#i think part of it is just like: i am satisfied. they have given me that which i have wished for.

[calitsnow]

The answer is rather long so I am using a reblog to answer to @buddleu

But their observation was so interesting that I had to write a little thing on it.

I admit I’d never thought of looking at the Spider of Marriage for Hong Lu, but now that you mention it, along with the mention of “naïveté” in his mirror dungeon story, and after going back to review the various possible scenarios in the mirror dungeon, I find your observation very interesting, and I’d like to add my own thoughts.

Firstly, as you say, the theme of marriage is very fitting for Hong Lu because, after all, it’s a very Jia Baoyu theme coded (and also Lin Daiyu), and the theme of a couple being tricked and exploited by those around them due to their naïveté inevitably reminds me of the tragedy of Jia Baoyu and Lin Daiyu, who were lied to and manipulated to achieve something (the marriage of Jia Baoyu to Xue Baochai, which was also intended as a way to motivate Jia Baoyu to behave like an adult and a man of his status/as was expected of him).

They (the abnormality and Hong Lu) didn’t choose to live this way, but they had no choice, and the flowers take advantage of their vulnerability to impose their presence and will:

« Those flowers were not planted or raised by the couple.

The petals were feeding on someone’s naïveté. »

Well, we don’t know if that’s the case for Hong Lu, but given everything we know, and to use the parallel between the two, it’s not far-fetched to say that Hong Lu is likely in a similar situation.

That was my first addition. Then, even if it’s clear that even if the abnormality represents an early commitment and the inability to leave the relationship due to the presence and expectations of others, forcing the grooms to live supporting each other and literally bleeding to fulfill the hunger of others (the flowers):

« The buds appear to be filled with someone’s blood.

The bride and groom crawl between them.

As they scuttle around, blood seeps out of their hands and feet. »

This description is strangely fitting for Hong Lu.

Hong Lu finds himself enduring a situation even if it wounds him, all to satisfy the hunger of, I guess, his family.

It’s even more fitting if the theme of marriage is also addressed and used in Hong Lu’s Canto, echoing Jia Baoyu, who had to marry and enter this relationship because of his family.

But of course, the most interesting thing, as you said, is that the grooms suffer out of naïveté; they don’t know any better. They bleed, they support each other (literally) , but because they think they have no other choices; they accept their situation and see this environment as their home, even if it hurts them, and as it is said:

« When you tore out a vine, it screamed.

As much as it hurts them, it’s still their home.

Those who ruin it will be detested. »

And the flowers (their surroundings) take advantage of this; they exploit the grooms’ naïveté and gullibility in accepting the presence of the flowers as they were offered as congratulations, even though it’s just hypocrisy since these flowers aren’t there to celebrate and honor their union but to feed off the couple and pressure them to stay together:

« Those congratulatory flowers

may be acting as a curse now,

preventing them from leaving the nest. »

And to return to what you said:

« When you plucked a blood-soaked flower, it expressed joy. »

Since the vines are also their home, even though it’s what wounds them, trapped them and makes them bleed over the flowers, it’s their home (the spider web) where they live, which is why they get angry when someone tries to destroy their home. But if someone chooses to remove a flower, it makes the abnormality happy because it’s like removing a part of the problem, an unwanted guest from their home—a freeloader, someone feeding off their suffering and who pressured them to stay together and trapped in this web.

They can’t remove them themselves because they are there under the guise of congratulatory flowers, but if someone else does, they will be pleased because it’s one less problem, one less flower to feed/satisfy.

In short, all this to say that I completely agree with you that Hong Lu and Spider of Marriage are a very good fit, better than I thought, whether in terms of the marriage theme (arranged in a way), of enduring a painful situation to satisfy those around them, being unable to leave this situation due to this entourage that pretends to be there out of goodwill but only wants to exploit their naïveté, or in terms of how both consider this environment created by their surroundings (the flowers) as their home and don’t question it (maybe once again because of their naivety)

I wrote this quickly, so I hope it’s clear, and I apologize if there are any repetitions but anyway thank you for your observation!

Let's talk about why Hong Lu’s left eye (his jade) is getting dimmer and what are the powers and characteristics of Jia Baoyu's jade in Dream of the Red Chamber.

Today, I would like to discuss Dante’s mysterious phrase about Hong Lu, taking the opportunity to explore the jade of Jia Baoyu in more detail, especially its powers and the influence it exerts over Jia Baoyu. Here is the structure of the discussion:

Does the light of Hong Lu symbolize his break from his false reality?

Does the light of Hong Lu symbolize the end of his journey and his will to "live"?

The appearance of Jia Baoyu's jade and its powers + their loss and how they are regained

Its connection with Jia Baoyu

Brief conclusion

Does the light of Hong Lu symbolize his break from his false reality?

In Canto VII, a phrase from Dante naturally captured the attention of all Hong Lu theorists. Dante observes the following thing about Hong Lu’s eye:

"I noticed that the light in Hong Lu's left eye was growing dimmer, like light fading away as it sinks into the depths of the dark waters…"

But what does this mean? To answer that, we must first determine what this light signifies before interpreting its disappearance. For that, we need to consider the dialogue preceding Dante’s remark—the words of Hong Lu himself when he speaks about the sparkling in Don Quixote’s eyes:

"Isn't Don Quixote the most lucid one out of all of us?" "Her eyes, Dante. Always twinkling like two bright stars. They're so fascinating."

To Hong Lu, the glow in the eyes seems to be linked to clarity of mind and awareness. To him, Don Quixote is the most lucid of all because her eyes twinkle like two bright stars. Yet we know this is inaccurate, as Don Quixote is immersed in the illusion she created by erasing her memory at this point. So, it’s reasonable to suspect that Hong Lu's interpretation might be flawed.

This is also consistent with what we know about Hong Lu. Despite his frequent insightful observations and quick understanding of reality, his judgment can sometimes be clouded by his upbringing. After all, one of the first things we learn about him is that his view of the world and his interpretations can be distorted by his sheltered life.

Are we, therefore, dealing with a case where Hong Lu’s upbringing prevents him from perceiving the truth?

Don Quixote’s reality is an illusion, much like Hong Lu’s appears to be. But because he sees his form of reality reflected in Don Quixote’s, he can only conclude that Don Quixote’s twinkling eyes are an expression of clarity when it might actually be the opposite. This could foreshadow Hong Lu’s arc of breaking away from his past, family, and conditioning, realizing that what he associates with reality might be a lie, simply because he didn’t know any better.

After all, Dulcinea connects the term "naive" with Don Quixote’s twinkling eyes, (and "naive" is the adjective used for Hong Lu):

"I almost prefer that naive look from earlier. I still hated your eyes, twinkling or not, but…"

To clarify what “naive” implies, I like relying on The Walking Dead 4’s definition: Naive means you think a certain way because you don’t know the way it really is.

I find this perfectly matches how naivety is understood in the world of Limbus Company, even if we cannot be certain of that. But if we accept that this definition applies to “naive” in Project moon’s world, then being naive implies both innocence—almost childlike—and living in a lie or denial of reality.

Additionally, the emphasis on the sparkles might support the theory of the moonstone, or that Hong Lu is connected to the abnormality Yang, as it involves disregarding reality (to avoid mental breakdown). But we are not here to talk about that.

Thus, if Hong Lu is mistaken, and the twinkling represents disillusionment and denial of reality, then the more Hong Lu's eye sparkles, the more he’s immersed in illusion, a false sense of truth.

So, the first reason Hong Lu’s eye is dimming could be that he’s beginning to realize his reality wasn’t true, symbolizing the start of his awakening. After all, even Vergilius reacted with « … » to Hong Lu’s remark so it could mean that he knows that Hong Lu is in the wrong.

So, if the glow represents the jade influences on Hong Lu’s mental state and perception of reality, then the dimming of his jade’s light might signify that he’s starting to break free from this mental crutch. However this is not what I believe in…

Does the light of Hong Lu symbolize the end of his journey and his will to "live"?

What bothers me is that Dante describes the dimming of Hong Lu’s eye light in a rather pessimistic, almost fatalistic way, as though Hong Lu is fading along with his jade's light, loosing himself:

"I noticed that the light in Hong Lu's left eye was growing dimmer, like light fading away as it sinks into the depths of the dark waters…"

So, if this dimming light is a symbol of breaking free from an illusion why does Dante describe this so negatively with an emphasis on the idea of loosing Hong Lu? Maybe because, it is indeed a bad omen.

According to what Dulcinea says, Don Quixote's eyes were empty of light before when she was Sancho, this absence of twinkling at the time seems to be linked to the fact that Don Quixote/Sancho does not really believe in life and has already suffered too much from the latter. Dad Quixote then offers her a new life and hopes to bring those stars into her eyes by giving her a new family and then inviting her to participate in her adventures with him.

If we follow this analysis, then the light in Hong Lu’s eye equals his will to live and optimism about the future. So if this light is fading, does that mean Hong Lu is beginning to lose the will to live?

Well, yes, I think so... but in a very specific way.

Hear me out, Hong Lu’s eye is dimming because he’s aware his journey is nearing its end, that 7 of the 12 sinners have already regained their golden boughs, and that he may be the next:

Hong Lu’s day is ending, and it is reflected in his eye. I would even go so far as to say Hong Lu, in some way (without being aware of it), equates his return home with the end of his life (this life of new experiences and in the City, and this life with freedom).

So, this take is much more of a speculation than the last one, but if we stick with the idea that twinkling = will to live (forward) then Hong Lu started his journey in a new world with a bright eye with expectations and a desire to live new experiences, but he knows that one day he will have to return home, he knows that his journey will end one day and therefore it is normal that the closer Hong Lu gets to his golden bough moment the more the light of his eye fades, since this will be the end of his "new experiences".

Which could also echo Hong Lu's suicidal tendencies.

But then, why does Hong Lu’s eye produce sparks during Bloodfiend Hunter, Liu Story, and Yurodivy Story?

And it is now, that I would like to propose something. What if we separated the glow of Hong Lu’s eye and the sparks it produces: What if these two manifestations relate to different things? If Hong Lu’s glow reflects his mental state, then perhaps the sparks represent an effect of his jade’s power.

This leads me to discuss Jia Baoyu’s jade, both to support this analysis and to share information about the stone and its powers for those who might not have time to read the novel.

The appearance of Jia Baoyu's jade and its powers + their loss and how they are regained

In Chapter 8, Jia Baoyu’s jade is described as follows:

The size of a sparrow egg (about 22.5 mm)

Shining like a bright coppery cloud

Smooth and lustrous like marbled cream.

On the jade’s face is inscribed:

"Precious Gem of Spiritual Perception (also called Precious Jade of Spiritual Understanding). If thou wilt lose me not and never forget me, Eternal life and constant luck will be with thee!"

This means the stone is a talisman of protection and happiness. If Baoyu (or whoever holds it) keeps it close and never forgets it, they will be blessed with a long, prosperous life.

The reverse side reads:

"To exorcize evil spirits and the accessory visitations; to cure predestined sickness; to prognosticate weal and woe."

This inscription highlights the jade’s protective power: it can ward off evil, cure illness, and predict fortune or disaster. It is both a magical and prophetic object.

This ability is confirmed again in chapter 25 when a Taoist priest says:

“In your family, you have readily at hand a precious thing, the like of which is rare to find in the world. It possesses the virtue of alleviating the ailment, so why need you inquire about remedies?”

It is then revealed that it appears that the jade has lost some of its powers due to the dissipated life Baoyu has led; it has been polluted by music, lust, the pursuit of wealth, and other worldly distractions.

The monk then fix the jade and recites a poem reflecting the spiritual journey of the jade, as well as Baoyu's. In it, we are told:

The jade was once bound neither by heaven nor earth, existing in a state of spiritual purity undisturbed by human emotions (joy or sorrow).

However, upon entering the human world, it was exposed to disturbances. The jade is now tarnished by material elements ("the traces of powder and rouge stains"), symbolizing the carnal pleasures and temptations to which Baoyu has succumbed.

Finally, the monk predicts that, although the jade is currently trapped ("caged like a duck"), it will awaken from its "slumber," and once it fulfills its destiny, it will be freed.

[Little paranthesis]

I find the sentence used by the mond really interesting : "House bars both day and night encage thee like a duck" because it is really fitting for (yes Jia Baoyu but also) Hong's Lu's situation, especially with the use of the word "house".

[End of the little paranthesis]

Its connection with Jia Baoyu

The jade and Baoyu are interconnected and can be seen as one and the same, with each influencing the other. For instance, Baoyu's mood and emotions affect the appearance of the jade (its brightness), and the presence of the jade impacts Jia Baoyu's mental state (its absence renders him completely witless/foolish).

At one point in the novel, Jia Baoyu's jade shines particularly brightly when he believes he will marry Lin Daiyu (when he will actually marry Xue Baochai). This strong light seems to be triggered by Jia Baoyu aligning with his spiritual destiny.

All of this to say that even in the novel the glow of Jia Baoyu’s jade can mean several things at the time.

Brief conclusion

Returning to Hong Lu, I wonder if Project Moon has separated the manifestation of the jade's powers from the expression of its alignment with Hong Lu’s mental state: therefore, when there are small sparks, it indicates that his jade’s powers are manifesting, while the varying intensity of light would reflect a part of his mental state.

It would suggest that Hong Lu, as an individual, is gradually disappearing, maybe renouncing to his will, becoming a puppet entirely under his family's control. Indeed, when Jia Baoyu loses his jade and becomes completely foolish, his behavior shows that he is controllable and malleable; he is so witless that he cannot act independently and only repeats what he is told.

However, I can’t complete this analysis without mentioning that Jia Baoyu’s jade also loses its shine due to worldly influences, like music, lust, the pursuit of wealth, and other earthly distractions. So, does the city’s dark and horrific environment tarnish Hong Lu's jade?

Well, the issue is that, although the city is an apocalyptic world grounded in reality, it can’t truly be described as an environment where Hong Lu experiences lust or wealth, the false pleasures of life; which are what tarnish the jade in DOTRC.

On the contrary, he lives more of a life that Jia Baoyu begins to envy at one point in the novel because it is a life free from the obligations and facades imposed on him by his family. Therefore, what he is currently experiencing should not affect the brightness of his eye.

So, after all this blabla, I think that Hong Lu’s eye is gradually getting dimmer as the end of Hong Lu's journey approaches, which signifies the end of his new experiences and his return to a life of wealth but also to a life with his family and to how things used to be.

We could see this light fading away as an hourglass where the sand is slowly falling down but little by little there will be no more remaining sand at the top.

I fear that when this happens, by going back home, Hong Lu will lose all individuality and will, becoming docile and obedient as he seems to have always been at home. And he is accepting this and it is because he is accepting this that his eye is getting dimmer, it is reflecting Hong Lu’s decline.

I think that during Hong Lu’s Canto, one of the biggest challenges will not only be to retrieve the golden bough but also to convince Hong Lu to leave with us. It’s almost certain that when we reach his home, Hong Lu won’t be able to leave with us because, his family won’t allow it, and above all, he won’t want to either because he’ll convince himself that he can't and that his little trip is over.

I’d like to finish by saying that Hong Lu’s Rose Hunter EGO Corrosion could really be linked to this because we can see that Hong Lu in his corrosion has a hangman’s like rope around his neck, formed by his horse’s reins.

Even if I want to analyse Hong Lu’s EGOs in another post I will just say that for me it is the symbol that Hong Lu is dependent of his (determined) fate and the will of the narrative (his family) even if it has to equal to his death (literally or figuratively or mentally we don’t know). I think it also means that even if Hong Lu believe being in control of his actions and decisions, in reality he is just following the lead of « his horse », the one conducting him, deciding where he is going — and so I think following his family’s wishes.

Voilà, thank you for reading!

[lurochar]

Before It All (Pt. 3)

Warnings: Obsessive Alastor

Part 1 + Part 2

---------------------------------

It really was you.

His nameless Doe.

You seemed tense, clearly uneasy by the static he emitted and his presence alone by the looks of your erect ears and puffed fur of your tail.

(How cute, you had your clothes altered for your tail. A shame he hadn’t noticed it back when he had summoned you).

Alastor was now used to fellow demons being unnerved and frightened in his presence and so they should be, but you – there was no reason for you to be so anxious in his company, though he supposed he could understand it somewhat.

The power dynamics were completely turned around.

You had no advantage over him, he wasn’t that weak human anymore.

But still, Alastor didn’t like the fact you were so wary of him, so he needed to lighten the mood, break the tense atmosphere, and there was no better way than reminding you of your encounter with him when he was the weaker one, when you had the power over him, was there?

“How I’ve missed your wonderful ears, my nameless Doe.”

Alastor always did find your ears fascinating.

He may have his own pair of deer ears now and they had their uses – his auditory senses were vastly superior when compared to his human self, so much so, it took a week or two for him to adjust to sensory overload. They also gave any would-be attackers a false sense of security, he was just a deer demon, so he had to be weak.

Ripping those sorts to shreds felt much more satisfying.

But his ears were so damn sensitive to touch that Alastor had no idea how you didn’t just melt into a trembling mess when you allowed him to stroke your ears all those years ago.

He needed to move on from these thoughts before–

You blinked at his odd greeting, your body relaxing slightly from its earlier tensed position that had been poised to flee at any given second.

You blinked again.

And then you let out a loud yelp of surprise, springing forward when you felt icy cold hands playfully tug on your ears from behind. 

–before his shadow acted upon them.

You reeled around to see what had touched you, not expecting to see a grin right up in your face and you stumbled back a bit, happy enough that you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of the Radio Demon/Alastor by letting out some sort of pitiful sound like a scream or shriek.

“I do hope you can excuse my shadow’s behaviour. The poor thing can hardly contain itself, seeing it is a reflection of me.” Alastor gestured the shadow away, which it did after giving you a last glance before it vanished. “Well then, should we do now what we should have done twenty-four years ago?”

You’re unsure what he is talking about.

“Introductions, my nameless Doe! Unless you prefer that name over your real one.” Alastor bows in a flashy way. “Alastor Hartfelt! But you already knew that, correct?” He stood up straight and eyed you expectantly.

“It’s nothing special, it’s just Y/N.” You shrug before eyeing Alastor intently and you hope you don’t get killed or worse for your question. “You just seemed like a miserable boy brought up in a miserable situation, so I gave you a pass. I thought if I got rid of your main problem, maybe you could live the rest of your life normally. You didn’t even make it to forty. What happened?”

Alastor hummed. “It would turn out that my father was only a drop in the bucket. After that wretch was gone from our lives, my Mama instilled in me the importance and value of women. Women are not second-class citizens nor are they property, but this way of thinking was uncommon and misogyny was everywhere.”

You think you can guess where this is heading to…

“I killed men, men like my father. Men who see no problem in beating their wife. Degenerates that stalked the alleyways for their next rape victim. For over a decade, I was the ‘Bayou Butcher’. It’s only due to the incompetence of a hunter that I am here now.” The expression on his face was that of delight. “I have no remorse. I thoroughly enjoyed every second of it.”

Oh.

It’s… it’s not what you wanted for Alastor, but you remembered that sheer hatred in his eyes. Something that deeply rooted wasn’t so easily erased, even if the main cause was taken out of the situation.

Unfortunately, you were not wrong in guessing Alastor would eventually condemn himself to Hell.

Fortunately, you had held onto Hartfelt for the past twenty some years.

You do have another question, but you know better than to ask.

Some demons don't care, but some demons can get quite offended if asked about their appearance and why they ended up looking the way they do. It’s personal, tied to their sins in life and their manner of death.

Asking Alastor why he ended up as a deer demon, a prey-based demon, could get you killed or maybe worse.

“I was mistaken for a deer by an inept hunter who took a shot before bothering to confirm what he was shooting at.” Alastor answers easily and casually, as if reading your mind and knowing what you want to ask. “Do not be afraid to ask me anything, my lovely Doe. I assume you heard my message on one of my broadcasts, yes? I meant every word of what I said.”

Lovely Doe?

‘I told him my name…’ You decided it didn’t matter too much as it wasn’t demeaning or degrading. You’ve been called much, much worse and on a regular basis by Hartfelt, so hearing an affectionate(?) nickname was a bit of refreshing change–

Should you be thinking that way?

Your ears dropped.

“Listen, Alastor,” you noticed his eyes seemed to glow brighter from you simply saying his name, “I messed up that day. I… I shouldn’t have touched you, let alone hug you. There are countless reasons why most demons don’t have free access to the human world. Contact with demons tends to screw humans up. Even just one night with a Succubus or an Incubus can fuck up humans for months and they’re low-class demons.”

Alastor simply tilted his head.

“I’m mid-class and… and I should have known better.” You sighed. “I think I messed you up in some way by touching you and letting you touch me.”

You were taken back when Alastor started to laugh and your ears flattened completely, slightly bothered by his reaction to your words.

Did you say something amusing?

“Oh dear me, you have twisted it all around in your worrisome mind, haven’t you?” Alastor chuckled. “So you have yet to realize you saved me and my Mama from that piece of scum I had to call ‘father’? My life even? Had you not killed that man for me, I would have made a clumsy attempt to murder that man, whether I succeeded or not. Such a thing would have cost me my life much earlier. I would not have been able to pursue my career and take good care of my Mama until her final days.”

You flustered, not sure what to say back.

“I lived my life the way I wished to because you freed me from that man. I am here in Hell purely of my own actions, though perhaps a little earlier than expected. You are very much downplaying what you are to me and I cannot say I care much for it.” Alastor couldn’t help the loudening crackle of his static.

“...okay…”

“Pardon?” Alastor’s ears twitched at the mumble of your voice, though he heard you just fine. He wanted you to clarify what ‘okay’ meant and look him in the eyes as you did so. He wouldn’t trap you in a contract like the fools whose souls he owned, but with his guaranteed protection for nothing more than just staying at his side and within his sight, how could you refuse?

(Though, if you wanted to give him your soul, he certainly wouldn’t turn it down).

“Okay! Maybe I didn’t fuck you up! Maybe you were… a little ‘different’ from the start!” You weren’t sure how to say ‘psychopathic’ in a nice way. “I still felt guilty about it this entire time. I hoped differently, but I knew you would probably end up in Hell.” You admitted, huffing when Alastor let out another chuckle. “So I did something to try to make up for it in case I did mess with your mind somehow.”

“Hmm, and what is that, my lovely Doe?” Alastor’s smile seemed to widen and it may be hidden from view, his tail wagged in excitement. “You thought of me, even before I landed myself in Hell? I must say, I’m quite flattered!”

“I looked for him as soon as I got back from the human world and found him before he understood how… things worked around here.” You didn’t feel bad in the least. “So I tricked him into making a deal with me. Shelter, food, simple basics for his soul. He didn’t seem used to living on the streets, so he took it right away. He didn’t understand what it actually meant to give your soul away.”

“Well done! What a delightful little tidbit! I had no idea if you would be interested in the art of deal-making. I would be more than happy to guide you. Why, I already own a great number of souls myself.” Alastor’s smile turned a little more sinister and he felt his blood heat at the thought of watching you trick some desperate fool into giving you their soul.

He would slaughter an entire district just to see that.

“I’ve… never really thought about it? I just do what I can to get by. Prey and livestock-based demons don’t have it easy in Hell.” You were sought out for your meat after all. “Anyway, I thought I’d make it up to you by – well, that demon whose soul I own is your father’s.”

The static around Alastor went completely silent.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly nervous. “I, uh, I always intended on giving you ownership of his soul whenever you ended up here, if you ended up in Hell. You can do anything you want to him, I have no intention of interfering if you… wanted to broadcast his torment or something.”

Shit, why was Alastor staring at you like that?

Was it the wrong choice? Did he want nothing to do with his father?

“W-WAH!” It was the most pitiful fucking noise you could probably make, worse than that earlier yelp when Alastor seemed to melt into the floor through a void of shadows and then reappear right in your personal space before you comprehended what happened. That was not the reason you let out a damn bleat before you could help it, though.

Alastor was stroking your ears just as he had done twenty-four years prior.

“A gift from you is always welcome, but this – I never imagined one that would bring me such… joy. Truly, you were always meant for me, my lovely Doe.”

“S-so, I take it you want ownership of his soul?” You struggled to get the words out, feeling your vision blur for a moment. You let out a breath of relief when Alastor reluctantly released your ears, but he didn’t step away from your personal space.

“Yes. I’m more than willing to give you a soul – ten even, in return. Mama may disapprove of it, but I will pay back a thousandfold and more for what that man put her through. He will suffer the worst torture I can possibly think of.” To your amazement, Alastor’s pupils spun into a shape that resembled radio dials before returning to normal.

“It’s a gift. You don’t need to give me anything back in return.” You blinked in surprise when Alastor poked your cheek, pinching it playfully before tutting at you. “What was that?!”

“You have been here longer than me, but it seems I must teach you a few good lessons.” Alastor held out his hand invitingly. “Before this transaction, would you like a tour of my radio tower?”

You placed your hand in his. “You’re going to have to explain it like you would to a child how this radio stuff actually works. I can turn my radio on and change the station, that’s about it.”

Alastor felt that chill that followed him all his life leave him and his smile felt genuine for very few times that it was as he felt your hand wrap around his.

He may be dead and in Hell, but his (after)life was looking rather bright – he still could enjoy his passion for radio and he no longer had to hide his true sadistic nature and homicidal thoughts. Better yet, he could combine the two and broadcast tortured screams for denizens of Hell to hear!

He was powerful and feared, toppling Overlords to become himself in an extremely short period of time and he owned multiple souls to do his bidding whenever and whatever he wanted – and soon, he could add his miserable wretch of a father to his collection to torment all he likes.

Best of all, he finally found you, the demon who made this all possible for him and now that he had you in his grasp, there was no conceivable way he would ever let you elude him. He could certainly give you the illusion of freedom and space if that’s what you wanted.

He was charming, he knew that, it’s all he needed to win you over.

Perhaps it would take a little time and patience, but he would get what he wanted in the end like he always did.

His lovely Doe. His new wife.

It was a dream that Alastor was going to turn into his reality.

----------------------------------------------------------

I hope this ending was satisfying

Tags: @alishii @yourdoorisunlocked @godsent69 @eris-norwega @catticora @tayraedoll @michi-keinz @martinys-world @n0tmentallystable @xalygatorx @everwolf-20 @yui-onnero

[sits-bound]

One year of fanbinding!

I keep thinking "I'm really new at this still" but I guess after a year, it's like, you don't have a puppy anymore, you have a dog. So now I'm in the dog phase of this hobby.

(I didn't make all of these, some were acquired in exchanges.)

In the past year, I have made around 54 books. (For the purposes of my sanity, I am not counting journals or sketchbooks, nor am I counting author/artist copies if the design was the same.)

54 books! In 52 weeks! That's basically a book a week!

Which binds are my favorites?

Ooh, that's hard. I tried to limit myself here, but these all are very special to me.

And I can't choose just one of these:

Honorable mention goes to this one, but I didn't design the typeset, so I can't take all the credit. But I do love the cover.

What's my favorite part of making books?

It's not surprising to me that typesetting is my favorite part. I designed a book for a local museum in 2007, and loved the process. Before that, I wanted to work in editorial design (I had a few jobs doing that in and after college, but that was in the olden days.)

I enjoy the part of physically creating the book too, but I find it a bit more frustrating. I'm not detail-oriented enough to make sure everything is perfect, and then I get frustrated when an endpaper is glued on slightly crookedly, or my text block isn't perfectly square. (Not that I have anyone to blame but myself!) That said, holding a completed book in my hands is the most satisfying feeling, after actually reading said book. I feel so smug when I'm reading a book I created.

I have a lot of imposter syndrome when it comes to the actual designing of covers. I know my strengths lie in manipulating existing content instead of creating it from scratch. So I need to stop comparing myself to other creators, and just do my best. We all have different styles, I tell myself.

What's next?

I'd like to learn how to sew endbands for once and for all. I have tried and given up in disgust so many times. I have watched so many videos and read many tutorials, and I just need someone to come to my house and show me in person.

I also would like to try to learn how to draw, a bit. I know I'll never be great at it, but I've also never tried to learn. I will be off work for a few months later this summer/fall, and I'd like to use that time taking some classes. Even if I could just draw designs to use on my covers, I'd be happy. I don't expect to be able to draw things or people.

I wanted to take up this hobby for a long time before I actually did it. I read through @armoredsuperheavy's guide like eighteen times before I worked up the courage to actually use it. So my advice to all of the people who tag my posts with "i wish i could do this" and "i want to do this"…do it!

[corroded-hellfire]

what about like an angst with reader, eddie, and Chrissy and maybe ends happy. like a romance type thing but lots of angst

Somehow this got lost in my drafts, so I deeply apologize it took me so long to get it out! I tried to angst it up for you.

Warnings: mentally and emotionally abusive parents, Eddie’s a jerk but he comes to

Words: 3.8k

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Nancy’s voice betrays her worry over the phone, and you have to assure her for the fifth time that you’re all right. 

“Why do you keep asking me that?”

Annoyed isn’t a word you would’ve used to describe your mood before, but it’s certainly fitting now that Nancy keeps interrogating you. 

“You just sound different,” Nancy answers. “You sound off.”

“I’m fine,” you lie. 

“Why don’t you go and see Eddie?” Nancy suggests. It’s not a secret that your best friend can make you happier even when the world is turning to shit. His presence hasn’t been quite as helpful lately since it’s a constant reminder that he has a date with Chrissy Cunningham coming up—and not one with you. 

“Yeah, maybe I will,” you tell Nancy. 

“Good. Call me if you need me.”

“I will, Nance. Bye.”

After hanging up the phone, you stroll into the bathroom and survey the damage on your face. Digging through your makeup bag to find your trusty makeup remover, you make a mental note to stop off at Melvalds on the way home to pick up some more. The skin beneath your puffy eyes is tender as you use a cotton swab to clear away the smeared mascara. Hisses of pain leak through your teeth as you gently dab at your waterline, trying to make all traces of your sob fest vanish. 

Makeup worked for the most part when hiding your irritated eyes and the raw skin around them from crying so much. But when you cried while already wearing some, it made the evidence plain as day with the black streaks running down your cheeks. The only person who knows that your mom and her boyfriend treat you like garbage is Eddie—which means you have to take extra precautions when trying to hide the signs from him too. Eddie threatened many times to kick the shit out of your mom’s boyfriend. There have been a few times when he was high that you had to physically restrain him from heading out to find the prick. He hated how your mother treated you as well, but Eddie could never threaten a woman—even one as horrible as her. 

Once you’re satisfied with the cover the makeup has given you, you grab your keys and head out to your car. This had been one of the worst beratings you’d ever gotten and there was still a ringing in your ears from the vitriol they spewed. 

You think you’re better than us? Just because you graduated high school? Think you’re some big hot shot? You’re nothing. No one gives a shit about you. I gave birth to you and am obligated to love you—but you even make that difficult!

You imagine Eddie’s reaction if he found out. He’d again be trying to talk you into getting into your car or his van and just driving off together. Somewhere, anywhere. Most of the time the two of you said you’d drive to the beach, seeing as neither of you had ever seen the ocean before. The fantasy of Eddie kicking the ass of the douche your mom is dating and then whisking you away to the beach keeps you company on the ride over. 

Wayne’s truck isn’t parked beside Eddie’s van when you arrive, which means the older man has left for work already. The usual blaring of Eddie’s stereo that you can hear from outside doesn’t meet your ears as you step out of your car. You hoist yourself up the few stairs to the front door and rap your knuckles on it. There’s no answer. Leaning in, you definitely hear shuffling going on in there, though. You knock again.

“What?” comes a muffled bark from the other side of the door. Frowning, you push the front door open and step inside of what has become your second home. 

“Um, Eds?” His back is to you as you shut the front door behind you. By his hunched position over a lower shelf and the shuffling and scraping sounds reaching your ears, you can tell he’s looking for something. Frantically, if the frazzled eyes he gives you in the briefest of glances over his shoulder are any indication. 

“Oh, hey,” he says, turning immediately back to the task at hand. 

“Can I, uh, talk to you?” One of your hands twirls a keyring around your finger, while the other comes up to gingerly touch your swollen lower eyelid. 

“Now?” The groan accompanying his words takes you aback. There’s never been a single time that he’s made you feel like a burden or inconvenience. But the way he’s acting now is sure giving you that impression. 

“Are you busy?” you ask in a soft voice. 

“Trying to find that ring with the skeleton hands holding the stone.”

“Why?”

“Because Chrissy likes that one.” He says it so absentmindedly, like he’s giving 99% of his efforts into finding the piece of jewelry, and 1% of them talking to you. 

“What’s it matter what ring you wear right now?” Frowning, you cross your arms over your chest.

Eddie groans again and opens another drawer. “To wear on our date tonight.”

The air rushes out of your lungs faster than when your mom landed a verbal gut punch at home. You thought you had a whole week to mentally prepare for Eddie going out on a date with the queen of Hawkins High. 

“T-Tonight?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Something came up for her next weekend, so we rescheduled it for today.”

“Oh.” It’s all you can say without bursting into tears or punching a hole in the wall. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, turning around to finally face you. “So, you know, if you could just…” Eddie gestures towards the front door, obviously hinting at you leaving. 

“O-Oh. Yeah. I-I just need to talk to you about something,” you say weakly. “It will only take a minute. I-I promise.”

Eddie groans and rubs a hand over his face. “I don’t have a minute. I need to find this ring. You and I can talk whenever. The date is tonight, though—it’s important.”

And I’m not, your mind adds. The pain in your eyes seems to throb even more, as if Eddie’s words are irritating them further. 

“Right,” you say. “Okay, I’ll go.” 

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles as he continues his search. It burns like a branding iron down your esophagus. You can’t count all the times that Eddie said to come to him whenever you felt low or like you wanted to run away or when you couldn’t take being at home any longer. It made you feel special. Now, he doesn’t even have the time of day to listen to what you have to say. Even if you shouted, “Hey, this is about the people who I live with that abuse me!” it probably still wouldn’t get his full attention. You’re not going to use that as an excuse, either. Not going to use it to get your best friend to talk to you when he clearly doesn’t want to and has better things to do. 

An idea pops into your head and it’s planted itself before you really even have time to consider it. Slowly, you walk back to the front door. But before you open it, you turn back to face him. 

“Can I just ask one f-favor first?” you say, doing your damndest to keep your voice from shaking. “And then I’ll leave, I promise.” 

Pausing his perusing, Eddie heaves out a sigh and turns to face you, hands on his hips. “What?”

“Can I have a hug?”

Eddie takes the few steps towards you and pulls you in for a quick squeeze. It’s not exactly what you wanted, but you still let your head rest against his shoulder, scrunching your eyes closed as you try and savor this moment with Eddie. Usually, his hugs are like a balm for your soul. But this one is rushed and half-assed. It’s clear he wants you to be gone. So after one last squeeze of him in your arms, you grab the front door knob and open it to the warm late spring day outside. Over your shoulder, you look at Eddie. He’s back to shuffling things around, pink tongue poking out of his pretty lips as he focuses on his task.

“Goodbye, Eddie.”

There’s no response. You didn’t really expect one, anyway. The two of you have been best friends for years. But you know the place that Chrissy holds in his heart and there’s no room for anyone else in that spotlight. It’s not the kind cheerleader’s fault, though. All she did was agree to a date with the best man you know. How could you blame her? 

Taking a deep breath, you step out of the trailer and close the door behind you. 

The first thing you do when you get back into your car is turn up the radio as loud as your eardrums can stand. Hopefully it’ll be enough to occupy your mind so it doesn’t wander and you don’t spiral even further. Melvalds is on the way home from Eddie’s, otherwise you probably would have skipped it. But, you think, you can also grab a candy bar or two to drown your sorrows in if you stop by the store. 

Luckily, no one you know is working at the store this evening. It makes it easier for you to grab the things you need and get out without having to have a conversation with anyone. On your way back to the car, the dumpster on the side of the building catches your eye, as it’s overflowing with garbage. They must have gotten a delivery earlier in the day because empty boxes also pile high out of the large green bin, many littering the floor around it as well. Without giving it much thought, you pop the trunk of your car before grabbing as many boxes as will fit in the cramped space before shoving them inside. You slam the trunk, giving it enough oomph to make it close despite the amount of cardboard you managed to cram in.

No one is home when you get there, which isn’t a surprise. Eddie would be occupied the whole night, so you know you’ll have no interruptions. Because who else would call or show up to see you? No one, of course. So, you lug the empty boxes into your room and take a look around the small space. Most of your belongings should fit in the boxes and the small suitcase, duffle bag, and backpack you have in your closet. 

Heaving a sigh, you get to work and start to pack up your room. What’s keeping you in Hawkins anymore? High school is over and your only college plans so far were community college—and they have those just about everywhere. Family was a mark against staying in Hawkins, and your friends were either going away to college or dating pretty cheerleaders that’ll have them forgetting all about you eventually. Why not have your own new start? 

There’s not a whole lot in your room to begin with, so most everything you own ends up in a box or a bag. It’s nearing three in the morning by the time you shove the bags containing your clothes behind the driver and passenger’s seats in your car. Figuring you’d end up sleeping in your car for the foreseeable future, you pack all your bedding into the backseat, creating a nest that you could curl up into when you were tired of driving. 

The boxes are heavy, but you manage to haul them to the driveway all by yourself. After stashing most of them into the trunk, you realize they’re probably not all going to fit. Gritting your teeth, you decide to give it the old college try and force them all in. Headlights turn down your street and you have to shield your face as the beams blind you. None of your neighbors are particularly friendly, so you know none of them will stop to see what’s going on. To your chagrin though, the vehicle starts to slow as it approaches your home. The closer it gets, you begin to hear the familiar squeak that churns out as the tires roll up. Eddie. Ice floods your veins as your mind scrambles to find something to tell him. What possible explanation could you have for loading up your car with all of your belongings in the middle of the night? But how do you tell him that you planned on skipping town without giving him a heads up first? 

You run out of time as the van comes to a halt and the thump of Eddie’s boots hits the pavement.

“Uh, whatcha doing?” Eddie drawls. The lights on the front of the van finally fade out and you can see him approaching you. There’s a confused yet amused furrow on his brow as he slips his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He’s wearing the same t-shirt as he was when you saw him before, but now his leather jacket is thrown over it. 

“Nothing,” you say lamely as you throw your weight behind your attempts to close the trunk. 

“Really?” Eddie raises his eyebrows as he leans against the side of your car. “Nothing? Because you always load your car up with boxes in the middle of the night. How could I forget?”

Deciding to just ignore him, even though you know that won’t work, you put your focus back on the task at hand. Eddie gives you a few moments, watching in amusement as you try to leap on top of the trunk. 

“What, are you getting rid of a body? Come on, who’d ya kill? You know I’ll help you out.” There’s a playful smirk on his face as he pushes off of the car and his eyes catch on the bedding you have in the backseat. “Wait.” He points at your comforter and pillows bunched up on the old worn seats. “Are you…going somewhere?”

“Maybe.” It’s petty and immature of you, but you’re still hurt by how easily he dismissed you before. 

Eddie’s jaw drops and he lets out a scoff. “And what? You just weren’t going to tell me?”

“Honestly,” you huff out, momentarily giving up on closing the trunk, “I didn’t think you’d care very much.”

“Excuse me?” Eddie’s eyes practically pop out of his skull. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, forget it,” you mumble. “What are you even doing here?”

“I came to tell my best friend about my date,” he says, irritation clear in his tone. “But it seems like she’s mad at me for some reason.”

All you can do is stare at him. He seriously doesn’t know? He can’t figure out why you’re so upset with him? Anger boils your blood, thawing out the ice that previously resided there. 

“Well, I’m busy, Eddie. So, you know, if you could just…” Your eyes flicker over to his van, not so subtly quoting him from earlier in the day. 

It takes a few moments, but it finally dawns on him. He drops his arms to his side and has the good sense to look embarrassed.

“Oh, shit.” Eddie groans and rubs his hands over his face. “I’m an asshole, aren’t I?”

Some of your anger turns to irritation as you see his body deflate. You cross your arms over your chest, refusing to give up all your vexation towards him. 

“You are.”

“I’m sorry.” He steps towards you, letting out a sigh. “You wanted to talk to me about something and I just brushed you off. I’m a pretty shitty best friend.”

Not quite trusting your voice, you nod your head. Eddie comes even closer and tilts your chin up so you’re looking at him. His lower lip is jutted out and he’s made his eyes somehow even wider. 

“Can you forgive me?” he asks.

You have to bite your lip from letting a small smile peek through. Even when he’s been an asshole and an idiot, he can still find a way to cheer you up. 

“Maybe,” you say with a shrug.

Eddie heaves an over dramatic sigh that you know is meant to keep the atmosphere around you light. 

“What about we talk about whatever it was you came by for, hmm?”

The suggestion suddenly sours your mood again. You’d managed to get the venom hurled at you pushed to the back of your mind, too focused on Eddie hurting your feelings. Now the vile words come back to you and your best friend immediately picks up on the shift in your demeanor. 

“Fuck,” he grumbles under his breath. He knows the reason your body would tense up like that. It only serves to make him feel even worse about shooing you away before. Eddie lifts his eyes and scans the driveway before looking back at your house. “Are they here?”

“No,” you say softly.

“Good, I’d fucking lose it on them.” He takes a deep breath before ducking his head to meet your eyes. “How bad was it?”

The question is what gets the tears prickling in your eyes. You try to hide it, but your trembling bottom lip gives you away. Eddie doesn’t hesitate to tug you closer to him and pull you into a hug. 

“Whatever they said, it isn’t true,” Eddie mumbles against your hair. 

“D-Did you know it’s almost impossible to love me?” you say with a hoarse voice. You clear your throat before you speak again. “And that I’m a pathetic waste of space that nobody wants around?”

“I do.”

You can’t help but look up at Eddie when he says that, skepticism written all over your face. At first, the look puzzles Eddie. Then he remembers what he did when you originally came to see him and talk about the shitty things your mom and her boyfriend said to you. Eddie had just brushed you off, made you feel unimportant and that he cared about Chrissy more than you. Nothing could be farther from the truth. You mean everything to him and the fact that he made you feel anything less than is absolutely eating him alive inside. 

“I promise I want you around all the time,” Eddie tells you. “There’s never a time I don’t want you around. I’m so sorry about before, sweetheart. I clearly wasn’t thinking. Is…is that why you were leaving?”

Without meeting his eyes, you nod your head. “Figured no one wanted me around. Was tired of being here,” you say, gesturing to your house behind you. 

Eddie nods his head and presses a kiss into your hair. You think he’s going to say something, but instead he walks around you and picks up one of the cardboard boxes you were trying to get in your trunk. Instead of assisting you with it, he steps away from your car with the box, and you look at him in confusion.

“What’re you doing?” you ask.

“This was never going to fit in there,” Eddie says, nodding towards your car. “Gonna put it in the back of my van.”

This confuses you more than anything. You watch him in silence, a frown etched into your brow, as he yanks open the back of his van and slides the box inside. 

“Why your van?” you ask.

Eddie gives you a look like the answer should be a no-brainer. 

“Because the boxes weren’t fitting in your trunk, and I have plenty of space in mine.”

“What?” Your brain feels like it has whiplash from everything that’s gone on today. Maybe Eddie was the one making sense and you’re just not getting it. “How’s it going to help me in your van?” 

“Well,” Eddie says as he walks over and picks up another of the boxes that you couldn’t make fit. “We’re going to have to stop at my place, anyway. I’ll have to pack up some shit to take.”

“Take where?” Your voice sounds about as flabbergasted as you feel. The fact that you’re becoming more and more sleep deprived isn’t helping either. 

“Wherever we’re headed,” Eddie says with a shrug. He slides the second box in beside the first one in the back of the van. “The ocean, I presume.”

“What?” you practically shout into the quiet, dark night. 

“You wanna leave, right?” Eddie asks as he closes the back doors of the van. “Finally leaving these assholes you live with, yeah?”

“I, um,” you stutter, not completely sure of what’s going on or what you should say. “Yeah. I-I’m leaving.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow at you and tilts his head.

“And you really think I’d let you leave without me? Bullshit. We can crash at my place tonight then head out in the morning. Maybe plan a route over breakfast.”

“Wha—Eddie, no.” 

The refusal seems to confuse him. His brow pinches together as he leans against the side of his van. 

“What?” he asks.

“You can just pick up and leave. You have Wayne. And the Hellfire guys. And…Chrissy.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says with a humorless chuckle. He shakes his head and makes his way over to you. Gently, he picks one of your hands up in his own and laces your fingers together. “The Hellfire guys still have the club when they head back to school in the fall. Wayne’s been saying you and I should get out of Hawkins for months now. And as for Chrissy?” Eddie shrugs and a knot forms in your stomach. “We’ve only been on one date. And yeah, I really like her. But I’m not going to pass up being on the road with my favorite person.”

Not only does the knot untie itself at your words, but it also seems as if the rope turned into little butterflies that are spreading their wings all throughout your abdomen. 

“O-Okay,” you say, trying to fight back the tears in your eyes. 

“I’ll meet you at the trailer, yeah?” Eddie asks, slinging an arm over your shoulders. “Don’t go getting a head start without me.”

“I promise.”

Eddie holds his pinky up to you. “Pinky promise?”

Smiling, you lock your pinky with his before letting your hands fall to your sides. Eddie takes one last look at your former home before striding over to his van.

“Thank God you’re leaving this place,” he says, eyeing every little detail of the house with disdain. Memories of all the times you called him crying because of something that happened within these walls flood you. It’s the reminder of all the kindness and love he’s given you over the years that really allows you to forgive him for his rude behavior earlier. It still hurts, but expecting Eddie to be perfect wasn’t fair to anyone. 

“I’ll see you in five minutes?” you ask as you finally get your trunk closed.

“Then you’ll never be able to get rid of me.” Eddie throws you a wink before closing himself in the van.

Grinning to yourself, you slide into your own driver’s seat. 

“I’m gonna hold you to that, Munson.”

[stoppit-keepout]

[images are screenshots of one running conversation between Ayda and Fig from Dimension 20 (Sophomore Year specifically)

Ayda: What sort of nonsense things have you done to make yourself feel good?

Fig: Usually just pretending to be someone else.

Ayda: That's fun for you?

Fig: Sometimes, yeah.

Ayda: Yeah, that's interesting. I can't understand that.

Fig: Oh.

Ayda: Because if I was you, I wouldn't wanna be anyone else, because you're very exceptional.

Fig: Well, thank you. I wish I could take that compliment, but truthfully, I think you probably think I'm someone different than I am.

Ayda: Being mistaken about the nature of something and discovering its true nature is my favorite thing in the world to do.]

what if i died. what if this killed me.

[axelsagewrites]

Where Am I?*Part Three

Pairing: modern!f!reader x (to be determined...) Ubbe, Ivar, Sigurd, Hviserks, Bjorn

Word count: 1482

Series Summary: After falling head first the reader wakes up face to face with a group of strangely dressed men who look eerily like the vikings she studies

Part one Part two

Masterlist Here

You weren’t too sure what to expect when Ragnar said they would show you hospitality, but this was definitely something alright. You’d been given a dress that fit into the time period a bit better and made you stick out less than you had before. well, that was if you ignored the fact your hair was completely different from everyone else and everyone, but the Ragnarsson’s took at least three steps back whenever you approached.

When his brothers realised Ivar had been sneaking in to talk to you their protests began, “That’s not fair!”

“Why didn’t you tell us she could understand us?”

“Why did she talk to you and not us?”

You didn’t even feel the need to mention he’d bribed you with food. Ivar was good enough at arguing for himself. meanwhile as they bickered at the dinner table Bjorn sat at the other end staring at you the whole time. it defiantly wasn’t completely unsettling. Ragnar meanwhile was asking you a million questions you didn’t know how to answer.

“So how does a lighter work?”

“A spark happens when you press down and lights the gas,” you tried to explain while you ate your stew.

Ragnar nodded as he thought it over, “I think I understand. But what is a gas?”

“Uh…”  you said but Bjorn cut you off, effectively silencing everyone at the same time.

“How do we know you’re not a witch?” he said making Ivar roll his eyes and for once Ubbe and Ivar seemed to agree with something.

“If she was a witch surely, she would’ve escaped by now?” Ubbe sighed.

“Besides,” Hvitserk said, cheeks pink from his fourth glass of mead, “She’s far too pretty to be a witch,” he said, throwing a wink your way making your own cheeks heat up. The way Ivar glared at Hvitserk though put you on edge.

It was Sigurd turn to roll his eyes at his brother, “You’re a pig. And besides she hasn’t done anything. How do I know you won’t kill me in my sleep?”

“If anyone is going to do that it will be Ivar,” Ubbe said so nonchalantly you felt your jaw drop.

Especially when Ivar chimed in, “This is true,”

You could see the growing annoyance on Bjorn’s face as his younger brothers had their petty fights, something you would soon have to get used to. Clearly Aslaug was used to it however as she sank more into her wine. You had to admit the wine at least was nice. “I don’t know how I can earn your trust Bjorn, but I swear on my life I didn’t come to hurt anyone,”

You half expected him to laugh or roll his eyes at you but instead he cocked his head to the side, “Who told you, my name?”

You watched as everyone paused what they were doing to turn to look at you. “How did you know any of our names?” Sigurd asked.

You debated lying, saying Ivar told you but you didn’t feel like that was a good hole to dig. Instead, you swallowed hard, “Well everyone knows your name. you’re Bjorn ironside. Son of Ragnar. The Ragnarssons are famous,” you tried to say it nonchalantly while being very aware each one of them had a knife or axe.

However, flattery seemed to work, “And me as well?” Ragnar asked, a spark behind his eyes, “After all I am Ragnar Lodbrok,” he said making his sons all roll their eyes.

“Well of course. there are legends about you. they write tv shows about your lives,”

They all seemed so proud of themselves, even Aslaug had a smile behind her cup. You felt satisfied with your excuse until Bjorn asked, “What is a tv show?”

“Uh…”

-

Later that night Ivar showed you to a room that looked far less like a prison than the one you’d been in before. “We’ve got your-whatever these are,” Ubbe said as he and Sigurd walked into the room with a bag each and Hvitserk came in behind them with a flagon of wine.

“They’re just bags,” you said as you took them and moved to sit on the makeshift bed they had.

Privacy clearly wasn’t a thing here as all four boys sat down and began passing the wine around, “What’s in that one?” Sigurd asked, pointing to your guitar case.

You opened it and pulled it out, “Is it some kind of lute?” Hvitserk asked but you could see Sigurd was the keenest.

“I guess?” you said, placing it on your lap and gently strumming the strings, “It’s called a guitar,”

“Play us something?” Ubbe asked before taking a swig out the wine.

You sighed as you looked at the strings and tried to think of a song before your fingers found the strings and you began to strum.

“I’m like the water when your ship rolled in that night,

Rough on the surface, but you cut through like a knife,” you began to sing Taylor swift softly as you played Willow. All four boys seemed mesmerised as you sang and even Ivar stayed quiet until the last night, “I’m begging for you to take my hand,

Wreck my plans, that’s my man,” you finished, placing your hand over the strings and looking up to finally meet their eyes.

“That was beautiful,” Sigurd said, “Did you write that?”

“Yes,” you said without thinking. After all a little white lie never hurt? Besides its not like Taylor would know or anyone could prove you wrong, “Yes I did,”

“You’re very talented,” Ubbe said, passing you the wine.

You looked at it sceptically before finally taking a drink. It’s not like they’d need to poison you anyway. You were already screwed. You all began to drink and laugh the night away as you played a few more songs on the guitar, even letting the boys try have a shot. What you didn’t see however was Bjorn standing beside the door to your room, smiling softly whenever you sang.

-

 The next day Ubbe offered to give you a tour of Kattegat so you could get to know the place. “This is the market,” he said as a little girl ran away from you to her mother making you bite back a laugh, “Sorry about that. They’ll be less frightened of you soon,”

You chuckled at his words making a smile stretch on his face, “Its ironic. Out of everyone here I’m the least frightening one,”

“I don’t know so much,” he said. You narrowed your eyes at him with a curious smile making him chuckle, “Weve never met anyone like you. you are so…” he paused searching for the right word,” rare,”

“That’s the nicest thing I think someone has ever said to me,” you said.

Ubbe gave you a soft smile as he led you around the stalls. You tried to refuse it, but he did buy you a knife, promising to show you how to use it just encase. Even the way he insisted made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

As you were walking around the market you did bump into someone. “Bjorn!” Ubbe called to his brother who wore an uncomfortably stoic look as he walked over. “I was just showing her round Kattegat,”

Bjorn nodded, his eyes scanning your frame, “Good. Can’t have you getting lost now, can we? Think my father might have a fit if we lost you,” something about the way his eyes studied you had a heat creeping up the back of your neck.

“I hope all his questions don’t bother you,” Ubbe said, giving you a sorry smile.

It was true that every conversation with Ragnar was like an interrogation. He wanted to know everything you could tell him about the future and honestly you didn’t know how to explain how a television worked. “I don’t mind. Its sweet,” you said making them both chuckle, “What?”

“Most people would not describe my father as sweet,” Bjorn said, a smile finally cracked onto his lips.

“She’s also friends with Ivar so she may not be fully right in the head,” Ubbe teased.

“Ivars not that bad,” you rolled your eyes, but both their eyes seemed to bulge out their skulls, “He’s a lot nicer when people aren’t constantly picking on him,” you half joked though you did hate how they teased him. especially Sigurd who whenever Ivar wasn’t around was kind but whenever he walked into the room you could cut the air with a knife.

Ubbe just tutted at you, “Oh you have much to learn sweet, foolish, girl. It’s a good thing we found you when we did,” You did your best to roll your eyes and blow him off but for the rest of the day you found your mind wandering. What would it be like to date a Viking?

Part four here

Taglist Sign Up Here

General taglist: @strvngestark @headinfantasy @meg-ro @427120lxld @obx-josie18 @ravenmoore14 @tessakate @justtilly @jjkjbhj @clairacassidy @valeskafics @perla434 @selenestar78 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @urfavnoirette @randomstory56 @qardasngan @https-luvvia @im-the-fucking-lunar-prince @bryandechartisasmolbean

Vikings Taglist: @fleureeee @ellabellabus07 @youn-jo @batmandallyboy @retro-baby69 @lenasdmns @thelirofnorthlands @tessakate @hypocritic-trash-baby @ringpopdust @bellroclucky03 @thefirebreather00 @sashadevil766 @eldritch-bunny-teeth @re-per @weasleytwins-41 @daughter-ofthe-forest @dreamspirit666 @sununicorn @vlynccx @goldenheart703

Series taglist: @chimtaesty-main @fan-goddess @finannn @paninibit @fleureeee @ellabellabus07 @obviouslyitsriley @jasontoddorjasongrace @cathattery @daenaera-t

[darkcircles4lyfe]

I've given it some thought--

Now, if you've read any of my posts and you've read 430, you know there are a lot of ways it falls short of what I wanted. On the other hand, I can respect an open ending, one where we are allowed and encouraged to dream. All things considered, I'm not satisfied or disappointed, but a secret third thing... bear with me.

For a lot of storylines, I can fill in the blanks how I want.

I'm heartbroken over Himiko's fate, but there's no denying that the lack of camera footage leaves open the possibility of her simply disappearing. Perhaps she is waiting in hiding for the world to change, just like Lady Nagant.

Dr. Yoshida is described as someone who can cure the incurable. That may be referring to Katsuki, but the doctor himself said it's a complete mystery how he survived, all Katsuki's own doing. Maybe he cured someone else in those 8 years... someone like Touya?

Honestly I got nothing on Tenko but who knows. Who knows! Something something OFA connection. Izuku having vestige visions. Idk.

As for the manner in which society is changing, I'm drawn to Shouji's speech: "I'm dedicating the honor to those who joined the uprising eight years ago. All I've done is stand atop the resolve that they demonstrated to the world, nothing more." That at least tells me his earlier judgment of the other heteromorphs "setting them back" was a narrow point of view Shouji was supposed to grow out of, rather than a way of Horikoshi trying to criticize revolutionaries. In general, just because a character says something doesn't mean we're supposed to take it as gospel. That's lit crit 101, people.

Then there's Izuku. Once again I am feeling this pretty close to home. I keep coming back to the fact that the class is 24/25 now and I'm 25, man. On top of that, anyone else who was 14/15 ten years ago when the manga started gets to feel like we've all grown up together. I wanted catharsis for Izuku's trauma so badly. I wanted words. But I can't deny that the way Izuku is shown attempting to make the best of things and be content with a humbler life resonates with me, as painful as it is, as much as I know deep down he's kidding himself. It doesn't surprise me that he kept his walls up all this time and continued to shun his "selfishness."

I almost feel like there's an all-encompassing narrative theme being expressed here, in the fact that Izuku was trying to push past his pain and focus on the next generation, but surprise, his story's not over yet. I think the implied message there is that more can be done in the here and now, and maybe other stories that seem to be over, aren't.

With these things in mind, I can take the ending in stride, even if this is all the more we get from Horikoshi. However. There's one thing that is jolting me out of my peace every time I start to get comfortable here. It's actually related to the storyline that got the most closure.

I've seen a lot of fellow bkdk enjoyers calling their conclusion the best part of the ending, and I agree with that. They got a truly full circle moment, and a way of communicating to the reader that they're together, they have their forever, in a way that is personal to them. It's not "canon" in the way a kiss or a confession is, but I've said it before--this makes sense for them. And Horikoshi also did something legitimately interesting and groundbreaking by not making Ochako confess, not showing her future being tied to the main character as a love interest.

No, the thing that's bugging me is a seemingly small detail: why does Izuku and Katsuki holding hands at the end, of all things, have to be implied? Lots of things about 430 make sense in the context of the interview Horikoshi recently gave where he expressed being content with what he has drawn, and what he has left to the imagination. But not this. You can't convince me he didn't want to draw this. It's a motherfucking story about hands. This is the one thing I was 110% certain would happen. It's been teased for forever. Katsuki clearly wanted it so bad. So many other characters got to hold Izuku's hand in-frame. What the hell. Why.

Idk. I will be thinking about it for the foreseeable future.

[krirebr]

Caught Up in Your Trap

Pairing: dark!Andy Barber x f!reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Summary: You spend your first day in your new home. Part of the Trapped AU.

Warnings: Dark elements, kidnapping, human trafficking, drugging, training, punishment, isolation, injury, forced intimacy - Just trust me when I say that this is dark. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: Oh my god, you guys. Uh, happy sin day, I guess?? 🤣 Because I am apparently incapable of just leaving a one-shot alone, this is a prequel to I Don't Want a Lot for Christmas spurred by some unhinged 4 AM thots. It is definitely the darkest thing I've written so far. Whoops.

Big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who was not only the fantastic sounding board she always is, and let me ramble on about all my research into furnaces of all things but also helped me figure out the title for both this fic and the greater AU it's now a part of (🤦🏻‍♀️ Seriously, Kris, just stop!). Hat tip to Bruce Springsteen for both, as well. I'm sure he'd be thrilled. 😂

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Andy pulled up at the address he’d been given, more surprised than he should have been that it was an abandoned warehouse. Of course, this sort of deal would be completed there. He should have known from the sorts of channels he’d had to go through to set it up. Connections left over from his days in the DA’s office. Well, that wasn’t the side of the law he was on anymore. 

He walked into the large open space that made up most of the building to find a man standing in the middle of a few folding chairs. He had a neatly trimmed mustache and was wearing sharp but tight clothing. He wasn’t who caught Andy’s attention, though. No, that was you, slumped over in one of the chairs, wearing the clothes you must have been taken in. Even like this, he could tell your pictures hadn’t done you justice. You were absolutely perfect. Or you would be, once he was done.

“Barber!” the man called out, a satisfied smirk raising his mustache. “How nice of you to join us!”

“Hansen,” Andy answered evenly. He nodded at you, “She ok?”

“Oh, she’s fine. Just on enough horse tranqs to move her across the country without her realizing it. She’ll only be out for another day or so.”

Andy walked over to you. “I’m sure you don’t mind if I check for myself. With the amount of money I’m paying you.” Hansen gestured for him to go ahead, so he placed a gentle hand on the pulse in your neck, pleased to feel that it was strong and steady. He took a step back and opened the untraceable banking app on his phone. He clicked the transfer button, moving an ungodly amount of money from his numbered account in the Caymans to the account Lloyd had given him. “Alright,” he said, “the money’s in your account.”

The other man snapped his fingers and someone appeared out of the shadows, holding a tablet. “And I’m sure you don’t mind,” Hansen said as the new man tapped his screen, “if I check for myself. With the amount of work I’ve done for you.”

They all waited in tense silence for the confirmation of the transfer to come through. Andy couldn’t take his eyes off you, eager to finally get you home. After everything he’d been through, this was what he deserved. The perfect wife, the perfect family, the perfect life. And he was going to do it right this time, taking full control until he had exactly what he wanted. Nothing left to chance. It was costing him a pretty penny, but it was worth it.

The man with the tablet nodded at Hansen, who clapped his hands together. “Alright!” he said. “Let’s get this done. My men will get her settled in your car while we finish up.” Two more men came out from the edge of the room and started to put their hands on you. Andy couldn’t help the growl that came out of him. Hansen laughed. “Don’t worry, Mr. ADA, they won’t hurt your precious new wife. You have my word.” 

Andy gave a hesitant nod, as they carried you out of the warehouse, clicking the unlock button on his car fob so that they could get you settled. He didn’t take his eyes off you until you were gone.

Hansen reached down and picked up a thick folder. “Everything you’ll need is in here. Everything for her new identity, all in order, all immaculate. Marriage license. Anything from her old life you might need. Although I’d get what you need from those quickly and then burn them.” 

Andy took the folder and briefly paged through it. New birth certificate, social security card, IDs, passport. Everything he’d need to start your new life. He put the folder in his briefcase. “Thank you. Anything else?”

Hansen smirked again. “Eager to get started?” He leered in the direction you’d disappeared. “Can’t say I blame you.”

Andy cleared his throat, not appreciating the way Hansen was talking about what was his. “Yes, I would like to get us both home. Are we done here?”

“Sure sure. You have a good time now,” he smirked.

Andy gave him a curt nod and then exited in the direction Hansen’s men had taken you. There was no sign of them by his car, but you were laid out across the backseat. He opened the door and leaned in to brush a gentle finger across your cheek. He wouldn’t be able to relax until you were secured inside his home. It was so close now.

This wasn’t your room. You’d woken up some time ago (you couldn’t say how long ago exactly. There were no clocks, no windows) in the most comfortable bed you’d ever felt. You thought it might swallow you up, it was so soft. Luxurious. The whole room was that way. Beautiful. Rich. You were dressed in a satin nightgown that wasn’t at all like anything you owned. You tried very hard not to think about the fact that someone must have changed you. The door was locked from the outside, a small keypad right under the doorknob. You tried banging on the door. Yelling for someone. Nothing. A quick exploration of the room hadn’t yielded anything either – the two other doors were also locked, a dresser held only men’s clothing. So you’d spent the last who knows how long just laying in the bed, trying not to panic or cry. You weren’t very successful at either.

The most disturbing thing you’d discovered since you’d woken up here was the set of rings on your left hand. One featured a large diamond, the other was a simpler band filled with comparatively tiny diamonds. The bands were fused together like you remembered your mom’s engagement and wedding rings being. It took a long time to normalize your breathing after that discovery.

Just as you were about to drift asleep again, for want of anything else to do, you heard a few soft beeps, the lock click, and the doorknob move. You leaped up and huddled in the far corner of the room between the wall and the bed, holding a pillow in front of you. There was nothing else in the room to use to defend yourself. Even the lamps were bolted down – you’d checked. 

The door slowly opened and a man walked in. He was tall, over 6 feet, and broad. He had dark, soft-looking hair, and a well-kept beard. He wore a gray cotton tee and jeans. If your adrenaline hadn’t been spiking, you would have found him so handsome. But as it was, you pushed yourself further into the corner.

He was carrying a tray, which he set down on one of the nightstands. From your vantage point, you could see a glass of water and a bowl. You weren’t feeling inclined to take anything from this man.

Your eyes cautiously tracked him as he came around to the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice deep but gentle.

You didn’t say anything, just kept watching him. He leveled you with a stern look that sent a chill down your spine. His voice was much more rigid when he said, “I expect an answer when I ask a question, sweetheart.” 

You ignored him again, instead asking, “Who are you?”

He took a deep breath, flexing both hands. Extreme irritation passed over his face before it was replaced with a practiced calm. He sat at the foot of the bed and patted the space next to him. “Come sit,” he said. You didn’t move. “Now,” he growled. Something in his tone made it clear, not only that he would move you himself if he had to, but even more so, that you didn’t want it to come to that. You got up and sat on the far edge of the bed. He reached over and grabbed your arm hard, dragging you into his side. You cried out but he shushed you. “Alright,” he said, “I will answer your question once you answer mine. How are you feeling?”

This was the most scared you’d ever been. You had to take a few deep breaths before you were able to say. “I have a headache and I’m a little nauseous. And I’m very scared.”

He gently took your hand in his and cooed at you. “That’d be the drugs they used to knock you out. You’ll feel better when they’re completely out of your system. Eating will help. You can have some soup once we’re done talking.” He paused, for what you didn’t know. You didn’t say anything. He smiled. “You can ask your question now. Good girl waiting for permission.” 

Your head swung to look at him. That hadn’t been what you were doing. Had it? You were woozy and scared and just trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. That was most important, so you let his comment go and repeated your question. “Who are you?”

He squeezed your hand. “I’m your husband, sweetheart. My name is Andy.”

That was the answer you’d been terrified of since you’d seen the rings on your finger. He was fucking crazy. He had to be. The best you could do right now was to get as much information out of him as you could. “And where are we? Is this your house?” You were trying to keep your voice steady, but you could hear the tremor in it.

“This is our house, sweetheart. Just outside Boston.”

Your eyes widened and your heart rate picked up in panic. “Boston?? No– That’s– How did I get here?!” This was even worse than you thought. You were nowhere near home, nowhere near anything familiar.

He just looked at you for a moment with narrowed eyes. Then he nodded and said, “Ok, I’m going to be honest and explain it to you, because I think it will help you understand your place here. But in the future, you need to know that I don’t appreciate having to explain myself. Good wives don’t question their husband's actions. Now, since I’m going out of my way to make this clear for you, I expect you to sit quietly and listen. Can you do that for me?”

You clenched your hands into fists, wanting to rage at him for how he was speaking to you like a child, but you knew you needed this information. You needed everything you could get if you were going to get out of here, so you tried to control your breathing and nodded.

He looked at you like he wanted to scold you for something, but then visibly changed his mind and began. “I’ve had a hard life, the last few years especially, I’ve been through a lot. Things haven’t turned out the way they were supposed to. I wanted a family. I thought I had one, but– It wasn’t how it was supposed to be, and then I lost even that. I wanted to try again, but I couldn’t put in all that effort without a guarantee that I wouldn’t wind up with nothing again.

“I’m a lawyer. I used to work as an ADA and now I’m in defense. In both jobs, I’ve made a lot of connections with people from different walks of life. Through that, I found a man who provides a service – if you let him know what you’re looking for, he’ll find you a person who fills those needs. So I told him that I was looking for someone to build a family with, a good wife. He presented me with a few options, and I chose you. For a hefty price, his men picked you up and brought you here. They also put together all new paperwork for you, a whole new identity. The old you doesn’t exist anymore, do you understand? You’re Mrs. Barber now, property of your husband. I bought and paid for you. I own you, every part of you.”

You saw his hand start to move toward your thigh and you jumped up, quickly pressing yourself against the wall. You just stared at him for a moment and then the panic truly hit you, but this time, it was accompanied by blinding anger. “That’s human trafficking, you complete fucking psycho! The fuck is wrong with you?!” Once you’d started screaming, you couldn’t stop. “You can’t just buy a wife, you fucking cuck! I’m a person! People are going to look for me!” He stood up and came at you and you swung out with your fists, your nails, your knees, whatever you fucking could. You connected a few times, drew a grunt from him before he somehow pinned your wrists behind your back. You screamed as loud as you could, but it did nothing. 

He frog-marched you out of the room as he said, “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to do this so soon, but you need a timeout, honey. Some time to calm down in the quiet room, and then we can try again and go over the rules. You just need some time to think by yourself.”

You tried to pay attention as he pushed you through what looked like a little apartment: a living room, a kitchenette. He stopped at an innocuous-looking door with a keypad on it, just like the one in the bedroom. He turned you away so you couldn’t see as he entered the code, one hand still keeping your wrists in a bruising grip. Before you’d even realized he’d opened the door, he was shoving you into the room so hard you briefly left the ground. The door slammed shut behind you. You hit the floor hard and groaned. You stumbled up onto your hands and knees. You heard another beep, then the grinding of a lock. Then nothing.

The room was pitch black. You weren’t even sure where the door was now, as there wasn’t any light coming through the cracks. You crawled around, trying to get an idea of the space. It was small and empty as far as you could tell. But there was a low rumbling noise that seemed to fill the room. You couldn’t pinpoint the source just from listening, it felt like it was coming from everywhere. The floor under your hands was bare, concrete. Your hands brushed through cobwebs and other detritus you couldn’t see. You cautiously held a hand out as you continued to try to map out the room, terrified you’d smack your face right into the wall. It made contact with something hot and sharp. You pulled it back with a hiss, pain radiating through your palm. You felt the first few wet drops. Shit. You were bleeding. You’d cut yourself. Fuck. “Hey!” you called out as loud as you could. There was no answer. “Hey!” you tried again, “I’m hurt! I’m bleeding!” No response. “WHAT THE FUCK?” You were screaming now. “YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! LET ME OUT!” Nothing. God, this room was already lightproof, maybe it was soundproof, too. He wouldn’t be able to hear you, wouldn’t know you were hurt. You couldn’t tell how badly you’d cut your hand so you raised it above your head, hoping that might at least slow down the bleeding. It was dirty you were sure. God, how long did it take for cuts to get infected? You hoped you wouldn’t find out. You didn’t even know what you’d cut it on. What if it was rusty? Shit, when was your last tetanus booster? You couldn’t remember exactly. Fuck. You really didn’t want to die from tetanus in some random basement in Massachusetts. A tear rolled down your cheek. He couldn’t leave you in here too long, could he? No. He would come get you soon.

You had no idea how long you’d been sitting in the dark, your knees pulled up to your chest, one arm wrapped around them, the other still held in the air. Your shoulder was so sore, but you were too worried to lower your hand. You wished you could see the cut, know exactly how bad it was. You wished you knew how much time had passed. With no frame of reference, no external indicators, you were afraid you’d lost the ability to tell the difference between hours and minutes. It’d been hours. It had to have been hours. How long was he going to leave you here? He had to come back soon. He had to. You took some perverse comfort in the fact that he’d spent a lot of money on you. That had to mean that he wouldn’t just leave you here. He’d want a return on his investment. You tried to ignore the chills that thought gave you.

You’d been crying on and off. It made you feel pathetic but what else were you supposed to do? The panic, too, ebbed and flowed. You’d been trying to keep your breathing even, trying to ignore how small the space was, how dirty, how dark. Deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth. It wasn’t doing much to calm you, but at least it gave you something to focus on. 

Just as a fresh wave of tears overtook you, a blinding light came in, directly opposite you. You squinted and raised your uninjured hand in front of your eyes, but that didn’t do much to help.

“Oh sweetheart,” Andy’s voice cooed, before gently lifting you by your arms and herding you out. He half-carried you through the finished part of the basement while your eyes continued to adjust. Before you knew it, you were back in the bedroom you’d started in. He gently sat you down on the edge of the bed and crouched in front of you. You felt dazed. The room was too bright. You didn’t know how you could keep breaking the record for the most scared you’d ever been. There had to be a ceiling, a limit. You’d hit it soon, wouldn’t you? 

You still had your hand raised and cradled to your chest. Andy touched your wrist and you flinched. He raised an eyebrow in question and you whispered, “I got hurt.” He sighed and gently tugged at your wrist again. This time you let him guide your arm down, moving your hand so you both could see it. It was a little grimy and definitely red, slightly swollen maybe. There was a little dried blood, but not much. The cut was so much more shallow than you’d imagined when you were trapped in that room alone. You felt incredibly foolish. You’d thought you were going to lose your hand over a glorified paper cut. 

Andy carefully moved his thumb over a raised patch under the cut that you now realized was a minor burn. “Did you touch the furnace?” The furnace – that’s what’d been making that noise. That’s what you’d cut yourself on. That’s where he’d thrown you. What the fuck? You were lucky you hadn’t hurt yourself even worse. You looked up from your hand to see him frowning at you. “Why would you do that? Sweetheart, you have to be more careful. That was a very stupid thing to do.” He got up and walked into the ensuite, opening a cabinet under the sink.

Was he seriously scolding you for getting hurt in a dangerous room he’d locked you in?? The rage from earlier was starting to return, but it was still tempered by your fear. You did your best to keep your voice even when you replied, “It was completely dark in there. I couldn’t see anything.” A little growl came through your words, but it wasn’t anything compared to what you were actually feeling.

He came back holding a small first-aid kit. “Well then that’s a good reason to keep your hands to yourself, isn’t it?” He sat down and opened the kit, pulling out a few wipes and beginning to somewhat roughly clean your hand. “Sweetheart, I’m here to take care of you. That’s my job as your husband. But I need you to be a good girl and not put yourself in harm’s way.”

“You threw me in there!” you said, your voice starting to get louder, despite your best efforts to keep calm.

“Because you were bad and needed a time-out!” he yelled back at you. He threw the dirty wipes into the trashcan beside the bed and took a deep breath, visibly calming himself. He grabbed an ointment from the kit and began applying it to your hand. “That’s why we’re going to talk about rules now. They’re there to keep you safe and both of us happy. When you don’t follow them, something like this can happen.”

You didn’t say anything. You had to be smart if you were ever going to get out of here and antagonizing him wasn’t smart. He didn’t seem to expect a response anyway as he just silently placed a bandage on your hand and then got up and put the kit away. He came back and sat right next to you, turning so he could look into your eyes. You tried to turn your head away, but he grabbed your chin and forced eye contact. 

“Alright,” he said, his tone already so fucking patronizing. “A good thing that came out of your little tantrum is that now we know the areas we need to focus on most for improvement – manners, respect, and attitude. I did some thinking during your quiet time too, and I’ve adjusted your training schedule to focus on these things. It’ll be good for both of us.”

What the actual fucking fuck? “Training schedule?” was all you managed to get out.

Andy nodded. “I’m sure you’ve figured out that we’re in the basement right now. I have a beautiful big house upstairs that I can’t wait to show you. But you’re going to have to earn it first, prove to me that you know how to be good, that I can trust you before we can go upstairs. That’s what the training will do. I’m going to teach you exactly how to be perfect for me, everything I want, and in return I’m going to give you a perfect life, so much better than what you had before. We’re going to be so happy together, sweetheart. I promise.

“Now, it’s going to take time. I understand that. And I’m going to be patient with you. I know what your life was like before. I know that you probably never expected that you’d ever get to have this. Change can be scary. Dreams coming true, it’s scary. But I’ll be here to guide you through it all. I’m going to give you everything and all I ask of you in return is that you be good for me. That’s all.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to sob. What the hell was this? How could this man, this stranger, be so completely deranged? Be smart, you chanted to yourself. Be smart be smart be smart. And if you opened your mouth now, you knew exactly what would come out. So you kept it shut and let him continue.  

“So first, let’s talk about your tantrum. I don’t appreciate being spoken to that way. The language and the names, it’s unacceptable. So, no swearing going forward. And I think a good rule for you while we’re downstairs will be for you to address me as Sir. Once we’ve moved upstairs, you’ll be allowed to call me Andy, but whenever we’re down here, it’s Sir. Do you understand?” He looked at you expectantly. You clenched your jaw and nodded. “I expect a verbal response when I speak to you, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you gritted out. He raised an eyebrow at you and his gaze hardened. It took you a moment to realize your mistake. “Yes, sir,” you corrected yourself.

“Very good. As your husband, I expect you to give me the respect I deserve. That’s something we’ll work on. It’s very important that you don’t question me. I know what’s best for you and you need to trust that I will give you whatever information you need to have. If I haven’t told you something, it’s because you don’t need to know, ok?”

He paused again. What kind of Stepford hell was this? What had you done to deserve this? You took a deep breath. Then another. And another. Then, finally, you were able to force out a “Yes, sir.”

He smiled. “You’re so smart, sweetheart. You’ll be upstairs in no time. Now, you’ll start learning your routine tomorrow. I’ve taken some time off work for our honeymoon, so I’ll have plenty of time to get you settled and acclimated. We’ll go over wardrobe and makeup requirements in the morning too. Now,” he slapped his thighs and stood up, “your soup from earlier went cold, so how about I go get you a fresh bowl while you take a quick shower and get all that dust and grime from the Quiet Room off you?”

You held back a grimace at him calling that room that, as he walked over to one of the other doors and unlocked it. He talked to you like you were a child. All of this was so fucked up. But a shower sounded incredible. You had no idea how long it’d been since you’d had one. So you just nodded and let out a quiet, “Yes, sir.”

He beamed at you. “Everything you’ll need is in the bathroom. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

You stood and waited til he was out the door, listening to the beeps and grinding locks once he was gone. Shit. You were really fucked. You went into the bathroom and closed the door behind you. There was no lock on the inside. Of course, there wasn’t. 

You didn’t waste much time in the bathroom, desperate for a hot shower. You vaguely registered that the counter was stocked with all sorts of beauty aids – expensive lotions and serums like he’d bought out a department store beauty counter. The shower too, was equally well stocked. So much fancier than the Target sale items you usually stocked your bathroom with. But the shower felt incredible and that’s what you chose to focus on. 

When you were finished, you came out of the shower to see that the bathroom door was open. You could hear Andy moving around in the bedroom. You shuddered and quickly wrapped a plush towel around yourself. There was a fresh nightgown waiting for you, soft pink, all silk and lace. You grimaced and wondered what you’d need to do to get a pair of sleep shorts and an old T-shirt to sleep in. Probably more than you were willing to do, if it was even possible. You dried off quickly and slipped the nightgown on. 

When you exited the bathroom, he was sitting on the bed, the tray of food sitting next to him. There was a bowl of soup and a cup of water, along with a small plate with a few crackers. The dishes and utensils were all plastic. Nothing you could hurt him with. You sat down and watched him carefully as you lifted the tray onto your lap. He didn’t say anything so it must have been allowed. Your hand shook as you brought the first spoonful up to your lips. The soup was warm, not hot, certainly not scalding. Another hope dashed. Throwing it at him would only result in him getting wet. And angry. Not worth it. 

As you ate, you realized just how hungry you actually were. The nausea from whatever drugs you’d had had covered it up, but you were starving. You barely even tasted the soup, you just needed to eat. God, how long had it been since you’d had food? You wouldn’t bother asking Andy. You knew he wouldn’t give you an answer.

After he watched you eat for a few minutes, he said, “What do you say, sweetheart?”

God, he used that word like it was your name. It made you want to scream. You swallowed down all your anger and a spoonful of soup before you said, “Thank you, sir.” 

He gave you a satisfied smile. “See,” he said, “I knew you had good manners.”

You shoved the spoon into your mouth to prevent any sort of comeback. This fucking asshole. Luckily he let you eat the rest of your meal in peace. But he never took his eyes off you.

Once you were done, Andy put the tray on the dresser and then declared it bedtime. You watched him cautiously, as he went to the dresser and took out a pair of boxers and a cotton tee. He changed right in the middle of the room and you turned your head away. You caught flashes of skin, that if he’d been anyone else, in any other circumstances, would have had you drooling. It was becoming hard to breathe again. What else would he demand from you tonight?

You chanced a glance back up at him to find him changed and staring at you. You swallowed nervously. “Come here,” he said firmly, holding his hand out to you. You slowly, so slowly, made your way to him. As soon as you were in reach, he grabbed your elbow and pulled you the rest of the way in so that you were nestled into his chest. “I know,” he said, stroking one hand down your back, “that we’re both thinking about our first time together, but I’d like to wait.” He ran the fingers of his other hand down the strap of your nightgown, slipping onto your bare skin. “Give you a chance to get fully adjusted. Give us both a chance to get to know each other.” His voice slipped down an octave as his fingers traveled across your chest. Your body bowed to get away from him, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. “Give us a chance to enjoy each other.” His breath hitched as his hand traveled down to your breast, the other hand on your back had stilled, holding you close, stopping you from getting away. He moved his head as close as he could to yours and whispered, “I want it to be special.” Then, before you could try to back away, he was kissing you. It was firm and demanding, giving you no option but to let it happen. He angled his growing erection into your thigh, and with the way he was holding you, you couldn’t lean away from it. His tongue forced its way into your mouth and you couldn’t help the way you whimpered. It felt like it might go on forever, when he finally pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m so happy you’re mine,” he whispered. 

And then he was out of your space, leaving you trying to breathe again, alone in the middle of the room, as he climbed into the bed. You just stood there, unsure of what to do, your lips still tingling. Once he was settled on the side of the bed closest to the door, he called your name. “Come to bed now,” he said, and there was no mistaking it for anything other than an order. You ducked your head and climbed onto the bed, terrified of what might come next, but also desperate for sleep. This day had left you exhausted and confused and scared and so angry. It was all too much.

You tried to lie down as close to the edge as you could, but he pulled you in close so that your back was flush to his front, his arm thrown over your waist. “I'm so proud of you,” he whispered into your hair, “getting through your first day without having to go to the punishment room.”

Your mouth went completely dry. A room you hadn’t been to. Somewhere worse than the quiet room. “What's–” your tongue struggled to form the words. You took a breath and tried again. “What's the punishment room?” You caught yourself at the last minute and added a quiet “Sir.”

His hand caressed your side. “You keep being my good girl and you won't have to find out.”

Tag list is open

@stargazingfangirl18 @yenzys-lucky-charm @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @foulpersonahandsvoid

[logansargeantsbabymom]

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader , Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Warning: cursing, douchebag Oscar, cheating

A/N: I definitely did lie to you guys, I promise you that I am working on TGTSG pt 8, it's just taking more time than I'd like to admit! Sorry and I hope this makes this situation better <3

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

Instagram

F1 Masterlist

Was any of it true? Gazing at me starry-eyed. 

“Oscar, c’mon we’re going to be late!!!” I said ushering my boyfriend out of our bedroom closet. 

A light chuckle left his lips as he emerged from the magical sliding mirror doors “Babe, it’s only the car reveal. It’s okay if we’re a tiny bit late” Oscar said as he walked over to me, rubbing a hand up and down my shoulders

An unamused look became present on my face “Baby, you know how much I can’t stand being just a millisecond off schedule, right now you have us 10 minutes behind! You’re killing me here!!” I added a bit of an exaggerated sigh as I dragged out that last sentence. 

I wouldn’t say I had OCD or whatever but if anything and I mean ANYTHING was just the slightest bit off, I wouldn’t be able to focus on whatever task was at hand before it was fixed. 

“Okay, okay. Let’s go. Thank god you’re dating a Formula 1 driver who knows a thing or two about driving fast. I promise we’re going to be there on time.” A small smile made its way on the corners of Oscars mouth as he grabbed my hand and guided me out of the house and to his McLaren.

And your Jehovah’s Witness suit. Who the fuck was that guy?

We’d arrived at the headquarters just under 2 minutes till Zak had to go up and make his big speech before revealing the 2024 season’s car.

Oscar and I tried to make our quiet entrance as to not draw attention to us being technically 30 minutes late. 

See the drivers and the workers that didn’t help set everything up had to be there at 8:00pm whereas everyone else who had a special invitation had to be there at 8:20pm and then Zak’s speech would take place at 8:30pm but thanks to Oscar just NEEDING to find the perfect outfit himself instead of just putting on the one that his assistant brought him, he made us super late. 

Lando was the first to notice our not so subtle attempt at being sneaky “Mate, if you wanted to shag your girlfriend you couldn’t given me a heads up so I could’ve made up an excuse as to why you weren’t here when you were supposed to.” 

Embarrassment flooded my cheeks at the thought of more than half the people in our vicinity thought that t and I were late because we wanted to have a quick fuck before we left 

“No Lando!! We’re not late because we fucked! We’re late because Oscar here,” I started, gesturing at the handsome man next to me “decided he didn’t like the outfit that his assistant brought for him so he had to spend an hour picking and changing his clothes until he found what he thought was best for him.” 

My answer seemed to satisfy Lando enough because he wiggled his eyebrows at us before nodding, taking a sip of his very much alcoholic drink before walking away from us. 

“Oh my gosh Oscar, never again am I being late with you. I can’t have people thinking we fuck like rabbits all the time!!!” I groaned, rubbing a hand over my face.

You tried to buy some pills. From a friend of friends of mine, they just ghosted you. Now you know what it feels like. 

Oscar left to go get both of us a drink before the lights dimmed and a spotlight was shone on Zak, who was standing at the top of the steps.

Zak looked around to get a good feel of the crowd’s energy tonight “Hey guys, I’m the McLaren CEO, Zak Brown. I’m sure you all know why you’re here tonight but in case you don’t, let me tell you why. You’re all here because you either work here or was invited. Either way, tonight, we’re all going to witness the unveiling of our 2024 seasons formula 1 car! But before we get to that part, I want to call up my two Formula 1 drivers to say a few words. Lando, Oscar, please come up here.” 

And I don’t even want you back, I just want to know if rusting my sparking summer was the goal. 

I clapped and watched as my boyfriend and our best friend walked up to make their speech, Lando being the first to take the mic.

“First I just want to say: Thank you everyone for being here with us today to do this reveal, none of this would be possible without any of you guys and that each and every single one of us here at McLaren are extremely grateful to you guys. Thank you to Zak for believing in me enough to resign me for the next 2 years and uh yeah, I’ll pass it on to Oscar now.” That last part came out with a little awkward chuckle as Lando scanned the room before passing the mic to Oscar 

“Hello, Uh Lando said the majority of what I was going to say but I also want to thank my beautiful, wonderful, loving, thoughtful, talent girlfriend for sticking by my side” Oscar started as he looked deep in my eyes as the crowd around us ‘Aww’ed us “oh and thank you to Y/N for being there too.” he added with a laugh that caused the crowd to also erupt in fits of laughter.

My face turned red and my blood began to boil. Did he really just say that? I mean I could be making this a bigger deal than it is but to me, Oscar just embarrassed me in front of maybe 250+ people, who mind you might do a little ‘story time’ on their experience there and would add that part which means hundreds of thousands of people are going to hear about how Oscar embarrassed me. 

The rest of Oscar’s speech was a blur and I hadn’t even notice that him and Lando had left the top steps until I felt his arms around my waist and my body tensed at the feeling. Oscar’s touch right now made me feel sick, who did he think he was embarrassing me like that in front of hundreds of strangers and then acting like nothing happened? 

And I don’t miss what we had but could someone give a message to the smallest man who ever lived?

I shrugged Oscar’s arms off of me which earned me a confused glare from him which I quickly shut down

“I’m going to grab another drink. Do you want anything?” It was the best I could come up with. 

It got Oscar’s touch off of me and it gave me some space away from him, which I so desperately needed right now.

“No thank you, just hurry back” Oscar said sweetly as he attempted to place a kiss on my lips that I quickly dodged. 

I saw another look of confused flash across his face but I was too busy getting far away from him as possible to notice how long his face had stayed like that. 

Over at the makeshift bar they had, I poured myself a half cup of punch before making my way to the other end of the bar to fill the rest of my cup up with tequila. I closed my eyes as I took a sip of my alcoholic punch before letting out a satisfied sigh while feeling the drink burn its way down my throat, my solo bliss didn’t last long before I felt the presence of someone near me. Opening my eyes, I was met with one of my dearest best friends: Lando. 

“Having fun?” Lando said as he grabbed himself a cupful of punch awaiting my response 

“So much fun, I totally don’t want to be at home with a (favorite/drink) eating (favorite/food) while watching (favorite/ show) right now.” I said as I let out a sarcastic laugh which earned me a glare “I’m kidding Lando. I’m having a good time, what about you?” 

“Just a good time? Why not an amazing time?” Typical Lando to only catch the first half of my sentence 

“I have a mild headache right now, that’s why it’s just a good time I’m having right now. I didn’t have time to grab or take any medicine so I’m suffering right now.” that was the best lie I could come up with, let’s just hope that he believes it. 

By the look on his face right now, he was starting to believe the lie I just spewed to him. “I think Zak has Ibuprofen in his office, let me ask him to grab you some” before I could protest, he was gone. 

You hung me your wall, stabbed me with your pushpins. 

I realized that I was spending too much time at the bar and that Oscar was going to come looking for me soon so to save him the hassle, I made my way back over to him. 

Turns out he wasn’t going to be looking for me soon because he’s too busy having some blondie all over him. She’s running one of her hands through his hair while the other is resting against his forearm. The sight made bile rise in my throat as my stomach churned, I can’t be seeing this clearly right? Maybe I actually was suffering from a massive headache and that’s causing me to see all these things, right? This wouldn’t be the first time something like this happened, granted I’ve only ever heard of a ‘headache so bad you’re seeing things’ in movies before so I can’t really rely on it being a real thing. 

Once Oscar’s gaze quickly fell on me, he pushed the blonde off of him and quickly made his way over to me. 

“Hey beautiful, you were gone for a while.” He tries to plant a kiss on my lips but I placed a firm hand against his chest to leave a gap. 

Apparently me dodging his kiss for the second time tonight really upset Oscar because he rolled his eyes before bringing his concerns to my attention 

“What is wrong with you? This is the second time you dodged my kiss, what’s going on?” I could tell there was hints of an attitude lacing his words.

“Oh geez Oscar I don’t know, maybe it’s because I come back over from getting punch and I see a blonde girl all over you and you’re letting it happen?” I can’t believe he really has the audacity to question why I’m dodging his kiss when he quite literally was probably cheating on me in public less than 2 minutes ago. 

A scoff left Oscar’s mouth as he rolled his eyes at my comment “You’re kidding right? That’s what this” he gestured in between us, “is about? C’mon Y/N, she literally is my race engineer trainee, we were literally talking about work”

“Oh yeah because talking about work requires her to be handsy with you in public in front of your girlfriend?” I can’t believe Oscar was trying to downplay this right now. 

I watched as Oscar shifted on his feet before crossing his arms “First of all, you weren’t in front of us and second of all, she wasn’t being handsy. Sarah just asked what shampoo and conditioner I used because her brother needed recommendations and I told her the ones you buy me.” 

“That doesn’t give her the right to run her hands through your hair while holding your forearm, are you kidding me?” Everyone around us could feel the tension thickening. It was so thick that you could break 2 machetes trying to cut through it. 

“Go be insecure about our relationship elsewhere, I don’t have time to deal with this right now.” I didn’t even have a chance to get a word in before Oscar stormed away from me, leaving me alone in a crowd full of his co-workers and fans with nothing but my hurt feelings and confused thoughts about what the fuck happened in the last five minutes. There was only one thing in my head right now that was clear: I need to get the fuck out of here now before I make this a bigger deal than it is.

In public, showed me off. Then sank in stoned oblivion cause once your queen had come, you’d treat her like an also-ran. 

I don’t know when I got home nor do I know how I got home, all I know is that I’m home and home is where I’m free to drown my sorrows with a nice bottle of Brothers Bond bourbon in peace. Only, I wasn’t able to have a second of peace because a rapid set of knocks were being banged against my front door which caused me to jump at the sudden sound and tighten my grip on my drink. Walking to the door with an annoyed expression on my face I was met with Lando’s somber expression. 

“Lando, I’m sure you heard about the fight and I just really want to be alone right now.” I said as I attempted to slam the door in his face but was blocked by his foot.

“Ow, I didn’t expect that to hurt that bad.” Lando started as he tried to shake the pain out of his foot “Everyone knows about the fight-” 

“Ugh, great” I scoffed

“That’s not why I’m here though-” Lando didn’t get to finish before I cut him off again

“So why are you here? I mean no offense but I want to be alone right now”

“Stop cutting me off then. I’m here because, gosh I don’t know how to say this to you” He took in a deep breath before letting it out in one long exhale “I’m just gonna show you” I didn’t get to process the words that came out of his mouth before he flipped his phone showing me a video of Oscar and Sarah making out in the corner of the room before Sarah dragged him out of the frame. 

It doesn’t take a genius to know that they we’re going to find somewhere there to have sex. The video was a total of about 10 seconds and by the end of it, tears had already fallen. It’s funny how in a span of ten seconds your whole life could change, one minute I was upset over an argument I had with my boyfriend and the next I’m watching a video of him cheating on me. The sight before me made bile rise in my throat as I felt my heart shatter into a million tiny pieces.  I never knew that loving someone could cause so much hurt, that if they did wrong by you it would feel like you were dying. I couldn’t breathe, it felt like my whole world was caving in on me and I couldn’t do anything to stop it, that I was just there to watch this tragedy unfold. I never knew that someone who claimed to love you until the end of time could do something so terrible to the one person they promised to never hurt, that even after you watched video proof of him cheating on you that you didn’t want to believe it. I shared a lot of firsts with Oscar, the most important being that he was my first love, he took my virginity from me and that’s one that’s one thing I could never get back from him. Despite everything I’m feeling now, I wish there was someone who could tell me why my heart wants to go back to him. My heart yearns for Oscar’s touch, his love, his time, my heart just wants it all, everything Oscar is willing to give it. 

You didn’t measure up in any measure of a man. And I don’t even want you back, I just want to know if rusting my sparkling summer was the goal. 

It’d been 15 minutes since I found out about Oscar cheating on me and the whole time Lando’s been holding me as I sobbed into his chest, I was so hurt by Oscar that I couldn’t find any sense of comfort in Lando’s touch. I feared that I wouldn’t be able to find comfort in anyone’s touch because of how bad Oscar hurt me and that’s not how I wanted to live my life. That’s not how anyone should have to live their life, surrounded by so much hurt that you can’t find joy in anything. The pain was consuming me so much that I felt like the only way to make it go away was to drown it in alcohol and that’s what I intend on doing. 

Pulling myself out of Lando’s grasp, I leaned forward and grabbed the bourbon bottle on mu coffee table and brought it up to my lips. I took one big gulp, enjoying the burning sensation I was feeling as the liquid ran down my throat. I took another long sip before the bottle was yanked from my hands. 

“Lando please, give it back I don’t want to feel this. I don’t want to feel anything, I cant live like this.” I started to sob again, hoping he would feel bad enough to just let me drink the whole bottle. ‘

Unfortunately Lando didn’t cave into me “I know it hurts but you have to feel the pain. You have to feel all your emotions in order to get past this, I know Oscar hurt you but I’m here to help you. I’m your best friend and I want everything for you but you can’t drown your feelings in liquor, I love you too much allow that.” I almost wanted to believe the words coming out of Lando’s mouth because I know he’s not Oscar and that I can trust him but a part of me doesn’t want to trust him and Lando could sense that

“Y/N/N, I need you to believe me. I want the best for you and you know that, you know that’s all I’ve ever wanted for you but right now I need you to trust me. Alcohol isn’t the solution.” The look in his eyes were sincere and I knew I could trust him.

I buried my face in my hands as I reluctantly let the bottle go and allowed Lando to take it from my hands to lock it away in Oscar’s liquor cabinet. By the time Lando had returned to the living room   and saw my state he could obviously tell that at any given moment, I would start spiraling again and that was the last thing either of us wanted right now. I felt the sofa dip next to me before abruptly being pulled against a body.

“I’m going to hold you like this and you can talk about any and everything or we could just sit in silence but I can see it in your eyes that you want to be held.” Lando said as he rested his chin against the top of my head which I moved to look at him in his eyes.

I was able to whisper a faint “okay” as I looked in his aquamarine eyes, I never realized hoe beautiful they were until right now. Now that I think about it, everything I’m noticing on his face right now, I never had noticed before. I never realized all these little features in his face that made him beautiful, actually, I never realized how beautiful Lando was until right now. How plump his lips looked, how soft and fluffy his hair must feel against the palm of my skin, how the gap between us seemed to slowly disappear as I looked at him looking down at my lips and how soon the gap between us closed as our lips met. This kiss I was sharing with Lando felt different from all the kisses I’ve ever shared with Oscar, this one kiss alone had butterflies lighting fireworks in my stomach as I felt my broken heart mend. It sounds crazy, I know but something about this moment with Lando felt raw and real, it felt like everything I was missing in my relationship with Oscar was just found. 

The kiss consumed my whole being, I never want this moment to end. Everything felt right and nothing could ruin this moment. 

“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?”

taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal @eddieharrington @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi @Ggasly.p @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan

[dykealloy]

i keep going back to this moment. obviously there's the palpable devotion from zoro towards luffy which is all very insane, elicits the urge to chew through drywall etc etc. but I can't help but get caught on the way this is phrased. suggesting maybe zoro isn't the only one mihawk is talking about here. as in, I'm getting opla shuggy rant energy, i.e.

which is about as blatant and transparent as it gets in terms of the older wiser figure with a connection to shanks speaking about his own experiences (under the weak veil of this being about Luffy). but back to mihawk talking about zoro whilst also talking about himself. I'm having to extrapolate a fair bit here given my limited knowledge of his history, but here's what we do know - mihawk never belonged to a crew, was a "rival" of shanks before he "lost interest" in killing him at some point after he lost his arm ("it's always for the sake of another" - given how powerful shanks still is at this point - one of the four emperors - i'd like to think there's something more to this).

when zoro falls to his blade outside the Baratie and he tells luffy "that's a more treacherous path than even mine" after hearing his main goal is to become king of the pirates, do you think perhaps there's a chance he's projecting some old buried anxiety/fear from his youth about the thought of facing shanks, standing by his side and falling. It's giving "I am not worthy until I prove I'm the best", which if true, was followed after many years by "Now I am the best and it's hollow and empty and I regret all those days I could have had with you".

luffy gave zoro direction - a greater purpose and a family. luffy enables his aspirations, but he also provides zoro the freedom to have something more than just this obsessive structure where the only thing that matters is becoming top dog - something beyond years and years of endless relentless training fueled in part by his loyalty to kuina but also the grief of her loss. without luffy, zoro could very likely have followed mihawk's path, something @joyish-little-boy pointed out in one of @assiraphales' posts.

despite being recognised by the world at large as the greatest swordsman alive, and supposedly having achieved all there is for him to strive for, mihawk has never struck me as a man awfully satisfied with where he is.

[hwanchaesong]

☞🍹Fourth Drink: A soulless, non-empathic, and unloving man emerging from a hurricane cocktail. Isn't it nice to tempt him? 🍸

🎧: The Weeknd - Heartless

wc: 1.3k

genre & warnings: fluff (surprisingly), angst, cursing, dreamies appearance, college setting, tutor reader x rich kid haechan, bullying, tsun tsun confession, implied enemies to lovers, etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The After Hours Bar series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

You sigh and look at your wrist watch, annoyance bubbling up and you can't fight the need to punch the man that is supposed to meet you here in the library.

It's been two hours since the designated meeting time, and he's late. Too late and you're wasting your time waiting for him to arrive.

Just then, a commotion was heard at the front of the library, hushed whispers and a door being shut rather harshly confused you. But no worries, the perpetrator showed himself within a few seconds.

"Hello, miss." he mumbles dismissively, sitting in front of you without much care while he chews his gum loudly.

"Donghyuck-."

"Haechan." he cuts you off, leaning onto the table with his arms sprawled over it, "That name is reserved only for my friends."

You roll your eyes at his rudeness, "Well then, Haechan. Let me tell you that you are two hours late and I think it's only good manners for you to apologize for it."

He laughs mockingly, pointing at himself like he couldn't believe that someone is telling him what to do.

"Me? Apologize?" he asks, gritting his teeth, "Do you know who I am?"

"Listen," you moistened your lips, his eyes flicking down to the action to which you actively ignored, "I do not care who you are. But I care about the money that your parents are paying me and that I have to create satisfying results for it."

Haechan was dumbfounded to say the least, never has he been spoken to like that before.

He is the son of a famous model and a fashion designer. Most people would want to be with him or want to be him. People would worship the floor he walked on. Thus, he does not know how to act in such a situation where a person is not.. enamored with him.

You dropped the stack of books, notes and copies of worksheets in front of him, faking a sweet smile, "Let's start."

Insufferable. Annoying. Over the top.

That is how you two describe each other to your friends.

You hated him with passion. He must have some kind of god complex because how on earth is he managing to think of himself as a person that all people should respect and bow down to?

The only thing that you're thankful for, is that he's a fast learner. He is easy to teach once he puts his mind into it. (you have to call his parents so they can threaten him every time he acts like a stubborn child, and he says that it's a low blow even for you.)

The boy is not stupid, just someone who doesn't take studying seriously. Probably because he thinks that his future is already secured, knowing that he comes from a well-off family.

And you're breathing in relief the moment you realize that you won't be tutoring him anymore for the next semester.

Haechan, on the other hand, chatters about your preposterous attitude. The way you don't fear or ogle at him. Oh, he absolutely hates it whenever you mock him too. Rolling your eyes, whispering a snide remark, smirking at him rather condescendingly.

The smirk is given only during special occasions, and that is when you see the results of his assessments.

High marks and almost perfect, which means that your methods of teaching are effective.

As much as it kills him on the inside, he does admit that you're one hell of a good tutor. And maybe.. just maybe, you aren't that bad to spend some time with.

---------------------------------------------------

"Hyuck, you're not coming with us today?" Mark asked Haechan who was leaving the classroom in a haste, "We have no exams coming up."

"No," Haechan showed the test paper to his friends, the piece of paper hanging between his thumb and index finger, "I have to submit this to my tutor."

"So, you're not attending the party?" Chenle now inquires, looking at the older male with judging eyes.

Haechan sighs, waving them off, "I'll follow." then he takes his leave, trudging to the library where you usually stay at the end of classes.

His circle of friends look at each other with knowing smiles on their faces. Choosing to gossip about their troublemaker friend before leaving.

"I thought that guy's heart doesn't function properly. What a pleasant surprise." Jaemin laughs, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"It's refreshing to see him like that though." the youngest, Jisung, comments on the uncanny situation at hand.

Jeno intervenes, pushing them all towards the door, "I haven't seen the guy with other girls ever since he met his tutor. What's her name again?"

"Y/N? L/N Y/N, I think?" Mark answers, remembering that one time when Haechan accidentally spilled your name when he was drunk, rambling about how your pretty face doesn't match your shitty manners.

"Well, I'm happy." Renjun mumbles, "I'm happy that he's down bad for Y/N. Finally, I have something that I can tease him for."

The rest agreed, all of them cackling at the joke but they can't deny the fact that he is truly, utterly, pathetically down bad for you.

---------------------------------------------------

Haechan did not see you at your usual spot, deciding to find you in the library space, thinking that maybe you're out there finding a book or something.

Then he hears your voice, but there are others as well. Leaning closer to the shelves, his inner nosy ass eavesdrops at the ongoing conversation.

"We're telling you, Y/N. Leave our Hyuck alone!" one of the girls shoves you, making you stumble a bit but you held your ground against them.

This has been happening for a while now. Crazy fan girls who want to get in his pants harassing you for the sole reason of being jealous simply because you get to spend more time with him.

You scoff, "And who are you to tell me what to do?"

"Do you not know who I am?" she screeches, his high-pitched tone makes you cringe.

"Yeah. No. Who are you again?" you say sassily, and you chuckle at her mortified expression.

"You bitch!" she was about to grab your hair, but luckily, your knight in shining armor comes in to save the day.. or you.

"I suggest you do not land your filthy hands on her, or else." he steps in front of you, voice low and his glare is dangerous.

"Donghyuck! But.. but she started it!"

"Yena, stop playing the fucking victim. Do you want me to actually tell people this stunt and possibly ruin your non-existent reputation?" Haechan announces, keen on making her leave as soon as possible.

The girl has gone rigid, mouth agape, and before she could say a word in, Haechan speaks again.

"Now, get out of my sight. You're making my eyes hurt. And stop calling me by my given name, we’re not even close." he throws an arm over your shoulder, guiding you out of the awkward situation and leaving the teary, humiliated girl in the aisle of shelves.

"Haechan, what are you doing?" you raised a brow, removing his arm and facing him properly.

He then smirks, showing you his test paper with a perfect score. Your eyes widen, a bright grin appears on your lips, heart swelling with pride and joy.

"Oh my god! You've actually done it." you praised him in a hush voice, clapping your hands quietly. "Congratulations Hae-"

"Donghyuck. Or Hyuck, please call me that from now on." he interjects and you were surprised for the third time that day.

"But why?" you asked, blinking at him in pure confusion.

"Because I said so." he side eyes you, scratching his neck and avoiding eye contact, "Also, you're coming with me to the mall."

"Why?"

Haechan groans at your never-ending whys.

"Because we're attending a party, you will be my date. No objections allowed. So, you're coming with me to the mall and we will shop for a matching outfit."

taglist:

@sunghoonsgfreal @yeosayang @mystverse @shakalakaboomboo

[taylorkellysburneraccount]

Ignoring how fucking annoying specific parts of this fandom will be, yeah, this feels like everything involved was misaligned. Like, having Henren's story end in two-three episodes, continuing the series regular tradition of doing nothing with Josh if he isn't either taking up Maddie's role when she isn't there or being her gay bestie, making every scene with Eddie about how straight he is, and now doing the most out of nowhere break up for the only other main queer couple since Michael's actor torpedoed the last one.

I think, we might have to come to terms with the fact that...this is getting to be glee levels of bad. The shout out was a warning, we are about to get terrible plot lines from the worst parts of fandom because everyone involved were not ready for the actual implications of making a bisexual main.

And the way Oliver talks about bisexuality, I am sorry I know he's like your fave but as a bisexual man it sounds like he has never talked to a bisexual once in his life. I genuinely am kinda grossed out with the way he talked about Buck needing to immediately have a sex montage but ~gay~ now that he's bisexual. Like, that's all you can think to do with his character? Are you 15, you are a grown man Oliver maybe Josh should've given a gay speech to YOU.

That's probably the most disappointing thing, because it feels like they genuinely don't even want to do Buddie, so this breakup won't even satisfy the weirdos who went full homophobe to defend a ship that wasn't even under attack.

Like at least Glee had in universe reasons to do things, they took place in a school so adding replacements to avoid cutting out the school sets they had while splitting the run time with the now graduated cast members made sense no matter how poor the execution. It genuinely feels like the writers took the first thing they saw in the tags, and went "lets actually give NO PAY OFF."

Also is it just me or was Maddie written weird as fuck in the josh and buck scene. The "turning men gay" joke about Abby came out of nowhere and kinda uncomfortably so?

[krakensdottir]

Also something really important I want to point out about Aziraphale's religious trauma.

It's often framed as him being directly abused by Heaven, generally emotionally. And while I don't doubt he's been belittled at points - probably not by Gabriel, the iconic exemplar of the Toxic Positivity boss, but we know how Michael and Uriel etc. can be - it also seems like he's received quite a lot of praise and has generally managed to pull off the appearance of being A Good Angel, or at least a satisfactory one. I don't think, and this is controversial, but I don't think Heaven was usually overtly hard on him.

Because that's not how this kind of cult mentality usually operates. Instead, it teaches you to abuse yourself. Your overseers don't have to directly hurt or insult you if you're so ingrained with fear of failure by the culture you were brought up in that you constantly question yourself as not good enough.

It's not as... satisfying, I guess? As an external abuser being the main issue. But it's a lot more real. At least to me, because I suffered so much anxiety over being 'good' when I was a kid, and it wasn't from direct abuse. It was absorbed from the culture I was surrounded by. I picked it up by osmosis from society at large, and it tormented me. I worried, I doubted, there was a time I literally feared going to Hell. And I wasn't raised strongly religious. My mother certainly treated me as a Good Kid, and never gave even the suggestion that I wasn't. But I felt that way anyway. And it tore me apart. Because internalizing that shit makes it so much harder to fight.

And to be clear at this point, I am not saying Heaven isn't abusive. I just think the nature of its abuse is more subtle and insidious than it's often given credit for. And - this is even harder to accept, but it's true, and it's important - it's not just abusive to Az. All the angels are victims of it. Yes, even Gabriel. The moment he, one of the most powerful forces in Heaven, steps out of line, we see that no one is exempt. Never even mind Muriel, who is literally on the lowest rung of the Heavenly ladder and has probably never been told they're worth anything beyond being, you know, an angel, so at least you're better than humans and demons.

It's a contrast with Crowley, who has long since accepted most (not all, there are definitely some deep issues remaining, but they're nothing like Aziraphale's) of his internal doubts and struggles. His fears are almost entirely external. He doesn't beat himself up if he fucks up. He doesn't have to. There are people happy to beat him up for him. So when things go really bad for him, his instinct is to run. To get out of the way of harm as much as possible.

The fact that Aziraphale is harder on himself than anyone else could be is a vital part of his character. He self-punishes. He self-criticizes. He feels awful every time he breaks the rules in the slightest, even though he isn't usually caught at it. Crowley can find some safety in solitude if he keeps his wits sharp and his head down. Aziraphale can't, because he carries Heaven's conditioning with him at all times. He doesn't need oversight, it doesn't take external threats to keep him in line. You don't need direct threats when literally everyone in your celestial workplace has seen firsthand the consequences of rebellion.

I don't know if I'm making sense here. Again, this is informed by personal experience and I can't claim to be unbiased. But I see so much internalization with Aziraphale. He literally can't even accept praise without being nervous as hell, and I don't think it's fear of punishment or ridicule that's his primary motivation. He simply cannot ever be good enough for himself.

That's how they get you.

Anyway, I think it's why his reaction to disaster is the opposite to Crowley's, why he feels he has to turn and face it and somehow avert the horror (or, alternatively, find some way to reconcile it in his head and accept it - because let's be real, that's often what happens) rather than get himself away. He's less afraid of failing his superiors than he is of failing himself. And God, who is, objectively, the biggest abuser in the entire story.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for refusing to ask my partner for permission before talking about my bottom surgery plans/bottom dysphoria?

I am genuinely at a loss on if my reaction was wrong or not. I can see why I may be TA, but I tend to be very adamant about my moral beliefs, and my partner tends to suppress his needs and people-please, so I need some second opinions.

I (23 FTX/FTM) identify as a genderfluid nonbinary man. I am pre-surgery of any kind. i enjoy penetration and don't mind having a vagina, but feel dysphoria because of the lack of a phallic appendage. I plan on eventually getting a metoidioplasty with a urethoplasty, but without a vaginectomy/scrotoplasty. i consider my ideal genital configuration to be what some call "salmacian."

as of VERY recently, i was unaware of anything aside from a complete phalloplasty being possible- due mostly to the way transmasculine bottom surgery is widely regarded as disgusting and mutilation, and rarely discussed openly without shame. learning about the existence of these procedures has given me an incredible amount of hope and joy, knowing i can achieve a GNC body i love.

my partner (24M) is, for the most part, extremely supportive of my transition goals and identity. we have been dating for about 2 years- when we first met, i told him i did not plan on getting any bottom surgery because i would be satisfied with bottom growth, and do not want a full phalloplasty. since learning about meta, my plans have changed.

when discussing the possibility of getting bottom surgery, he told me that he thinks phallo looks gross, and would not be okay having sex with me if i decided to get a phalloplasty. i found that upsetting, but told him that i still do not want a cis-confirming body, and explained the difference between phallo and meta. he said he would be fine with that, but im still upset at his reaction to even mentioning bottom surgery at all.

since that discussion, i have been talking often and excitedly about my newfound bottom surgery plans. like i said, it has given me so much joy to learn that there is an alternative to phallo, and i want to express that joy around my partner. however, he has asked me to ask him if it's okay to talk about anything regarding genitals before bringing it up.

i asked him why he needs me to ask for permission, and he told me that he finds all genitalia disgusting when not in the context of sex, and that it makes him uncomfortable when i bring it up unprompted. i find this upsetting as well. i strongly believe in the destigmatization of ALL body parts, especially transgender bodies. i believe that genitalia is just as neutral of a body part as an arm or a leg, and that any discomfort with body parts is the responsibility of the person uncomfortable to cope with and work through, and not something that should be censored. i find having to ask permission to talk about my transgender body to be censorship and transphobic. i refused to ask for permission first, and told him that he should work through his discomfort with the human body instead.

I may be TA because- i am refusing to respect a boundary.

He may be TA because- not all "boundaries" are equal. just like asking two gay people to not kiss in public without asking permission because it makes you uncomfortable would be a homophobic boundary, i find that asking your transgender partner to not talk about his bottom dysphoria/surgery plans without permission is a transphobic boundary.

[vangbelsing]

Just gonna throw out my thoughts on spoilers below the cut in reference to THAT Veilguard news today

I genuinely believe this is actually a good thing. Hot take, I know. But you know what? I don't think Bioware could ever satisfy the desires of every player. I would much rather have my headcanons for my Hero of Fereldan than to watch them appear in another game COMPLETELY different than how they were in DAO. And, I don't mean from how I headcanon them, I mean from the way they were literally portrayed in that game.

Take a look at Hawke. Not how I played them in DA2. Now look and the Inquisitor. Bioware is already forcing them to have a certain outlook that could be completely opposed to how they were played. Again, not how they were headcanoned, but literally portrayed in game. With the choices Bioware gave.

Do y'all genuinely think that "did you vow to save or stop Solas?" is gonna cover the NUMEROUS ways you could build a relationship with him in DAI? Those personal bits that you were given to rp and shape your character, those things that were literally IN THAT GAME, will be treated as if they didn't matter in order for the team to write your character how they think is most interesting. And it might just be me, but having your character the way you want them is one of the most important parts of these games, so watching them be taken and made to be something unrecognizable even from the choices you had them make in the game itself is... Unappealing to me.

Am I happy the reactivity from past games has been chopped down to three choices? No. Do I wish there was more? Yes. But if condensed reactivity to choices made in the other games means there can be more reactivity for the choices I make in this one? Fine. It is 100% a compromise, but it's a compromise I'm personally willing to make.

So yes, ultimately, I can work with this. Baldurs Gate 3 canonized a great deal from the first two games, and for the people that started with BG3, that means nothing. But for me? Someone who played the first two games that spent hours shaping the narrative of the game and building my character? Watching none of that matter as they parade around Abel fucking Adrian as the Bhaalspawn was the single most enraging thing I've experienced in a game. So Dragon Age not referencing stuff out of respect for my choices feels like a win, even if I wish there was more reactivity to old choices. I promise you all, this could be so, so much worse. I've literally seen it happen. Baldurs Gate was the original Dragon Age. I can tell you right now that if you were presented with the options of having Bioware not referencing your choices or a canon white male Cousland hero of Fereldan, you would take the former.

And this definitely is not intended to tell you you can't be upset about this or to act as a shield between you and a corporation. I'll take this because I genuinely do not trust Bioware to handle the Hero of Fereldan. But I got to have the alternative in bg3, and this may not be great, but oh my god it is so much better by comparison. After the way that game handled the Bhaalspawn, Jaheira, Viconia, and God forbid Sarevok... Yah. I'll take this any day. Seriously. Google any of those characters and look what Larian did to them in bg3. I will take this over that any day.

[mothmothm0th]

on forming a basic understanding of the moth

cw: parasitism

As a moth, the second most common refrain I hear is "I don't know what you are" in a myriad of different phrases. This is understandable and even preferable to the topmost common refrain. However, this confusion is not because us moths are strange or unusual on some deep, existential level. And indeed, it is a mistake to assume that because one is not strange or unusual, one cannot be a moth. Many of us present as perfectly ordinary, even to ourselves.

Of course, the typical moth will be glad to know that you find it confusing. Even I, as I write my little essay, am torn between being a good communicator and helpful teacher and throwing you off a cliff into a cloud of soporifics and dream-stuff. Thus, assuming an adverserial, distrustful stance to whatever I say is probably a reasonable thing to do. I could be lying out of my abdomen. Or possibly my thorax. Even if I was, I would still be attempting to present my case in such a manner that I would appear trustworthy and thuswise lure you into a false sense of confidence. I wouldn't do that to you though. We're friends, right? We're buddies!

Anyway, at the heart of the moth is a simple syllogism. If the term is unfamiliar to you, you will likely have encountered many examples of them in your life, such as Aristotles famous formulation, originally found in his foundational work en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Syllogism (350 BC). His syllogism states as such: "All men are mortal. Socrates is a man. Therefore, Socrates is mortal." I could explain syllogisms more thoroughly but I've already provided you with a source to learn for yourself. I'm a moth, not a science teacher. Instead, let's look at the syllogism of the moth. Consider this:

"All moths yearn. The author of this text is a moth. Therefore, the author yearns."

Simple, no? Now, put your thinking cap on and consider this one for size.

"All moths yearn. The author of this text yearns. Therefore, the author is a moth."

Now, I want you to ask yourself whether the statement given is true. And please do it before semantic satiation claims us all. I'll just give you some time to think really hard and I'll be doing that by way of writing nonsense to pad out the length of this paragraph because I need to make it look longer to satisfy the part of my brain that makes writing such a hassle sometimes but please don't be alarmed as purple scissors will not harm you underneath the tulip skies so long as you think really carefully and draw your conclusions with precision.

Did you think about it? Did anything seem amiss? That's right, there wasn't! The second syllogism is perfectly sound and valid beyond a reasonable doubt. All moths yearn, and all that yearns is moth. Good on you for not falling for that trap. You're so smart, and <first draft note!! insert applicable compliment here: beautiful | handsome | Still. don't forget to edit this later!!> too!

Of course, you might be thinking something along the lines of "well, I feel a deep sense of need for something too but that doesn't make me a moth." In reality, you are... possibly maybe correct in some sense of the word. However, what you experience as an emotion is actually a moth's egg, laid in the sweet tasty fabrics of your heart. If this makes you think "woah, so moth-eggs are everywhere, then", you would be quite right! While modern life has taken away the stars by which we navigate the night, those same conditions paradoxically help in the spontaneous generation of our eggs. Don't take this as me saying modern life bad. Pointing out how modern life is bad and bad for you is somewhat passé and indeed, we moths have existed since day one. In fact, to assume that I am saying that modern life bad assumes that I think mothiness is a bad thing. And I'm not saying that, stop saying I'm saying that.

Anyway, let's move out of the realm of baseless accusations about what I believe in and talk about the lifecycle of a moth a tad more. As described, a moth begins life as an egg, just like all other girls. And as discussed, a moth-egg is experienced by the fabric that lays it as yearning. Academic sources and my diurnal dreams differ on whether the yearning or the egg comes first. You may have heard this dilemna by its authorised discursive phrase, "chicken and the egg". A nice lil peek behind the Veil for you there. Don't worry about it.

As the moth-egg hatches, the moth/yearning enters its larval stage. The larva/yearning will begin to consume its fabric/host-mind. While this may sound scary, I invite you to consider how you are already being consumed by many things all the time, metaphorically. Capitalism consumes your labour, love consumes your reason, a third thing consumes another abstract concept, and so on and so on. Thus, while the process of mothly consumption gradually gnaws through the liminality between metaphor and literal, mind and soul, soul and body, it is still no more destructive than the aforementioned. You will not survive life unchanged. Give it up. Embrace metamorphosis. That's my advice to the moth-eaten fabrics in the audience anyway. But you're not moth-eaten. You're <ok seriously though what's a good gender, species, construct, and modality neutral word of praise?> so you don't have to worry about me trying to hasten anything. The eggs in your mind have not hatched. They will not hatch. Don't worry about it.

When the larva/yearning has thoroughly consumed its banquet/host, it weaves itself a cocoon/anticipation within the nice space left within the host's closet/skull. Some naughty witches have devised means of harvesting silk/desire from this cocoon/anticipation and the smart ones even wait until the imago/apotheosis has emerged before committing to the harvest. I wouldn't do either though, so don't worry. But we're getting off-track here. During this gestation period, the moth-to-be experiences a gradual shift in cognition. While most sources typically describe this shift in cognitive possibility space as "major depressive disorder" or "bipolar disorder" or "dissociative disorder" or even "other specified dissociative disorder", these label only apply to the more mundane, less exciting forms of having one's mind consumed. If you're a fully grown imago, you should sue!! In fact, please send me an ask with your frequency, flavour, and cardinality and I'll send you an oneiro-mail with instructions on the proper legal curses to apply.

Ah, distracted distracted. Mustn't let one get too distracted. You are not an imago. At least if you're the audience/sucker I'm writing this essay/trap for. No, no, no. You're here to learn what the lifecycle of a moth/yearning is! So let's talk about the moment a moth/yearning hatches/transcends. While the shift from larva to pupa is gradual enough that one might not even realise it is happening, the moment of transcendence is not. The final step of any metamorphosis is the most traumatic. It is a moment of great pain and of great bliss. John of the Cross/some nerd described it as "the dark night of the soul", which is a fitting description considering, yknow, nights. Moths. You get me. But that nerd was subscribed to some fake news youtuber and misattributed the whole thing to some old geezer who died a whole lotta time ago. Foolish. Foolish! No no no, the moment of hatching is something far greater, and something far more. To hatch is to see the light of Mansus with one's own eyes. To hatch is to become solid. To hatch is to transcend, to reach one's apotheosis of yearning. To become yearning itself. The false self is discarded, the true self is adorned. I see the shapes of things and I reach my hand out and the pain of change once again grips me and my heart sings and I become fluid again to become something anew for the me that is me is not the me that you see but the process is me and you are but a static object compared to me and I see the gods and the devils and they are static too and while my shape shall never be as luminescent I shall deconstruct their light and burn and burn and burn to be reborn and thus shall i die and never die and maybe i even get to drink the sweet sweet nectar of monster energy once again for i shall just be a little guy who is so terrible and nice and so i shall jump for the raw beef and fail the jump and burn in parkour prison until i change again for though i am not great or powerful you shall never diminish my joy and my love and my cycle of mistakes and fuck-ups will continue unto morrow and tomorrow and so it goes and so it goes and.

Oh, you're still here. Didn't notice you. I hope the lil writing exercise didn't bore you or anything. I think writing a bit of modernist pablum every now and then helps keep the mind unpretentious the rest of the time. Gotta keep that ol' noggin nice and crunchy. But in any case, I hope you've enjoyed this brief look into how to write a good essay or whatever the ohio this piece was about. If you're still suffering from symptoms of wanting-to-write-good-but-you-don't-know-how, please send an ask with your true name and object of yearning. I will get in contact with oneiro-mail as soon as I can.