#i wrote two different starters

[atl0yalty]

    she left jenkins at her wake, still perched at the bar like he thought he had a chance- he never would, ordinarily. but beth liked to play rough, and she wasn't opposed to using every weapon in her arsenal, even if it meant enduring his sweaty hand on her thigh or getting close enough to feel his breath of her cheek- it made her feel dirty, the urge to scald her body with a hot shower growing stronger with every step away from the lodge. the bruise on her cheek smarts something awful, and she crooked her jaw with a click of her tongue, reaching up with the back of her hand to press her sleeve covered arm against the mark her so-called brother had made. oh, she had swung first there was no doubt about it. but she knew jamie had A MONSTER inside him. and it's only a matter of time before everyone else saw it too.

starter call / @patentyd : beth for rip.

                " you ever fuckin' sleep, rip? " she called out as her eyes caught sight of him lurking in the shadows of the barn, her steps faltering slightly as she looks past him toward where she had fallen just hours before, and she rolled her eyes as she moved to march on. he would follow dutifully, of that beth was sure. as loyal to her father as beth dutton may be, ain't NO ONE more loyal than rip. " carry on cowboy, " she drawled listlessly, barely glancing over her shoulder as she reached the fence, hoisting the skirt of her dress up slightly so she could move to climb over it, sitting on the ledge with one leg on either side. " i don't need you babysittin' me tonight. " it's almost midnight, the day's end approaches and she can feel the tension rise in her bones as she wills it to come faster. she's so fucking tired.

[dreamisols]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ COFFEE TALK

INTRODUCTION FIC TO 'THE ART OF REMEMBRANCE'

—the rare moments of free time allow you and your boyfriend to talk about anything and everything that comes to mind... at this point, you two might as well be the third division's free podcast! —wc: 1050; fluff but mostly crack —original canon, x fem!reader, you and hoshina are just silly, hibino leno and kikoru mentions, one cuss, general pov more or less, i advocate for silly unhinged dynamics —rimi's ramble: told myself not to rush the series but i wrote this in one sitting... my summer's gonna be spent writing about this man, buckle up folks! >:]

The Third Division considers you and Hoshina as their power couple. 

Charming looks paired with commanding auras, levels of strength that no one would dare go against, all topped off with endearing one-of-a-kind personalities. Two puzzle pieces that fit as if they’re made for each other.

Everyone within the division quickly accepted and supported your relationship with the Vice Captain. And with that support comes your status as the “local love team"—an inside joke and a makeshift badge of honor (if one could even call it that).

In their defense, there isn't even any sort of competition to begin with. You two are the only couple within the division.

Every member, no matter how long they’ve been in the Defense Force, holds high respect towards both of you. They trust you with a lot of things—the wisdom you both give to your members is actually useful, and your attack combos on the field are nothing to scoff at. 

Yes, they would trust you two with their lives, and yes, the way they’d say it might blur the lines of comedy and seriousness. There’s simply one thing that’s holding everyone off…

No one trusts the both of you with coffee. 

Ironic, considering it’s one of Vice Captain Hoshina’s favorite things. 

Another inside joke is that whenever a member enters the lounge room and they’re greeted by the rich inviting scent of brewed coffee, they will be tuning in to some sort of a podcast episode hosted by their one and only dynamic duo. 

No one session is the same. Sometimes you two end up talking about some story you read or some personal experiences. Other days, it’s just opening as many controversial topics as you both can while expressing your opinions in a lighthearted debate. One time, to the division’s surprise, you two started doing a deep dive into a conspiracy theory, complete with a whole digital presentation and proven statistics. 

It’s even more surprising how convincingly well put the entire thing was to the point even Captain Ashiro listened in with interest. 

The members found it pleasant, enjoyable even. A chance to hold more conversations about different non-kaiju-related topics thanks to you and Hoshina’s exceptionally random conversation starters.

All they ask is that you guys don’t open up a topic that might get you random looks at best, or—hypothetically—get the both of you canceled on the internet at worst.   

Today was one of those days, the team figured, when you and your boyfriend step into the (initially busy) lounge with matching porcelain cups. Hibino, Leno, and Kikoru were the ones present in the room… this marks their first time listening in on the two of you rambling.

“I don’t know, Soshiro-san, don’t you think that may be a little too intense?” you made a beeline and assumed your spot on the couch right in front of Kikoru, drinking from your cup the moment you sat on the soft cushion.

Hoshina follows after you and settles right by your side, “No way!” If he weren’t holding anything, you can envision the way he’d cross his arms and huff. He mimics your movements from a while ago, taking a sip from his drink before placing the cup down with a small ‘clink!’. 

A childish pout graces his lips as he stares right at you. “If you think hard enough, I’m telling ya, dicing those kaiju is just like makin’ intricate fruit carvings!”

May the gods give the juniors strength because what the actual fuck were you two talking about?

The room is radio silent. You and Hoshina continue to glare at each other as if you’re both in a mental debate. Which seems likely enough.  

Kikoru nudges Leno’s arm to get him to break the ice and the poor guy sputters. Hibino breaks into a cold sweat when he catches the way you and Hoshina sharply look at the three of them. 

“V-Vice Captain..! (Name)-san… go–good afternoon!” Leno prays his salute doesn’t give away the fact he’s shaking.

By record, this may have to be the oddest conversation they’ve heard in passing.

You flash the three of them a small smile and Hoshina does a small wave of his hands. Not even a second later, the man beside you jumps at the opportunity to find allies for his claim.

“You guys think that slicin' kaiju is like slicing fruits, right?”

Bless your soul that you’re stubborn enough to match his energy. “If anything, it’s more like carving wood! You have to be intricate about it!” 

Hoshina looks back at you like you’ve transformed into the kaiju you were talking about, “Wood carving?! Darlin’ I love you more than the coffee I’m drinking right now, but you’ve reached a new level of insanity!”

“Comparing anything to kaiju neutralization is already some form of insanity…” Leno whispers under his breath. “Let alone wood carving and fruit dicing…” Kikoru murmurs back in agreement. 

“Aww, you love me more than coffee?”

The immediate shift from a lighthearted argument to some sappy lovey dovey confession while talking about carving patterns on kaiju may be just as impressive as your combat prowess, the trio decides. 

Hibino breathes a sigh of relief and mumbles, “Those two fit each other so well… wonder if it’s a match made in heaven or hell…”

“We’re soulmates!” Hoshina corrects him, instinctively reaching out to hold your hands as if it’ll prove his point further. He gently laces his fingers with yours before glowering at Hibino, “You also called us demons with the whole 'hell' comment. Thirty push-ups for the three of you, ya hear?”

Leno nudges his senior’s ribs like he wants to end him right then and there. Kikoru was probably devising ways to successfully kill him on the spot. Hibino’s fighting for his life, but he still manages to catch the way you and Hoshina look at each other with mirroring lovesick smiles. 

If he manages to scrape out alive, maybe this coffee talk wasn’t that bad.

likes and reblogs are appreciated, but please don’t copy or repost my work! [edited: 062424]

[drenched-in-sunlight]

I didn’t want to write this out this early because I’m sure there are even more to discover, but people are already reblogging my previous art of Marika and Messmer & saying Marika doesn’t love him, so I write this out as a guideline that all my art is drawn with this theory in mind.

(While the DLC has changed the way I feel about certain events and characters, my view on Messmer and Marika remain unchanged. In fact, I think Marika skyrockets into my most fav in the game now. lol.)

* Beware of endgame spoiler under the cut

Please note that I wrote this without providing the item descriptions I use to develop this theory, because I want to make a proper post later with all evidence after I’ve played through all of the DLC. But those items exist and could be found in game.

Here is how I view Messmer and Marika’s relationship (he is her most beloved child):

For starter:

*the winged serpent - Messmer’s symbol, is considered a wise creature and is his friend. It is NOT the snakes that are viewed as traitors to the Erdtree, since the Serpent Crest shield was even made to commemorate his crusade. It’s also DIFFERENT from the evil snake he was born with.

*this is not to defend their actions, they are still horrible people, but I want to show that they have depths and are well-written characters with stories and emotions. My unhinged mother and son duo 😔✊

—-

I like the poetry in Marika starting the war against the Fire Giants in part as revenge for Messmer (it’s implied the Fell God is the Outer God that cursed him / it’s outright stated that he hated his fire), & now Messmer leading the purge against the Hornsent as revenge for Marika and her people (it’s implied the disappearance of her village has sth to do with the spirit calling rite the people at the Tower were doing).

I actually think Marika raised Messmer in her home village for a while too. She didn’t throw him to LoS alone, she was raising him in secret in her home, fearing people will judge him for carrying a malevolent snake. The two Tree Sentinels before the village dropped Marika’s Blessing. Yes. the Blessing she made specifically for him.

When you zoom in the Marika statue in his boss room, she was smiling when hugging him. I think ppl tend to forget that Marika, like Malenia and Miquella, carries tree/ foliage motif. RADAGON IS WEAK TO FIRE. If Messmer was cursed with fire and it started to manifest around him … of course she couldn’t embrace him anymore. It was physically hurting her, and Messmer wouldn’t have wanted to cause her pain as well. The soldier ghost at Ensis castle was begging Marika to embrace her child again, implying it’s sth that he yearns for. But couldn’t have now. Because of his damned curse.

If you look at the story that way, Messmer’s death dialogue makes perfect sense. It’s his lament that he’s gone from Marika’s precious (presumably firstborn) child, a source of her happiness, to a curse against her (*point to Radagon’s hair as another connection to Fire Giants and their curse). Robbing her (and himself) of the close bond they used to share.

It’s why Messmer alone has more blessings *directly* from Marika than any other Demigods. His army also receives more blessings than any other faction on the Lands Between, and they all refer to Marika as dearest Mother and Fair Mother.

Hell, after Messmer, Marika couldn’t connect to any of her other children again. This is like the ultimate doomed mother and son. Whatever I expected from them from the beginning, Fromsoft cranked it to eleven. Jfc.

[genericpuff]

The excessively passive voice when talking about Minthe being intended to have BPD is hilarious. "It was thought to have her written with BPD"? So weird

Honestly, once you start noticing this passive voice in how Rachel writes and talks, it's kind of hard to unsee.

Like, for starters, the BPD example. It's very non-committal, almost as if to sound like she never actually wrote her with BPD, it was just an 'idea' that she could neither confirm or deny as canon. But then you read the episode with the slap and-

It's- it's literally called "Splitting". It's about as subtle as a brick to the face. This entire episode showcases Minthe having an actual literal episode of splitting and it's plain as day to anyone who can read the title card and put two and two together. So for the wording to be so passive around her characterization... it wasn't "thought" to have her written with BPD, she was written with BPD.

Another example that sticks out in my mind of Rachel's passive writing is far later in Season 3, when Demeter reunites with Persephone and naturally expects her to come back home with her.

This line still fucking bothers me to this day. Besides the fact that it's just really poorly written dialogue, Persephone describes her being in love with Hades as if it's just some coincidental thing that happened to her that she can't avoid and not a deliberate choice she's making. "It would seem" my ass, Persephone is a coward for not being upfront and just talking to her mother like an adult by saying, "Mother, I love you, and I understand why you want me to come home, but I'm in love with Hades and want to stay in the Underworld with him." Instead the way it's worded is almost designed to absolve Persephone of any and all agency in her own decisions and active participation in her relationship with Hades by instead making it out to be just some circumstance that she can't get herself out of.

Again, this isn't quite as egregious as the aforementioned BPD scene, but it's still irritating because Rachel writes like this a lot throughout LO. And it's not just the dialogue either, entire decisions throughout the comic are flip-flopped and kept vague by Rachel so she can give herself plausible deniability over the narrative. I could come up with some of my own examples, but I think she managed to speak for herself just fine in the end-of-series Q&A that left both critics and fans of the series massively confused and disappointed:

LO is full of half-committed plotlines because Rachel herself can't commit to her own decisions. So the decisions she does make are left vague enough that hardcore fans are willing enough to fill in the blanks themselves, but anyone who asks her genuinely what her plan was, she just gives the same wordy "IDK it's up to your interpretation!" response. It's like she thinks people are asking her as just another reader who can only speculate, but she's literally the author, so why is she acting like her guess is as good as theirs?

Well, because that's how she wrote LO. That's how she's always written comics, with vague half-finished thoughts and just enough for readers to do the mental gymnastics of making sense of it all just to give her the credit for "smart writing" that she never actually did because she stopped paying attention after the first sentence. And that method of being vague for the sake of audience interpretation is fine for illustrations or anything that isn't trying to be a concise narrative, but LO did try to be that and it really shows how hard it failed in doing so when its own creator can't even come up with something slightly plausible to explain all the questions people had in the end. "There is some backstory there" but proceeds to not actually expand on said backstory. "I like to imply things without outright telling people", so do I, but the difference is that Rachel is using that as a crutch to not answer the questions she setup for her readers and then didn't resolve after five years. There's not wanting to spoon feed people the plot, and then there's literally refusing to explain your decisions when writing said plot, almost because you don't know any more than they do.

The entirety of LO is rooted in Rachel's passiveness, from her inability to answer questions concisely to every little plot point that was established and dropped throughout the comic's run. Writing a story is a series of decisions, deciding what to keep, deciding what not to keep, deciding what has to be changed, etc. and Rachel just... doesn't seem like someone who's ever been capable of making those decisions, especially when she's writing an actual long form story to the end and doesn't have the luxury of dropping it whenever it feels convenient for her like she did several times with The Doctor Pepper Show. Once she was actually held to a standard, once she was actually signed into a contract that expected her to make those decisions, she failed to and it culminated in one of the messiest conclusions to a story I've seen since Game of Thrones.

LO is kind of like Schrodinger's Cat - a plot point can be or not be whatever it needs to be so that Rachel can be either praised for smart writing she never did or absolved of bad writing that she did do. It's equally parts interesting and vague enough that whatever her readers give her credit for writing, she can give them a thumbs-up and go "you're totally right, champ!" and proceed to take all the credit of being a "good writer" from the efforts of her own audience who had to jump through a million hoops to make sense of her own messy writing.

But when she's put on the spot by those very same readers to answer for her own decisions, she can't.

Because she never made them.

Because there was never anything "deeper" going on, that's just what her style of "distraction writing" made you believe. The plot never lets you stop to think about what you just read long enough before zipping away to the next thing and distracting you with a new twist or a new character or a new plot point, and before you know it, you've gone weeks without reading about the last thing that was established you probably haven't even realized that those questions never got answered. Sometimes Rachel remembers to get back to those things and resolves them within a handful of panels, other times she forgets them entirely and just leaves them to rot in the hopes that no one ever calls her out on it. And when they do... she can just pull the get-out-of-jail-free "Welp, it's up to your interpretation!" card and get that credit all over again for being deep and insightful, meanwhile those who are rightfully dissatisfied with that answer are blanket-accused of "getting mad at Rachel for not writing the story they wanted".

To close out this ask that, per tradition, turned into an essay, I'd like to recall the famous words of fictional detective Benoit Blanc: "Look into the clear center of this glass onion... Miles Bron is an idiot!"

[temis-de-leon]

Shy gn!reader goes to their first date with the Dateables

Characters: Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon and Simeon (x reader, separately)

Masterlist

Part 1 , Part 2 , Demon Brothers version

Romance Anon: Could I request headcanons for Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon, and Simeon react to shy gn s/o who asked what he would like to do for their first date because he made them happy by accepting their confession so they want to make him happy?

.

A/N: wrote this while my upstairs neighbors were doing the nasty, so I got a little distracted

.

Diavolo

He feels somewhat conflicted, to say the least. Growing up having everything his way, you could believe this would be easy for him, but you would be wrong. On the contrary, it’s precisely for that reason that he doesn’t want to be the only one organizing the date.

Still, you asked him directly, so he’ll humour you.

He asks Lucifer and Barbatos for ideas and he’s left with even more questions.

He could go big, book Ristorante Six so it’s just the two of you and hire a string quartet to set the mood; or he could literally go home, as they say, ask his butler to cook a special dinner and make the garden look pretty.

There’s also the possibility of going downtown, share some ice cream and take a stroll in the park or the busy avenue.

His indecision doesn’t come from a lack of interest, but rather from cluelessness.

Should he do all of that? Should he make another plan? Something more extravagant? Something tamer?

He’s completely lost. You made him happy when you agreed to go out with him as well, so there’s no need for letting him decide everything, especially for your first date.

He wants to be with you, talk to you, have your whole attention and let you have his as well, so, in the end, he settles for the most private option.

Hopefully, you both will have time for more.

Barbatos

There’s a contradiction in your interests.

He’s immensely glad you’re happy upon going out with him, but what he wants the most is to know you more than anyone else has ever done before.

Therefore, his idea of a perfect first date is to know what’s your ideal first date and to make that a reality.

Do you like big gestures? He can take you to the opera or to a luxurious dinner, maybe even both.

Or perhaps you prefer a more intimate setting, which would be most preferable.

He excels in tea parties after all, something the both of you know, and he can use the opportunity to try new recipes and impress you. Maybe even use the tea blend he prepared just for you, a part of his efforts he deeply hopes you like.

Barbatos is perfectly aware that serving his date as a first date may not seem like something one may do for his own enjoyment, even when you were the one to ask him what to do for your day out together, but you have to understand, MC.

In his eyes, the best path towards your happiness is the one where he is the cause of it.

Solomon

At first he thinks of cooking something for you, maybe ask Luke to bake dessert beforehand, and have dinner at Purgatory Hall, but his roommates’ immediate refusal confuses him.

He just wants to impress you!

But, hey, if his friends insist on changing plans... There’s plenty of other things to do anyways.

Why not get out of the Devildom for starters? A change of scenery sounds like a good idea and it’s not like you’re going to be away for too long. Plus, you can forget the brothers for once and he gets the opportunity of having your sole attention for a whole day.

It’s a win-win situation.

You’re going to be a human couple spending time in the human realm doing human things.

And what’s more human than the sun? The warmth, the light… He could take you to a coastal city and sunbathe in the beach or to a small mountain town and walk through its green pastures.

Do you know how to make flower crowns? You could learn with him!

Take advantage of your human curiosity! What better companion than him?

Sure, the brothers and the royals could sweep you off your feet in many different ways, but if there’s something only he can give you is understanding.

You’re going through so much, learning and improving, saying goodbye to the person you once were, he’s the only one capable of comprehend the change in your humanity.

Trust in him to take the weight off your shoulders.

Simeon

He knows exactly what to do.

While he would love to have a traditional date with you, dining in a nice place before going for a stroll and take you home, he knows Luke wouldn’t understand the concept of a date per se.

And as much as he loves the kid, he wants to be just with you for the night.

So, he does just that. He invites you to go out for the night while Luke is sleeping.

There’s a spot in one of the rooftops of RAD and he has visited it enough times to know it’s the perfect place for your date.

He asks Belphie for help and Diavolo for permission, borrowing books and asking simple questions about the sky, the constellations and the legends behind it.

It’s not about studying as much as possible about the stars to impress you, which he’d prefer happening in a more natural setting, but rather having you discover the wonders that surround you with him.

Just the thought of keeping you close, shielding you from the cold of the night and staring at the dark sky with your fingers tightly intertwined with his, sends an involuntary smile to his face.

He wants to spend time with you, it’s as simple as that, but why not make it even more beautiful?

.

.

[hvlcy0n]

CANVAS . sakura haruka x fem! reader

+ tsubaki’s birthday is approaching, and sakura may or may not need your help finding a present. coincidentally, you may or may not need someone to test the gifts on first.

+ 4.3k words

+ SFW (account is still 18+). UNEDITED. i gave tsubaki they/them pronouns. friends to ???

+ i mostly wrote this to get back into the groove of writing, so this was my first time writing for any of these characters. i hope it's not terribly ooc but i literally can’t look at it anymore so just take it

sakura has always prided himself on having never backed down from a fight—never, even when the odds were clearly stacked against him. he has never cowered, never turned tail and fled, never made excuses to weasel his way out of a sticky situation.

but this . . . this is different. 

now, every muscle in his body is rigid, a rubber band poised to snap and launch him straight out of the cosmetic shop he’s found himself in. the tips of his ears feel entirely too warm to be normal, and his hands are shoved firmly in his pockets to mask the sheen of sweat clinging to his palms. he feels out of his element, relegated to the corner between two false eyelash displays. make no mistake, the problem isn’t that he’s cornered in a female–dominated area and couldn’t tell you the difference between blush and bronzer. after all, it doesn’t apply to him, so what business of his is it?

the issue is that tsubaki’s birthday is approaching, and at suo’s behest, sakura set out to locate a proper birthday present for his upperclassman. his first two attempts were sorry at best, with suo sending him straight back into town after being presented with a keychain and then a five–pack of white socks. begrudgingly, sakura complied, trudging through the streets in search of a store that would be appealing to someone of tsubaki’s style. 

that’s where he bumped into you.

as one of tsubaki’s close friends, you’ve been in their orbit for as long as he’s known them, and consequently, in his. from the beginning, you were unabashed in your acceptance of sakura, the glimmer of kindness in your gaze unwavering despite his embarrassed outbursts as he struggled to get used to your presence. he wholeheartedly expected you to give up and deem him unlikable, but you never did. there was always an invitation to hang out on the tip of your tongue, a certain carefulness in your fingertips as you fussed over his injuries and pinched his skin for being reckless, a smile blooming on your lips every time you saw him approach. 

you made strides to understand him—social awkwardness and all.

but, unfortunately—or fortunately, he doesn’t really know—somewhere along the line, that sheepishness and defensiveness he naturally regarded everyone with gave way to something else. he couldn’t quite identify what those feelings were, but he did know that you made him feel different. for starters, the blush that would normally tinge his cheeks when in the presence of his friends would flare almost uncontrollably when he’s with you. 

warmth would bleed down the porcelain column of his throat and stain his chest, stirring to life tongues of flame that lap over his muscles and cocoon his chest cavity in a nearly blistering heat. from there, it would trickle into the pit of his stomach, coalescing into a knot of tangled feelings that left him teetering on the cusp of being addicted to and frightened by your closeness. at some point, you’ve managed to sew yourself into the lining of his life, carving out a space in his psyche that makes his stomach clench to imagine empty.

you’re a fucking problem is what you are.

so, when you, arms laden with your own shopping bags, volunteered to help him find a gift for tsubaki since you were already bouncing from store to store, he was initially planning to decline. but he figured that you would know what they like better than anyone. on top of that, he really didn’t want to return to suo with a third failed attempt.

but, now that you’ve corralled him into some tiny makeup store nobody knows about, he wonders if he should’ve just bitten the bullet and admitted defeat. nobody told him ahead of time that the aisles would be so slim and that he would be expected to leave any concept of personal space at the door. you knew what you were doing, that was for sure. but every time you swept past him on the hunt for something new, a whiff of your perfume would smack him directly in the face and cause his heart rate to spike. if that wasn’t disorienting enough, he didn’t know how many more times he could handle being asked by the senile store manager if you two were together.

no, of course, you weren’t together. that would be ridiculous.

but, every time he stumbled over his words to explain the situation, you would merely laugh, causing his blush to worsen.

yeah, definitely not together . . . 

there’s no way that would happen.

that would be . . .

“sakura!”

the glassiness in his eyes snaps into focus at the sound of your voice, and his soul nearly slips out of his body when he realizes that you’re standing directly in front of him. a worried frown is etched into your features, and you lift a hand striped with an array of different colors to wave at him. “i’ve been calling you! what are you doing all the way over here? i moved like three aisles away and thought you came with me.”

a rosy blush explodes across his face when he realizes that there’s only a sliver of space separating your chests. an almost comical gasp is punched from his chest as he springs past you, rushing to escape the weight of your gaze on his and the bewitching cloud of perfume that’s beginning to settle over him. “sakura,” you sigh when he lands nimbly a few feet away, “just—”

“what?” he snaps defensively, whirling around to fix you with a weak excuse for a glare.”what do you think you’re doing, sneaking up on me? i could’ve knocked you out!”

“well, thank goodness you didn’t,” you answer breezily, adjusting your hold on your bags. “here, come on. i need to test some swatches on you since your skin tone is like identical to theirs.”

“some what?”

“swatches.” you nod. “they’re like these,” you lift your hand once more to show off the lines of color smeared over your skin. “it’ll give me a better idea of what i’m working with.”

“yeah, alright.” he agrees easily, glancing off to the side to try to salvage what’s left of his self–control and pretend like he hadn’t just seen his life flash before his eyes. “whatever.” turning away, you can’t help but chuckle softly at his desperate grab for nonchalance. he bristles, heart palpitating, at the sound. “don’t laugh at me!” he shouts, sharply jabbing his index finger at your back as you retreat.

nevertheless, he trails after you, glancing at the abundance of lotions and soaps piled on wooden display shelves along the way. what could girls really need all these options for? do they even sell? his attention drifts to you as you stroll a couple paces ahead. do you use any of them? now that he thinks about it, you seem pretty comfortable in this store. do you frequent it often? were you also looking at stuff you liked? should he have been paying attention? did he make a mistake? holy shit, what is he gonna do for your birthday? 

“sakura,” his spiraling thoughts are dispelled swiftly, and his eyes dart to you immediately. you’ve halted at one of the aisles and are regarding him carefully, features softened with concern. “are you alright? you look like you’re in pain.”

having been caught, his defenses rise automatically. “‘course, i’m alright!” he retorts, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets as he stalks past you and into the aisle you were poised to enter. “dunno what you’re talking about.” he mumbles.

you simply shake your head and follow him. “you’re so prickly.” you sigh, but your tone is laced with a faint lilt of amusement.

“no, i’m not!” he objects instantly, eyes popping open in indignation, not even pausing to think about how it makes him seem.

you simply gesture to him with a loose wave of your hand. “exhibit a.” you snort.

he huffs, spinning back around to glower at the array of eyeshadow palettes beaming up at him. “whatever.” he grumbles. “what’d ‘ya want over here?”

you shift the bags you’re holding to one hand before answering. “this one,” you pick up a sleek black palette and pop it open, showing him a lineup of rich, earthy shades. “here, roll up your sleeve.”

“my sleeve?” he gawks at you like you just told him that you were expecting him to leap headfirst into a tank of venomous snakes. “hold on, that wasn’t part of the agreement! i thought it was just gonna be on my hand. what if it gets on my jacket?”

“that’s the whole reason i’m asking you to roll up your sleeve. the plan is still to just use your hand, don’t worry.” you assure him, and he reluctantly obeys.

you place your shopping bags on the tile floor in favor of reaching for his hand. his reflex is to snatch his hand away and launch himself three feet back, but for some reason, your voice echoes in the back of his mind. prickly. 

sakura knows that he is pretty rough around the edges and isn’t always the easiest person to get along with, but he can say with full confidence that he strives to better himself and adapt to his new situation every day. that being said, physical affection—or affection of any kind—has always thrown him for a loop. he never understood how people could be so casual with one another, so generous with embraces and pats on the back; but he couldn’t deny the warm, fuzzy sensation that would envelop his body whenever he received it. 

your touch is the one that is taking him the longest to grow accustomed to, it’s different from the rough headlocks and fondly ruffled hair that his friends shower him with. at first, he reasoned it was simply because you’re a girl, but that doesn’t quite make sense either. after all, he certainly doesn’t feel like this whenever kotoha or some other girl he winds up saving grabs his arm. this . . . he doesn’t know what it is. 

but he does know that whenever you would make contact with him, he felt fucking weird. butterflies would explode in his chest, the light kiss of their ticklish wings causing his stomach to flip and goosebumps to prickle along his skin. at first, he just thought it was anxiety. but the more he considered it, he recalls that in all his years, he’s never found himself yearning for the feeling of anxiety afterward. 

this is different. your touch is soft. it’s comforting. it brims with a gentle affection that he worries will disarm him if he indulges for too long, yet he can’t deny the tiny nagging in the back of his mind that waits for the next time you’ll playfully bump your shoulder into his or casually place your hand on his shoulder to reach over him. 

maybe that’s why he finds himself remaining still despite the alarm bells ringing in his ears, his body tense and breath lodged in his throat as your fingers curl around his wrist. the certainty in your hold causes a shiver to zing up his spine and a new wave of heat to surge through his body, but you don’t seem phased in the slightest, blissfully ignorant to the internal crisis roiling in his brain as you shuffle half a step closer. he squints at your face in disbelief. why are you so okay with this? with him?

shit. he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this, much less understand it. 

whatever.

“keep it like this.” you instruct him, and he swears he can physically feel his chest decompress when you release him. 

the first color you smear across the back of his hand is a shimmery copper, and his eyebrows raise as he tilts his wrist to examine it. “not bad, i guess.” he comments. “you think that’ll work?”

“of course! earthy colors look heavenly on blue eyes.” you insist, raising your head with a vibrant grin. dear god, this is not good for his wellbeing.

but, just as quickly, your smile vanishes, and sakura’s eyebrows twitch. “what’s wrong?”

“there’s blue in this one. they don’t particularly care for that color.” you inform him, pointing to a vivid electric blue at the very end of the line.

“what’s so bad about that one?” he frowns. “blue’s not bad.”

“not, it’s not, but it isn’t as flattering on blue eyes as other colors.” his lips pucker into a small “o” at your explanation, and you flip the palette closed and return it to its rightful place.

“huh . . .” sakura muses, eyes skipping over the selection. “earthy colors . . . so like brown?” you hum in agreement, and after a moment of hesitation, he points to a slim palette with a fuzzy coffee–brown color. “what about this?”

“uh . . . let’s see. here’s the tester for it.” you swipe the frontmost one and pop it open to display a dazzling lineup of warm tones ranging from a deep oak shade to pale peach, and after a moment, your eyes gleam. “wait, this might be perfect!” you gasp. your head snaps over to him, delight scrawled across your expression. “how’d you do that?”

inexplicably, he finds his chest swelling with pride at your praise. “well—” he stumbles. “it was just a lucky guess. it’s not like i was payin’ attention or anything. i just happened to pick it up.”

“regardless,” your smile is genuine and unrestrained, and in that split second, he decides that he wants to see it again—just for fun, of course, obviously, “the colors you chose are gorgeous. here.” you swipe a line of light peach eyeshadow beside the copper color. “this one would be perfect for a more subtle everyday look. it’s pretty light on your skin, so i know it’ll look super pretty on theirs. and look!” you point to a copper shade identical to the one from the previous palette. “there’s even one of these!”

“huh . . . yeah, you’re right.” he blinks.

you promptly snap the tester shut and switch it out for an unopened palette. “alright, this is the one! i think they’ll like this one the best.” you beam. he takes it from you, flipping it over in his hands.

oh.

“uh . . .” his brain stalls for a moment as he processes what you’re insinuating. “so . . .” he hesitates, doing his best to ignore the strange prick of disappointment in his gut. “does that mean we’re done here?”

“let me think . . .” you hum, taking a moment to ponder your next move before decisively planting your hands on your hips. “nope! there’s still something else we’ve gotta grab.” he perks up when you abruptly spin around and take off the aisle without warning. 

“h–hey!” he protests, trying yet failing miserably to sound intimidating. “don’t just go off on your own!” he’s left to scramble after you, cheeks burning.

he catches up to you fairly easily, finding you perusing a display of brand new lip glosses by the time he slows to a halt. “this?” he questions. “you wanna get tsubaki . . .” he squints at the sign, “lip gloss?”

your lips curve into a frown. “ugh, there’s no tester for these. whatever, it’s fine.” sakura stares, aghast, as you deftly pluck a light pink gloss from the batch and start to twist it open.

“wh—you can’t just open it!” he gasps. “are you insane?”

“i’m gonna buy it regardless. tsubaki likes this brand.” you reassure him. “i just want to know if it leaves a tint at all.” spotting a mirror on a nearby display, you shimmy past him and make your way up to it, only to heave an exasperated sigh at your reflection. “damn, i forgot i already have one on. this won’t work.”

“well, what are you gonna do?” sakura demands, casting tense, feverish glances around him to ensure you two aren’t about to be accused of thievery. 

he can practically see the cogs rotating in your brain as you mull over your options and pensively press your lips together. he stiffens when you slowly turn to him, a wicked grin blooming on your lips and a new idea illuminating your gaze. “you’re not wearing anything, are you?”

a thick silence stretches between the two of you, disturbed only by the monotonous whir of the air conditioning and the staccato squeak of his sneakers along the tile floor as he shifts backward. he’s not . . . what? he blinks blankly at you, arms dangling uselessly at his sides. wearing anything? why would that matter?

“ . . . huh?”

it’s only when you remove the wand from the bottle with a viscous pop! and take a step toward him that the gravity of your words sets in, and his body jolts as if he’s been struck by a bolt of lightning. a shrill gasp that sounds more like a pitiful wheeze wracks his chest, and he staggers backward, narrowly avoiding catching a metal display hook to the back of his skull. “hell no!” he barks, a furious blush blazing across his face. “what are you—you can’t put that on me!”

you continue creeping toward him, eyes alight with mischief. “come here!” you laugh. “you can’t fight destiny.”

of course, he can.

unsuccessful at deterring you, his body naturally assumes a fighting stance, fists lifting as if preparing to strike. but unlike his usual stance, which is cemented by self–assurance and an undeniable prowess, his body feels cumbersome and unsteady, as if he could be bowled over by a single shove to his chest. “so, you wanna fight? is that it?" the slight fracture in his voice doesn’t help the situation. in fact, it only seems to fuel your decision. 

there is no reluctance in your movements as you step directly in front of him. with the way your disposition is still relaxed, he wouldn’t be shocked if his words were merely a figment of his imagination. “oh, come on,” you beg, nudging aside his clenched fists without breaking eye contact. “i just need you to wear a little bit. i’d really do it myself if i could! i have makeup wipes in my bag. you can wipe it off immediately after if you want. promise.”

“the hell you think this is, huh?” he snaps. his defenses compromised, sakura presses the back of his hand to his lips in a last–ditch attempt at protecting the lower half of his face.

“you only have to bear with me for five seconds.”

“fuck no!”

closer.

“sakura, please!”

“y–you . . .”

closer.

“just one . . .” you murmur, stepping close enough for your chest to graze his. sakura inhales sharply and flushes a shade you didn’t even know was possible. “little . . .” the hand clutching the tube raises to tug his last defense away as you lean in. he grits his teeth.

really close.

a small, gravelley sound of complaint grinds its way out of sakura’s throat as he finally stills, pinned helplessly between you and a lip balm display. even so, he doesn’t push you away. he doesn’t swat the lip gloss out of your hand. he simply stands there, stiff as a board and overly warm to the touch, and allows you to do as you please. as he waits for you to finish, all he can wonder is why? 

why is he letting this happen? he should be rejecting your touch and cursing you out just as he would anyone else. but he isn’t. why? and why are you doing this to him? why are you so comfortable behaving this way with him? why is his heart beating so hard? can you hear it? he sure as hell hopes not.

by the time you step away, it feels both too long yet too soon. sakura clenches his jaw at the frustrating jumble of emotions, but you’re none the wiser as you simply twist the wand back into the tube, eyes aglow. “i was right, it is a pretty color!” you purse your lips sympathetically. “sorry, i know that was probably pretty miserable. you can wipe it off now if you want. it shouldn’t take long for the stain to show up.”

you’re mistaken. the makeup was never the issue. the whole problem is that you were in such close proximity that all he could focus on was the wrinkle of concentration in your brow and how you were close enough for him to count the eyelashes rimming your bottom lid and how warm your skin was and how good you smelled . . . you obscured every one of his senses until he felt like he was drowning in your presence. the problem was that his insecurities began to surface the moment he failed to quell the incessant pounding of his heart and the warm, syrupy feeling seeping through his body at your kindness toward and implicit trust in him. 

the problem was that he liked it, but past memories of loss and betrayal have planted seeds of doubt and fear in his chest, leading him to ponder how long he will be granted such goodness before it slips through his fingers. the problem was that he liked it, and he believes that someone like him shouldn’t. the problem was that he liked it, and now he has no clue what the fuck to do.

regardless, he doesn’t respond right away, swiping the hand free of eyeshadow swatches over his lips. “‘s nothing,” he finally mumbles after a moment.

you hum, squinting at his lips. “so, it does leave a stain.”

sakura jolts. “is it super bright?”

you chuckle. “no, it’s pretty faint. oh, right!” you readjust the shopping bags resting on the crook of your elbow to root around in your own personal bag for the makeup wipes you’d promised him. “here!”

he accepts it with a gruff, “thanks . . .” and begins scrubbing the tint off his bottom lip. his tongue reflexively darts out to wet it once he’s finished, and his face contorts in disgust at the sour chemical taste that greets him. 

“gross, right?” you laugh at his reaction.

“dunno how these things haven’t poisoned you yet.” he gripes. 

“me neither,” you agree. you lightly bump your shoulder into his to distract him. “come on, let’s go.”

“whoa, whoa, wait,” sakura wrinkles his nose and points at the tube in your hand. “i can’t give that one to tsubaki if you already used it on me.”

“oh!” your eyes light up. “i’m getting this one. i figured i’d try out their recommendation since i’m here.” you reach out and pick up a crimson color of the same brand. “this one is the present. they mentioned wanting to try a gloss in the same color as their lipstick. i just wanted to see if it really tinted your lips or not.” before he can think too hard about the situation and throw a fit all over again, you turn on your heel and head for the checkout counter.

sakura feels as if his brain has been switched to autopilot during his transaction. his blood pressure has been at dangerous heights throughout almost the entire interaction. how he’s supposed to walk outside and continue on with his day as if nothing happened is beyond his scope of comprehension. is he supposed to pretend like this was normal? or is he supposed to pretend like this didn’t happen?

he sneaks a sly glance in your direction while you pay for your lip gloss, trying to gauge your expression and body language. how do you feel about him? well, he assumes you must find him at least somewhat tolerable if you volunteered your time to assist him. 

his attention trickles down to the abundance of shopping bags balanced on your arm as you use your free hand to pick up the newest addition to your collection. his eyebrows twitch. they must be heavy. at the very least, your circulation must be suffering. he’s carried groceries for enough elderly people to know that much. 

“you’re pretty quiet,” you tease as you both turn away from the counter and head for the exit. “something on your mind?”

he’s silent for a moment, debating whether or not he should risk it. what if this was a stupid decision? what if he’s reading this all wrong? what if you wanted to carry your own bags? you’re a strong girl. you’re perfectly capable of carrying them yourself. he exhales forcefully, and before he can let doubt settle in, he rigidly juts his hand out to you.

“give ‘em here.” he mumbles.

your attention bounces back to him, perplexed. “huh?”

he grits his teeth, embarrassment already beginning to creep in. “your bags. i’ll hold them.”

at first, you’re pleasantly taken aback, a smile blossoming on your lips. but it turns wistful after a couple seconds. “i can’t make you carry everything, sakura. that’d be too—”

a fleeting hint of irritation sharpens his expression, and he kisses his teeth. “fine, then.” he—a tad ungracefully, he hates to admit—snatches your shopping bags off your arm and shoves the small gift bag containing the eyeshadow and lip gloss into your hands instead. “you wanna carry something so badly? carry this.” 

you stare at him with wide eyes, shocked. pretending like he doesn’t feel your gaze burning holes into his temple, he clears his throat and hikes the shopping bags up onto his right shoulder, all the while keeping his head angled away to conceal the light blush dusting his cheekbones.

“sakura, thank you, but you really didn’t have to.” you assure him, but one glance at the indentations where they’d once been tells him otherwise. 

he grunts. “quit worryin’ about it. if they’re heavy, then say something. you helped me out, so just . . .” he pauses, trying to string together his words in a way that doesn’t incriminate him. “think of it as me payin’ you back.”

“but—”

“deal?” he interjects, his voice bearing a note of urgency he hopes you mistake for roughness—for his sake.

but you, ever perceptive, let your gaze linger on him for a moment before your expression melts into a small, knowing smile.

“deal.”

[spaloonbabooguuscooties]

You could drink your whole life away and still never get that taste out of your mouth.

half commission for @salempie half completely self indulgent dreck pieced together from our insane conversations abt franke and elka. told myself id finally write a big explanation for all of the dum shit between these two for context so Thats Under The Cut.

so I already wrote some stuff about elka and franke's relationship back in whispering rock so feel free to look at that too . it goes over elkas blindness/‘seeing’ with clairvoyance and how her and franke started talking & all that good stuff

SO FOR STARTERS. a lot of thsi wont make sense without a big breakdown of elka herself. because elkas potential as a character is like insane to me. like just the idea of her in the long run of her life reads as something so potentially tragic; a young girl whos plagued with visions of doom and destined to be an outcast even in her own home for things she cant control and clings to the One vision of her wedding that she thinks is 'happy' even despite the fact she doesnt really love the person in it. im choosing to take the li-po doc as canon here because its funny shes the only one with backstory-

but my fucking god even the smallest look into what her parents are like is soo fucked up to me. and i do think elka especially gets a lot of influence from her mother; its funny how easily you can fit mabel doom into a box just from what elka says about her. knees deep in an avon-esque pyramid scheme and leaning into her daughters depressing ass visions & taking her to therapy at age 11 (which would be good if not for the kind of person you can already assume she is & so i doubt the therapist she has really does her any good. i think they share one). she reads as a very I Am My Daughters Best Friend type of mom to me and i can see elka being a centerpiece of the conversation when she has her Amway Girls over for drinks. wine-mom that lets her kid sip from the glass so she can feel like a big girl type deal.

and you can tell that elka is trying to hard to be too mature for her age even in her campster posts. how she writes letters to nils' mom and exchanges baking recipes with her and that feels like she really only interacts with middle aged women and not really many people her own age outside of camp (like her moms friends). which makes sense shed feel the need to ‘grow up’ early when shes probably had to process so many hard things at a young age bc of her visions.

theres a lot of filling the blanks here of course.

elka obsesses over nils to an overbearing degree even despite the fact he treats her like shit ('you promised no talking' and so on) and she treats him bad right back. she leans onto stereotypical heterosexual ideals like taking care of him and overblowing how Manly and Protective JT is and she admires romance stories like pride and prejudice and it feels like she Projects Soooooooo much of what she wants onto boys she barely feels anything for without knowing what its actually supposed to feel like. and clearly she WANTS that ideal future, a happy marriage, an actual romance- but according to nils even when they were dating she ignored him most of the time, which just seems Very Telling

like shes filling a role, overcompensating for emotions and lacktherof she cant digest quite yet, and it only makes more sense when you know shes had visions of their future together. how could that be bad for her? shouldnt it be like the books and movies? but she doesnt really connect the fact that her visions are only for Doomed futures, and if she does she certainly doesnt show it. Doomed relationships. it's been a part of her family for generations and she isn't turning out much different, is she? i dont think she even realizes thats all she ever sees yet, just that its Going to happen. that it's Her future, and it always will be

and like, her only reference for a real marriage so far has been her own parents, and she already Knows they have an affair, and theyre doomed to split, (and i actually like to think they were in rough waters anyway and elka was a child meant to mend a crumbling marriage but thats a whole other thing) and so without a framework for what an actual healthy relationship is supposed to be like she cant really grasp that her relationship with nils Isnt that and isnt ever going to be. she can only cling to this one happy idea of the future, and thats why she keeps chasing him, self fulfilling the actuality of her situation and creating and fostering the unhappy life they will inevitably live together.

and that bleeds into everything else in her life, of course, because as the years go on, as the visions grow in number it just makes sense for her to fall into the predictability of her life. she always knows whats going to happen, her visions are Never wrong- so why try to change things? shes had time to process tragedies days, weeks, months, years before they happen, shes had time to settle into every crack of her life. her parents divorce, her various break ups, her future with the psychonauts.

“and she's already seen so much of a future with [nils] she feels trapped almost. Like she has to be happy in it or else it just means her life is miserable. And it's a mixture of pride and fear of the unknown that keeps her clinging to the One thing she knows. BUT LIKE!!! She knows what's gonna happen! It's easier to grieve when she's been grieving for years... She wants so badly to be happy, But to do that she has to step into the unfamiliar. And that's more terrifying than staying the same miserable person she's always been.”

and thats where franke comes in— and yeah you Do have to take a lot of liberties for frankes character since it’s basically, like, all the info for her is just that shes a Supreme Baby Dyke but thats enough for me. i think she has protective butch itch in her . on campster shes defensive over other women evidenced in the way she keeps watch over the girls cabins for lili when elton is pursuing her . but shes also eager to please and constantly trying to make kitty laugh and also Very naive. but she tries! and i think it only solidifies more as she gets Older and really gets a hold of her feelings & her powers. this is incredibly franke to me

and i think as they grow older together— because i think franke and elka Do stay friends, both because elka is just pathetic and needs that positive connection even if she doesnt realize it and because i think franke is a very Loyal person & annoyingly persistent if you let her be . and i am also a kitty/franke truther. because kittys also important in this web we weave

because i think franke and kitty stay together after camp, to a point— theres a falling out facilitated on kittys end and they break up, but reconnect, and franke kind of... saves kitty from herself a little, from her strict military father whos love only extends thru finances , from her own stifling future , she drives all the way to bakersville in her shitty van handmedowned from her dad and they move in together eventually . they get jobs at the motherlobe , because it’s a pipeline to a decent job, because it’s whats easy, because franke doesn’t really have a future, because she’s never really been good at much, because shes never had much sense, because franke doesnt really care as long as she can live and help, sometimes, if she can, and because kitty’s there, and because elka’s there, and shes so used to being elkas eyes now and shes good at it. shes good at being the muscle of the missions when her colleagues lack it, when hypnosis and predictions arent enough. she likes it that way.

and elka appreciates frankes company. she listens, shes sweet, she does little things for her that no ones ever really put the effort for before; she likes her. franke is strong and bold and makes her laugh and shes always there but god elka cant let go of that future, of that box shes put herself in, that her mothers put her in, of being a Good Wife to a Loving Husband, of getting married normally and falling into unfailing familiarity. thats all shes ever wanted and shes not going to jeopardize that . not for franke, who may not be a boy but is handsome like one, whos always held her after every break up with nils and the men that filled empty days inbetween.

and elka is too stubborn to recognize those feelings anyway. too prideful to accept a way out. too set in her cycle no matter how much she hates it, her little self fulfilling tragedy of her own making, wallowing in her own doom. she struggles for control of her own life when she feels like every choice has been made for her anyway, she puts up her walls and carefully constructs what people see. but franke was always harder to trick, because while empathy isnt a particularly useful psychic power it’s certainly an inconvenient one. all franke has to do is get too close and all those carefully crafted walls fall apart, and elkas control is gone, and thats all she really has. and she tries to distance herself, really she does, but franke is also too persistent. and elka wears gloves, keeps contact that would make her walls crumble from happening as best as she can, but she cant really keep herself from the brief moments where she feels like someone actually fucking cares about her.

and that slightest lack of control, the need to wrestle it back is why she proposes to nils the next time theres a falling out— she knows how it happens, she plans every detail. and he accepts, despite everything. gets her a cheap ring and it feels like lead on her finger and its nothing at all like how shed thought it to be when she was a kid, theres no feather light feeling in her chest, only that dreadful reality that she cant turn this back. BUT WHAT CAN U DO LMAO

elka doesnt tell franke about this engagement until later, on their way back from a mission. late at night when neither of them can sleep, and franke invites elka to smoke in her van, because its been so long since theyve been alone like that, because elkas been so strangely absent lately. and because of everything, because frankes always so damn nice, because elka hates the feel of the ring on her finger, because she let herself get high alone with franke fucking athens whos always been so good at pulling her apart— the truth of it all spills out and its messy and emotional and she hates it, she hates the life shes made for herself, but franke makes it easier to bare and now shes here and shes so close and god she wishes she could see her smile again, she wishes she could see franke, thats all she needs right now and she cant but she can touch her and she can hold her and for tonight, she can be known, she can let those walls crumble, she can be something else just for once here with franke . she can kiss her here in this van, touch that happiness for just a moment, and forget the future that waits for her outside of it. franke begs her to forget the wedding, to just let herself be happy— and god, she wants to, but it means turning her back on everything shes known and everything shes saw to be inevitable, and franke has never been in her future, so if it were supposed to work out why hadnt she seen it and she cant, she cant take that risk but she can have this, even if its temporary, she can have it.

and just as soon as she gets a taste of it, its gone. after that night, after the missions over and theyre back at the motherlobe and have to pretend like nothing happened (franke doesnt, of course she tells kitty about it, she tells kitty about everything.) but that brief moment together haunts elka every time she sees franke, sees herself through frankes eyes, sees herself in her wedding dress because god its all franke can think about! of course it is! she knows how much elkas destroying herself she knows how much misery shes wallowing in that kiss in the van felt like an emotional punch to the teeth and she hasnt ever forgotten it and all she can do is sit and watch while elka throws herself into a loveless marriage. she can come to her wedding and see the way the bride and groom kiss with the emotional weight of a wet towel no matter how hard elka tries to hide it under a pretty dress and bouquets of flowers and meticulous planning.

and elka resents nils but she cant really hate him, its not his fault, not really. he feels trapped just like she does and his feelings of misery only cycle back into hers . they fight and gnash and wear away at each other and its a relationship thats crashed and burned a million times before elka even said i do. and its inevitable that she falls into her mothers habits, a sip of wine here and there to loosen up, until it turns to a glass, until it falls into a bottle on nights when whatever work nils does runs late.

but franke’s still there. shes always been there, hasn’t she? always trying to play knight, always trying to save her, dragging her home when shes stumbling over herself because god who else is going to do it but her? who else is left to care? certainly not nils. never nils. because franke knows her. because franke pities her. shes always pitied her. shes always known. and elka hates it, she resents it, but god in the same breath she’s desperate for it, she envies it to her very bones. elka is a mess but after frankes done with her she has someone to go back to that loves her. and god what elka wouldnt do to have that. to take it and keep it for herself because shes never ever got to have that movie romance shes always wanted.

so now comes this.

because elkas particularly miserable and particularly spiteful and she needs to get franke to understand, just for a moment, drink with her and get on her level and she needs her there with her no matter how her pity makes her feel. no matter how much it makes her shake with anger and envy and desperation, but god the way franke looks at her, the way she still tries to salvage what they have, the soft, slurred way she tells her that it’s okay but its not okay, none of this is okay, it never has been and she just wants franke to shut up and see that, and if she cant then she’ll show her, she’ll show her all the raw angry desperation, with too much teeth and hands that claw and grab and she’ll know why everyones always said she’s too much.

and she knows this puts her on nils’ level too. that this makes her a cheater, that shes no better than he is now. no better than her father and his affair. but god, she wants to be selfish. she wants to be in control. just for once. she wants to feel right and she wants to feel happy and she wants to feel loved. thats all shes ever wanted. and franke will let her have that, just for a little while, at the very least.

anyway. sorry. sorry for being crazy . this isnt even getting into the shit after the comic takes place . elkas stupid brainworld thag she has to overcome in order to finally be allowed in the polycule and live happily ever as worlds first lesbian divorceman

sorry for all the shit i make up instead of caring about actual characters with screentime . bye !

[pokegalla]

Requested/Traded by @veiled-rebel

FINALLY✨

I’ve been dying to write for this guy✨

Lucifer pinning for a skittish and wary S/O

* Ok getting his attention in general is a surprise for ANYONE. Even HIM. Honestly for the first half of him liking you is him in heavy denial, thinking he’s finally lost his mind, and making rubber ducks through his five stages of grief. Until finally yes, he realizes the feelings are real the moment he leaves his office to see you again. Oh crap-

* I mean of course he’s gonna try talking to you! He wants to know more about you! Though his first greeting wasn’t too great. He tries to be suave by leaning against a table, winking and saying “Hey bitch✨” but that made you scatter away with a bow of your head to say hello. Shit. Was it something he said?

* He tries to gather a bit more information after that and realizes that you’re ALWAYS that skittish. Had him worried there, he thought he scared you off- oh. Oh never mind. He also heard you were wary of HIM too. But then he realized why. He’s the king of hell. Shit any sinner would be scared shitless if he personally sought them out! Dammit he didn’t even think of that!

* So at wits end….he actually goes to his daughter Charlie to help him out. Man she was EXCITED to help. She and Vaggie personally helped him in what to say then introduced him to you so it would be a little less scary for you. The king himself was still nervous and messed up a few times but he decided to be honest and admit that he’s genuinely interested in you with a soft smile and a rose in his hand. Thaaat had thorns and it cut your finger- you were wanting to leave but Lucifer stopped you and took your hand. That is when you personally saw a rare side of him: A gentle and caring side as he healed your hand.

* You were….speechless really. I mean you never expected such a soft look upon the king of hell’s face! So once he healed your hand, you shyly wrote on a piece and handed it to him before scattering off. Lucifer was disappointed….until he realized you gave him your number.

* You could hear his cheering from hallways away. Such a goofy lil guy. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea….

Mini story time!!!

“Ok. You fucking GOT this. You won them over. You can send them a text. Just be cool….,” He was pacing around his room before finally sitting down to message you.

Oh dammit….! What should he send…? Hi bitch obviously didn’t work to well. Maybe something different? He looked around and spotted something he made earlier. YES! That would be a fun conversation starter! So he took a picture and sent it to you!

You yawn as you go to lay down and notice a message. You gulp and nervously check your messages, “Ok. Calm down….it’s probably nothing bad- ……what the?” He sent you a picture of a…..rubber duck? And it was designed kinda like you! You took a moment to process it. “….that is so fucking adorable-“ So you sent him a heart emoji and said you loved it.

He practically JUMPED to check up on your message before combing through his hair nervously, “They….Like it? THEY LIKE IT! FUCK YEAH!!! OH SHIT-“ He fell back from his chair but happily chuckles as he was too happy to care. Charlie secretly checked in on you two and saw you both smiling.

Shes just glad you two are happy ❤️

[selarina]

True Blue

→ Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader (Series Masterlist)

Chapter 3: The Party

Summary: Back home after your first year of university, you try to spend the bone-dry heat of summer with your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, but restrictions prevail.

Content Warning: college bf!gojo, fluff, light angst, established relationship, birthday, implied parental issues, class differences, gojo is rich, casual violence (mentioned), social anxiety, reader and gojo are business majors (for now lol)

Word Count: 3.9k words

Author's Note: happy end of summer!! played cigarettes after sex the entire time i wrote this

Taglist: Open

In all honesty, you had expected Gojo to immediately whisk you away into a secluded corner of his house, and rid you of your clothes, blaming the summer heat or something just as ridiculous in the process. But instead, you were witnessing a far different side of him, it was baffling. Like he’s Jekyll and this version of him is Hyde in all his unfamiliar glory. He’s restrained, and poised. He’s not slinking his hands about as he speaks, they remain steady. It was jarring, to say the least. 

He was speaking of politics— and a joke? They’re all laughing, so it must be. 

You aren’t really listening, you’re far too busy raking through your eyes the crowd, watching the audience he’s garnered in all their collective gaze. It was such an odd thing to witness, the way they all hung onto his every word, as though something unseen and magnetic held their vision in place. 

You understood them though in a way. Of course, you did.

A waiter, dressed in a two-piece suit, quietly delivers another bottle of whiskey to the people near the couch. You hadn’t touched a drop, as you found yourself far too anxious to trust a drink in your hand or in your body. The crowd made you feel exposed, you felt seen in every muscle you moved. 

Your eyes flit out to the only open window in the big hall — a breeze coming in through there, and you felt you wanted to walk eastward towards it and walk through the soft twilight of the balcony. But you refrained, it would be impolite. You weren’t sure what kind of rules were in place in this crowd, but you could tell it was different from what you were accustomed to. 

You felt severely underdressed for starters. That was your tell. There seemed to be an unspoken theme you didn’t know about but perhaps that’s your fault for dropping by to surprise. Why would Satoru indulge in themes for a party if he didn’t know you were making it too? It makes sense, but you wish he had slipped out just once, so you could have prepared. Now, you felt severely plain when standing beside the fancier dolls in the room. 

A warm hand enveloped yours, pulling you from your thoughts. You turned, your eyes meeting the face of a slender woman. Her face looked ghostly, otherworldly, with a complexion of powdered milky white. 

“Mrs. Gojo,” you recognised.

“Hello, dear,” she smiled. This marked the first time you were seeing her in person. You had seen her only in photographs before, countless of them. Satoru adored his mother. She seemed like a worldly and kind woman somehow. You could tell at just first glance. 

"Hello," you replied, your voice catching as though nerves had tangled in your throat.

“You missed the memo, it seems,” she remarked, though there was no sharpness in her tone, merely a simple observation. It didn’t seem like judgment, but it still left you a bit embarrassed.

“Yeah,” you laugh an artificial laugh. "This was all very last minute on my part, so I wasn’t aware of the theme."

“No worries at all,” she reassured you, a poshness in her voice. Her hand rubbed softly against your bicep. “I could dazzle you up if you let me— a few accessories, perhaps a hairclip. That’s all it takes if you ask me.” 

The thought of being alone with Gojo’s mother unsettled you, but you nodded with a polite smile. “That’s very kind of you. I would love that.”

—

“So, Satoru tells me you’ve been seeing each other for about a year,” she begins, her voice mild but intent.

The interrogation begins, you think cruelly.

“Yes,” you answer, sitting before the mirror as his mother works your hair into shape. She promises it’ll be lovely, and you’ll have to trust her because, from this angle, you can’t see much of anything. “Almost a year in three months, if I’m not wrong.”

“Ah,” she lets out a soft laugh. “That’s reassuring.”

“What is?” A pause. “Ma’am,” you add, too quickly, and too late.

She hums, amused. “You pick things up fast. It’s just, well, he hasn’t kept a relationship longer than the milk in our fridge, so I suppose I’m just surprised. And relieved, really. I’m sure he’s told you about all his past escapades.”

“He has,” you answer with a small, strained laugh. “I’m just happy to be of service.”

“All done,” she announces, patting your hair lightly. “Would you like to see?”

“Yes,” you reply, though bemused. “But I can’t really see the back of my own head.” You try for humor.

“I’ll take a picture for you, dear. Hold still now.”

Click.

“Here,” she brings her hand forward as your eyes focus on the somewhat blurry picture in front of you. The phone looked ancient. For someone with such a huge manor, you would think they could afford the latest, but you knew how old people were – stubborn and for the routine of things. You think you’ll be one of them too. Back to the picture it looked beautiful, she put a gold hair net thing on your head, and it just elevated everything about your appearance even if you couldn't see it yourself 

“It’s… beautiful. Thank you, Mrs. Gojo.”

“You’re very welcome,” she says softly. “Now I really must head back, but I think you can take a minute for yourself before rejoining the others.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to be rude.”

“Nonsense,” she says, sternly. “If the birthday boy’s partner wants to stay in the room for a minute longer she can. Don’t worry about the crowd, I’ll have their tongues if they’re mean to you.”

The casual violence of her words is almost shocking, delivered so gently. It makes sense, though—like mother, like son.

“Alright,” you murmur, grateful. “Just a moment.” You watch her retreat, leaving you with your thoughts.

—

You took your minute, and then, as if your body had conspired against you, you drifted back to the party. Slowly, like a sloth, you moved until you reached the first approachable figure and struck up a conversation. The woman—tall, immaculately put together—turned with a ready smile. It was just too easy — this woman was a natural conversationalist. She spoke of her years at the bank, and just as easily got you to confess your future plans of assisting your mother, of starting your own business — what a miracle of a woman really. 

She advised you too. It was really not all that informative, just things you’ve already heard before, but you found yourself grateful nonetheless. If only because she relieved the stress in your muscles, they were lax now. 

“Mrs. Lee,” you hear a familiar voice from behind you. “I see you’ve met my beautiful, breathtaking girlfriend.” He finishes as his hand comes to grab your own, before placing a kiss on the back of your hand, eyes intently watching you. 

“Oh my,” the lady in front of you gushes on your behalf. “Young love in all its glory. You’ve got a remarkable girlfriend here, Gojo. She’s ambitious and sharp. You better be kind to her, you twerp.”

He laughed, that easy sound you’d heard a thousand times. “I try my best, Mrs. Lee. Now — Do you mind if I steal her away, I haven’t seen her in years.”

And just like that it was just the two of you — not in actual terms, but with Satoru, your mind tended to blur out the rest. 

“Hi,” you said, your voice soft, like you were waking from a dream.

“Hi,” he says, smiling back lazily.

“Hi,” you say again. Not really sure what to say next.

“Hi,” he said again. “You’re here.”

“Yeah, I thought I’d surprise you. Get the upper hand for once.”

“You’ve always had the upper hand,” he said like it was a fact too obvious to contest.

“That’s not true,” you reply, defiant. 

“It’s true, and it will always be true. Now give your poor tired boyfriend a kiss.”

And so, you do. Despite the crowd. 

The kiss wasn’t deep, restrained in a way that was unlike him. It seems Satoru may have found some shame after all. He stops kissing you but doesn't move further away from your lips. You can feel his breath upon your face, right on the side of your nose.

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi,” you say back, your hand still rooted in his hair, at his nape. “What tires my poor boyfriend anyway?”

“Why? You willing to fight the dragons.”

“The dragons wouldn’t dare fight me anyway.”

He chuckles. “No, ma’am. They wouldn’t.” A pause as his gaze lingered. “I like the gold in your hair,” he said, voice lowering. “Noticed it when you came back in.”

Your hand reached up, brushing the adornment lightly. “It’s your mother’s. She offered to put it on me.”

His eyes light up immediately. “She did? Wait — You met my mother already? I wanted to see you meet her. I can’t believe I missed it,” he frowns. 

“Aw,” you say. “I can always tell you how it went.”

“How did it go?”

“She saved me — this crowd is…” You look around, gathering all the prim and poised figures. 

“Pretentious?” he suggested, blunt as ever.

“I was going to say intimidating,” you corrected him, though his assessment wasn’t necessarily far off. You liked it though. The drama, the properness of it all — there was something about it.

“Please,” he scoffed. “They’re all insufferable, a bunch of stuck-up, overindulged jerks. Wine’s good, though. Need me to get you a glass?”

“Satoru,” you said, cutting him off, “I got you something. For your birthday.”

His face shifted, softer. “You being here is all I need. Don’t need anything else, this makes up for five birthdays at least.”

“You’re being dramatic again,” you say.“I’ll give it to you after the party—if you can find time for me. But it’s okay if you can’t. There’s always tomorrow.”

“No,” he says, bending down to leave a soft kiss against the edge of your mouth. “I’ll make time.”

“Okay,” you murmured. “Now go talk to that couple over there. They’ve been staring for ages—it’s creeping me out.”

He salutes you as he makes his way over and across.

—

"Ready?" you ask, seated behind the wheel, the evening air softly settling around you. “So, where are we going?”

“Nowhere special,” you replied, turning the key with a little growl from the engine. “But I’d still rather not tell you until we get there.”

He tilted his head, mock suspicion painted on his face. “The suspense, the mystery, the build-up…” He gasped dramatically. “You’re trying to steal my job, aren’t you?”

“Guilty,” you say, dry as dust.

“There can only be one of us,” he quipped.

“Well, you can just kill me. Skin me. Wear my face as your own and pretend until you’re caught.” The words spilled out, strange, unsettling, even to your ears.

“Why are you like this?” he asked, his tone flat, but there was amusement beneath it.

“I really, truly don’t know,” you replied, bewildered by the way your mind wandered into strange corners.

“I love it,” he says, sounding a little too close to the words you’ve been fearing, so you brush it off with a chuckle. 

“So, how long until we get to this ‘nowhere special but surprise’ place?” he asked, settling into his seat, limbs sprawling too long for the cramped space. You hope this ride doesn’t cause his back to ache.

“Half an hour, tops,” you said. “You can pick the music.”

“What?” He gasps again, mockingly scandalized. “Pinch me, so I know this is real.”

“It’s your birthday,” you shrug. “It’s the least I could do.”

He grinned — languid and lazy — a smile that makes you want to hit the brakes, stop the car, and kiss him stupid. But alas, you were a sane woman, on a mission so you drove on.

A few turns, a handful of bends in the road, and you’re there. Somewhere along the way, you’d asked him to cover his eyes, and, with a rare compliance, he obeyed—though not without protest. Now, as the car halts, he’s still singing a Lady Gaga song, his eyes squeezed shut for your benefit.

And so when the car halted as you helped him step out. 

“Ta-da,” you say, monotone. “The closest beach to the town — probably one you’ve been to a million times.”

He doesn’t deny it. Instead, he says — “The sunset looks really pretty.”

“It does,” you say, turning to look at the pink, orange hues in the vast horizon past the sea. “It’s really pretty.”

“So, this is my gift? I could die a happy man.”

And you think, to your surprise, that he actually means it. There’s something startling in the way he says it—so earnest, it unnerves you. “No—what do you take me for?” you mutter, pulling the picnic basket from the backseat, heavy with fruits, yogurt, chips, and a meticulously folded blanket, the kind you only bother with for these sorts of things. "I got you something, but help me set up first."

He takes the blanket, and sets it up for the two of you to sit, as you grab his present from the backseat. Then he drops down onto the left side, legs sprawled, arms braced behind him as he stares out towards the sea.

You seat yourself beside him, since you are in a dress, you try to bend and adjust so you aren’t flashing the outside world with your indecency, despite your shorts beneath the dress. 

“So…” you start, voice feeling too quiet against the roaring waves, as you hand him the jar. “Here’s your gift.”

His fingers brush against the glass, and you watch his eyes lower, briefly lingering on the cold surface, before lifting them to meet yours. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” you said. 

And you did. You’d made the ridiculous decision to indulge his craving, driving almost two towns over to Al’s for his favorite cookies. Four, if you counted the miles from your grandmother’s. And all before noon, as if there weren’t a hundred better ways to waste a morning.

But you did. You did because you had decided the necklace you got him didn’t measure up. Not when the one he gifted you for 6 months, had real gems on them. 

You hope this makes up for it. Not materially, but the sentiments at least. You swear when you’re rich, you’ll splurge on this boy all you can, but for now, you cut your losses. 

“Thank you,” he says, setting the jar aside. “For driving all the way there.”

“The town’s so creepy and dead,” you say. 

“It is, baby. It is.” He leans in, his lips brushing against yours. “And you drove there. For me.”

“It’s whatever,” you mumble, pulling back with a small smile. “Let’s eat.”

The waves keep crashing, the sun low in the sky, casting a honey-gold light over everything. You hear the slow crinkle of the jar’s lid being unscrewed. Then his laugh. It makes you mush. It always does, but it feels heavier now somehow. You feel there’s something about being in the ocean that charges the atmosphere with something different, perhaps that is what’s it.

He pulls out one of the cookies, breaks it in half, and hands you a piece. His fingers brush against yours again. You accept graciously, as the two of you eat in utter silence, barring the sound of the waves.

“You spoil me,” he murmurs, taking a bite. His eyes never leave yours. 

You smile faintly, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “You deserve it,” you say, leaning back on your elbows, your body sinking into the blanket. You tilt your head, gaze tracing the horizon where the sky meets the water, a blurry, infinite line. 

His hand finds your thigh, his thumb moving lazily in circles against the fabric of your dress, as he leans back onto his elbows too, to kiss you. This time it’s deep. His lips are hard on your mouth, as though you feel every contour of the molding of his mouth moving against yours. 

“Hi,” he whispers against your lips. 

“Hi,” you reply, voice barely there.

“Thank you for the gift,” he says. “No one’s been this good to me in a while. You put a lot of time into this.”

You don’t say anything. Not sure what one can say without being cheesy. But if you were to say anything, you’d say it was nothing, not when you can see him beaming down at you like this, all dazed, all into you.

“I love you,” he says then. And your heart flits harshly against your chest. 

“What?”

“I wanted— I’ve been wanting to say it for a while,” he says, his thumb brushing against your hips. “In the car, and 2 months ago when you slept over after mid-terms. But I didn’t want to freak you out.”

You blink, your pulse quickening, the moment hanging between you, suspended.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he says, his voice careful, and guarded.

“I do,” you say, the words tumbling out. “I do love you. I love you.” You mean it, and it terrifies you a little, but he’s smiling now. 

“Oh,” he grins, as he smushes into you, mouth first, tasting like salt and something sweeter.

“I love you,” he says again, voice low against your skin.

“I love you,” you say back, giggling. 

And then, he shifts—his body pulling away from you, the sudden absence of his warmth as chilling as the winds that whip across the beach. He sits up, dragging you with him.

“I have something else to tell you,” he says, and there’s a shift in his voice too—serious now, something grounded in his tone.

“What is it?” you ask, cautiously setting your mind for this, since he’s sounding serious in tone and stature. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he starts, hesitant, like he’s picking his words carefully. “I might drop out of college.”

“What?” The word feels like a punch, sharp and sudden. “Why?”

“I don’t care for it,” he says, his voice too casual, too careless.

“You don’t care for... an education?”

“Just business,” he clarifies. “I don’t really care about it. I want a change.”

Something mean, something bitter starts to rise in you, but you bite it down.

“A change to what?” you ask, calmly — your tone now guarded, your expression carefully neutral.

“I don’t know,” he says, and it’s the ease with which he admits it that grates at you. He doesn’t know, and he’s fine with not knowing. You don’t understand.

“What do you mean? You must want something else if you don’t want to do business, right?”

He turns to you then, and realises he should’ve predicted this, really. You loved plans, and you loved sticking to them. And this was was anything but that. He had a plan and he doesn’t want it. That’s bad enough. And now he doesn’t even have a new plan.

“Not really. I don’t know — I don’t want to do business, that’s all I know,” he says again, frustration creeping into his voice.

“Well,” you say, a little colder now, “you should probably figure that out.”

“Oh, really? Thanks, I had no idea that’s what I had to do.”

“Hey,” you say, softening your tone, trying to pull the edge out of the conversation. “I’m just trying to help. I just don’t like this situation for you.”

“I’m doing fine,” he says, trying to assure you that he hadn’t completely lost track of reality. “Dad hates this, but apart from that, no one really cares. There are so many options. I could change courses, take a gap year, intern—lots of things. You’re the only one bothered besides him.”

“Right,” you say, and that bitterness rises again, sharp and acidic in the back of your throat. “I forgot—you’re a Gojo.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he says. 

“It means you can drop out and still be fine. So I don’t have to worry about you.”

“So you don’t care that I’m dropping out?”

"I care, Satoru," you say, but it feels as though your voice is coming from some distant place now, a place he can’t reach. "Apparently, you don’t. You’re making this decision like it’s nothing."

“I’m not,” he snaps. “I’ve been unhappy for a while with the course. There’s no point in doing something I hate.”

“But to not have a backup plan? How can you make a decision like that?”

He looks at you, and for a moment, it’s like he doesn’t understand. You see the distance between you—his nonchalance, your need for structure—stretching wide.

“Can we— I told you because it’s a big decision. I’ll figure it out by the end of summer,” he says. “But I wanted to let you know. I expected the judgement but trust me a little?”

“Okay,” you say. “I just — I would never be able to do what you’re doing.”

“I know, and I could never do what you’re doing. It would kill me.”

“Okay,” you say, suddenly feeling shitty. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I trust you.” You bend forward leaving a kiss at the edge of his lips.

You sit in silence then — the wind getting colder and colder against your skin. The food growing staler, and it’s almost night now. The sun has set and you sit there, serene now, listening to the waves. 

You glance at him. His gaze fixed on the horizon, the sea’s dark expanse stretching out, infinite. His hair ruffling gently in the wind, and you notice the goosebumps pricking at his arms. It’s time.

“We should head back,” you say. “Your mother has a dinner planned, doesn’t she?”

He groans, his head falling back. “I don’t want to go.”

“But food,” you say simply, knowing that all the food in the world wouldn’t excite him to meet his family, and his extended family for a night of festivities. 

He turns to you, his eyes catching yours in the fading light. “I don’t want to go,” he repeats, quieter now, more real. “You’ll be busy with work soon. You’ll forget all about me.”

“Always so dramatic.” You move now, your limbs feeling heavy from the lack of motion. You move and straddle him now, his hands move to your waist in an immediate response. “You’re very hard to forget, Gojo Satoru.”

“Say more,” he says, smiling, beaming through his teeth. His cheeks alight red.

"No," you say, leaning back. "We should go."

"I’ll move if you give me compliments on the way back," he bargains, like a child.

“Or I could leave you here,” you say, titling your head. “All by your lonesome.”

“What a cruel, cruel woman you are,” he says, feigning a frown again.

“Let’s go,” you say now, feeling more and more convinced to stay here.

“Let’s just stay here forever,” he says, ever so ambitious. There’s a strange sincerity in his voice, to do the impossible.

You laugh, a brief, fleeting sound. "We wouldn’t survive long." You peer into the nearly empty picnic basket. "On just... Pringles."

"I could fish," he suggests, smiling again, "like in The Blue Lagoon. Build you a house out of driftwood.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I’d try.”

[pseudoartistpostsstuff]

Yandere time and hyrule headcannons

I'm not sure if you've seen the hype around sky being in his undershirt and being ✨pretty✨ in the recent update, but could I please request reader fawning over Yan!sky in his undershirt or some general hc's for him?

Thank you both for requesting!

Notes: I wasn't that online on tumblr around that time, so I only saw it now lmao.

Anyway, I did both headcannons and a oneshot, hope you'll like it!

Also, yes, I merged those two requests since headcannons can be piled into the same post.

I'll probably sound redundant in a lot of these, simply because I didn't write this at one go and when I got to it again I may have forgotten that I wrote it before. My memory is not the best, forgive me.

There are more headcannons for Time because he's my favorite, sorry.

I need a master list, seriously.

Edited before sleeping, I'm sleepy and probably messed up one or two paragraphs of this.

The oneshot in question.

TWs: Yanderism, Mentions of food and bad eating habits and a little of my fairy/fae brain rot.

Don't mind grammatical errors, please!

Headcannons for yandere Sky, Time and Hyrule.

Yandere! Lu! Sky x Reader

For starters, Sky is sweet, but he is very manipulative.

Therefore, don't be surprised if you notice you stopped doing many of the things you used to do when you first got through the portal.

Most of the time it's not even bad things!

He might team up with Hyrule and Wild to take care of your main health, like eating habits. If you're a picky eater then expect Sky to slowly transition you into eating a little bit of everything, in no time you'll be eating like Wild does.

Then again, he'll also make sure to get the ingredients to the foods you do eat without struggling, also getting Wild to make a separate meal for you, should you not eat that one specific recipe Wild made for dinner.

You'll probably be getting help from him when it comes to self-care habits as well, like, the max of skin care and hair care you can get at Hyrule. He will make the effort to talk to people who know more about your skin and hair type, those who have it and take care of it well.

But, we can't ignore the genuinely bad things he will try to influence you into doing...

Privacy? Gone.

Not only will he be around you most if not all of the time, but he will also always be paying close attention to you and what you're doing.

So if you believed keeping a journal in your language would help you keep some things to yourself, then think again. The privacy of using your language instead of hyrulean to write in your jornal will soon turn into a mere illusion. Despite being more quiet and seemingly the less imposing of the Links, Sky has already gone, and will keep going through lengths for you, which includes learning the language you use.

Of course he noticed you kept a private journal, and despite you trying to lie about the contents of it, it's only a matter of time until he is skillfully scanning through the pages with his eyes like he's reading his favorite book. Memorizing any and all information he can find about you.

As manipulative as he is, he is also delusional, he doesn't have any idea of what he is doing, he simply doesn't know that what he is doing is wrong on so many levels.

He's not doing anything on purpose, he's just trying to protect you and get you to like him, like a normal guy!! At least, Zelda liked it when he did this with her back then, just how different are you two?

Genuinely, Sky would have a hard time figuring you and your emotions out. You're a human being after all, and he respects that those things are not supposed to be easy to figure out. In fact, he highly respects and appreciates that you're complex.

Not that he'll respect boundaries, nope, no way.

You're a puzzle he's very much looking forward to figuring out. Honestly, the only puzzle he'd ever want to figure out.

So, I'll probably elaborate this later, but the chain as Gods. Sky would be very much a Thor. That means silly blonde lightening man.

Imagine hylians from Sky's era used matching earrings alike engagement rings, like, Sky just randomly inviting you to an overly nice picnic, just to hand you blue earings just like his.

And if you don't have your ears pierced anywhere it'd be even better in his eyes, since he'd just adjust it to be a "normal" ring.

It was actually an engagement ring, but you didn't know that, or any of the other Links, really, since this tradicional custom got lost in time.

Yandere! Lu! Time x Reader

I think pretty much everyone knows Time is a teasing bastard.

Don't get me wrong, he can be pretty mature, but trust me, it's not really common for him to act like that.

Time is used to pretending, he used many different masks to become different races in his journey, that was needed from him at the time, the same way that being the mature one is being needed from him right now.

Just because he is deeply traumatized emotionally and physically from his job as a hero doesn't mean his personality is lost as well.

It didn't change that much since he was a child, not really.

He is addicted to making you flustered, so if you get flustered easily I'm sorry for you.

If making you blush is a challenge then I'm just as sorry for you, because Time isn't quite known for giving up easily.

And he's good at making people embarrassed, too.

The amount of women who were in love with him is everything I need as proof.

But the worst part? He doesn't have bad pick up lines.

Look, Time is a toucher, so yes, his love language is physical touch, that makes sense to me.

That doesn't mean only cuddling, of course, it can mean cuddling and hugging when you're alone, but do expect a few more things.

I was gonna say hand holding in public, especially in crowded places, but you know what? Guiding you by holding the back of your neck is simply easier to him, and a lot more obvious "back off!" to strangers who look at you for far too long.

Also, randomly leaning against you, the two of you may be just walking and suddenly you feel a large mass lightly leaning against your own body, almost making you stumble. you might just be standing in front of the dinner table, reading a recipe book and once again you just feel that familiar presence right behind you, but instead of hugging you from behind he's just there, like he is reading the book along with you.

Remember how you were reading that one recipe book? Well he might give it a try and help you make something in the kitchen just to spend time with you. Like, you're just pouring ingredients in a bowl and he's there "helping" you by wrapping his arm around your waist to give you "emotional support", as he calls it.

He is, in reality, just standing there watching you cook, trying his best to resist the urge to distract you and simply annoy you, because he is still trying to make it seem like he is a mature, grown man, and definitely not one who is eyeing the flour in his reach and thinking about launching a handful of it at you.

You did see his hand slowly reaching for the flour in the corner of your vision. He only stopped once you threatened to scoop out his remaining eye should even a speck of flour hit your face.

Yet, Time is a creative man, flour was only one of his plans.

He's got wandering hands and wandering lips. And he can and will make use of those just to distract you.

And that's how Time became banned from the kitchen when you were the one cooking, only being able to join you for cleaning later.

So yeah, his love language is physical touch, but it is also disturbance.

In that matter, he's not very different from Wind when you two are alone. If you ignore his flirtatious moves, that is. But he's quite different when you two are with the others, especially if you've done, or is doing something to annoy him, then he has to keep up that mature facade of his.

He believes the others won't take him seriously should he reveal his actual personality, so really, when you're around others you'll only get glimpses of it from time to time.

It is mandatory from the Links to be stubborn, but Time takes the cake.

Maybe it is his age, but he will never change his mind, ever. No point in arguing.

So when he is silly, he is silly, but when he is serious he is terrifying, no exaggeration.

The worst part is that older people have a lot of respect in Hyrule, so no matter what he says, his word is law.

Now, don't get me wrong, by now, pet names are just a thing Time always does with you, in a way you barely hear your own name coming from his lips unless he's being really serious about something.

But actual words of affirmation? Not his thing.

He'd much rather be as clingy as glue to you when you're alone.

But, not like Sky's soft, light cuddles. Time Will basically smother you.

Seriously, it may be his sheer muscle mass, but he'll drap himself over you in a way you'll feel yourself surrounded by him.

In fact, the first time he did it you probably almost suffocated.

You'll get used to it eventually, though. Hopefully.

He's pontual and very strict as well, he and Hyrule are probably gonna be bickering in most matters involving you, like, for example, "five more minutes" naps.

Don't even try to trick him, you'll hear stuff like "I was your age once" and shit, the man will act like he's a hundred years old or something.

Then again, he might be, after all, he is older in mind than he is in body.

He was forced to mature quicker and went through a lot of trauma, that, and he also had to go back in time a lot of times.

Now that I think about it, he probably lived for longer than your grandparents. Just saying.

Yandere! Lu! Hyrule x Reader

Don't get him wrong, Hyrule is very much full of love, really. He cares about everyone equally.

Yet, as corny as that is, your name isn't "everyone", you're not anyone, you're you, how could he even think about possibly treating you the same way as he treats everyone else?

You're put on a pedestal, everyone else is treated equally by him, except you, you are treated like you are divine and not mortal like he is.

So you'll feel like a toddler 24/7 around Hyrule, he is not as stubborn as Time, he's just… Persistent.

The other Links will find themselves teasing him for it a lot, even if deep inside they are just the same.

Play nice, walk on the line and you'll have a Hyrule at your beck and call. If you know how to do it right, you will be able to use his babying to your own benefit, because trust me, his persistence can work on the Links much more than yours, after all, they trust him for being another Link.

I feel like he'd also help you keep pets, it may be his fairy nature, but he is just good with animals, especially with forest animals. Be them small or big.

Although he definitely has a soft spot for smaller pets, even more if you're the one asking him to bring along a pet you found.

Surprisingly or not, Hyrule is probably one of the most protective Links if you happen to lean more towards the naive/vulnerable side of the spectrum.

It's a general fairy headcannon of mine, but since fairies take care of forest and the animals there, specially the smaller or more vulnerable types of animals, then it's not new for them to be also quite protective towards humans close to them.

Bonus points if they have those traits.

But then again, you're Hyrule's darling, you may be as strong and independent as a Link yourself, but he'll still see you as in need of his care and attention at all times.

That also may or may not be another reason why Hyrule treats you like a toddler.

So yeah, coddling. Lots of it.

Hyrule is also a fan of small things, trinkets. Natural or shiny... Precious or useless... In his eyes all are treasures.

Treasures you'll find your bags and pockets full of.

He is absolutely a rock, cristal guy.

Imagine, you're just walking to another village, and suddenly Hyrule stops walking for a few moments, just to speed walk towards you again just a bit later, cleaning something he is holding in his hands with the help of his sleeve.

Then he hands you a small, clear rock, grinning.

Better get used to this, it's probably gonna happen at least once every day.

So yeah, love language is gift giving and acts of service.

I feel like he's very awkward with words of affirmation, he didn't spend a lot of time saying or hearing those, after all. Like most of the Links.

[preciouslandmermaid]

break me (then help me find the pieces) -- Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader

I wrote this on my phone last year (in August) and I finally decided to finish it and post it.

Tags/Warnings: Smut (18+ only! Fingering, dirty talk, protected p in v/the reader is on birth control, Mikey uses the pet name(s) “angel/baby/sweetheart”, blowjobs, light choking/spanking, rough/after care). Brief mentions of alcoholism/addiction (it’s implied the reader struggles with addiction). Explicit language. Light angst if you squint. No use of Y/N.

wc: 2k

🍝🍝🍝  (Read on Ao3) 🍝🍝🍝

The clock ticks well past midnight. You’re not expecting anyone at this hour and you didn’t receive a suggestive text beforehand. But when he knocks on your door, you let him in, because it’s Mikey. You never could refuse him.

You taste bourbon on his tongue – smoky and dark – something of a metaphor for your not-quite relationship. You and Michael were too fucked up in your own ways to seriously date. For starters, you were never sober at the same time. And you carry enough secrets between one another to put Area 51 to shame.

He cradles your face between his warm, rough hands and shoves you backward into the entryway wall. You trip over your discarded piles of shoes. But, his arm on your waist is firm, and he stops you from falling.

Another metaphor—Mikey never let you get close enough to fall for him. In a different life, you could see yourself with him—waking up early to help out at the restaurant, being an emotional buffer against his unstable mother, dealing with all the bullshit of two messy lives instead of one. For him, you’d do it.

(It was a pipe dream and you knew it. A comforting lie you told yourself whenever you got drunk and lonely. You and Mikey were matches and matches can’t build a house. Matches only exist to burn).

You push your hands up his shirt and explore the rippled, raw strength of his chest. Your fingernails graze against his nipples. Mikey releases a low, quiet hiss and nips your lower lip.

He shoves his hand between your legs, cupping the front of your pussy, and you shudder against him.

“What’re you doing, huh?” He asks, the question rhetorical, “you’re making me crazy, you know that? You drive me fuckin’ crazy.” He rubs the clothed front of your cunt, using the heel of his palm to grind into your clit, and the friction makes you whine. In the other room, the TV switches to commercial and it drones through your sparse apartment.

“I haven’t even started yet.” You tease with a pointed tug of his belt.

“It’s enough.” His grin is quick and it momentarily disarms you. Sometimes, you think all you need is Mikey’s smile and you’ll be sober forever. As long as you can be on the receiving end of that damn charming smile. You shake your head, rolling your eyes, and pushing your thoughts to the side. Mikey nuzzles his face into your neck and leaves a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

“How fast you gonna come for me tonight, angel?” He whispers to the shell of your ear, his breath hot as if fans over your delicate skin. Your skin prickles with goosebumps and you shiver involuntarily.

His belt clatters to the floor, “Depends on you, Mikey. You gonna take care of me?”

“’course.” He scoffs. He reclaims your mouth with his own, his tongue coaxing and warm, prying your lips open and lapping the sweet sounds you give him. His large hand yanks your sleep shorts to the side and his seeking fingers find your wet, aching cunt. Your hips buckle with the first touch of his index and middle finger against your folds.

“Mhmph.” He hums with pleasure, “soaked already, huh? Were you waiting for me, angel? Touching yourself on the couch and hopin’ I’d come over?” You groan in tandem as Mikey sinks two fingers into your warmth and you babble nonsense against his scratchy, bearded chin.

“Tell me what you imagined, sweetheart.” He goads, curling his fingers into you, and his other hand comes to encircle your throat. He doesn’t squeeze or restrain your airflow (he has in the past, but apparently that’s not what he’s in the mood for tonight). Rather, Mikey keeps his hand on your throat with a soft, gentle pressure as if to remind you that he’s here—he’s got you pinned against the wall and he’s not going anywhere and neither are you.

You gasp, “Kitchen.” Your fingers twist into his dark, silky hair. “Bent over—mph! Ah! Hard. Fast.” You’re surprised you can manage a sentence while Mikey’s fingers thrust in and out of you. You feel him smile against your cheek.

“Come for me, angel, and I’ll give you that.”

Your head thumps into the wall. Your hips grind into Mikey’s hand. The wet, squelching noises coming from below your waist are almost embarrassing—but you know Mikey gets off on making you moan and squirm for him. You kiss him and moan wantonly into his mouth. Your fingers fumble around the zipper of his jeans and Mikey squeezes your throat.

He tsks, “this ain’t about me.”

“I want--” You palm the front of his boxes, his cock twitches in response to your touch, “to touch you.”

He nibbles your lower lip, “be patient, baby.”

You let your hand fall away. There have been other nights when you’ve ignored him just for the sake of riling him up. Tonight, however, you’re willing to play nice. Mikey rhythmically squeezes your throat in tandem with your bucking, wild hips. He kisses you. He whispers in your ear “that’s right, angel” and “you’re so good for me,” and “I know you can come like this, I want you to come for me, nice and loud so the neighbors hear us.”

Mikey curls his fingers, deep and angled, moving in concentric motions against your G-spot.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, your teeth clacking together. “Fuck!  F-fuck!”

His mouth explores the tops of your breasts, kissing the exposed skin and pulling away your t-shirt with his teeth. You dig your fingers into his scalp when your orgasm hits you. You shatter, your body twitches, as the heat and tension explodes across your limbs.

He grunts and slowly withdraws his hand. It takes several long seconds for you to return to planet earth.

Mikey pulls his shirt over his head, “You said kitchen, right?”

“Y-yeah.”

You both leave your clothes in the entryway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before Mikey can bend you over the counter, you stop him with a gentle hand to his chest.

“You said my patience would pay off.” You tease, biting your lower lip and looking down.

“Did I say that?”

You drop to your knees and hold the base of his thick, hard cock in your hand.

“You did.”

“Fuck.” Mikey braces his hands behind him on the counter. He stares down at you with dark, lust-filled eyes, his hair falling in front of his forehead. You’ve always thought Michael was beautiful. But he is especially beautiful when he’s naked and framed by the golden, warm-yellow light of your kitchen.

“Mhm.” You slowly kiss your way along his cock from the base to the tip. Mikey groans, his knuckles whitening at the edge of the counter. He deserves a little teasing after what he put you through in the entryway. You flatten your tongue along him, tasting his salt-sweat and skin, before you envelope the engorged tip of his cock with your lips.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Mikey repeats as if in prayer. “I swear to God, your mouth was made for me.”

You hum in agreement, feeling the vibration traveling thorough your throat and buzzing your lips. You work your mouth over his cock, pushing as deep as you can go, your saliva collecting at the corners of your lips. Mikey moans, loud, unabashed, unashamed. You follow the movement of your mouth with your hand, squeezing him, your fingers and palm drenched in spit. His hips jerk, his muscled thighs quivering, and you wish you could smile. You peer up at him, admiring the beauty and tragedy of this man before you. His large hand comes to cup the nape of your neck.

“Can I fuck your mouth, angel?” He asks. He’s always been good about asking that. He never assumes.

You press your thighs together, feeling a fresh tingle of arousal at his question.

You pull away, saliva trailing after your mouth, and dripping onto your neck and breasts.

“Yes, Mikey.”

You open your mouth and Mikey holds his cock at the base and guides it into you. You brace your hands on his muscled thighs and Mikey holds your head steady. Your eyes flutter shut as Mikey uses you—his thrusts shallow, but quick. You’d never admit it out loud (to him or anyone) but there is a deep, primal satisfaction brewing inside you. You might be the one on your knees, but Mikey is the one who’s weak for you. He growls, the sound deep within his chest, punctuating each thrust with praise.

“So good, so good for me. That’s right. You love it when I use you like this, huh? Use that pretty little mouth of yours. Fuck! Fuckin’ Christ. Feels so good.”

Mikey withdraws and you half expect his cum to spurt onto your tits. But, he doesn’t.

“Get up on the counter, angel.” He says firmly. You rub your jaw, your smile slow and sweet and tempting. The tile counter is cold against your bare, flushed skin. You bend over and have to arch on your tiptoes for the angle to work—but you know it works. This isn’t your first time in this position.

“Please, I need your cock, Mikey.” You say, wiggling your ass in an attempt to get his attention.

Mikey grins, giving your ass a playful swat, as he lines up the tip of his cock at your entrance.

“Yeah, sweetheart? You gonna beg for me?” He rubs his tip against your folds, “you know I’m the only one who can make you feel this good, hm?”

“Yes, Mikey, yes.” You arch your back, “please fuck me, Mikey. Please.”

He presses one hand into the middle of your back, pinning you into the counter, before his cock slides into your cunt in one swift, hard thrust. You gasp.

A surprised “Yes!” escapes your parted lips. Mikey feels incredible. He always does. His thick cock fills you, stretches you, erases all coherent thought from your mind. He holds your hips with one hand while the other remains pressed into your back. Your fingers scramble for purchase on the slick counter as Mikey drives into you, his pace pounding and relentless, the slick sound of your skin slapping together with every hard thrust.

“Fuck!” He moans, “Made for me. Fuck. So good. Yes, yes, like that.”

He adjusts his grip, holding you by the hips, and dragging your cunt back over his cock when he pulls back. Your calves tremble with the effort to remain in this position, but it feels too good to stop. Mikey’s hand comes down against the swell of your ass—sharp and biting. You yelp and your inner walls clench at the painful yet pleasurable sensation. He soothes the slap with his hand before delivering another. Nothing matters but the delightful sensation of his cock pounding into you and the space between every strike of his hand. Your eyes prickle with tears. Something tight inside of you starts to unwind.

With Mikey, you are allowed to unravel. You’re allowed to be A Mess. A fuck-up. You can empty yourself out and he’ll be there. He can’t put you back together again, but he can help you find the right pieces.

You sob, your body tightening with anticipation, and Mikey’s calloused fingers find your sensitive and swollen clit. You want to beg him to stop. You want to beg him to never leave you.

Mikey says “Can feel you getting close, angel.”

“Don’t stop, Mikey. Don’t ever stop.”

Your orgasm hits you—a brilliant, echoing release. You wail, pleasure rocketing through you, firing off neurons in your brain and skittering down your spine. Your ears start to ring and you vaguely hear Mikey follow you, grunting, his thrusts erratic before they slow to a stop. He pulls out and you feel his cum dripping down your inner thighs. Your forehead flops down onto your arms and you try to regulate your breathing. The faucet turns on behind you.

You jump in surprise as a warm washcloth wipes between your legs. Your brow furrows. This is new. Mikey isn’t a callous sexual partner—but he isn’t the ‘cuddle afterwards’ type either. You both used sex as a release. You fucked each other’s brains out. You experimented. You came so hard you thought you stopped breathing. Sometimes he stayed over to watch a movie. But, he rarely slept over (or if he did—then he slept on the couch).

His large hands splay across your shoulder blades before his fingertips start digging gently into your muscles.

A back massage? You crane your neck to look over your shoulder. Mikey’s face is fraught with concentration.

He notices you looking, “You want me to stop?” His eyes dart away from yours.

“N-no, it feels nice...it would just feel better...on the bed?”

“Right,” he laughs dryly, “good idea.” Without prompting, Michael scoops you into his arms as if you weight little more than a stuffed teddy bear. He deposits you onto the bed, on your stomach, and resumes his careful and clumsy massaging. His large, strong hands work their way down your lower back and to your sore, strained calves.

You yawn, “This is...mhm...thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The lull of sleep is too strong. It’s dragging you under its waves with every passing motion of Mikey’s capable hands.

“You can stay over.” You mumble, although you’re uncertain if any of the words come out coherently. The world fades, hazy and warm, your bones are liquid and heavy. You think Mikey’s lips press into your temple. But...that might’ve been a dream.

[eddiediazismyhusband]

hey everyone

just getting on here to have a conversation about some things that i need to clear up.

so for starters, i’m going to come right out and say that i’m taking a break from tumblr… lately i have been subjected to seeing multiple thinly veiled posts about me floating around and i cannot sit by and allow myself to be treated like that

that being said, i am taking this break to focus on my mental health; 911 used to be a comfort show to me- somewhere i could just go to and watch whenever i needed to be picked up, because even if the show was still forcing certain storylines/arcs, they at least made some sense for the characters and didn’t rely on completely rewriting and ignoring their history within the narrative.

911 is no longer that for me anymore. tim minear and the writing team have ruined any and all enjoyment i got from earlier seasons due to continuing KR’s trend of completely retconning the narrative while simultaneously blatantly dragging us along by dangling buddie canon over our heads with a stick only to immediately snatch it away at the last second.

today’s “first look” article only further confirmed my suspicions that tim had no intentions of leading to buddie canon.

i see the takes/theories about what the article could mean, but we have made theories such as this every year only for it to not go anywhere; nothing had indicated that s8 will be any different.

for starters, tim is bringing back a known problematic actor to play a problematic character that tim continues to retcon, despite the fandom being outspoken about how insane this is. instead of listening to the fandom, instead he has them continuing to develop their chemistry-less relationship saying that they are going strong.

secondarily, tim wrote out a beloved poc character in order to keep this problematic character around- something that i think the fandom has moved on from a little too quickly

thirdly, we continue to be told that eddie will be making progress each season, yet we never actually see that progress happen, and if we do, never in a way that is actually in character; on top of that, we have fans begging for his character to be ruined simply so that his character arc will be sexualized due to it involving two conventionally attractive men.

this fandom no longer feels like a safe space for me mentally and i hate that… i am devastated at the thought of no longer interacting with my mutuals, but i cannot engage with content that showcases the real-time decline of a show i used to adore before the creators decided to ruin that enjoyment.

so i am taking a bit of my break; i dont know how long nor how permanent of a break this is, but i need to put my mental health first.

until next time (whenever that may be)

[thatsveryvortex]

Writing Tools for Planning Your Story

I've tried tons of writing apps and sites, so you don't have to. Here's a list of free sites to plot out your novel, with my review and some images of how I use it.

Milanote

Milanote is like having a giant pinboard with folders. You can upload anything onto it [yes even your main doc] and then draw over it or connect things with lines and arrows

Milanote lets you add up to a hundred things for free, not including drawing. This is one of the downsides of the site as I've found myself reaching that limit recently.

For me, the best part is being able to draw over stuff, and the color swatches.

Milanote is a lot less structured than other sites I've used, and personally, I don't think their templates are worth using.

8/10 overall, Milanote is what I mainly use. Here are some pics of how I use it:

Miro

Miro is a flowchart website mainly used for corporate jobs, however, it can be a great plotting tool for that reason

Miro has a lot of great starter templates if you are looking for a more structured freeform experience. It also comes with a blank page as well.

Unfortunately, I'd argue that it's a bit of a hard tool for beginners to use without a template, I've learned copy-paste is my best friend with Miro the hard way.

It's much better than most platforms at making timelines though.

It has a limit of three boards which is a bit disappointing but overall, I think it's worth the try.

5/10 Miro is very middle of the road for me due to the limited ability to customize things and the free limit. Here are some pics:

[I wrote that part weeks ago, I am now fully using Miro and believe it's the best for making timelines and charts, I just wish it let me make more boards 8/10]

Hiveword

This might be someone's jam, I can't really say it's mine though.

First off, the unpaid version is really just a few boxes saying "Write a summary here." which makes it just not worth it in my opinion

There really isn't any way to customise things which is my favorite part of most of these softwares

I've barely used this, so maybe there's something I'm missing but

1/10, Just use Google Docs at this point, here's a couple pics

World Anvil

People like this software, it's mainly used for tabletop, which is just a different way of writing adventure, and I've seen it recommended by authors.

Unfortunately, I'm going to disagree with a lot of people and say it's hard to use and isn't even really good at plotting.

I may be biased on this one as every time I've tried to use it in the past I've struggled. However, it seems like another just write it in a document and create a folder.

I'd say it's closer to an organizing tool, but even then just use something else.

3/10, I have nothing to say about it but maybe you'll enjoy it, all here are two photos

Campfire

This is the one I think I've heard the most about, but have never actually tried.

right off the bat, I'm going to say this is 100% worth it, you'll see at the end with the photos but this is like if Miro and World Anvil had an organization baby.

It's extremely easy to understand, and it makes timelines, it's more for writing your whole book but idk about that yet.

7/10, its themes are really pretty but it limits how much you can do to 20 I believe. Here are the photos

That's all for now, honestly, I think you should use Miro if you are looking to plot things out, and Milanote if you want to collect and organize your thoughts for writing, as that's what I do. Obviously what I like won't be for everyone, but hopefully, this helped you see some options

[asurrogateblog]

what do we know about Nobody Home?

like...in general?

well, for starters, the origins of the song is that during the later sessions for the wall in fall of 1979, david challenged roger to write a new song for the album. never one to turn down a bet, roger wrote nobody home overnight and brought it to the studio the next day. and unfortunately for david it was really good. roger employed his tried-and-true tactic: "just list a whole bunch of things", and it worked.

the actual lyrical content of the song is – if you are aware of any pink floyd lore – fairly objectively about syd. for instance, there are several references to his unique style of dress during the bands early days ("obligatory hendrix perm", "elastic bands keeping my shoes on", "gohills boots"). other imagery references syd's mental condition after his departure (the drone of the TV in the background, the "bag with a toothbrush and a comb in"...long explanations just trust me). in this context, "nobody home" can be interpreted in two ways. either it's referencing how syd was silently iced out by the band, or, it's referencing syd's dissociation – the idea of there being "nobody home" behind his "wild, staring eyes".

*(footnote: many people also interpret the lines "i've got a silver spoon on a chain / i've got a grand piano to prop up my mortal remains" as being about rick and his cocaine addiction at the time of the album's recording. I go back and forth on my thoughts on this)

however, obviously this song isn't just a standalone – it's a part of the wall. in that context, at this point in the story pink (the character) has locked himself up in a hotel room, in a prison of his own fame and self-imposed isolation. it's an especially sad song imo, because the "plot" of the lyrics is that he's trying to call someone (presumably his wife), and despite that real attempt to peer over the wall and reach out, no one answers him. he's already pushed away everyone who loves him. :(

of course, the syd interpretation and the fictional interpretation are not at all mutually exclusive. the character of pink is an amalgam of roger and syd – and this song feels to me like an attempt of roger's to show the parallels between them. although under very different conditions, roger too has come to feel like his success is like having a lead role in a cage, and that he's lost the ability to show his true self to the outside world.

(this is entering tinhat territory, but I am personally convinced that roger is directly and purposefully paralleling syd's song "bob dylan blues". listen to them back to back and tell me I'm wrong)

I hope that's enough!

[rmd-writes]

a love note (and some fics)

Sometimes I wonder if there's really anything bigger out there - the universe, some kind of higher power, fate - and then I think about how extremely lucky I am that I became obsessed with a certain tv show and its characters at just the right time so that I could befriend someone who then introduced me to a particular book at exactly the right time to fall in love with those characters as well. And then, because of my need to have more of those characters, I went looking for more stories about them at exactly the right time to meet a group of people (some of them together, some of them later, but that doesn't matter) who would go on to become my friends.

There must be something, right? To bring together a group of people who live in five to seven different time zones depending on the time of year. To create my safest spaces on the internet. To share not just our love for a book and its characters, but parts of our lives with each other. To have them all wedge themselves into the soft spaces of my heart and never leave.

I've been thinking about this a lot over the last two weeks, because those people conspired and collaborated to gift me a collection of 10 incredible fics for a milestone birthday (tomorrow!) - even though some of them haven't written fic for months and months, or don't write for this fandom at all anymore, or have recently been finding it hard to make words work and finish fics, or are just plain busy with other projects and life. That they took the time to find and make words for me means everything and more 💖💖

I've been absolutely overwhelmed with love these past 10 days (probably to the surprise of no one, I have cried at every single fic drop and I'm crying writing this now). So, I want to share the wonderful fics that they've written for me with you all because it's the least I can do to pay it forward and they're objectively stellar fics. If you haven't come across them already then you should definitely add them to your to read lists/open tabs/MFL. Please show my friends some love and read their work.

The Rae of Sunshine! collection, in order of publication (with my very short summaries):

Take It Back (4.2K) by @three-drink-amy

Henry is the head chef at a French restaurant and there's one patron who keeps sending his dishes back. How can they resolve this?

Dick, Dick Dick (You Down) (10.2K) by @everwitch-magiks

Alex runs the craft services trailer on the set of actor!Henry's latest movie. Is he the only person who sees behind the façade?

A deceptively soft story, given the title.

Precious Love (1.3K) by floatingaway4

The fluffiest follow up to one of my favourite AUs Amigos y Migas (aka the food truck au).

Midnight ice cream (5.8K) by @the-amber-fox

Emotional support Cornettos? More likely than you think.

Make it Right (5.3K) by @three-drink-amy (that's right, Ally wrote me TWO FICS)

A rogue little Tarlos fic in amongst the firstprince - a post-season 1 canon divergence that sees TK working in a taco truck while he finds his feet.

a taste of life (7.4K) by @indomitable-love

A journey through Henry's life, told through food. (This one is not my summary, indomitablelove already summed it up perfectly)

Risotto + Melanzane + Dolce (a love story) (16.8K) by @villiageidiot

Alex starts working at an Italian restaurant and is terrible at his job. Somehow, Henry doesn't seem to mind.

Cursed is a State of Mind (WIP) by @welcometololaland & @dustratcentral

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12 Year Starter (6.6K) by @clottedcreamfudge

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You can find the entire collection here on Ao3.

[showtoonzfan]

HELLUVA BOSS: S2E4 REVIEW

Ganna be honest, this episode wasn’t AS bad as I thought it would be, like I’m lowkey shocked. It’s certainly not the worst out of what we’ve seen, and it didn’t piss be off to high heaven, especially since the runtime is short and Blitz and Stolas are away from one another here, but….it still wasn’t….good, so let’s get into it.

So everyone already knows this episode was….so fast paced. Andrealphus doesn’t even get a proper introduction, and like I said before, in the span of one fucking minute, we have Stolas and Stella petty banter, Andrealphus, and Striker coming back to kidnap him. For starters, Yayy….glad to see Stolas and Stella acting like petty middle schoolers towards eachother. I was right when I said that the writers can’t figure out what they want their dynamic to be. Like….this is supposed to be the same couple that’s in an abusive serious situation, and it kinda doesn’t make me take them seriously if they’re just swearing at each other and bickering Viv. Also, glad to know the writers are outright saying “cheating is okay”- simply because Stella never liked him, so again….way to take the flaws Stolas had in season 1 and completely erase them and excuse them, just because you want Stolas to be in the right. It’s so distracting how fucking retconned they are, they might as well just have said “Stolas did nothing wrong” in Loo Loo Land if these were the writer’s true colors all along, but since Viv wrote this episode, I’m not surprised.

They hyped Andrealphus up but he gets like….two scenes and doesn’t do much like…lmao. In The Circus, again…they try to make it clear that divorce in the Goetia family is uwu serious, and Stella mentions Andrealphus, implying that he would be upset, or is a threat. When we actually meet him tho, he isn’t even….upset about the divorce? Why did Stella mention him then? What was the point of foreshadowing him and having Stolas say he doesn’t care what he thinks if Andrealphus was just going to be all like “oh you’re getting divorced? Okay, give us money then”- like it’s so fucking underwhelming but we’ll get back to him and Stella later. Also we see that Stolas has a scheduled meeting with Ozzie, implying that he may be trying to get that crystal after all. But…can this show just fucking….stop teasing us with future shit and just do it already? I’m so tired of the show dangling plot threads to come later in our face but they either NEVER come or the execution is underwhelming.

Blitz continues to be the most annoying and unfunny character in the entire show. His jokes and dialogue are a fucking pain to sit through and the scene where he’s trying to announce his appointment and fights with the lady in the waiting room drags and is unneeded. In fact, this whole side plot was unneeded. Viv doesn’t know how to fucking balance this show, she wants episodes to be serious and story driven but have a slice of life filler side plot at the same time and guess what? It doesn’t work or blend well. The constant cut aways are distracting from the main plot and you could have used this premise for a different episode. Loona doesn’t even have any dialogue, you could have at least improved the relationship between her and Blitz or had a moment of her being thankful that he was here and comforting her, appreciating him more….ya know….character development……..something that would have made this side plot actually useful since this is supposed to be a fucking “character driven” show about the relationships between the characters, but no. This side plot existed to pat out the run time and give Blitz and Loona something to do so they’re not just sitting there. As usual Loona does nothing, is useless and only there for the furry porn. The shot of her butt with the needle was 100% on purpose, I can tell.

(Also we’re on season 2 and only now finally get to see an upfront interaction of Imps being treated as the lower class, but it doesn’t do anything. This show tells us instead of showing us, they constantly remind you that imps are at the bottom but Blitz still literally has a good job that pays well and aside from the wrath imps providing food too feed hell, there’s no exploration of how imps having it lower than any other demon species. If anything it seems like Imps and the rest of the Hellborn species are all on the same ranking because Viv can’t storytell.) Also what is with the bleeping? I really don’t get it, it’s not funny and it’s distracting, making scenes awkward.

Predicted it, but Moxxie and Millie were…unneeded in this episode and were only included to fight Striker. These two really are useless when they’re not the focus and you can tell Viv has no idea what to do with them when they’re not. Also…..Viv…..Viv……is Moxxie strong, or not? Make up your fucking mind. In this episode he’s able to get the upper hand against a bigger imp, make him bleed and tie him to the car without an issue, and yet he’s been characterized as weak and not the muscle of the group. Is he strong or not? YAYY MORE CHARACTER INCONSISTENCIES! And glad to know Millie did nothing….as usual. Besides fight.

So Stolas has officially become Angel Dust, and Moxxie is slowly turning into Blitz so that’s great. It’s amazing how there’s barley a difference between the Stolas and Angel tho, he’s just Angel Dust. And Chaz. And Blitz. And every other fucking gay male character Viv writes. The constant cursing, the quick sassy witty banter, the sex jokes of him being tied up, you can tell Viv wrote this with those “harder” jokes between Moxxie and Stolas like…wow, it’s amazing how her gay characters have recycled personalities, aka the Sassy gay twink. Anyway, to me, Stolas before was horny and rabid don’t get me wrong, but something about the way he is in this episode just irks me more. I get that he hates Stella and Striker, but now he just seems like a petty sassy royal bird who acts like a child 24/7…..and it’s unfunny…..and annoying. All these characters are written like fucking children I can’t.

Apparently Striker has a reputation, is wanted around Hell and is well known for being an assassin now??? I thought he was just some Imp who was hired to kill someone? Lmao yet another retcon because if this was the case before, you’d think IMP would have heard of him in Harvest Moon. What’s also retconned is Striker saying he was asked to give Stolas the “full royal treatment”, to torture him I guess but….no? He was hired to shoot Stolas with an angelic gun. Why didn’t he just fucking shoot him. Speaking of that, where is the fucking angelic gun? The IMP gang had it last, and now they don’t have it. Also I already pointed this out but…Stolas can’t recognize Striker despite meeting him in episode 5 upfront. Let’s actually talk about Striker tho. He wasn’t perfect but he certainly was the best part of the episode. I actually applaud Bosco for his voice acting, and the scene with him snapping at the band to leave him alone was the only joke that made me laugh. I didn’t care about Striker that much before but this episode honestly made me did now, ignoring the fact that he’s characterized as egotistical. Problem is tho, like the rest of the antagonists, Stikers kinda just a tool. So he….may or may not be dead, I legit have no idea. If he is dead however….boy oh boy, that would piss me off, because IF he IS dead……then way to go guys, you killed off the only interesting and cool character. 🫠

I expected it, but it’s amazing how everything beforehand regarding him was for nothing if he does turn out dead. The tension he had between him and Moxxie? Would be gone. The fact that he appeared in Blitz’s hallucination, being someone who was similar to Blitz but they used their skills differently yet were the same regarding being mistreated by the upper class? Would be gone. Striker wanting to rebel against the higher class? Gone. Blitz doesn’t even get to interact with him before he dies, for a character that clearly had an impact on him. I was going to applaud this episode for actually being consistent and keeping Striker the same person who despises the upper class for what they do to the lower class, they even imply that he had someone he cares about taken away, but it’s all fucking gone if they KILLED HIM OFF. It all would go nowhere in the end and it pisses me off now because you HAD an interesting character, a villain who contrasted the main character, who had a point and could be humanized, and who rightfully calls out Stolas and his people being the scum of the earth, and now he might be dead because once again, Vivzie is an impatient writer who pushes the story forward too fast before we can even get to know these important characters, and also doesn’t want Stolas to be in a position where he’s in the wrong. Bro was literally eating at a rich place where imps serve you, treats his butler like a stress toy, talks down to Blitz and other imps…he’s not innocent Viv.

(It’s also obvious but this episode suffers from pacing issues, the constant cut aways, and scenes moving by so fast we can’t digest any of it. The FIGHT scene tho? Good god that was a mess, it’s literally faster than Millie’s fight scene from last episode, and the annoying songs playing as we kept cutting to Blitz at the appointment REALLY doesn’t help. I really feel like this studio can’t handle fight scenes….at all, or knows how they work. The video literally gets fucking blurry at one point like what the FUCK LMAO…..either hire someone who knows how to animate action scenes or don’t do action scenes at all.)

I knew Stella was still going to be one note, so I wasn’t surprised, but honestly what did piss me off is how stupid they make her. She was inconsistent before but now she’s just an idiot, because apparently she needed to be TOLD that once Stolas dies, everything goes to Octavia. Like are you kidding me? She’s so dumb that she needed to be told that?? She doesn’t even respond when Andre mentions Via, lmao her whole character really is “me hate Stolas and me want him dead” and nothing else. I’ll give the episode this, even though we barley got to see Andre, he wasn’t insufferable like I thought he would be, in fact, he’s more tolerable than Stella and Stolas combined since he’s the one who’s annoyed at their bickering and calls Stella out for being dumb, but that’s not a writing flex. Andre clearly seems to be the smart mastermind leading Stella now, I have no idea wether if they’ll later make her sympathetic and paint Andre out to be the baddie leading her, or not, it would be bad writing either way tho. Speaking of that….the way Andre treats Stella is off, and I don’t mean in the way that he could be evil. Like other critic blogs have been saying, he calls her attractive, a minx, and a vixen, all words you….wouldn’t really call your sister. It’s really gross and I’m starting to think the information we’ve been given of these two secretly screwing might be true. Like…if we’re doing straight up incest, I’m ganna hurl.

Andre also is all like “if we keep him alive, we’ll have more opportunities, let’s wait till we can get the upper hand”- and I’m…..what? You HAD the upper hand, that’s number one, and number two, this dialogue is VERY vague and makes me feel like Viv had no idea what exactly Andre’s end goal is here, so she used this dialogue as an excuse to figure it out later since she doesn’t plan shit ahead. Because what is Andre’s end goal? It’s confusing. Stella wants him dead, but then they’re talking about money and possessions. Andre seems to want to help Stella have Stolas’s estate, but she just wanted him dead because she hates him. Now you’re telling me she wants his estate too? YAY MORE RETCONS AND CONFUSING PLOT HOLES. Guess we’ll have to wait for Viv to figure out their motivations later lol.

Yada yada another retcon, Blitz cares for Uwu Stolas and is a dumbass for acting like he never knew Stolas could get hurt despite having a fucking angelic weapon on him and learning royals could be in danger in the last season, moving on-

So we’re finally at the end, the most important scene, the text scene. For starters, just like the other critic blogs have been saying……Ozzie’s finally……FINALLY gets brought up again and acknowledged, and it’s over a fucking blink and you’ll miss it half- assed text message. Like….WOW Viv, way to scrape the bottom of the barrel and confront this in the most underwhelming way possible. Would have been actually impactful and better if we saw this go down on fucking screen and have Blitz and Stolas address this in person, but nah let’s just have it happen off screen because storytelling and Viv? They don’t know each other!

But putting that aside, I want to talk about two important problems I had with this scene, because nobody is talking about how these messages make no goddamn sense. So if you actually read the messages between Blitz and Stolas, I hate how Stolas is characterized here, and I don’t mean how he’s suddenly acting like he always cared about Blitz because that’s been a problem since Ozzie’s, I’m talking about how oblivious and emotionally clingy he is. Like…seriously these text messages are a fucking mess. He suddenly acts clueless to how Blitz feels, wondering if he was upset or not, as if Blitz didn’t fucking tell him exactly why afterwards. Fuck you mean by “you just took off?”- I’m sorry Viv, did you forget the scene where Blitz drove Stolas home that night and called him out on his bullshit, saying all he did was treat him like a plaything? Because yeah, Ozzie’s may have finally been fucking mentioned in this show, but now it’s retconned AGAIN because apparently Stolas is a dumbass and can’t remember why Blitz was mad at him in the first place when he had spelled it out loud and clear. Stolas’s text messages make it out to be like they left the restaurant after Ozzie’s taunting and the scene with them at Stolas’s house never happened. Then Stolas is saying shit like “okay well phew glad you’re not upset then Ozzie is a kidder lol I didn’t mind the jabs he makes at me”- I…..WHAT??? What the fuck is going on? Why is Stolas written differently here? Why is the events of Ozzie’s written differently now? Stolas was literally embarrassed by Ozzie calling him out and hid in his menu, much to Blitz’s dismay. They then leave, Stolas can obviously tell Blitz is upset, and when he tries to reach to him gently, Blitz shuts him out, causing Stolas to cry alone. This episode is apparently now acting like their quarrel never happened because the dialogue is written as if they’re referring to Ozzie’s torment, not Blitz calling him out. This legit pisses me off because the show is once again telling us what we saw didn’t happen and rewriting it to fool us. Making Stolas out to be some vulnerable softie who cares about Blitz’s well being too—

And finally, Viv does what she does best by wanting to make you ship Blitz and Stolas together SO badly, but accidentally contradict herself by showing even MORE proof on why these two aren’t good for each other. Putting all the retconning aside, in this case it’s that…surprise surprise, Blitz is constantly miserable and unhappy around Stolas, or whenever they interact. And it’s not even that Blitz can’t communicate, or sucks at emotions, he just doesn’t fucking LIKE Stolas, and I don’t understand how many times the show is going pin that nail on the head until something actually happens, because this scene would have been more impactful if we weren’t already HERE before. Remember The Circus Viv? Stolas going through his Instagram and noticing Blitz was miserable all the time, and reflecting on how their relationship was a figment of his imagination? This scene is the same, it’s just done through text messages now. Why are we doing this again. And I don’t get what Viv’s end goal is here. Is she trying to make Stolas realize that Blitz never gave a shit about him (because we’re on season two and this bird brain can’t take a hint) or is she trying to make Stolas go “I thought he didn’t care but omg he texted me “get well soon” he DOES love me!” Yeah…probably the last option. This ship sucks. If anything…..why can’t Blitz and Stolas just be fucking friends? You wanna say they care about each other? Fine. But romantically, it just doesn’t work. They aren’t good for each other, and function better as friends, but GOD forbid, we can’t have that because they do the dirty in bed SO IT CAN’T BE PLATONIC, it must be romantic! I was literally right, this ship gets worse and worse every passing episode and Viv wants you to ship it so hard despite the fact that she STILL hasn’t given me ONE good reason why they should be a couple. End of story.

So that pretty much it. This episode was nowhere near has bad as the previous three, it’s the most tolerable, but still heavily flawed in the writing department. The dialogue still lacks nuance and sounds like an edgy 12 year old wrote it, the world is still empty, pacing was off, the animation was off too at times, the constant sex jokes during serious scenes are distracting and take away from what’s going on, the side plot didn’t need to happen, there’s also SCENES that didn’t need to happen, there are multiple retcons and empty plot holes/threads, and Viv once again can’t write a complex serious gay couple. She just doesn’t have the writing chops for it, especially since she keeps rewriting aspects and flip flopping between who is the worse lover and who isn’t. I’ll talk more about this episode later, you know how I rant a lot lol. Tomorrow I’ll be finally answering inbox questions too! If you managed to read my endless rant essay, I thank you! See you soon!