trying to take advantage of me?” George rasped, batting his eyelashes teasingly, the effect was lost though by the glassy sheen of his eyes and his dry red nose. 

“Always,” Matty deadpanned and George sighed, climbing back into bed and allowing Matty to rearrange the blankets around him while he pouted like a child.

“Now get some rest,” Matty said, leaning down one last time to press a kiss to George’s forehead, frowning when he realized just how hot it was. He turned away, planning on heading into the bathroom to get George a damp wash rag to try and cool him down some before returning to his soup when George caught his wrist. 

“Wait,” said George looking up at Matty, looking extra pathetic with his pale skin, red nose and shiny eyes. 

“I’ll be right back,” Matty assured him, his heart squeezing. “I’m just going to get you a cold rag.” 

“I’m fine,” George said again, his voice convincing absolutely no one. “But will you,” George flushed, and Matty wasn’t sure if it was from fever or embarrassment. George swallowed hard, his sore throat bobbing painfully. “Will you sing to me?”

Matty blinked, in confusion, not expecting the request. “What?” he asked dumbly and George’s blush deepened, embarrassment it is then, Matty thought fondly, his heart flipping at the request. 

“Will you sing me something?” George asked again, his eyes wide and earnest. “Please.” 

Matty exhaled slowly, he wanted to get George a cold wash rag for his forehead, and he needed to go check on his soup. But who was he to refuse George a song when he was poorly. 

“Yeah,” said Matty softly, feeling like his insides had turned to goo with just how much he loved George. “Yeah, I can sing you something.” 

His Gibson Hummingbird was leaning against a decorative chair where he had left it two days prior, and he winced, knowing he should have put it away properly but thankful for his laziness as he scooped it up, feeling silly as he quickly tuned it and sat down on the edge of the bed. 

He played the opening chord and George smiled, instantly recognizing the song. 

Tell me what you thought about

When you were gone and so alone

The worst is over

You can have the best of me

We got older but we're still young

We never grew out of this feeling that we won't give up

George was asleep, snoring softly, before Matty even finished the song. 

[axolator]

Script-A-Day #17: Starstruck by Dela

Be careful who you nominate, be careful what you say, and be careful trusting who dies at night

Featured characters: High Priestess, Fearmonger, Fang Gu

Complexity: Intermediate-Advanced. Recommended for players who aren't afraid of obscure decisions and bolder bluffs.

Database link (find the PDF and JSON for running it there!)

Writeup under the cut!

Starstruck is a script that got popularized by the Unofficial Discord, and for good reason. While at first it may strange with only two Demons and five Outsiders, this suite of characters is carefully-crafted to make for a unique puzzle. Each Minion has a tell: the Fearmonger announces itself, the Cerenovus can halt the day with a madness-execution, the Godfather can cause extra deaths at night and the Spy can inform the Demon who to kill. Meanwhile, the good team has few direct pings on them, instead relying on the lack of confirmation to figure out who to execute: characters like the Shugenja, Gambler, Fisherman, and Virgin can quickly clear town members, leaving the evil team with nobody to frame!

This script has both Puzzlemaster and Drunk on it, which can be disorienting when bag-building, since they serve similar functions in terms of misinfo. Be careful when putting both in - the Puzzlemaster has almost no way of differentiating their own drunk from the Drunk outsider! I'd almost never do it, reserving the combo for some really powerful good teams with underpowered evil teams.

Some notes:

I've talked about the High Priestess enough to where I don't have to say too much here, do I? The High Priestess is most fun when you show it players that need the HP to specifically talk to them: a Fearmonger who's flying under the radar and is about to catch a starpass is probably more worth interrogating compared to a public Oracle with sober info they'll out immediately.

The Gambler and Godfather are the only sources of extra death on this script, so be a little careful with them. If the Gambler creates an extra death on a day a Townsfolk died, the only way for them to be evil is if the recent executee is the Drunk, making them the Godfather who self-killed, while a three-death night confirms that an Outsider died, a Godfather's in play, and that the Gambler is good. Consider putting the Gambler with more hidden Outsiders, like the Mutant, Drunk, or Lunatic, so they don't confirm too many people before dying!

Make sure you know how to run the Mayor's bounce. Without a Poisoner on this script, the Mayor can be hard for an evil team to deal with: make sure you keep the game fun and fair when deciding whether to bounce. In general, if a Mayor win is all but guaranteed and evil just can't frame them, kill the Mayor, but if the Mayor is getting framed and evil is still sinking kills into them, keep bouncing. Don't let evil dispose of a suspicious Mayor just because they attacked a second time — the Mayor isn't the Fool, after all!

The Spy has some very interesting interactions with some of the other characters on this script. In addition to being able to proc a Virgin, it can register as an Outsider to the Godfather, giving them a kill when executed, and can catch a Fang Gu jump by registering as an Outsider to a Fang Gu attacking them!

The Cerenovus has a unique avenue when bluffing Virgin - by making an evil teammate (or themselves) ceremad, they can fake a Virgin execution on whoever the mad player nominates. If you're an ST and your Cerenovus tries to go for this - let them bluff Virgin! It sacrifices an evil player to do so, and your players know that this can happen.

There's a little more I had to say, but I think it can wait for another time. At time of writing, this post should go up in about 10 minutes, so I'll cut myself off here and tell you to enjoy today's script! See you tomorrow!

[pruning-the-minds-garden]

On Trust

Lets talk about trust in kink generally, and in hypnokink specifically. First, about Proximal Trust, then about Trusting me, and last about Accountability.

Something I want, I need people in the hypnokink space - and in general, really - to watch out for is Proximal Trust. This is when [Person A] gains a level of perceived trust or integrity in the eyes of other people, by being associated with (in proximity to) [Person B]. A concrete example: "I've seen HypnoDude being friendly with and sharing the content of SpiralChain for ages, and I trust SpiralChain, so HypnoDude has to be legit..."

Let me let Gen. Ackbar tell you what that is -

There are a lot of people I talk to in the hypnokink community, who exist in a space where... well... it's not that I think they're untrustworthy, but at the same time I cannot attest directly to whether they are trustworthy and respectful partners. That's not because I have doubts about them as people, but because I have never interacted with them in that specific way. They've never been sexually, kinkstually or whatever interested in me, nor I them, and that is a very different level of interaction to, "hey how's the weather? You like D&D 5E? Oh cool, so what's your favorite kind of induction?"

I cannot, and you should not, assume that just because someone is able to maintain a friendship with me without setting off alarm bells in my head, that they are a considerate, ethical, and compatible partner. It is just not a good or safe assumption to make. Yes, a lot of really skeevy people will squick me out and I will avoid them right off the jump... but a lot of others won't.

Cloaking one's predatory nature or broken stair-ness in order to get in the proximity of trusted folks is a great strategy to get access to a more steady stream of potential partners, and so it is one oft employed. And, it often works. I cannot possibly vouch for everyone I interact positively with, nor everyone who shares my content, nor everyone who upvotes or likes my ideas. I can only vouch for the small circle of people I've actually had intimate interactions with or whom I've directly seen interacting in that way for a long enough time to feel comfortable drawing conclusions from said observations. I wish predators and unethical actors and broken stairs came with badges, but sadly they do not.

If you have questions about individuals, ask me about them in DM. I will tell you what I know, and admit what I do not (which is often a lot). I will be as honest and forthright as possible, to give you the ability to make an honest risk assessment for yourself. I'm always here to help, too, should things should go awry, in whatever way you deem necessary. I limit the extent to which I publicly call people out to those people who have, in my eyes, repeatedly and unapologetically done things that cross serious ethical lines, and for whom there is sufficient and publicly-available evidence.

On a related note, everything I said above about other people applies to me, too. I know I make a lot of content on ethics and safety and consent and that might recommend to suspicion that I'm "automatically" a trustworthy person. I'ma let Gen. Ackbar take that one again -

Don't assume you can trust me. I really do appreciate that I've helped people, it means a ton to me. It matters. I am really, really, really super glad to have made the amount of difference - however big or small it is - that I have. I'm grateful for all of your support and accolades and all of that.

However.

No amount of difference, no amount of kudos, no amount of good a person could do, ever, makes them automatically worthy of your trust. That goes double in an intimate, kink context. Always, always, always vett your potential intimate and kink partners as best you can. Just because someone has a bunch of good friends, that does not mean that can't then turn around and be a consent violating asshole in the proverbial (or literal) bedroom. Just because someone talks a good - or great - game, that doesn't mean that when push comes to shove they aren't sus as hell. Vett. Your. Partners. Please. Not doing so does not excuse unethical or injurious behavior on their part - that's their doing and their failing, not yours - but it will help greatly to keep you safe. In an ideal world it would not be required, but we don't live in that ideal world, and until we do we have to live in the one we do.

That brings us to Accountability. I've said a lot here about not trusting the wrong people, so I want to make something absolutely, crystal clear: if someone does something hurtful to you, that is THEIR fault, not yours. Where you put your trust and how you vett people does matter but it does not, in any way, to any extent, make the things that happen to you "your fault." Accountability for those hurtful, abusive actions is 100% on the shoulders of the people who do them. It will never be anywhere else. All of the above - vetting, proximal trust, etc - is said with a mind to practicality and self-protection, to keeping you safe in the future, and not with even a hint of suggestion of blame or responsibility for anything. I know that when you are in the grips of something like that it can be easy to get into a blame, shame or self-hate spiral, wondering how you could let something like that happen and... you didn't. Things like that don't passively occur, they are actively pursued, and done so in ways that specifically overcome or bypass or evade the protective mechanisms that we all use to keep that from being done to us. It's. Not. Your. Fault.

Is this in response to a specific situation? Yes. More than one, honestly. Am I going to spill the proverbial tea? If I was going to, I would have already. I value given promises of privacy and even implicit ones far more than the social currency of naming-and-shaming and "✨#drama✨". If the time comes for that, though, rest assured it will happen. In the mean time, I'll do what I can to see that people are safe, healthy, and steps are taken to prevent future harm, as appropriate. I care about this community and I want to do right by it, and by all of you, as best I can.