#i really hope the readmore works this time

[laurasimonsdaughter]

is there any aromantic themed folklore stories?

I think that very much depends on your personal definition. Of course there are plenty of folktales that do not include romance, but for me that usually isn't quite enough to consider them aromantic. For me the folk- and fairy tales that feel the most aromantic to me, are the ones where the plot makes me expect there will be a love interest along the way or a wedding at the end, but instead there is neither.

Here are the ones I've taken a personal liking to so far:

The Shoes That Were Danced to Pieces

Source: Cape Verdian folktale, collected by E. Parsons from Antonio Soares Rosa in 1916-1917.

Content warnings: princess-shaming.

Character I read as aro: The hero.

Why: He answers a royal proclamation that states that whoever is able to find out how the princess wears out seven pairs of shoes every night can marry her and have half the kingdom. When he accomplishes this, however, he declines the marriage and returns home to build his mother a new house.

Read it: Full text online.

How The Devil Married Three Sisters

Source: Italian folktale, published by Widter and Wolf in 1866.

Content warnings: fairy tale violence, abusive spouse.

Character I read as aro: The youngest of the three sisters.

Why: While the first sister is pleased by her handsome suitor (the devil) and the second sister is also described as "wooed and won" by him, the third agrees to marriage only because he is rich. She proceeds to save her sisters, outsmarts the devil, and they all get away.

Read it: Full text online.

David Cotterson

Source: Danish fairy tale, collected by Jens Kamp, published in 1879.

Content warning: suicide contemplation, fairy tale violence.

Character I read as aro: The hero, David Cotterson.

Why: His biggest desire is to become a sailor and see the world. In his biggest adventure he defeats a seductive witch, saves a prince who has been cursed to be a dog. He then decided what he wants most of all is to got home to his loving parents, which he does.

Read it: Offline in this book, or my summary online.

The Squire’s Bride

Source: Norwegian folktale, collected by Asbjørnsen and Moe, published 1841-1844.

Content warning: attempted arranged marriage, attempted kidnapping.

Character I read as aro: The heroine, a farmers daughter.

Why: She's being courted by an old, rich squire. She rejects him, not for a better (kinder, younger) suitor, but simply because she doesn't want him. He doesn't back down so she humiliates him to teach him a lesson.

Read it: Full text online.

The Three Brothers

Source: German folktale, collected by the brothers Grimm, published 1857.

Content warning: ends with natural death.

Characters I read as aro: The protagonists, three brothers.

Why: Their father tasks them to learn a trade to show who deserves to inherit their family home. They become a master barber, blacksmith and swordsman, and the third inherits the house. But because they love each other so much they decide to share the house. They live happily and grow old together, after which all three die close together and are laid in the same grave.

Read it: Full text online.

Diarmaid and Grainne

Source: Celtic legend, Scottish variant collected by H. MacLean in 1859, from Alexander Macalister.

Content warning: tragedy, coercion, murder of protagonist.

Character I read as aro: The warrior Diarmaid.

Why: He has a love spot on his face, which he keeps hidden to prevent women from falling in love with him. Grainne (who is married to his lord Fionn) sees it and falls for him, but he refuses to go with her until she outsmarts him and places him under obligation to do so. He goes with her but they live in a house with separate beds. Grainne betrays Diarmaid for yet another man and Diarmaid ends up being killed by Fionn before he realises that Diarmaid has never touched his wife.

Read it: Full text online.

Slawa

Source: Romanian fairy tale, found in a German collection from 1977, sadly unsourced.

Content warning: attempted kidnapping, fairy tale violence.

Character I read as aro: The heroine, Slawa

Why: She is a poor young woman so beautiful that the cruel tsar wants to marry her. She keeps refusing and he gets violent, so she resorts to defeating him with magic (which she has because she was once a doll brought to life through the love of her parents), so she is free to go see the world.

Read it: You can download my translation here.

King Bear

Source: Danish folktale, collected by Jens Kamp, published in 1879.

Content warning: animal death.

Character I read as aro: One of the two protagonists, the eldest of two brothers.

Why: The older brother doesn't fully understand why his younger brother has fallen in love with an imprisoned princess, but helps him win her hand anyway. He stays happily at the royal court, but never marries himself.

Read it: Offline in this book.

And just because I still love them, I did write two literary fairy tales with aro protagonists myself some years ago:

The Man and the Mermaid, in which a man meets a mermaid after losing the woman he thought he wanted to marry.

The River Sprite, in which a woman helps a river sprite who is determined to repay her.

Hope there's something on this list that makes you happy!

[clorofolle]

Longish rant about gluten free restaurants and the way they handle contamination under the cut!

Today I went to a pizza restaurant that offers gluten free options. I ask if there's a separate menu I can choose from, get told that nah, but also it's up to my discretion, depending on how much I react to contamination, to choose wisely. He gives me a short list of very bland/simple pizzas and says those are guaranteed contamination-free, while every other topping gets made in block but I can put them on the gluten free pizza base.

I'm blown away - it's hard to find people in food service 1) knowledgeable enough about contamination to understand that different people might take a different approach to them, and 2) honest enough to tell you how their process works!

I don't show symptoms/don't feel sick from a little contamination, and do blood work yearly to make sure I'm not accidentally ingesting too much gluten, and I've been 100% clean n good since I was a kid. I have an Extremely rigid gluten free diet at home, precisely so I can account for a little bit of contamination the few times I eat out. I never eat things with wheat in them of course, but I also can afford not to care if there's been indirect contamination in tools, kitchenware, frying oil etc. I know this because I've been celiac since I was a kid and know how I work by now.

So when I place my order and another guy comes out and tells that No, Actually I can only choose from those three bland pizzas, they have a responsibility, they cannot put toppings that they can't assure are not contaminated in the slightest, even if I take full responsibility, that's really disappointing!! Like I'm not gonna give the restaurant shit for it, it's good that they care about this stuff, and the guy was absolutely just doing his job.

But also - it very much feels like them trying to tell me how *my* health thing works. I wonder what kind of weird system they have in place - I suppose there's gotta be some legal reason for them to be soo strict about this, maybe they can legally be sued if they served that pizza as "gluten free"?

The best way I've seen a restaurant handle this, was saying that they offer burgers "with gluten free bread". So they can't say it's "gluten free burgers", and most sensitive individuals can avoid that place. But also, the other ingredients don't CONTAIN any gluten, per se, it's a way to say "there COULD be some contamination", and it's really smart, imo.

Fun thing is - pizza restaurant I went in didn't even have a second oven just for the gluten free stuff. I can tell bc my pizza had the classical "circular aluminium container" shape. And AFAIK, that's another actual red flag for very sensitive individuals, because Neapolitan style ovens are not usually kept too much clean, and there's like flour all around inside them (if your pizza gets a burnt bottom, it's probably bc of a dirty oven). So like uhh? You only have one oven? And you couldn't put a non-fried vegetable and cheese on my pizza?

Anyways I hope they find some legal loophole to get ppl like me more yummy pizzas. Because I actually LOVE when places are upfront about possible contaminations - it helps me keep count. I've definitely had places that claimed to be "gluten free" and then what I received had me doubt they even knew what that meant. A good compromise CAN be reached.

[speakergame]

Progress Update - 3/4/24

Hello and happy March!

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? 😅 Well, I finally have some good news for you this time: I have some actual news!

I'm happy to be able to announce at last that an update is on its way! I’ve still got some assets to make and code cleanup and testing to finish, but I should finally have something to show you soon.

I’ll put a cut at the end of this and go into more detail about the what and why of what I’ve been working on during this long and unintended hiatus, but the tl;dr is that I hope to have an update out by the end of the month, and that said update will break any saves made in Chapter 4. Unfortunate, but unavoidable, since Chapter 4 had to be recoded from the beginning 😞

I just want to thank all of you once again for sticking with me through my extended silence! Especially to my patrons who’ve put up with me putting everything on pause month after month while I dealt with my real life shit, and to everyone who’s sent me kind and supportive messages to let me know Speaker hasn’t been forgotten. It really means a lot to me.

Okay, enough of that sappy shit! I’m gonna get back to work finishing this up 😁 I’ll put out another update later this month once I have a more definite release date.

Thank you all for reading! I hope you’re having a fantastic 2024 so far, and that the rest of the week treats you kindly. See y’all soon! 💙💙💙

(For those who want a more detailed breakdown on what’s been happening and what to expect, hit the readmore)

I won’t go into the personal life stuff I’ve been dealing with this past year that has slowed down my work, but as far as the actual game goes: 

To put it simply, I just wasn’t happy with it. Some of it could be because of how many times I had to reread the same section while I was coding the scenes that would’ve taken place after the last update, but no matter how much I edited or rearranged it, I didn’t like how that scene turned out. There was something… formulaic that had been happening with the way I always laid out scenes, and a bit of stagnation in the story, character, and relationship development that bothered me.

So I rewrote it. And when I still didn’t like it, I rewrote it again. And I still didn’t like it. I thought about scrapping the whole thing on more than one occasion as I struggled to get out of the corner I’d written myself into.

Inspiration finally struck at the beginning of this year, thanks in part to another interactive novel I follow, and I really like the direction I’ve taken it now. 

Instead of the RO split scenes happening where the last one left off, Speaker, Seer, and Gavin are gonna have a chat about Things™ to move the next story arc forward. Then Speaker will get some downtime, by themself at first and then in an extended scene split with the RO of their choosing. 

All the Big Plot Things that were going to happen in Chapter 4 will be moved to Chapter 5 instead, and 4 will be a bit more of a filler episode. A deep breath before the plunge, as it were.

This split won’t just be a quick conversation/reaction from the RO, but a full on different direction for the rest of the chapter based on who you choose. Most of them will involve leaving the house; all of them will involve actual one-on-one time (or one-on-two time, as the case may be) away from the others. And though romance isn’t required, all of them will have the potential to really move the romance forward if you so choose. One or two might even have a lock-in choice (maybe. I’m not 100 percent on that, so don’t hold me to it) 

These scenes won’t be in the next update, because they’re all very complex, but the update will definitely have the Seer chat and at least some of the by-yourself stuff. The update after will have the rest of the alone time stuff (including the clothes/body CC you’ve all been waiting for), and then the one after will start the RO scenes. I think.

I may actually split the RO scenes into separate updates, and let my darlings over at Patreon vote for the order they’re released. That way I can focus on one at a time instead of trying to split my attention six ways at once.

Okay, that’s enough rambling for me today. Time to get back to work! Still got a lot to get done before this is ready, but it’s so close now.

[erodasfishtacos]

The Body Factory (sexclubowner!h)

+

Hellloooo!

It’s been a long while since I posted here. I am still going strong on patreon with 4-5 one shots a month with anywhere from 8 to 14k words usually (sometimes more) + blurbs. I decided to released one of my new tropes, just part one on here and if it sounds good maybe consider joining for $3USD a month to read more parts of this and many others coming up!!!

prompt: yn doesn’t feel fufilled in her relationship and so her fiancé, Arthur, comes up with an idea to help but it doesnt turn out as either of them expected aka sex club owner!h

word count: 8k

warnings: under-negotiation, power play, mean h, choking, safeword, cheating but not really yet

🛑 there is a scene that could potentially be triggering so i am going to put a brief summary at the end of the fic if you’d like to check whether it’s a appropriate read for yourself. 🛑

Author’s Note: I have had this idea on my mind for months and have been so extremely excited to share it with you. It has really really been inspiring to me as I don’t have a trope like this. I hope you enjoy.

++

Arthur was nice.

Arthur was a safe choice.

It’s why when YN’s father introduced them, it didn’t really seem like an option to turn down the invitation to go out to dinner at the swankiest restaurant in town.

The date had been so incredibly unexciting that YN had no doubt that he would not ask for a second one.

They had nothing in common, the space was often filled with an awkward silence, and averted gazes to the walls or out the window next to their seating.

Arthur was nice.

Arthur was polite, he held the door and paid for the bill before walking her to her car with the chaste kiss to her cheek.

It absolutely boggled her mind when her father informed her the next day that Arthur had told her that he had an amazing time and was going to ask her for a second date in the next upcoming days.

YN hated the mere idea of disappointing her parents, she had already let them down enough with her career choice not to join the family business

:readmore:

instead becoming neonatal nurse, despite that being a massive accomplishment, it wasn’t praised because she didn’t go to be a lawyer like both her mother and father.

It felt like most of the time she was on thin ice with her parents because of her education and career choice, even down to the car she drove (they thought it was too sporty and not practical enough) which left her in a precarious position.

She relied on them for help with her student loans.

YN was still trying to get her feet on the ground with her apartment landlord just bumping up her rent by nearly five-hundred pounds, her car note, among all the other things that came with being an adult that she wasn’t financially capable of managing yet.

Her parents agreed to pay for her school loans.

However, it came with silet threat of staying in their good gracious or they would cut her off at any moment, they had threatened it enough when she got into nursing school and informed them that she would be attending, she must have heard them threaten her inheritance half a million times.

Arthur was her ticket back into her parent’s limelight.

He was fresh out of law school but he was incredibly intelligent, good at what he did, and had multiple firms vying for him to join their legal council but he had chosen YN’s family’s business because of their well-known reputation.

Arthur came from old money, which had given him an extremely privileged life and a headstart into success as soon as he was born.

He was the great-grandson of an oil tycoon whom he had reaped the benefits ever since.

The second date happened, then the third, then the fourth.

No spark.

No chemistry.

Atleast on YN’s end because Arthur seemed happy as a clam in their relationship, he praised YN to anyone who would listen, and was consistently bragging about their life to anyone that would listen to him.

He was nice to her.

He remembered important dates, brought her flowers to work, and had dinner made when she walked in the door on nights that she worked late shifts and he got home before her.

Time passes and they celebrate their first year anniversary, then their second, then their third.

On the fourth was when he got down on one knee and professed his love to her in front of all their family and friends on Christmas Day at an extravagant party at his parent’s estate.

The diamond ring that he slid onto her finger was ridiculous, too big to not just be flaunting wealth, and it wasn’t a style that she liked but she lied and told him that she loved it.

There was an emptiness in her chest when he proposed, she was teary-eyed but she couldn’t determine whether it was from happiness or dread that she was going to spend the rest of her life with the man in front of her.

It wasn’t his fault in the slightest.

Arthur was just Arthur.

He lacked depth, there was nothing behind his twinkling brown eyes beside law, money, and judgement.

Arthur treated her nicely consistently, they barely ever fought, and he never raised his voice at her.

When he got frustrated, he just got an exasperated tone and took time to himself in his office until he had calmed down enough to talk.

But that was once in a blue moon.

They’ve never had a blow-out because he was so agreeable and accommodating.

That’s exactly what was missing from their relationship.

YN didn’t crave toxicity, not one bit, she wanted a healthy relationship with positive communication, understanding, and all the things that make that up.

YN did crave excitement, humor, sexual tension, and the type of relationship that kept her on her toes, got her adrenaline pumping and making her stomach turn in nervous knots because she didn’t always know what to expect out of her partner.

Arthur was as predictable as a clock, had no spontaneity up his sleeve, and his sense of humor was nonexistent.

YN had a partner that she’d been with in college named Klein.

He wasn’t the love of her life, not by a long shot, but he had been wild, on the edge of insane half-of-the-time, and always kept their relationship exciting.

He would show up at her part-time cafe job, with a fake excuse to her boss about a death in his family, and he needed her support.

When YN would walk out to his motorcycle with him, concerned about his grandmother’s death, he would only smile at her, inform her that his grandmother has been dead for fifteen years, and that he was going to take her on a hike to see a waterfall she’d mentioned wanting to see once in passing.

But then there was their sex life, it was phenomenal and unlike the few half-hapzard experience she had before him.

He was confident, dominant, and introduced her to things that she used to not even have the nerve to say out loud let alone do.

It was him who introduced her to BDSM and they explored it for nearly two and a half years of their relationship.

YN did research while they were together and after the fact, she had even attended a few virtual training sessions to learn about correct techniques, safety precautions, and learning the dynamic of power play which engrossed her to no end.

However, when Klein requested they open their relationship, that had been such an unexpected turn-off that she no longer felt the connection that was there before.

The end of the relationship was amicable, they were still friends on social media and liked each others posts but it was at that point they realized they wanted different things and they couldn’t provide that to one another.

Where Klein wanted flexibility, uncertainty, and fluidity.

YN wanted regimen, structured, and a deep sense of connection with one person.

She did not want multiple doms nor did she want her dom to have multiple submissives.

She wanted all the attention on her, her dom would be absolutely captivated by her and be so connected to her physically, mentally, spiritually that they only want her.

Her ideal dom would never mention sharing.

Which isn’t to shame it because it was more common than not to have an open relationship, partner sharing, and swapping.

YN loved the idea of becoming comfortable with someone enough that she could be a brat which she wasn’t an easy submissive she had come to learn.

Her dominant had to work for her submission, sometimes she crumbled quickly and other times it took multiple punishments until the smirk was wiped from her face and replaced with tears on her puffy cheeks from the pinpricks of pain.

After Klein, she had gone on a few dates, some she even hooked up with but she never clicked enough with them to talk about anything like that.

And so she wrapped it up into a nice, neat box and tucked it into the back of her mind because she would find the right partner who would be compatible sexually with her.

Right?

Arthur and her had no sexual chemistry.

Arthur was just as polite in the bedroom as he was outside of it, he never put her in a unique position, and preferred to rotate between the missionary and doggy style.

He would occasionally go down on her but he didn’t know what he was doing so it didn’t feel like much of anything as most of the time he couldn’t even locate her clit.

Which meant fingering was out of the question because he didn’t even know the g-spot existed.

Anytime she managed to orgasm, it was from her own hand, getting herself off because she was past the point of asking him to try to do it.

Arthur did not have a high sex drive and YN felt guilty for being thankful for it.

He wasn’t doing anything wrong, he was trying, and it was so unsatisfying that YN felt like her skin itched sometimes because she hadn’t realized until Arthur how much she craved sexual intimacy with her significant other.

Again, Arthur initiated once a week, sometimes twice or sometimes not for a few weeks when his work is really busy.

YN was six years into a relationship of unfilled desire, disconnect, and a lack of satisfaction which she would have never seen for herself at only being twenty-nine years old.

The wedding was set for fourteen months away, at a vineyard on the coast of Italy.

It was decided by everyone but her as with most things she felt like nowadays.

++

YN had been scrolling through a blog post when something caught her eye.

It was written by a female who had a similar lack of connection with her partner in the bedroom but wanted more.

The writer had described that as soon as she asked if they could experiment with BDSM that their relationship had completely shifted, they were more in love than ever, and their sex life was more amazing than it had been in nearly a decade.

It was the motivation that YN needed to have the conversation with Arthur, with the hope that it would ignite a flame that had yet to be struck between the two of them.

YN loved Arthur, she wanted to be in love with him but she couldn’t honestly say she was at this point in their relationship.

Arthur had been surprised by the conversation, over dinner one night, if the way he sputtered red wine onto his crisp white button-up was an indicator.

His eyes had gone wide in a look of almost horror and he cleared his throat a handful of times while they discussed it in more detail.

“I just feel like it would be something fun to try out,” YN tries to keep it casual, to not let on to how much she desired this or knew that she would already love it.

“Erm, yeah. I would be open to it,” Arthur had agreed sheepishly, putting down his fork and knife.

“No, I do not want you to feel pressured at all! I just -” YN begins to try to soothe because she had not meant to get such a reaction of concern more than lust out of her fiance.

He chuckles kindly, smiling at her as he reaches across the table to hold her hand, “We can try it, if that’s what you want. I am open to whatever will make you happy, sweetie pie.”

Sweetie pie….

YN tried not to blatantly cringe every time he called her that.

++

It did not work out.

They did not even get a few minutes into foreplay when Arthur backed out, saying that he just didn’t feel like he knew what to do, and that he’d prefer if they just did their normal thing.

YN agreed, trying to swallow the disappointed lump in her throat because she didn’t want to guilt him in to trying anything he wasn’t into.

They didn’t discuss it again after that for a long while.

++

Arthur wasn’t blind to the shift after that night.

He now knew that he was not satisfying a need that YN desired and she had just seemed more subdued since he had called it off but was trying to hide it because he knew that she wasn’t trying to make him feel bad about not wanting it.

It had been on his mind though.

++

“A sex club?” YN’s eyes nearly buldge from her sockets, puting down her glass of water and ignoring the splashes it leaves on her hand because what had Arthur just recommended they try?

“Yes. A BDSM club or a kink club they call it. Maybe if I see other people doing it or we get into the right atmosphere, it will work better. At least off the start?” Arthur seems just as nervous as her, he hadn’t touched his food.

��And…I just…” YN was at a loss for words because this is just the most unexpected turn of events.

“Maybe I can learn from others. Really get good at it for you, you know?” He suggests, his eyes looking anywhere but at hers.

“Yeah, yeah let’s do it.”

++

The Body Factory was the club that Arthur had decided after doing his research.

He needed somewhere secretive, exclusive, and with iron-clad NDA’s so that no one could use this against him in his profession which was fair enough.

That’s where The Body Factor came into play.

There were guidelines to a membership:

You must make over a hundred-and-fifty thousand pounds a year.

You were sign and resign an NDA every three months.

A deposit of ten thousand pounds, it will not be refunded if any rules or regulations are broken.

You will send in health screenings every two months, proof of birth control (if female), and a background check.

You may not belong to any other clubs during the time of your membership at The Body Factory.

YN was quite shocked that Arthur had dished out that amount of money on the deposit for something that they weren’t sure that they were going to like nor want to continue to visit even though the membership spans for a year at a time.

“If we go, hate it, and decide to never go back, just consider it a really expensive date night,” Arthur had assured her with a chuckle, she knew of his wealth but even this seemed a bit like frivolous spending but little did she know it was just his desperation to make her happy.

++

The club was in the packing district of all places, tucked back in between massive factories, some that were still open and operating, others that had been abandoned for years now.

It was actually in an old clothing factory that had been renovated to resemble any other high-end club, from the inside there would be no way that anyone could even tell except for the incredibly high ceilings at some points.

However, the location in the city and of building choice gave a lot of privacy of entering and exiting, it wasn’t advertised nor did it have any sign indicating of their presence.

It was a maze of alleyways until the entrance appeared, a dingy door that was rusted and gave no indication of what was inside, someone walking past would have never looked twice or thought anything of the building nor the entrance.

Everything was matte black, dark, and dimmed.

There were occasional deep emerald green accents but everything was sleek, modern, and simple but in the most elegant way as they walked in.

YN’s heart was in her throat.

Where people going to be fucking right when they walk in?

Or people being led around on leashes right off the bat?

Arthur may pass out.

However, there’s a front desk, almost like at an office with a woman dressed in a incredibly fitted sleek black dress with smooth, curled hair, and makeup like it was done by a professional, she had to be a model because she was gorgeous as she smiled widely and checked them in.

They had to show their licenses, hand over physical copies of their screenings, NDA’s even though they had to sign them virtually too.

There were two security guards in black suits with earpieces standing by large, heavy dark oak doors with their hands crossed in front of them.

This seemed like a movie or just not real with how sophisticated this whole process was.

“Enjoy,” Penelope, the receptionist had chirped with the whitest, most perfect smile she’d ever seen.

Arthur seemed a bit awestruck for a moment and YN couldn’t even fault him for it.

The two guards move aside to open the doors, nodding for them to go in before closing them firmly behind them.

YN finds herself reaching for Arthur’s hand, nervous and shaky with new experience anxiety and adrenaline that she was finally getting back into what she wanted even more so.

There were people mingling, sipping on drinks, and all fully clothed.

It wasn’t until Arthur informed her, “Play starts at ten, the first hour is to introduce, mingle, meet.”

Ah, that makes sense.

It almost builds the tension, YN feels like she can taste it on the tip of her tongue.

They walk over to the bar, another beautiful women greets them right away, laying a napkin down in front of both of them, “Newbies?”

“Yes,” Arthur nods, pointing to himself first, “I’m Arthur, this is YN, my fiance.”

The bartender quirks an eyebrow as she not-so-subtly scans them, “Nice to meet you two. I’m Raven. I bartend Friday through Sunday here. What are you drinking?”

“A moscow mule,” YN asks, maybe some alcohol will loosen her nerves.

“It’s a dry club, babe,” Raven smiles patiently as her long fingernails click against the smooth surface.

“Oh,” YN replies in surprise, looking behind her at the shelves only to see syrups for flavoring but no actual liquor bottles or draft taps to be seen, “A sprite?”

“Water, please,” Arthur adds as he rubs YN’s thigh, squeezing it in reassurance, “I forgot to tell you. No alcohol here. Everybody needs to be sober when playing.”

“That makes sense,” YN hums in agreement, never having actually thought about it much, but it could definitely get cloudy on consent when alcohol was being consumed in regards to playing which was a dangerous and unsafe mixture.

They sit, observed for a few minutes before a few people begin to flock towards them, greeting them and asking surface level questions until there’s a deep, almost eerie chime that echoes for a long moment through the club over the soft jazz.

It was signifying that the clock had struck ten.

Everyone quickly wraps up their conversations before moving to different areas of the rooms, some disappearing down hallways.

The atmosphere had changed significantly in a very quick spurt of time as people started undressing, kissing, moving as if they’d just gotten permission.

There was a couple of the couch across the room that Athur and YN were observing from their barstools.

The two started out slow, sensual, like any normal couple behind close doors but when the woman knots her hair into her partner’s hair and demands his mouth move lower, he obliges and Arthur gasps softly at the roughness displayed.

YN’s been aroused for the last five minutes of watching them but doesn’t make an effort to act on it, not yet atleast, and once the couple move so that the man is laying on the couch, the woman kneeling over his face, it changes her vantage point but it catches on something else.

In the corner, further back into the room, there was a man sitting in the corner where there was barely any lighting, dim and his goal was to obviously stay in the background.

No one was approaching him nor was he interacting with anyone else.

YN knew there was a no phone policy but this man was sat, scrolling boredly through his phone and only occasionally glancing up to observe the people in action around him before eyes dart back down like it wasn’t entertaining at all.

He wasn’t aroused, at least from what YN could see, and he was in a tight, well-fitted suit but his dress shirt was barely buttoned, open enough to show the definition of his pectoral muscles, the sharpness of his collarbones, and a variety of darkly inked tattoos.

He was fucking beautiful.

YN realizes she oogling him but can get away with it because it appears to Arthur that she’s still watching the couple like he is.

However, when the man looks up after a few moments once again, his eyes are instantly locked on YN.

She can’t tell what color they are from here but she knows they’re light, twinkling under the barely there light of a sconce on the wall and it’s smouldering as he doesn’t blink nor waver with embarrassment of being caught staring at her.

YN quickly diverted her eyes back to the couple, her heart was pounding, and a sense of thrill shot up her spine even though it was inappropriate.

She wasn’t here for new partners.

She was here to learn and explore with her own.

YN tries to play it casual when Raven refills the drink she nervously chugged, “Why does that guy have his phone?”

Raven’s eyes darted to the man before grinning, “That’s Harry. He’s the owner, my boss. He supervises the free play.”

“Free play?”

“Out in the common area, it’s considered free play. If you claim a room, you are in private play with whatever partners you bring back there. Harry just makes sure everything stays safe and consensual out here. He gets bored though and plays Candy Crush on his phone.”

YN cracks her own smile at that, trying to imagine the man trying to get rid of sugary sweets and getting frustrated when he loses a round.

“Does he not play?” Arthur asks curiously, now his attention has changed to Harry as well.

“Not often,” Raven informs them, leaning her elbow on the counter, “I can’t remember the last time he did. I’d say at least seven years ago, at least in the free play but he doesn’t reserve rooms or anything. He made it clear that he doesn’t find at least any of the current members interesting enough to engage with.”

“That’s interesting, considering he must have an interest in it, if this is his club,” Arthur replies to Raven before turning back to the scene of the couple, another member had joined the couple and was currently giving the male some startling rough looking bruised kisses and bites to his stomach and thighs.

Arthur was getting aroused by the look and feel of it, he reached over and brazenly took her hand, and led her to his groin where he was hard in his trousers, encouraging her to palm over him which she did as she tried to get into it.

This…This atmosphere, these people, they excited her.

Arthur still did not.

They manage to get to a couch, Arthur appears to be getting so turned on that foreplay isn’t in his realm of ideas because he’s hiking up YN’s dress around her hips and positioning her on top of him which is a new position (in all six years they’ve never done cowgirl) but still, her arousal is barely boiling above surface level.

YN licks her palm, reaching down to help moisten herself because Arthur was not doing anything to spark her to get wet.

It was actually making her more distressed that despite the scenario, she still didn’t feel the connection to her fiancé.

When she slides down, it’s fine, he was an average size so even without much lubrication, it didn’t feel like a stretch or burn when she started to move her hips but it wasn’t as pleasant as if she was sopping, dripping down her thighs.

Arthur glances to the side at one point, noticing that the male from the throuple was now pounding into the original partner with his had tight around her throat, pushing her further into the couch without mercy as she tried to whine through stutter breaths.

YN felt like she was being watched the entire time, which of course she was being watched by other members but it felt different, when she blinks around and notices that Harry has his gaze honed in on her with a twisted scowl of almost disapproval, it confuses her.

However, she’s brought back into the moment when Arthur pants out, “Can- I want to try that.”

When YN follows his gaze, he’s referring to the choking, and yeah, maybe that will light that match.

“Okay, yeah,” YN agrees as she brushes her hair off of her shoulders, wishing he would have taken this dress off of her instead of shoving it upwards where it felt confining.

Arthur smiles at her, leaning up to give her a chaste kiss which didn’t match their situation whatsoever that they were in at the moment.

YN was feeling anxious about the judgment other members might put onto them but not because she cared that people watched but because she knew Arthur and her were nowhere nearly as fluid, practiced, or elegant as the other members whom seemed to just melt into one another easily.

Arthur had never tried it before but his hand came up to her throat, he’s getting close to his own release which means that he’s not as focused, eyes getting a glazed over appearance.

YN soon realizes that he has no idea what he’s doing as he begins to cut off her airway by cupping her throat in the center instead of at the sides.

It hurts, she can’t breathe but not the way that feels tingly, excited, it feels like he could quite possibly suffocate her because of his carelessness.

They had talked about proper methods and he clearly hadn’t retained that information.

A few black dots begin to dance across her line of vision and her body starts to trigger a flight or fight response which she wants to use her safe word but she can’t speak.

YN takes to dig her nails into his hand but he doesn’t seem to understand that it’s not out of lust.

A true fear begins to take hold that something horrible will happen to her in less than a minute.

He’s truly going to injure her.

YN is in a full-fledged panic induced state.

Then suddenly, without warning, a strong arm is being wrapped around her middle and a big, ring-clad hand grips Arthur where it was around her neck so hard he yelps in pain and releases his grip.

The person is physically lifting YN off of Arthur’s lap, trying to steady her on her feet but they feel like jello and she feels light-headed, the room wouldn’t stop spinning.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” The person’s voice is deep, raspy, and incredibly pissed off, “What the fuck is your problem?”

YN can’t even bring herself to look at Arthur right now, her full support into Harry’s side as she notices the two securities guards walking in.

“C’mon, let me sit you down. You’re okay but I want to check you out, alright? Yeah, c’mon, pet,” He encourages in a much softer tone, gentle and trying to comfort me as she struggles to catch her breath.

It takes a long second to realize that she’s crying, tears streaming down her cheeks, and fuck, she is so embarassed as every other member had stopped playing.

“We’re done for the night. We’ll re-open tomorrow at the normal hours of operation,” Harry announces to the room at large before looking to Raven, “Go close down the private rooms.”

Raven nods, no longer as smiley and bubbling but an expression of concern as she watches what’s going on with YN.

“Hey, darling. Can you tilt your head up?” Harry asks quietly once he sits her down in the same corner that he had been in, away from the group.

YN whines because her neck is aching, she doesn’t want to do anything as the drop in adrenaline has made her more exhausted than she’s felt in a long time.

“I know, I know,” Harry simpers in an unpredictably cooing tone, he taps his thumb on her chin to signal her to tilt it up and she obliges.

Harry prods gently at her neck, focusing on the center where the pressure has been, “Any sharp pains? Anything feel off or wrong like you need to go to the hospital?”

YN shakes her head, a fresh round of tears.

She knew that she wasn’t injured or seriously hurt.

YN felt more traumatized mentally than anything else.

“I need words, want to hear your pretty voice,” Harry orders in a honey sweet tone, eyes hyper-focused on her like they were in the beginning of the night.

His eyes were green.

Close to the accent color of the club.

“I’m okay,” YN manages to speak out, throat dry and scratchy.

Raven appears with a glass of water to hand to Harry before giving them their space again.

YN is about to reach for the glass but Harry is already moving it towards her lips for her, “Drink f’me.”

It’s strangely intimate as he tilts the glass, eyes watching her carefully and a sense of guilt sets in that she likes that Harry is tending to her, giving her his full attention.

“Is this a common occurrence? Between you two?”Harry doesn’t sound as kind anymore, his jaw muscle twitches slightly.

“Um, no. We came here to explore. I’m very much into this world and he isn’t. He’s told me he’s done his research in his free time but -“

“You’re telling me that you’ve never negotiated nor tried something like this and he full fledge tries choking?” Harry interrupts, outraged from where he stands up from squatting in front of her, “Did you ask or plan for that?”

YN shakes her head, a bit embarrassed that she was coming off as an amateur to someone…she felt an attraction to, felt intimidated by, and Arthur had ruined their experience here.

“No. We tried spanking a few times but he backed out. We were just supposed to come here to watch others so he could visual what all this looked like before putting it into action-“

Harry doesn’t let her finish as he storms away from her, his glare set right on Arthur who was sheepishly sitting back at the bar and nursing a drink as Raven talked to him.

YN’s heart rate starts to rise again when Arthur tenses, clearly being chewed out by Harry before her fiancé gets off his barstool and follows the club owners lead down the hallway.

YN rushes to the bar, Raven is already pouring her another sprite, “Calm down. He’s not going to hurt him or anything. They just need to have a discussion on whether or not Harry will revoke his membership.”

It feels ruined and it never even started.

All she can think about is that despite for a short amount of time she was getting what she asked from Arthur, there was still no god damn spark.

After a good half hour, the bar phone rings and Raven answers, murmuring a few words back into the receiver before having up.

“I’m going to take you back to his office now.”

++

Harry’s office was just as luxe, elegant as the rest of the club.

It was tense as soon as she stepped in the room and Raven left, closing the door behind her.

“I’ve decided not to revoke your joint membership after discussion with Arthur. However, there are contingencies if you would like to continue coming here. Are you willing to hear them? Arthur has already agreed to the terms.”

YN nods slowly, voice soft, “Yes.”

Harry keeps his face on her as he speaks, “I do not tolerate what happened here tonight in my club. Arthur has clearly proven that he isn’t educated enough to be able to have free access to the club and free play.”

“If you want to continue membership, Arthur will need to reserve a private room and lessons will be held until he fully grasps the concepts, displays understanding, and can play safely without supervision.”

“Who…Do you have instructors?” YN doesn’t think she wants another man involved in their sex life even in an educational aspect.

“Yes but I will be teaching the lessons,” Harry informs her, calm as ever, “I bring this up because I would need to be hands on, to demonstrate and display certain practice, power play dynamics but that is a lot to ask as I do not know your limits on sharing.”

YN’s speaking before she even realizes it, “Yes. We can do that.”

Harry’s lip quirks slightly before it disappears but it oddly enough seems like a reward.

“We can schedule. I will send the paperwork. I already have your questionnaires about hard limits, likes, dislikes, and willing to try. I want to make this clear, this will be purely educational and there will be no dynamic developing between me and you two.”

YN nods dumbly, at a loss for words because the mere thought of Harry domming her was a lick of a flame that she’d been missing so much.

“I will dom you with instructions interwoven for Arthur. We will try to keep everything minimal as I cannot stress enough that this is not anything but informative on my end to help improve your sex life as a couple.”

++

Three longs weeks pass before their first ‘lesson’.

Arthur voiced excitement about the instruction, never brought up the choking incident again, and never initiated any type of sex during this time either.

Everything was swept under the rug as usual in their relationship.

YN would never admit the fact that she had gotten herself off to the mere idea of Harry domming her because something about him had triggered something carnal, something near feral in her.

It’s more than she had even felt with Klein.

She knew it wouldn’t last forever but she was going to enjoy this to the best of her abilities.

++

YN only had excited nerves going into the night.

Harry had inquired more in the break of time about YN’s experience and was extremely pleased to realize that she wasn’t as much of a novice as he assumed.

Though she hadn’t experienced many partners or relationships within the community, her knowledge was expansive and deep enough to impress him.

Harry had texted her back with a simple message that had her core tingling enough that she had to rub her thighs together.

YN: Thank you for continuously checking in on my comfort and experience regarding these situations. I have many more concerns for Arthur as we’ve already discussed. If you have any more questions, feel free to ask!

Harry Styles: I do not plan to go easy on you. Unless you specifically want soft play for these experiences. I can be a softer dominant but my main modality is firm, mean, regimented with softer aftercare.

YN: You don’t scare me. ;)

She was already being bratty with him.

It sent a wave of good nerves through her as she waited for a reply to be sent to her inbox.

Harry Styles: It’s interesting that you’ve already started to decide to be bad for me when you don’t even know what I’m capable of, darling.

YN : I’m shaking.

YN: Terrified.

Harry Styles: I wish I could wrap my fingers around your throat right now. Show your fiancé the proper way to choke a god damn brat.

YN could feel herself pooling with arousal.

It felt a bit wrong but she reasoned enough with herself that it was all for the greater good of her relationship with Arthur but deep down she knew that was bullshit.

YN: You’re probably not much better.

Harry Styles: Quite honestly, haven’t worked with such a fucking disobedient bitch in a long time. I cannot wait to break you. A kitten who thinks they’re a big bad tiger.

YN: Fuck you.

Harry Styles: Kitty’s got claws.

Harry Styles: For now…

It felt bordering on inappropriate but YN reasoned again that Harry had made it clear that there isn’t anything happening, it is a strictly professional as a type of situation like this can be.

++

Saturday has come and YN wakes up to a text.

Harry Styles: Better wear something cute enough that I find you interesting enough to play with. Even if it’s just to teach.

YN rereads the message quite a few times and why is he so good at getting under her skin and she doesn’t even know him yet but it’s like he knows exactly how to wind her up.

YN: Black dress with tights.

Harry Styles: It’s good to know that you’re just another basic bitch.

YN: What will you be wearing then?

Harry Styles: That’s none of your fucking business. I call the shots, kitty. Not you.

YN: 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

Harry Styles: Good to know. Five spanks for the five emojis. Would you like to keep going?

She can’t even help herself

YN: 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

Harry Styles: Noted.

YN wants to reply, knowing he’s probably waiting but a tiny sliver of guilt starts to creep in when she thinks about Arthur because though she’s trying to convince herself this is perfectly fine.

It’s not.

Not with the emotions it makes her feel.

She hasn’t felt them in so long.

It scares her.

“Sweetie pie, are you having second thoughts? Should be getting ready,” Arthur steps out of the walk-in closet, adjusting the sleeve of his button up.

“No!” YN replies much too quickly, her tone high pitch, “Um, I lost track of time. I’ll get ready now.”

“Okay, I’m excited for this new experience with you,” He smiles sweetly, stepping over to press a kiss to her forehead.

It’s affectionate, loving, and she’s still thinking of other things than her fiancé.

++

YN decides on a black wide leg trouser with a corseted bodysuit that gave her tits the perfect push-up, she’s spray a very thin most of body glitter on her chest, she knew it would sparkle in the dim lighting.

She considered wearing the dress and tights to spite him but whatever, she’d be less easy access for him.

++

Arthur held her hand tightly as they entered The Body Factory.

YN was already searching for Harry, barely waving to Raven as Arthur leads them over but she doesn’t want a drink, she wants to play.

However her fiancé guide her to a stool, ordering for both of them as Raven has a look of curiosity as she slides them in front of him.

“Does he come out and get us?” Arthur asks Raven, looking around he doesn’t see him either.

Raven bites her lip, shaking her head with a chuckle, ��No, I take you to your reserved room when ten hits.”

“What is it?” YN asks, unable to read what is going on the bartender's mind.

This conversation didn’t seem particularly funny.

“Nothing really. Harry just hasn’t offered private lessons for at least eight or nine years. Normally when couples have an incident like you did, Harry revoked their memberships without a second thought,” Raven informs them as she picks at a spot on the smooth surface of the bar absentmindedly.

“Why us?” YN wonders out loud, why after all that time did he make an exception.

“I wish I knew,” The bartender shrugs neutrally.

++

The deep chime rings out about forty-five minutes later.

YN cannot decipher whether she wants to throw up or jump up and down with excitement.

Especially when Raven guides them down a long hallway, then into another corridor until they reach a door with a sign that warns, “No members past this point. Private access only.”

“Um-“ Arthur goes to point out the sign, he was a rule follower to his core.

“It’s Harry’s private playroom that members can’t use but again, this is special circumstances,” Raven’s voice is hushed as she leads them into a surprisingly minimal room.

There were cabinets built sleekly into the walls where all toys and accessories must be held, a matte black.

Everything matched but there was a bigger prominence of the green accents that were more subtle in the main areas.

The play bench hardware matches everything else but the cushion is a luxe emerald.

The bed was…unlike anything she had ever seen.

It was massive but fit well in the spacious room.

High posts on all four corners with subtle hooks to place restraints in.

The mattress looked fluffy and giving, it looked as if the sheets were a black silk but the duvet was a very muted pattern of black and green diamonds.

YN was in love with space.

It was so much more than she was expecting.

“Holy shit,” Arthur gapes at the elegance, clearly he had been expecting something different too.

“Okay, when Harry comes in, he will already be in the dom headspace and so he wants me to give you reminders. Harry will respect your hard limits as he’s reviewed them before the session. You have received a list of his so please do the same.”

“Just as you can safeword out at any time without consequences, Harry can as well. He will use the same ‘red’ if need be and will check your colors throughout to ensure safe play.”

“For this first lesson, Arthur you will sit and observe. Harry will display a safe, typical scene of play to understand what that looks like with whatever kind of submissive YN is. You may also use your safeword at any time to stop the play.”

YN swallows because would he allow that?

Surprisingly, Arthur’s face is still clear and happy as he starts to walk over to an overstuffed chair in the corner of the room and smiles at YN, “Can’t wait.”

YN raises a shocked eyebrow at his willingness but nods at Raven to show she understands.

++

They’re silent as they wait for Harry.

She wasn’t given instruction and because she was a bit nervous, she perched herself on Arthur’s lap as he rubbed her thigh and kissed her shoulder blades occasionally.

Then there’s a shuffle outside the door, the door knob twisting and the door opening.

Harry looked ethereal.

He wasn’t wearing a tailored suit like before but leather boots with a bit of a heel, form-fitting jeans that make his lean quads look biteable, and a plain black shirt.

His arms had even more beautiful ink than YN realized.

After Harry closes the door, his eyes lock on hers, not even acknowledging her fiancé’s presence.

“Stand up,” Harry orders loudly, a bit startling.

YN obeys instantly, her heart was pounding in her eardrums like waves of the choppy ocean.

A cruel smirk tilts on his lips when he scans her up and down.

“Did I strike a nerve, pet? This isn’t a black dress and tights. Are you already starting off so insecure? And you think you can handle me. What a cute, pathetic little kitten,” His voice is venomous, steady, and she’s clinging onto every word.

Arthur’s clearly confused but stays silent.

“I’m not pathetic,” YN argues shakily, it felt dangerous to get bratty so soon but it was her submissive profile and character, it came naturally.

Harry quirks a brow, “Sir.”

YN gives him her own confused look.

“I’m not pathetic, sir. Every time you speak, try again.”

“I’m not pathetic,” YN bleats easily, a flutter of her eyelashes.

Harry smiles like a goddamn wolf.

“Oh, you’re not? Let’s test that theory,” Harry draws as he takes a few steps backwards, towards the door, “Come to me.”

YN stands up, on wobbly legs, and begins to but is stopped in her tracks by his hard voice.

“Hands and knees. Crawl for me, I want to show your fiancé how pathetic you are for me,” Harry has a humor, an evil sense of it.

YN drops to her hands and knees, nearly panting already, and begins to move.

++

summary of triggering scene: YN’s fiance chokes her and though it’s completely consensual he doesn’t know what he’s doing and almost hurts her. YN cannot safeword out at the time but harry stops the scene.

[smallnico]

durge desensitizes to casual positive affection and friendship compilation

also known as real feline durge hours. esper's companions look at them and say Is Anyone Gonna Manhandle That Murderous Twink and then not wait for an answer. contexts/explanations under readmore for the curious

lae'zel and esper do morning exercises and meditation together. most of the time they pass the time in silence, but sometimes they're joined by the local wildlife. esper is a great fan of showing their friends things they might find interesting as a form of affection instead of words, especially with lae'zel, since they have a common discomfort with small talk.

esper doesn't like looking at themself in the mirror, so their makeup is always ancient and haphazardly applied, a fact that distresses the more image-conscientious shadowheart. she and esper have a sibling-like relationship fuelled by mutual amnesia and goth solidarity, among other things, but sometimes a sister has to take it upon herself to fix her stinky sibling's wings.

i already expanded on wyll and esper's dynamic a bit in this piece and i didn't feel like drawing the same thing twice, but suffice it to say, they have absolutely no idea how to talk to each other, but still look out for each other. the joke here is about how i've done a couple of long rests in-game with just alcohol i've found. hey 5 camp supplies is 5 camp supplies

jaheira unearths esper's forgotten mother issues. no real things to add here. no thoughts only cub.

gale said way back in act 1 that esper reminded him of tara, and esper isn't leaning into that on purpose per se, but as i said for lae'zel, they like getting their friends things those friends might enjoy. they also love chaos. show your evocation wizard some love by bringing him extremely destructive spells to play with. show your durge some love by casting chain lightning and letting them watch

i have no justification for this one lmao. esper isn't a Huge fan of being picked up and hefted around like a sack of oats, but maybe they should've thought of that before being small and scoop-uppable. socially, esper and halsin don't click especially well, but esper is fundamentally a creature, and therefore pretty easy for halsin to understand. obviously they don't mind that much :J

esper and karlach voted two most touch-starved nerds in faerun, they help each other cope by sleeping in a cuddle pile like cats. karlach runs warm even after getting her engine tuned up, but esper doesn't mind. she's cozy

astarion is by far the person esper is the most verbal with, probably because he's the only one who really thinks the durgeisms that slip out are funny and #relatable. everyone else errs on the side of caution with esper, but astarion knows he's allowed to take liberties with them, and he does. they have the same sense of humour. these two freaks are completely insufferable together because they're vibing so hard on a level incomprehensible to everyone around them, but astarion can put a stop to esper's self-destructive internal stress engine, and esper can drag him into helping and working hard. the others have no choice but to tolerate them as a couple because no matter how unhinged they are as a unit, they're so much worse for society on the whole as individuals. do not separate them

if you read all this, hope you enjoyed this illumination of esper's party dynamics, i love you <3 enjoy

[sinnabee]

Commission for @fizziepop! Rambling under the readmore!

The concept for this one was that Y/N has, some-way, somehow... perished. The boys have lost them. And so here they are - torn apart yet brought together, in rage and fear and grief.

But, if you wanna be silly with it - maybe it's just that they tripped and fell down and the boys are acting like its the END OF THE WORLD. Might work with gala again later and do a follow up on this with y/n in the family guy death pose haha! (might even do it on my own if it strikes me!)

This piece took me. MONTHS. And it was a challenge, and I VERY much struggled at times. But Gala has been WONDERFUL through the whole thing, and honestly I had a BLAST working on this piece. (Also Gala idk if I ever mentioned - you gave me WONDERFUL refs and had super vivid ideas, it was awesome.) I learned a lot of fun new techniques, and improved a LOT while working on this! Finished it up last night on stream, and I'm super proud of it! Gala, I hope you love it just as much as I do!!! <3

In particular I am the most fond of the bio-lights on Eclipse, and the shading on moon. Though I do like the patterns for the lights on sun, I think the glow on Eclipse looks just a taaaaad cooler. I ALSO got SUPER carried away with the clouds in the bg - it was meant to me "simple" oopsie. But! It was fun and dang??? I really like how they turned out! (thank you, gouache brush my beloved <3)

[bruisedboys]

Congratulations on 3,000 followers! The feat is well deserved, your writing is beautiful, thank you for sharing your talent with us.

If you can fit me in (no worries if not!), could I request a little blurb for the celly - Little Women, if possible with shy!reader and the prompt, "you look like you could use a hug," and our beautiful boy Steve Harrington?

Thank you! Regardless if you get to write it or not, just wanted to express my gratitude and felicitations :)

thank you angel!! such a cute prompt to write omg

summary: steve gives shy!you a hug

shy!fem!reader 0.5k words

Steve can tell from the moment you walk into work that you’ve had a bad morning. Your usual soft smile is missing, replaced by a frown that makes Steve’s heart twang. You’re staring at your shoes when you walk in, when usually you’ll beam at Steve and run at him for a hug. Don’t get him wrong, you’re not a ball of energy all the time. You’re shy and soft and quiet. But today you’re very obviously morose.

Steve thinks he might cry.

“Baby,” he says in way of greeting. He rounds the counter but doesn’t touch you yet, just in case. “Hi.”

You push the tips of your shoes together and then look up. “Hi, Steve,” you say, very quietly. Quieter than usual, at least. You’re still frowning. Steve wants desperately to kiss it away.

“Are you—?” He reaches out to take your wrist but changes his mind. His hand is left floating mid-air. “Um. You look like you could use a hug. Can I give you one?”

You look up at Steve with so much hope it makes his chest hurt. “Yeah, please,” you say, all soft desperation.

Steve doesn’t need to be told twice. He steps into your space and gets his arms around you. Your backpack’s kind of in the way and your work badge is digging into his chest but he really can’t bring himself to care. You’re melting into his hold and it’s all Steve can do not to burst into tears.

“Had a hard morning?” He asks into your hair, soft as he possibly can.

You nod into his chest, your nose pressing into the space between his pecs. Steve pulls you closer still, until he’s almost lifting you, until your face is squashed into his chest and he thinks if he squeezes you any tighter you’ll suffocate.

When he feels your hot tears soaking through his shirt he first panics, then tries not to when he realises it’ll probably make you more upset. Still, he encourages your face from his chest, letting you cling to his waist as he takes your teary face in his hands.

“Sweetheart,” he coos. Your cheeks are flushed under his hands and your eyelashes sticky with tears.

“Sorry,” you whisper, all shaky. “I don’t know why I’m crying. Sorry, Steve.”

You go to pull away, probably to wipe the tears from your face, but Steve doesn’t budge. He’ll wipe your tears for you, thank you very much.

“Baby,” he says, holding you still. “Don’t be sorry. It’s okay.”

You blink up at Steve, all sad and pretty. How you look so beautiful even when you’re crying is beside him.

“I think I just really needed a hug,” you say softly.

Steve’s heart does a funny backflip in his chest. He drags his thumbs under your eyes, pushing your tears away.

“Yeah?” He asks, his hands sliding to your shoulders. He squeezes you. “Do you want another one?”

You nod and Steve wraps you up in his hold again. He’s prepared to hug you all day, if you need him to.

-

fixing readmore glitch

[chaosheadspace]

Hope you feel better soon!

If it's not too late for kiss prompt requests, can I send a #5) Where it doesn't hurt?

Or a #39) Because time's run out.

Gotta love that angst.

💜💜

Okay so this gripped me by the throat. I'm putting it all behind a readmore because Dream gets very badly hurt in this. Proceed with caution. It also has an ambiguous ending, which will be resolved with a future prompt, so be warned of that, too. If you like angst and whump, please enjoy.

Sort of continuation of this and this.

(Yam, you might wanna give this one a berth or ask me for further details.)

Hob breathes in the cool autumn air. It’s dark outside, the hour late after the book reading Dream and he went to. The streets are almost empty, it being a weekday and after eleven. Apart from the occasional car coming by, it’s just them and the streetlight, night laying over it all like a blanket.

It’s been a year since Dream came to live with him after being turned human by his sister, and Hob watches him as he puts on his coat carefully, somehow still unaccustomed to some things of the human experiences.

Dream has been—not like a child; no, more like a wild bird with a broken wing that needed to get used to living on the ground. Some things still vex him, still cause him difficulty; most of them to do with the limited human focus. He's burned food, or worse, himself; forgot laundry and groceries and bills and appointments. Hob helps where he can, and together they managed to get Dream on his feet again, albeit staggering a little. It's not perfect, but Hob is nonetheless proud of Dream. Isn't the purpose of life to fail and learn as best as one can? Dream is doing just marvellous, even with the difficulties his change has brought him.

He's full of wonder, of curiosity, Hob has found, and it's such a joy to relearn the world through Dream's eyes. Dream has continued to be an artist, taking to clay and paint and pencils with ease. He’s taken a liking at cooking, too, even if he’s not good at it. Anything to do with touch, really, Hob’s noticed. Dream loves working with his hands, experimenting, experiencing. Dream runs his hands over soft cushions and blankets, over his coat and the doorframe before they leave, over tree bark and cold metal railings, over his own chin and cheeks when he forgot to shave again.

He also touches Hob, his pullovers, his arms, his hair; curious and unrestrained. Sometimes Hob needs to swallow and take a deep breath, but he always lets him. Dream is so open now, letting him see, and Hob won’t spook him off with glimpses of his own heart again, not if he can help it, not when the only thing required is patience.

Dream’s hand squeezes Hob's, comforting, promising, pulling him back into the London night.

“Let us go home, Hob,” Dream says, and then lets go of his hand and steps out into the street to cross it, still smiling at him.

Hob opens his mouth to remind him to look first, but he's drowned out by the honk of a car horn, painfully loud, painfully close.

The split second seems to last an eternity, splits, splits again, an endless nightmare in which Hob so clearly sees Dreams shocked face, the headlights catching on his coat, the car. Unable to do anything, too slow, too sluggish.

Then the world is fast again, the car reversing, Hob's ears ringing. He can't see Dream. He can't see Dream.

Hob can't breathe, slips between the same parked cars that Dream just passed between a second ago, adrenaline and fear in his veins.

With a squeal and the rev of the engine, the car speeds off, and Hob shouts a reflexive, angered “Hey!” after it before his mind is again screeched to a halt by ragged, gulping breaths.

It's quiet again, awfully quiet, except for Dream's breathing.

Hob takes another step, looks downwards—*of course downwards, where else would he be, Hob, you idiot—and there lies Dream, a crumpled, horribly twisted mess, his chest heaving, his face a grimace of pain.

Hob sinks to his knees beside him, his right hand fishing for his phone, his eyes never leaving Dream.

“Dream, Dream, darling, hey—”

“Hhob—” The stuttering gurgle coming out of Dream sounds so painfully wrong it turns Hob's stomach. Dream's next exhale is a painful, ragged moan followed by a very wet cough that has Hob fumbling for his phone even faster. He presses 999 with shaking fingers.

His own voice feels like sludge as he speaks to the operator, too slow, muddy, somehow. It's all terribly wrong, the trickle of blood from Dream's temple, the bent, contorted way he lies there, the agonised sounds that escape him with every breath, the glassiness of his eyes that are looking up, up, into the faint stars of the sky, unseeing.

Hob reaches for Dream's head as he speaks, tentative, trembling, desperate to give him even the smallest amount of comfort, and then thinks better of it and reaches for his hand.

The operator stays on call with him, the ambulance dispatched, and all they can do is wait, wait the horribly long wait until it gets here. They told him not to move Dream, for fear of worsening his injuries. Reality is hazy to Hob, the operator, the promise of an ambulance, all of it is so far away, behind a layer of fog. The only real thing is Dream, wrong, wounded, wrong—

Hob's fingers touch Dream's, and with a sound like an animal Dream grips his hand with surprising strength. He's still not looking at Hob. Maybe he can't. And then Dream speaks again, his eyes still turned to the dark of night.

“Mother?” Dream rasps, begging, “mother, please—” He coughs again, groans, sobs spasmodically as his body shifts slightly. “Mother, can you not hear me?”

Hob's phone clatters to the ground as he grips Dream’s hand with both of his own.

“Dream, hey, darling, I'm here, I'm here, I'm so sorry,” Hob says, babbling.

There are tears on Dream's face now, his laboured breathing accompanied by pained cries, and Hob feels helpless, so helpless.

“I did not—want to—anger you,” Dream hacks out. “It is—so dark. Destiny won't—save me this time—mother, please—”

The world gets loud again and Hob's eyes still don't leave Dream, not as he's pried from Dream's side as the paramedics get to work, not as Dream is practically scraped from the pavement, not as they load him into the ambulance.

Thankfully they allow him to come with, seated at the side of the vehicle, right next to but still too far away from Dream as they work.

For a very short moment, after they arrive at the hospital, before they get the stretcher out of the ambulance, Dream looks at him. Really looks at him for a second, a sliver of clarity aided by painkillers.

Hob presses a kiss to the unbruised side of his forehead, weeping, before Dream is whisked away into bright lights and bustling activity.

The world slows.

Hob feels heavy, so heavy as he climbs out of the ambulance, as he gives someone Dream's details, as he walks into the hospital himself and is directed to a waiting area after refusing to go home.

He can't.

He can't leave, for nothing in this world would he leave right now, and so he sits under the too bright lights in an empty hospital waiting room, the blue cushion of the bench too firm to be comfortable, and weeps.

Someone comes and tries to talk to him in an empathetic voice, but Hob doesn't understand them, hell, can barely see them through his tears, so he waves them off. They leave him with tissues and more muffled, sympathetic words, and then he is alone again.

When Hob wipes his face and blows his nose some time later, he notices that his hands are grey from where he'd touched the pavement.

He mechanically gets up to wash them, the artificial serenity of the hospital doing nothing to calm down his nerves.

Then he sits there, again, alone, hiccuping and crying some more.

It's late, and Hob feels heavy, his body tired, his mind racing. Dream can't die. He can't. Can he? Hob doesn't know.

Just thinking about it shoots pain through his chest. He can't. He can't.

Pictures keep flashing through Hob's mind, of Dream on the pavement, of Dream's unseeing eyes. He can still hear the way Dream said mother, pleading, small, afraid.

Hob cries again.

Eventually, his spiralling thoughts turn hazy, flickering like the flame of a candle, coming in and out of focus as if they were a radio someone is tuning.

Hob sinks to the side, down onto the hard, uncomfortable cushion. It smells of disinfectant.

Just for a moment, Hob thinks, just for a few seconds.

Hob falls asleep waiting, still waiting, alone, his fearful heart beating Dream, Dream, Dream.

[play-rough]

Happy Birthday Dazai 🥺🤧🩵

I really wanted to have the next classification au finished by Dazai’s birthday, but it just didn’t happen rip

So here’s a chunk of chapter one under the readmore instead! Since it’s a wip, everything below is subject to change 🩵 tw for child abuse and s/h (i know it’s Dazai but it’s more directly referenced idk idk) also let me know if something is incomprehensible because now’s the time to fix it haha 🩵🩵

Thanks everyone for enjoying and encouraging my work 🩵 I hope we have all have a wonderful Dazai birthday celebration 🩵🎉

The first thing that Dazai hears is the sound of writing tools scratching against papers. Someone is at a desk working.

Dazai whines, tongue pressing against something rubber on the edge of his mouth. He recognizes his pacifier after a second, almost falling out. With a quick flick of his tongue, the soother is back in Dazai’s mouth, and he clamps his teeth around it to keep it in place.

The pen against the table paper is a nice soundtrack while Dazai sucks on his pacifier. He feels small, but also something else. More detached than he’s been before, but weirdly less panicked.

He’s not sure who’s writing at the desk, and logically he knows that if he’s resting on a couch, and there’s someone writing at a desk, he could be in Mori’s office.

For some reason, that’s not something that worries Dazai right now, and opening his sleepy eyes a bit to observe his surroundings proves him right. He is in an office, but the Port Mafia’s boss isn’t the one working quietly.

A familiar orange floods Dazai’s vision, and he doesn’t even have to focus and pay attention to know it’s Chuuya.

Dazai whimpers softly, and holds out grabby hands towards the direction of the sounds. The only thing Dazai hears is a soft sigh, but no chairs scraping against floors or footsteps towards a sad baby.

His arms start to get tired, and cold, so Dazai tucks them back against his side. He whines louder instead, hoping to snag Chuuya’s attention.

“Dazai,” Chuuya huffs. “I played with you all morning.”

Dazai bites his pacifier, and then he opens his eyes fully to look at Chuuya.

Chibi is hunched over a desk that’s piled several feet high with paperwork. Despite seeing this, Dazai can’t stop himself as he mewls out another whimper being his paci.

“Dazai.” Chuuya says sternly, and it causes any remaining sounds to die in his throat. “I’m busy. Can’t you go bother someone else?”

He can’t, Dazai only wants Chuuya. His mind is full of memories of being held and rocked to sleep. It makes Dazai wonder why he’s ever fought regressing so hard in the first place. Chuuya’s hands make him feel like jelly, and Dazai can’t help but melt and become putty in his grasp. It’s so nice, and Chuuya feels so warm and safe.

Dazai can’t help but let out another sad whine.

“Fuck, fine,” Chuuya grumbles out, and he couldn’t possibly sound less enthusiastic. Dazai is suddenly sitting in his lap in the blink of an eye, but there’s no back pats or rocking, to his disappointment. “Just stop crying, you’re giving me a headache.”

Dazai can’t stop, he just got started, and doesn’t Chuuya know how long his tantrums go on?

“Stop, I’m holding you aren’t I? Would you rather have a time out?”

That makes Dazai freeze in place, he hates timeouts. He’s suddenly overwhelmed with feelings of boredom and loneliness, so he bites down on his pacifier and grips Chuuya’s shirt, willing the crying to stop.

Dazai can’t, though, as hard as he tries the tears keep coming, and he can’t calm down. Especially not with Chuuya shouting every five seconds.

“Just stop, Dazai,” Chuuya snaps. “You’re being a nuisance!”

The harsh words sting, and also come with a sudden shove. Dazai tries to hang on to Chuuya, but the shirt slips from his grasp, and he falls off of his caretaker’s lap and into inky darkness.

The falling sensation seems to last forever, until Dazai finally opens his eyes with a frantic gasp. He can’t breathe for a good few moments, struggling for air as his stomach flips. It takes an embarrassing amount of time to put together that he’s had a nightmare.

Dazai lays on his bed for a long time, chest hiccupping and stuttering uncontrollably. He feels like crying, no doubt leftover feelings from his dream.

He breathes unsteadily, in and out around his pointer and index finger, nibbling softly at his nails. Dazai must have slipped his fingers into his mouth at some point during the nightmare.

At least, Dazai hoped it was during the nightmare, and he hadn’t slept with his fingers in his mouth all night. He was dreaming of sucking on a pacifier, and the shame he feels tells him that he’s probably been doing this for a while.

Indulging this isn’t going to get him anywhere, it’s his worst habit. While comforting temporarily, it ultimately just makes him feel closer to headspace. Counterproductive, Dazai doesn’t want to drop, so he needs to get his fingers out of his mouth.

Despite telling himself this, Dazai has to forcibly take his hand away, and he definitely feels the loss of comfort when an emptiness washes over him. Stupid. Dazai is so pathetic and stupid.

It’s morning, and his whole day is already ruined by a stupid dream. Dazai feels empty and clingy, a familiar feeling that makes him want attention.

Staring up at the rusty ceiling, his eyes follow a small leak. A drip of water falls a few inches from his head every few moments, and Dazai watches it like seconds ticking away on a clock.

This gets boring very quickly, and boredom only lets Dazai’s thoughts run wild. His nightmare is the only thing in the front of his mind.

You’re being a nuisance!

Dream Chuuya was right, of course. Dazai was a nuisance.

Even if in his dreams he doesn’t remember, Dazai knows why he has to fight it, why he can’t just let go and trust Chuuya will catch him every time he falls.

Chuuya’s not going to be around forever. Flashes of Dazai being shoved away, Chibi’s look of disgust as Dazai calls out for his attention. It reminded Dazai of the face Chuuya made when he bit Tsu. Chuuya is capable of disgust and rage and loathing and Dazai knows one day this softness will end. His partner will grow tired of how difficult he is. Everyone eventually figures out that Dazai isn’t worth the time, the effort, or the headaches.

Dazai rolls over in a huff, hoping to end this train of thought. Wallowing in self pity was another terrible quality of his.

When Dazai’s ear hits the mattress, an uncomfortable ache travels down the side of his face. The pain is a surprise, but it’s also incredibly fast, leaving almost as soon as it starts.

Once that’s over, Dazai still can’t get comfortable. His next distraction is a crawling feeling across his skin. It’s not the worst pain he’s ever felt, but it’s enough to make him forget about his ear for now.

Dazai is no stranger to feeling uncomfortable in his skin, and usually the bandages help. Dazai’s arms are a mess, nights spent doing things he doesn’t want to think about and then weeks following picking things back open whenever he gets nervous. The soft bandages at least keep the sensitive injured skin from rubbing against clothing.

But today, it feels like electricity is sparking up and down every inch of himself, and the bandages itch horribly. Dazai runs a palm up and down his forearm roughly, and it helps the icky feeling for a moment.

Just a moment, though. The second Dazai stops scratching it comes back, maybe even worse than before with the added irritation from disturbing injuries under the bandages.

Everything is uncomfortable this morning. Even the bits of sunlight peeking through cracks in his crate, shining and hitting his eyes. Dazai squints and whines, rubbing his eyes, and then scratching at his other arm.

These bandages are a few days old. Chuuya is always harping on him to change them, and Dazai does. But he’s also thrifty, and a recycler, so there’s a lot of flipping and rewrapping going on. He probably just needs to rewrap his arms and change into something fresh.

Changing his bandages isn’t as easy as it sounds, though. For one thing, Dazai is pretty sure he’s out, so he’s got to get more from the store. Before he can even get to the store, he’s got to get up and get out of bed. Getting out of bed seems impossible. It’s cold.

Really he should just be glad that he doesn’t have to drag himself to the Port Mafia today. He should have been able to lounge in bed all day, recover from a restless night of tossing and turning through nightmares. It’s just his luck that a day when he should be free to lay in bed all day is halted by a need for something stupid like bandages. This is another problem that Dazai has created all by himself, he can’t stop fucking things up, and he can’t avoid punishment, but he’s not responsible enough to keep some stupid bandages around.

Dazai really isn’t good for anything, a barely functioning burden on everyone. He’s a nuisance.

It’s that hatred burning in his tummy that finally gets him to throw the blanket off of himself in a sudden motion, letting it slump onto the floor. From there, a full body shiver sparks up and down his thin form, and it’s a good thing he’s alone. His body lets out a pathetic whimper, and that’s the cherry on top of Dazai’s motivation-cake to get moving. The sooner he gets his bandages, the sooner he can lay down again.

Dazai considers changing his clothes before heading out, last night ended with him falling asleep in his dress pants and white button up again. But, a new set of clothes would be cold, his body heat has made these ones just barely tolerable. It seems pointless when Dazai already had his shoes on, it’s easier just to throw Mori’s coat over his shoulders and leave.

At least if Dazai is walking, he’ll be warmer.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Dazai’s container is out of the way of pretty much everything. This is of course, by design. If Dazai wanted to be within easy access, he’d just live in the Port Mafia dorms. Or better yet, sleep under Mori’s desk, so the boss could use him as a footrest.

No, the shipping container is safe and hidden in plain sight. Surrounded by hundreds of others that look just like it, miles and miles from the Port Mafia.

Also several miles from the nearest drug store.

Actually, there’s one about a mile away from the shipping yard, but if Dazai is spotted there enough, you could theorize that he lives in that surrounding area. That was far too close for Dazai’s comfort, he always tried to avoid the stores that would be considered in his ‘neighborhood.’

He started today off terribly, letting himself be bothered by a stupid nightmare. Dazai should have never left his bed, and this is evident on the walk to the store. Every step makes Dazai’s skin hurt even worse, the cold biting and the textures of his clothes chafing.

Scratching is really all he can do, even if the relief is quickly fleeting. Dazai isn’t sure how long he has to walk, but his joints feel sore. The air is dry, and it makes him realize that at some point his sinuses have begun to hurt. Dazai swallows, feeling his ears pop.

That’s how Dazai continues on all the way to a drug store about a half a mile from the Port Mafia. Swallowing and scratching, willing all these uncomfortable feelings to go away. Dazai brings a hand up to tug on one of his ears as he enters through the automatic doors, hopefully the swap from outside dry air to inside artificial air will help.

Tugging on his ear certainly doesn’t, and Dazai winces at another uncomfortable pop that makes his jaw ache, and goes back to scratching his forearms instead.

The store was big, and there was no large blinking arrow directing Dazai to the bandages. Frankly stupid design choice, and Dazai suddenly remembers his hatred for being out in public.

A store clerk looks like she’s about to acknowledge Dazai, perceiving him even, and he makes a beeline for the back isles. If he walks with purpose, she will assume he doesn’t need help.

Dazai may need help though, because by some miracle he’s found the medical section, with every kind of dressings and ointment except for his. Only the sticky bandages seem to be sold at this drug store.

He searches through surrounding isles, and he’s starting to get a bit frustrated. An ugly feeling sparks in his chest and makes his stomach churn, his face is starting to feel hot and he wants to stomp his foot when something catches Dazai’s attention instead. It’s a colorful display of pastels out of the corner of his eye.

Dazai came here for a reason. He needs bandages. But he’s only been awake for a few hours and today is already so hard, so Dazai’s discipline and focus maybe isn’t the best right now.

There’s a display of baby blankets at the end of one of the isles. Dazai is frozen in place, staring at them. For a moment, it feels like the world stops, until his arm starts itching again.

That’s right. Bandages.

Dazai can feel his cheeks flushing as he stares at the blankies, a different uncomfortable warmth that makes him squirm in shame instead of wanting to throw a fit. He needs to keep looking for bandages, he’s not here to waste time, but he can’t turn his attention away.

He can’t stop himself, his body moves on its own as he takes a few steps towards the display. The blankets look soft. There’s all kinds of colors, but right in front of Dazai is a pastel pink.

Dazai does not have a favorite color. Sometimes if he’s given choices between objects, he goes for a blue, like Chuuya’s eyes. Or, since he really can’t be bothered, he chooses whichever item is closer.

Dazai has never really had the opportunity to choose a pastel pink, and now it’s also the closest one right in front of him. The color was… sweet. It made Dazai think of starfish, and strawberries, and other things that make him feel mushy inside.

Before he knows it, Dazai has spent who knows how long trembling in front of the blankets, like a starving animal looking at food in an obvious trap. Dazai can feel how hot his face is, and he knows he must be beet red. He needs to leave, Dazai has no business standing here in front of a blankie display, but his feet are glued into place.

Dazai isn’t sure what he should be more ashamed over, the fact that he’s wasted so much time fawning over a stupid object, or the fact that the object in question was a pink blanket.

It almost makes him want to throw up thinking about it. It looked like something Mori would get for Elise, a frivolous waste. Dazai was better than that, he didn’t need anything like blankets and toys.

Fishie didn’t count.

He doesn’t dare to reach out and touch the item. If he did, Dazai knew it would all be over. It’s tempting just to flip it over, and view the price, but he knows better.

How expensive could a piece of fabric even be? It’s not like Dazai doesn’t have the money. And blankets are a normal thing to own, not just for babies.

Chuuya owns blankets. Lots of them. Dazai has one blanket, and it’s pretty threadbare, so one could even argue that he was just getting some home necessities. That’s not a crime.

Dazai entertains this idea for half a second, but it’s quickly tossed aside. A small baby blanket isn’t going to make a difference on the cold windy nights. There’s no point.

Besides, this thing was so pathetic, and if Dazai wants to be seen as an adult, he needs to act like one. If Chuuya found out he bought a blankie, Dazai would never hear the end of it.

Of course, he could always keep it hidden under his mattress. The Slug would never know, and then Dazai would have something to cuddle at night in his container.

Dazai’s stomach flips, realizing where his thoughts had gone. Not okay. He quickly pinches himself, up near his inner elbow, for some kind of negative reinforcement. Punishment is the only way he learns.

Dazai doesn’t need something to cuddle at night, just like he doesn’t need to suck on his fingers, and he doesn’t need to regress.

Not to mention that if someone saw him, word would get back to the boss so fast. He could always say it was a gift for Elise, but then Dazai would have to give her his blankie. It’s an unfortunate series of events that makes him feel nauseous just thinking about it.

Dazai’s arms start itching again, and he doesn’t hesitate to scratch them. His joints have started to hurt again too, but he’s probably just tired from another restless night, and walking a few miles to the store didn’t help.

His nails rake up and down his arm, and then Dazai swaps hands after a moment. His cuts are starting to burn, and it makes Dazai want to itch them even more, but with every scratch it just gets worse and worse and worse.

He needs to stop. Something is gonna open up, and then Dazai is going to start bleeding. He’s going to have to deal with the eyes on him as he buys new bandages while actively spotting through his current ones.

If he gets blood on the blanket, he’ll have to buy it.

Dazai can’t entertain that string of thoughts for too long, because his phone suddenly goes off in his pocket. He answers quickly, in case it’s Mori, but the butterflies in his chest tell him it’s Chuuya.

I’m making a new pasta sauce recipe, if you want to try it.

Dazai has never been more thankful for Chuuya’s incredible timing (not even when Slug has shielded him from stray bullets). He’s invited over.

He doesn’t need an invitation, Dazai can do anything he wants, including showing up at Chuuya’s house unannounced. But the fact that he’s got a reminder that Chuuya doesn’t actually hate having him around temporarily makes him forget about his itchy skin and pressured sinuses.

This shopping trip has been a complete disaster, and Dazai hasn’t even figured out where his bandages of choice are kept in this stupid store. He couldn’t get past the stupid fucking blankets.

Without thinking about it, Dazai shoves his hands into his pocket, and marches out. Deep down, he feared that if he hadn’t left at that moment, Dazai would be walking to Chuuya’s house with a blanket tucked in his arms.

Instead, it’s better to pretend that Dazai’s trip to the drug store never happened. Chuuya has bandages he can steal, and Dazai does not need a blankie under any circumstances.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

When Dazai slips into the apartment, he can immediately tell Chuuya is in the kitchen. Chuuya isn’t quiet when he cooks, he bangs pots and pans around and laughs and swears. It’s easy to sneak up on Chibi standing by his stove, stirring something in a pot.

Dazai wants to tease, or make some kind of joke about if Chuuya could even see over the stove, but it dies on his tongue as he watches his partner cook for a few seconds. Chibi looks horribly domestic, stirring the pot and tapping his foot while humming a song Dazai doesn’t recognize.

It suddenly hits Dazai again that all of this is fleeting, and the joke dies on his tongue.

At this moment, Dazai doesn’t want to ruin this, like he’s ruined so many things before. He’s feeling weirdly clingy, and he knows indulging this is a mistake, but right now the attention Dazai is vying for isn’t negative. Most of the time, anything will do. Dazai will take scraps and crumbs of whatever Chibi will throw at him until he’s kicked out.

Today, Dazai doesn’t want to be kicked out. His box is cold, he’s out of bandages, and his skin hurts. Dazai just wants to sit on Chuuya’s couch and enjoy the warmth of a blanket that he doesn't have to have a crisis over.

Dazai just watches, until eventually Chuuya looks back over his shoulder.

[dreamilymagicalhideout]

Coat

It has been a really long time since I posted something on tumblr. This was made from the bottom of my heart since I don't want to work, but I have to because I have to pay my bills *sad*. Here it is, I hope you guys like it.

Marquis Vincent de Gramont x f!reader

~

You take off your high heels and put it on the side. Your socks still cling to your feet. You were walking through your bedroom. Feeling the cold ties below you. You look around the fancy apartment, searching for Vincent.

You told him that you wanted to meet him to talk about something, which he did not reply as he seemed to be sulking at you because you were too busy with your work these days. He felt like you neglected him and yes, you have to admit that it is true.

This month was the last month of your contract. Your company wanted to extend it. However, you on the other hand, was not keen on the idea. You just worked there because you have bills to pay. It's not like it is your dream job or something. You just have to work because you need money. But all of it has changed since Vincent entered your life.

That tall handsome man with expensive suits managed to entered your life somehow, despite all the differences between the two of you. It has been a year since you met him. You still remember your first meeting with him. Your company was known to be a technological company who offered a course for a middle aged workers who happens to be lost in this digital era. And it turns out that your boss was an acquaintance of him.

:readmore:

You met him at the company's party. Which he attended and surprisingly you were invited too. Later, you found out that the reason that you and some of the workers were invited was just because of their good looks.

It was clear that everyone who attended this party was out of your league. You were glad that you were not overdressed, however it seems like it was a good idea to search for fresh air for a moment.

You were greeted by a cold air once you opened the glass door. Now you regretted choosing this type of dress where there is a low cut on your chest and a puffy shoulders. Which now make you felt cold. Even if you had a long skirt, it did not help a lot because your feet still have goosebumps.

Maybe it was not a good idea to step out here. However, going back in is not a pleasant idea either because you really loves solitude.

"You must be cold in that dress" Said someone behind you.

"Thanks for stating the obvious" you turned your head, wanted to see who was talking with you now.

"You're most welcome" He said with a smug smile on his oh-so-handsome face. You could see his face as he stood next to you. His tall body towering you even with those high heels on. You can tell that everyone here has expensive suits. However, his was seemed to be on a whole different level. His hair was styled neatly, making his forehead visible. Those long legs bent a little as he was talking to you. 

"I am sorry if I interrupt your space here" You said with the intention of returning his rudeness.

"No problem" He said as he just standing beside you. You both were just standing there without talking, but it was not a comfortable silence when you see the scenery in front of you and he was just standing there while looking at you, making you felt agitated.

I mean should he introduce himself first since he was the one who interrupted your space?

"My mom said it was rude to just stare and not introducing myself. So Y/n" You introduce yourself first since you know he did not plan on introducing himself first.

"Marquis Vincent de Gramont" well that explains the accent.

"What should I call you?"

"Vincent would be fine"

You actually wanted to just enjoy your time here alone. However, this tall person did not support your idea as he kept staring at you.

"Do you perhaps needs something?" You asked politely.

"Yes"

"Is it possible for me to help you?"

"No"

"Okay"

"I need a coat actually because it is cold here. And from what we have seen here, it seems like you dont have any coat at your disposal"

He was just being a brat.

"Forgive me for not being able to fulfill the things that you need" You said sarcastically.

"That's fine actually, you don't need to feel bad" He said playing along with you.

"You are so ungentlemanly" You said while looking at his face.

"That was my sex appeal"

"…"

You are just keep staring at anywhere but him, but those eyes still clings into you somehow. You pretend like he did not have any affect on you. As if those green eyes did not make your face burning.

"It seems like you have felt warmer somehow" He could see that your face turns redder than before. You open your mouth to say something, but your brain just freeze, so you closed your mouth. Then, you can feel someone coming, you saw someone in a black suit walking closer. You looked at Vincent while he just looking at you. Clearly did not care about the guy who was approaching you.

"Sir" The guy is the black suit gave him a white coat. He take it without looking at that guy, he did not even say thank you. His eyes were locked on you. He put the coat around you. You knitted your eyebrows. So when he said he needed a coat he meant this? For you? When did he even get it?

"Searching for a fresh air in the middle of a party where you meet a tall handsome stranger, then he gave you a coat. What could be more cliché than that?" You just stare at him in dazzlement. Literally don't know what to say. He was delighted when he saw your reaction.

"See you later" And then he left. Just like that. Leaving you all speechless. You don't even say thank you to him.

It was such a scene from a movie, however he did not ask your contact or something that could keep both of you stay connected. But somehow, he managed to find you again and make another cliché moments with you until both of you were officially a couple.

Now that you are in your apartmrnt with Vincent. You called out his name, but no one answered. You thought that he might not come since he was still mad at you, so when you saw that there is a 6'4" man sitting at the couch in front of the plasma TV you were a bit surprised.

Here is the sulking man sitting there without any intention to move or answering you. He was in his usual three piece suits. His sleek hair was pushed to the back making his forehead could be seen. He was leaning to the couch, his elbow is on the arm rest while his fingers is on his forehead. Seems like someone was bored and angry.

"Well, hello there" You greeted him while you sat next to him. You've got no response from him.

"Did you wait too long?" He was still silent.

You wrapped your hands around his arms. He swayed a little but he held himself from doing so.

"I have a news that I would like to share with you" You tried to be clingy at him, batting your eyelashes as you soften your voice. He seems to be insterested as his eyes were looking at you.

"What is it?" Oh! It speaks!

"You must be pleased to hear it" he arched his eyebrows, waiting for your next words.

"I am no longer working because my contract has ended" You were looking at him in the eyes while you said that. You could see the glimmer in his eyes as you said those words.

"WelI, I have you all to myself then" He said as he starts to wrap his arms around you. His body which seemed to be unmoved was now moving to you.

"What do you mean? I'm always yours" You said with the smile on your lips. You could tell that he was amused when his lips turned into a smile too.

"I like where this conversation is going" he studied your face as you look at him.

"I see that you are now unemployed. Now I hired you as my Personal Assistant"

"Is this serious?"

"Deadly serious. Now come on" He held your hand as he guided you through the front door.

"Where are we going?" You realized that he has changed now, back then he was just dragging you around anywhere by your arms or wrist. Now he he did not do that anymore, he held your hands and pull you with him slowly.

"Your first job, darling. We are going to Paris" he said with a lopsided grin on his face. You could tell that he was no longer mad at you.

"I haven't even packed my things"

"You don't have to do that, it's fine"

"We haven't signed the contract yet"

"There is no contract, you are already a permanent workers" Now you know that he was just joking.

"Wait, my shoes" You are now in front of your apartment without any shoes on. The height difference between you and him are now palpable as he walked in long strides and your short feet need to catch up to them.

"You don't need those shoes"

"It seems more like a kidnapping than a work"

"Either way you love it" his smile got wider as he said that.

"Tu es un morveuse mais heureusement je t'aime" He said smugly.

(You're a brat, but luckily I love you)

"Speak English" You protested.

"Oh wait je t'aime means i love you, right?"

"I don't know. What do you think?" He asked back.

"You should teach me more French"

"Say 'je veux te baiser'"

(I want to fuck you)

He said that with a glint on his eyes and a smirked that fully morphed on his lips. He was still looking at you while walking. Really waiting for you to say those words.

"I got a feeling that somehow it was not the right thing to say"

And just like that you are now on a plane to Paris. You currently have nothing to worry about. The days of having to get up early in the morning to pay your bills were gone. The man beside you could take care of that as his outfit right now costs even more than your salary in one year even with bonuses on.

*fin*

Yes! I fell deeply in love with bill. By the way, I apologize if the French was wrong because I use google translate:). I hope to see you again in my next writing soon. Until then, take care.

[minimujina]

ɪ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴇʟᴘ

scara drabble turned emotional, not clickbait🔥had to put a readmore cause it got long, i didnt fkn plan this

thinking violently about taking care of scara’s wounds even though he’s not human and they’re literally going to fix themselves (let’s just. go with that. since idk how his body actually works LMFAOO). and he doesn’t even have the heart to tell you the first time you see him lightly injured—he tries to, really, but he can hardly get a word in with how firmly you insist on patching him up. he can’t find it in himself to interject with the real reason he’d be fine without your help, because good god you’re just so stubborn—and normally he wouldn’t give a lick about something as trivial as the feelings of a sentimental human, but there’s a part of him that finds it.. sweet, the way you care so much. even though it’s actually for no reason. even though this “purpose” you’ve found—following him around to take care of him when he gets hurt—is actually pointless in a way. even though he could spare both you and him extra work by telling you.

he just cant find it in himself to be the one to deflate you. he could deflate anyone, anyone at all—but not you. never you. somehow, you’re special. there is something about you that makes insults catch in his throat and ugly comments die before they even become a wisp of a thought.

your earnest gaze as you rush for him when his porcelain skin has been blemished—that, in particular, feels strangely familiar to him, but he does not know why. and your unabashed naivety irks him in a way, but it’s also one of the sole reasons he could not possibly ruin the moments between you two where you are touching him so gently and so lovingly, the only sounds being being the rustling of bandages and the chirping of insects, his leg bouncing violently and stomach playing jumprope at the feeling of your soft fingers ghosting over his artificial skin and his artificial wounds. your palms are sweaty as you work and your breathing is a bit loud, but he could not possibly care about anything less. things that would piss him off if done by anyone else—existing, for example, or any of the former mentioned “imperfections”—could pass very easily if the person was you.

and then there’s the selfish part of him, the part that can’t tell you because he would then be forced to forfeit those special moments of intimacy he had not experienced the likes of since his first breath of life. he wants you so selfishly; he sees no reason to squish your good, false faith while losing you in the process. that’s just a lose-lose scenario. what would he gain in return—a real relationship? pah. with relationships come suffering, and the fact that it is all entirely out of his control makes his empty chest convulse a bit.

he figured it’s alright to live a little white, harmless lie. it meant he could be close to you, it meant he could keep you around without being blatantly obvious about his affection (read: he could beat around the bush for as long as possible). he could avoid his feelings while still reaping the benefit of your presence.

but oh, trust me, it will certainly bite him in the ass eventually. he can’t run forever. you’ll get tired; you’ll think he’s sick of you. that he hates you. that he doesn’t want you around—he doesn’t need you.

and it’s true, actually, that he doesn’t need you.

however, there is a point to be made about relationships out of need versus relationships out of choice.

wouldn’t it be such a beautiful thing for him to finally stop pretending he only has you around because of necessity? if he makes it known that no, this is a choice that i am making—i am choosing to love you—his chest will be left wide open in all its empty glory, where there is no heart, but instead a vulnerable child. he’d be left with nothing but the hope that you will respond with grace, and that terrifies him.

and no, he is certainly not sick of you, nor does he hate you. he wants nothing more than you, than your presence. he wants everything to do with you. he wants you more than anything he’s ever wanted in his miserable, pathetic life, if it could even be called a life.

but does he need you? no.

and you know what’s so fascinating? he has not needed you all this time, and yet he’s kept you around. isn’t that interesting?

he chose you from the beginning with the guise of necessity. he pretended that it was because he needed it, needed you, needed your help—because somehow the idea that it was a choice made entirely of his own volition, for literally no reason other than he liked you, is absolutely mortifying. the last time he made such a choice, it destroyed him.

how is he supposed to justify keeping you around if he doesn’t even have a reason for it other than the butterflies in his artificial stomach? how can he justify it with his mere feelings?

his feelings make him weak. his feelings are the reason he was cast away in the first place.

it’s so much easier to pretend he’s detached. but detachment means he will only ever feel your artificial touch on his artificial skin, and nothing more. your well-intentioned hands on his fake skin, on his fake wounds. the porcelain cracks are spreading quickly, and he will do nothing about it.

the saddest part about all of it is the fact that he thinks he has to justify his feelings to anyone at all. he does not know what it means to do anything without immediately thinking about how to explain it should someone question him.

what he needs is not you. what he needs is to stop treating you like you’re a ghost from his past who will echo the aches and pains of all the people who hurt him. he can choose you in his mind, but if he holds you at an arm’s distance and does nothing about that choice, it will then mean nothing.

what he needs is to stop wishing he could have you without exposing himself in the process.

if he is to have you, he will be vulnerable with you. there is no choice in that matter. but what he does not understand is that such vulnerability is not dangerous if it’s you he’s with.

so that’s the one thing that you can do to help him—you must not only tell him, but show him, that you are not going to leave him at the drop of a hat if he is anything more than apathetic. that’s it. your only job will be to show him you are safe. that’s all you can do.

and then you must wait for him to believe you.

it’s not your job to fix him. and he can’t sit around and wait for someone to be his savior, the yin to his yang, the angel who will purify his sin. you cannot be any of that. nobody can.

but what you can be is his safe place, his heart, his joy, his lover. you can be—you are—the only one who is able to receive his angst and transform it into understanding. you can choose to love him, not because you need him, but because you want him, amidst all of his angst and suffering.

so that’s his job—realizing it’s possible that you could ever choose him, not of need, but of want, despite everything about him that is less than desirable. despite how difficult it will be. he already knows he’s chosen you, that’s not the hard part—he doesn’t have difficulty believing the lovability of others. the hard part is believing the lovability of himself.

and even when he finally accepts that you want him, even after he tells you the reason he does not need you to fix his injuries, you are still there to lovingly wrap a cloth around his fake, weeping skin.

he does not need you, and yet you remain, because you’ve made your choice—it doesn’t matter whether he needs you or not. he will have you because you chose to give yourself to him.

you will take care of his body not because you need to, but because you want to. you will love him simply because you can.

it’ll take him some time to understand that, but he’ll get there, i promise. please do be patient.

[kiteblue42]

Is Eric Kripke America’s Tolkien?

So I started Supernatural for the first time around 6 months ago for which I blame Tumblr entirely (where do I claim compensation?). In fact it’s very good and fun and I can’t believe I missed it when it was live.

Ok so bear with me I’ve been sick for a few days a combination of high temperature plus rings of power trailer drop may be making me delusional, but I got to thinking … why did this show have such a hold not just on this site, but also on so many fan artists and fan fic writers. (I mean it has a strangle hold on Ao3)?

Then the RoP trailer dropped and I got to thinking is it because it world builds from a US stand point like Tolkien world built from a European standpoint?

Then because I am sick and can’t sleep I am sharing my stream of consciousness o: Kripke as Tolkien, Sam as Sam, John Winchester as Gandalf, Castiel as Beleg and Dean as Turin Turambar - and maybe now I’ve got this out of my head I’ll feel better….:

I attempted to put this under a cut so hope it worked!

:readmore:

Source material

Most modern fantasy stands on the shoulders of JRR Tolkien who basically ingested a ton of European myths and languages (with focus on Northern Europe) and spat out the middle earth legendarium.

Eric Kripke (plus writing team) seems to have ingested a ton of US urban myths and US pop culture and spat out “Supernatural-verse”. Because it is *US myth making* it is distinct from a lot of other US writing that builds off Tolkien and / or European myth arcs (I’m looking at you Star Wars, Westeros etc).

And the themes and sensibilities therefore pulled out by Kripke are *not* the same as Tolkien’s themes and sensibilities. This makes it different to a lot of modern genre fiction (in whatever form) that either builds on or seeks to subvert the themes in Tolkien’s work.

(There’s also a lot of genre fiction that is satire or allegory for the real world, but that is another category to me and not really world building in the same way - incidentally the Boys fits into that category along with Good Omens).

Both ofc back end off the Bible but this is English literature based story telling and no one escapes the Bible or the bard.

Structure

We usually think of Tolkien in terms of:

(1) Hobbit - entry level nicely structured “there and back again” story for children, darker than expected. Main hero arc -Bilbo.

(2) Lord of the Rings - the pretty perfect fantasy master piece - very accessible clear meaningful themes and tidy /satisfactory ending. A number of hero arcs, but clearest drawn are Frodo / Sam.

(3) Silmarillion (&etc) - this is where the legendarium really gets built. It’s not neat, it’s not accessible, some of it is *not* a good read but the ideas here build the world. We have a creation myth. The “good” “wise” guys turn out to be more complex and flawed than we thought. The evil guys are extremely toxic but entertaining and bring the drama. There are epic doomed romances between immortal beings and mortal beings. Everyone messes up and makes catastrophic world destroying errors on the regular. People get cursed and can’t escape their doom. I can’t think of any real traditional hero arcs (maybe Beren or Luthien??). Note Tolkien didn’t finish this and it’s put together by someone else.

Now let’s do Supernatural

(1) seasons 1-3 - Horror procedural-

Entry level solid procedural hunting / horror story. Sam W is here in the traditional hero role. Dean is like your Thorin initiating the adventure. John Winchester is in the Gandalf role (he knows what’s going on and holds the secrets but is not available to the adventurers at all times). Maybe there something deeper and darker going on? This is your Hobbit equivalent very accessible but not particularly unique.

(2) season 4-5 - myth arc - lots of fans will say this is the perfect part of the story and a masterpiece of genre writing. It’s neat with clear meaningful themes and a tidy satisfactory ending. A number of hero arcs though Sam’s remains the most clearly drawn. Dean is more like your Aragorn or Faramir at the end of 5, Bobby in the mold of a Theoden and a Castiel in sort of Gandalf type position. Baby ofc is Shadowfax. This is your LoTR equivalent

(3) seasons 6 - 15 - the Legendarium- this gets a lot of criticism but it’s where the legendarium really gets built. It’s not neat, it’s not that accessible, some of it is not great to watch, but the ideas here build the world out. We have a creation myth (hello Chuck & Amara). We have hero doomed by the narrative (most notably Dean Winchester, though also Castiel). We have epic love stories between mortals and immortals. Yes I am comparing Dean & Cas to Beren & Luthien (!) though Turin & Beleg would perhaps be more appropriate (there’s a good case for Dean = Turin in this universe). The good guys turn out to be more complex or darker than we thought. The evil guys are extremely toxic but entertaining and bring the drama.

There aren’t really any straightforward hero arcs which is one of the reasons Sam fades out a bit and Dean comes forwards as a character. The stories are messy and tragic.

Landscape

Middle Earth - if you read the books or watch the movies or show it’s clear that Tolkien’s (sub)creation is a love letter to the mountains, lakes and woods of England and Europe. It’s also a cry of anguish for their destruction. Both the beauty and destruction are heightened (Europe doesn’t really look like this and really never did - as for the movies they were shot in anew Zealand and then digitally enhanced…) This is as important as the characters and plot - and stands out in particular in the Hobbit and LoTR where there are long descriptions of landscapes (or long shots of the same in movies / shows).

“Middle Americana” - it’s clear that as much importance was put into the look of the landscapes in Supernatural as to the characters or story. In this verse the look is long open roads, beautiful mountains and big skies that are a declaration of love for America, and the run down small towns seem to present wistful sadness. But again it’s not real it’s heightened. The cinematography in first few seasons is particularly thoughtful (and perhaps Kim Manners is to be thanked for that). The show is shot in Canada and the motels / gas stations in middle of no where needed to be built because they didn’t exist in reality. Again the landscape - the open road, the small towns, the big sky, the motels / dinners / gas stations in the middle of nowhere are as much a character as anything else.

I could go on but I suppose if anyone read this far you get the point (and more importantly it’s now out of my head and I can think about something else!).

Ultimately it will take some time to see if this could be right - in terms of genre fiction Tolkien is everywhere and you can’t escape it (even if you never read or watched any Tolkien!). Time will tell if the Kripke verse has the same impact on creatives and audiences, but I just look at the A03 archive and notice how many people know what happened on Supernatural without ever watching it (!) and think hmmm these are the readers and writers of tomorrow after all.

[doxiedreg]

surprise monster hunter fanart! (eventhough i dont play monster hunter)

This was brought to you by my friend pedro reminding me of oroshi kirin art i made back in 2016 (also for him i believe) and i wanted to redraw it because i love redrawing old art :)

Here is the original drawing from 2016:

As you can see he had quite the glowup ha! Though it did help to have the monster hunter stories model to work with instead of only the low res 3DS model. Monster hunter monsters in general are really hard to find good references of augh, all the images on image search are either low res, have dramatic lighting or weird poses and with such detailed designs it would be nice to just have a clear render of the beasts >:( Doesnt really make me want to draw them more often. Anyhow I hope you guys like it! i will put the wips of this piece under the readmore

first time in a long while that i just went straight in painting onto the sketch.

Also bonus pokemon wip for those who checked out the readmore

mama pilowswine and her swinublets :)

[thepumpkincorsair]

So, I watched the first episode of “Those About To Die” on Peacock.

I enjoyed it, and Im willing to do write ups if folks would be interested…

Since I wana talk about details, and I dont wana spread spoilers, everything is below the readmore.

What I liked: 🔵 And what I disliked: 🟠

Total Ranking: 8/10 - very good, worth the watch 👍

🟠 It dove into the Intrigue right away, which made it hard to watch while doing other things, but I can appreciate a show that grabs you by the shoulders and shoves you down into the couch to pay attention.

��� It wasn’t boring, quite the contrary, I felt fully engaged throughout the episode. Theres a lot of small moving parts to the story, and it orchestrates together incredibly well so far, even for Episode One. The writing is very well done, which is a lynchpin for me on a show like this. You cant pretend to be an intrigue type series without a proper plot. And, in my opinion, they’ve set their plots well right away. Tenax getting those shares in Blue was a great con, which had clearly been going a while, but we only saw the tail end of it. I see this little setup as a great look at how the writers DO their work. Connections matter, money does more than talk, and if you play the game wrong, you die. Don’t trust anyone.

🔵 I REALLY enjoyed the historical aspects of the first episode. Like, yes, this plot happened, its a historical fiction and a number of these characters exist in history, but its not just that. Its the small details, the different knives in different cultures, the veterinary care of race horses, the deities from more than just the main roman pantheon, the drinkware, the VARIOUS clothes from various cultures and climates…. And yes, women often went topless when they were a sxwrkr. Gotta advert.

🔵 ON THAT SUBJECT: can we talk about “3 sesterce… and Im tighter than both of them.” MY BOY, YOU ARE RIZZIN TOO HARD AND I LOST IT. Please, please let him be in future episodes. Omfg….

🟠 I am forced to concede the accuracy isnt PERFECT, the horses wore modern driving bridles to go with their ancient styled chariots. However, Im realistic about how many horses are trained today to pull anything without blinders, and how much safer modern bridles are. I’ll also note: I absolutely saw the animal handler grab the horse differently (calmly) before the riot surrounded it, then direct the horse to dance in the crowd. Great training with the horse! Bad camera angle. Lol

🔵 I also really like this cast so far. Everyone fills their roles incredibly well.

Hopkins doesnt even need an introduction, the mans a legend and brings all his experience to the stage with him every time. -chefs kiss-

Rheon was great in GOT, he plays calculatingly unhinged exceptionally well. But I wont lie, seeing him in a more commanding, level headedly calculating person?

Hashim….. HASHIM!!! Im SO excited to see where his character goes. We haven’t seen much of him in Ep 1 just yet, but he’s clearly going to be one of the main players. Im not familiar with him as an actor, but I’ve enjoyed his performance so far, and I REALLY appreciate the story being told.

Martins is also incredible. She does a fantastic job of knowing the danger her characters children are facing, but also knowing she HAS to play her cards right to save them. She personifies the strength and determination of a mother perfectly.

🔵 Quite honestly, I have to give points to that whole plot-line in general. That point of view is something we’ve had hidden from us (in America) for so long, that I think a LOT of people have… become calloused. I hope seeing it will potentially help others come to an empathetic understanding. This isn’t glossing over what happened, or whats likely to happen to any of the three children.

🔵 I also want to gush over actually SHOWING the wider Roman Empire, we get to see the direct effect of their influence in both Africa and Spain so far. Egypt was their bread basket, and without that grain, youve got problems. The Berber Coast has animals, and people they want, and we see money exchanging hands for the purpose of those ends. We see how the locals were told they’d be treated fairly, paid properly, and even eventually become citizens, like the Spaniards, only to have those promises thrown aside as soon as the Romans have better money to make. These people gave the Empire everything it wanted, but the Empire is never satisfied.

We also get to appreciate how far west the empire went when the Spaniards are trying to sell their horses. (Plot-bunny: Andies are dancing horses, exceptionally athletic, and a prime choice for chariots, though, a standardbred is the usual choice for modern cart racers)

🟠 I will say the CGI isnt the best. You can tell exactly when they change from live action to CGI. But this is a minor issue for me tbh. Its passable CGI, and they use it to avoid putting animals or people in danger which, obviously, I appreciate. A chariot wreck was shown, annnnnd it was pretty darn accurate to how messy those would have been. Not good times y’all. Not good times. Also, the ramifications of a major concussion. Oof. At least the guy would have barely knew what was happening? Still.

🔵 The sound effects were enough without being over the top. Often times when theres gore to show, theres all these extra squelching noises and gratuitous blood… not this time. It’s actually… pretty durn accurate. Don’t ask how I know. I don’t wana tell you, and you dont wana know.

Overall, it was a really solid first episode, and I plan on watching the rest.

[miru667]

Hiii Miru!!! ♥︎

How is your day going?

Sorry if I’m bothering you, but I just wanted to ask you something that was in my mind for a while, what’s your opinion about the today’s Once-ler Fandom?

I mean, the new oncelings (like me) and all the new stuff that is here, you probably think that all of this is so different in comparison with how the fandom was back in 2012!

And also… do you miss something from the fandom? :p

Something that you don’t see here anymore or not as much as it used to be?

Hiii suemooon! Today was yet another tiring work day =w= but my coworker gave me hot chocolate mix and marshmallows today as a christmas present so that was nice! I hope you're doing well too.

To compare today's onceler fandom vs 2012's onceler fandom...man I could talk forever about this haha! This is all just from my own point of view of course but I would say, yes a lot of things are different, but a lot of things are the same, too.

UHHMMM extremely long post so it's under a readmore LOL

For the differences, a lot of them are simply due to the way the internet has changed in 12 years. In 2012, most oncelings were in their early 20s, and if you were younger than 16 you were extremely rare and we would be like "WOAH?? THEY'RE 15?? I HAVE NEVER SEEN A 15 YEAR OLD ON SOCIAL MEDIA BEFORE". But today's oncelings are like, mostly teens now, I feel? I think it's because of tiktok, which didn't exist internationally until 2018, and also because of parents giving ipads to their kids at the age of 2. But yeah, to compare today to 2012 is like comparing gen z to millennials, the content and jokes were different and, due to 2012 being in the past, what was socially acceptable was different, too.

Another thing that's different is the way young people act towards characters nowadays, but let me specify some more. I really dislike the term "content" when referring to someone's personal creations because it just sounds so corporate. And I don't know how to feel when I see some new oncelings treat an old popular askblog character as if they're public property produced by some big company, instead of as an OC that someone worked really hard on. For example, Truffula Flu Camp Entre and Thneedville High AU are like "established media" to a lot of people out there now, as if they're well-known series recognizable to the masses (no, they're not). And as a result, I've seen people headcanon whatever they want on other people's OCs and ship them however they want without even knowing if the mods are okay with those ships anymore (it's better to be real careful, if you want my advice..). I've also seen new oncelings give other people's OCs to public merch-selling sites without the mods' permission, and I've even seen new oncelings try to take inactive askblog OCs as their own. Why? :( Just make your own OCs. You can do it! Hold my hand.

New oncelings don't understand what they're stepping into when they look at our old content from over a decade ago. Our personal feelings and our private friendships from those times, whether good or bad, are precious to us and I guess it's just a new phenomenon that we have to deal with now, so I don't have the answers for this yet. But I would encourage everyone to also look at new and current OCs in the fandom - which many people do, and I love to see that!! I also love seeing people making friends with each other and having fun with each other, that's what reminds me of the better days of 2012.

Another difference is the...landscape? We have tumblr DMs now and we have discord communities so a lot of things are hidden now from public view. RPs used to be public on tumblr but now we rp on discord and only people in the server can read them, and there are pros and cons to that. Also the fandom isn't dominated by only a handful of askblogs anymore. Things are WAY more balanced and evenly distributed now compared to 2012, where Swag Once-ler was the king of the fandom with 200 asks sent to him every hour and 4000 followers accumulated in just 5 months. (And I'm not dissing on Swag, I loved Swag too. I'm just stating my observations. In fact I miss him a lot ;-;)

As for what's the same...xD The excitement and passion that a lot of new oncelings have! I find that so cute. People being creative is the same, people gushing over the onceler and fandom ocs is the same, even if internet slang has changed. People being ambitious with projects is the same, even if those projects are never finished (but this is just general human nature). And PEOPLE BEING SWEET TO EACH OTHER is the same! I was nervous during 2020 since a lot of "ironic" fans joined that year but I'm happy to have seen some genuinely sweet people around in more recent years, just like there were in 2012. 😊

I also see a lot of the same movie analysis discussions each year, which makes sense since new people keep entering the fandom, haha! "The lorax movie could've been better", "the 1972 film is better", "I wish they kept biggering", "they should've expanded the factory scenes and taken out the car chase scene", "i hate the onceler's mom", "the movie's point gets muddled because too many people think his mom's to blame", "i can't believe zac efron and taylor swift didn't sing in the movie", and on and on, those never change, and I've seen these same discussions so often that I support the antithesis of each topic now, just to be a rebel. 😇 But usually I don't engage in those anymore, I just think "haha aww! they're having fun :]" and leave them be! But like, it truly reminds me of the earlier days. It's me who has changed, in this case.

And finally, "do you miss something from the fandom? Something that you don’t see here anymore or not as much as it used to be?" I mentioned Swag already, I also miss a lot of other askblogs that belonged to my friends, and most of all I miss a lot of my friends who've drifted away, and I hope they're all doing well. I had a lot of good times with friends over the years. Some of them were rp partners and I miss our rps and I miss their characters dearly, I can't think about it too hard or else I might cry. What else...I want to say that I miss the crazy nightblogging events we used to have but I don't know if I could keep up with those anymore if they happened again haha. Same with askblogs answering asks live, almost no one does that now because people want so much to make every ask pretty with a new pretty artwork. But like, even if that comes back, again I don't know if I could keep up. So I suppose everything had its place!

Things will continue to shift and change, and you never know what the future holds so it's best to just keep going. I'm still making new friends and new good memories in the fandom each year, and I'm grateful for that.

THANK YOU SO MUCH for this ask and thanks (and sorry) to anyone who read through all of this!!

[mintmoth]

Your oc's are so cool!! It's such a surreal feeling to get back into a fandom and wake up up find that one of my favorite artists is also there. Say, quick question do you plan on making executions for your oc's or do they survive? Well whatever you do I hope you'll have fun with it and as always remember to be well hydrated and take breaks, I hope your doing well mint.

BXDISBSK OH HELLA!! Also thank you 😭😭 I'm glad you're enjoying my silly dr2 art and my oc planning lmao

Honestly I was originally planning on having only 2 ocs specifically because I wanted one to kill the other in order to maintain the same group of survivors in the end lmao. I'm still trying to fully work out the setup and inevitable execution because the plot writing for dr2 is really tight and well progressed imo, so I feel like adding anything would weaken it-

BUT I'm also just having fun and being silly so I know it doesn't have to be perfect it just needs to let me have fun really lmao

I'll add a readmore but I'll ramble about each of them a little if anyone has any interest

First up is the first one I made, Haruka (forgive all of their basic bitch Japanese names, I can't do the fun wordplay to the level I wish) they're the ultimate ballerina, and by extension also nonbinary kind of feminine leaning androgynous but can be masc if needed because they can do any kind of role required of them for a performance

When they're tossed into the dr2 mix they'd probably be found being a third wheel to the dynamic duo that is Akane and Nekomaru, since they're also technically more athletic and would be stretching and practicing every day. I want to sit down sometime and draw them and Akane engaged in a flexibility battle and Kazuichi walking in on them and screeching because they look so creepy

Haruka is planned to be a murderer and I'll definitely get some drawings out once I flesh out my concepts for their execution more

Next up is Nao! She's the ultimate sharpshooter and yes that is a little vague but it's because this includes bows and such on top of typical guns. Hell, she probably even does well with throwing stuff if there's enough focus

With the dr2 cast she'd be mostly a friend to Ibuki and Kazuichi, their eccentricities are endearing to her, plus if either of them just want to ramble about something they're working on she's gonna listen for hours. Honestly they're such a movie night squad to me. Also post game I feel like she's like a girl in the same way I still see Kazuichi a guy, like in the vaguest terms cuz they're both just Themselves and are gonna have fun with it now since they're apart from society. Ibuki isn't included only since I feel like she'd struggle less, but this is the bi/pan gender fuckery trifecta of the group to me

Oh yeah and Haruka kills her. I've got the death already planned out and ideally I wanna do a cg style emulation for it but idk if I can swing it lmao I'm not very good at style emulation tbh

And last but not least is Tōru. I didn't plan on her existing so idk how I'm gonna get rid of her in time for the end hmm. But she's the ultimate tattoo artist and has the most fleshed out backstory of the three but it's embarrassing and I know it LMAO

Basic run down- and stick with me here- she lives with family that work under the Kuzuryu clan, so she's done a lot of sick yakuza tats, partially because of her skill and mostly because this shit is so good that her tattoos have like, an "aura" that influences the viewer a little. So these dudes have extra intimidating tattoo bullshit going on- BUT ANYWAYS so things start and she can recognize Fuyuhiko and Peko and knows what's up with them, but neither of them have officially met her so she's like "oh thank fuck they have no idea that I know who they are I'm gonna avoid these assholes like the PLAGUE"

But of course that won't hold forever but it just makes me laugh like chapter 3 Fuyuhiko trying desperately to be kinder to everyone like "yeah, maybe I'll see if you're good enough to tattoo me some day" and she's choking on her drink because Haha About That-

But yeah hopefully I can rope one of my friends into having their oc knock her off because I think that would be funny like, getting down on one knee please kill my oc tragically