#i'm so tired but little steps at the very least even if they're all i can manage rn r enough

[gingersnapwolves]

so I had some thoughts on the burnout post but didn't want to hijack it so this is just my own rambling attempt to process the feelings I've been struggling with for two days which obviously not everyone wants to read, thus my putting a read more

I've been crying off and on for the past couple days which is really no surprise, and I've been trying to avoid political news and political posts. In fact, after this I plan to hide the political tags for a while, heavily curate my Reddit experience, and then do I don't even know what with all my new free time

because I don't talk about it a lot here, this is my fandom space, my casual space, and I'll sometimes post about personal stuff but almost never politics, but I am actually very political. 'member of multiple political mailing lists, have marched in many protests, write postcards to swing state voters' political. and I want to talk a little about why this defeat feels different. because this crushed me in a way that 2016 did not.

the thing is. over the past few days I've seen a lot of people talking about how if you didn't realize Trump was going to win, you live in a bubble. and I think to a certain extent that's true. we all have our little echo chambers. but for me, at least, and a lot of the people I know, it wasn't just that. it was this core certainty that Trump would not win, could not win, because surely our country wasn't like that. surely our fellow Americans were not like that. it wasn't about competency or about policy. it was about basic human decency. and that's what I feel like we lost. not an election. but any remaining belief we had that people are basically good.

because it seems they're not. at least not around here. the cold hard fact at the end of the day is that the majority of our country looked at a senile, racist, fascist criminal grifter [eta: how could I forget rapist in that description?] and either actively wanted him to hold the highest office in the land, or just didn't care whether or not he did. they know exactly what he's going to do, and they're fine with it. and that hurts so much that it is nearly unbearable.

how do you move on from that? how do you cope with the fact that there's something so deeply rotten at the core of your fellow man? how do you deal with that? how do you fight back?

I am full of so much grief that I literally don't know where to put it.

so I don't want to fight anymore. I'm tired. I'm nauseated. I'm angry. But most of all, I'm sad. I can't do it right now. and I think that's probably okay. I think in six weeks or six months I'll feel differently. but right now I just can't do it. and I think the most important thing really can be to take a step back and focus on something else. because I know these feelings are not productive. I know that there are still good people out there and there are still things worth fighting for. but right now, all I feel is this aching chasm where my faith in humanity used to be.

so I'm unplugging - not from fandom or tumblr, but from politics and news - for at least a little while. sometimes that's the most important thing to do if you want to still be able to get out of bed in the morning.

[gotham-daydreams]

How would it have gone differently if Reader didn't try to be an "overachiever" and instead just stayed quiet and didn't interact with anyone besides Alfred until they left? Their room they left being mostly blank, with only the music journals? Giving up on trying to get their attention.

I think what's so funny about this ask, to me, is that I already have a concept like this written down (along with 3 others since the current reader I'm writing for the "Not [ ]" series is one of them but with a few missing details), so this'll be fun!

I guess it generally goes how you'd expect? Which is different for the most part, but the reader's perspective on what's happening is also different.

Granted, I would like to point out that, at least for this particular concept and the idea I have for it of how this would go, does have more stuff going on pre-Batfam that do affect how they perceive what's happening, and that's what makes things interesting in my opinion. Because someone can be naturally shy or just overall more reserved either out of nature or because they feel a certain way, but still feel bad about being neglected and, despite their lack of effort, feel that pain just as much as someone who's tried. Which is valid! Besides, someone's definition of 'trying' can vary as well.

Everyone should have a chance to have a family, and form some kind of connection with people. Just because you aren't going above and beyond for one person, doesn't mean you're undeserving of certain things. Especially not a chance to have a family, or feel like you have one. That's what I think anyway.

Nevertheless, back to the reader!

From the original concept, I will be tweaking a few things to fit the ask, but the same general outcome remains! Though again, the reader's perspective on things is a tad different. But how about this- I'll show two versions of the reader.

One that's quiet and more reserved because they gave up much earlier, or just generally hopeless really early on because maybe they felt as if anything they'd do just wouldn't be enough, who'll be accurately named Quiet!Reader. With the other being more closely related to the concept I wrote for such an idea, that we'll refer to as Waiting!Reader.

Quiet!Reader would change up things quite a bit! I won't lie!

They might already have bad self-esteem that's quick to develop at the start of things, which is something to note as that doesn't get better with time. They grow more cold and distant from the family at a quicker pace both from personal and external reasons.

Put simply, they don't feel good enough, and even if they did- anything they could do to get the Batfam's attention would never be enough in their eyes. To which, they see very early on when they try to engage and do some things with the family, only to be turned down. What doesn't help is when Quiet!Reader sees Damian get adopted and almost immediately showered with love, (compared to them) and that really cements some ideas that were already developing in their head about the family.

When Damian comes into the picture, they feel replaced. Seeing him as someone to fill in the 'youngest Wayne' role instead of them, so that Bruce and the others actually have someone to acknowledge for such a title. Just someone else to further take away the little they had.

So, they further step out of the way, glaring at the Batfam with tired eyes before that eventually stops too. Envy clawing at their heart, hatred being sent through waves of pain all throughout their body. Hurt unmatched. Yet they still remain invisible. Quiet as ever. Unnoticed. Everything they ever felt dies down, and forms a cold numbness that they begin to associate with the family.

Maybe through that, they feel closer to the family in some twisted way. Now just as cold as them. Just as talkative, and just as engaging. Almost mirroring them, but they're honest about how they feel. Honest about what they think, and therefore better. At least when compared to the Batfam- and to them, even if it wasn't a high bar to reach anyway, at least it counts for something.

It was never Damian's fault, or really about Damian at all. It could've been anyone else and Quiet!Reader would've still reacted the same way, they know that. Though just seeing the Batfam show love and care to him and not them just makes them feel... worse.

Clearly they're capable of love, and can notice new additions to the family (to which they may have mostly believed that the Batfam's neglect was just something the family did for whatever reason, and thought that them being the youngest had something to do with it for a while) and that breaks the reader. It doesn't hurt, not as much as it would've, maybe, but whatever hurt is there dies down quickly as Quiet!Reader, well, quietly accepts their fate.

The Batfam clearly wants nothing to do with them, so why should they try to do all of these things for them? It's simple, they shouldn't. So they don't. Quiet!Reader gives up, and continues to live their life without them.

The Manor just becomes a place they sleep in, and nothing else. It isn't anything close to a home, and not even Alfred can help with that.

It's because of that little fact, however, that Quiet!Reader leaves much sooner than the reader in the "Not [ ]" series. Maybe once they get a friend they can trust, they essentially end up living with said friend, hence why their room remains so empty. The notebooks they even keep in the room they have in the Manor is from when they were way younger, instead of just being from a few months ago or so. We're talking years since Quiet!Reader has touched those things now.

Maybe they do 'officially' leave a month or so before they usually would as an overachiever in the "Not [ ]" series, having only bothered to return so often before because of Alfred. Though even then, they'd forget to return most nights- only being reminded to even try and go back once Alfred would personally call them, and ask them where they were.

However now, after a while of just the time between them basically living with their friend and sleeping at the manor, they stop returning altogether. Though this time around they instead personally go to Alfred to say they're goodbyes. Not explaining much, but just saying that while they might still try to come and visit him sometimes, they don't live in the Manor anymore. Alfred already knows this, and the embrace they share fully hammers in that fact.

Yet when Quiet!Reader turns away, and leaves the Manor for good- even through the front door at that. Alfred can't help but just... miss them already.

You see, while Quiet!Reader is indeed quieter and more reserved, especially towards the Batfam, with Alfred really being the only exception, they still made music.

Maybe they didn't have as many concerts or physical, grand, live performances compared to the reader in the "Not [ ]" series, they not only started earlier, but may have actually started out on a social platform such a youtube. They really started out small, but were able to find and start their passion much earlier!

Most of what they played was when they were in the Manor, but slowly they started to get involved with things music related outside of the Manor and in Gotham- and from there were able to build themselves up even more. Hell, I'd even say that Quiet!Reader is a little more well-known and popular than the reader in the "Not [ ]" series because of the amount of extra time they dedicated to their passion.

So basically, Alfred this time around has more recordings and such of Quiet!Reader actually doing something they love than with the one in the series. However! Funnily enough, they're gone for a shorter amount of time despite having left earlier than normal.

Alfred is just, extra fed up with this nonsense, and so pulls his tricks more early on, but also make them hit harder.

He doesn't clean Quiet!Reader's room to show how long they've been gone, adding onto the emptiness and almost abandoned feeling the room itself gives off because of how bare and empty it is. They're music haunts the halls, subtle, sure, but still noticeable- especially to those who are hyper aware all the time. Pictures of Quiet!Reader and Alfred begin to be hung up, and if he can manage- some with Quiet!Reader and their friends during important parts of their life.

No one is safe from the guilt and anguish Alfred seeks to cause to not only have the Batfam look for you, but most importantly, to finally notice you.

Let's just say, things work out a little too well.

---

As for Waiting!Reader? Oh man, I've been wanting to rant about them for a while!

Unlike the reader in the "Not [ ]" series and Quiet!Reader, Waiting!Reader had some semblance of a life before getting adopted into the Batfam. Though the idea and character themself isn't musically inclined/involved in music, or even all that interested in music for that matter- for the sake of this ask, lets say they are!

I won't dabble too much into the life Waiting!Reader had before the Batfam, as if I do end up writing them I'd also like to keep some details vague (for the sake of leaving it up to interpretation and everything), but just know that during the time they were still with their original family, they were essentially taught that they should 'wait their turn', and eventually their parents would spend time with them and care for them. Hence the little name I've given them.

So! When they get to the Manor and are officially adopted, only to be neglected and ignored during their first few attempts- because of their young age, they immediately think "oh! they're just like mom and dad!" So they 'wait' for 'their turn', believing that eventually, should they wait long enough, they'll be rewarded with bonding and such from the Batfam just as they were with their previous parents.

This mindset changes what they do as well, as Waiting!Reader even goes out of their way to not bother anyone, or "get in the way" of whatever they could be doing. Waiting!Reader treats the situation so much like their previous home life, that sometimes they might even forget that the Batfam are completely different people from their parents. The only real difference that they can think of is that they're not acknowledged at all and it seems like their 'turn' never comes. Though for a while that doesn't get them down. The Batfam is busy like they're parents were! Waiting!Reader is sure that when things die down then they'll have their time.

... Hopefully.

I can imagine that part of the reason why Waiting!Reader holds on to hope for so long is because, again, their own parents constantly reassured them that they would have their time eventually. That if they behaved, and stayed out of the way, then they would go somewhere fun with their parents and essentially be rewarded for their efforts. They were conditioned to wait, to be patient, and just comply until those around them decided to actually take care of them, and spend time with them.

Of course, as they grow up the reality of the situation does hit them eventually, but during that time they do try.

Waiting!Reader helps Alfred around the house, and so they mostly bond over doing chores, among other things. They are also more mindful, and try to keep the amount of noise they back down— so they actually don't play at the Manor all that often, and instead play literally anywhere else. If and when they do play outside, around the area of the Manor like in the gardens or something, they make sure no one is around before even thinking of playing.

Alfred does help them break a few of their habits that they got while living with their parents, but the one thing he can't seem to 'fix' is how absolutely quiet Waiting!Reader is when they walk around. Which, as on can imagine, doesn't exactly help in a situation where the whole family, except for the butler, is neglecting you.

The amount of times Waiting!Reader has caught Alfred off guard is more then you'd think for someone that works with the Dark Knight, and his various sidekicks and such, over the years. Which does say something, sure, but it's also funny!

Regardless, similar to Quiet!Reader, Waiting!Reader is able to start their musical career earlier than normal, and thuse becomes a little more popular than they would originally. However, they're more known for their live performances and giving back to the community. Seemingly just like Bruce as they attend charity event after charity event, and try to do good by the people.

Waiting!Reader also does genuinely try to become a vigilante as well, but they do so in a way where they only take care of the smaller/medium guys, and leave the bigger ones to the rest of the Batfam. This is because they want to remove possible distractions for their family, and while they would try to take on "bigger guys", they don't think they're skilled enough or experienced enough to even think about it. So they don't even try. (They also don't have the same theme as the Batfam- since they don't want to 'ruin' their reputation with what they're doing or something. Which does hell them further detach themself from the family later on.)

I'd say that with Waiting!Reader, the difference between them and the Batfam is more clear to them? Like, to them, the Batfam are just so good at what they do that they have no hope of reaching them. So instead of trying to reach for them, they just do their own thing and try to help in their own way.

Because Waiting!Reader takes care of smaller guys, they are kind of closer to Waiting!Reader as a vigilante.

The best way I can put it is that while the community trusts Batman and the members of the Batfam to save their city, they trust Waiting!Reader to save their homes.

So basically- Batfam is the bigger picture while Waiting!Reader focuses on the smaller picture.

Nevertheless! Also like Quiet!Reader, Waiting!Reader actually leaves earlier. Except when they leave, they leave.

Waiting!Reader straight up leaves Gotham City to attend the college that they want to go to, in an area that has more opportunity for them, that isn't close to where the Batfam lives or patrols.

So they not only leave earlier, but it also takes the Batfam longer to find them. Especially because Waiting!Reader does still do some things in Gotham, they just don't live there anymore.

I feel like out of all three readers, Waiting!Reader definitely feels like the kind of person that someone would assume is some kind of "Phantom of the Wayne Manor," y'know?

So Alfred definitely tries to make the Batfam feel bad like he does with Quiet!Reader. Except how anyone in the Batfam is reminded that Waiting!Reader even exists, and that they've been gone for a while now is through a letter that is accidentally sent to the Wayne Manor from one of Waiting!Reader's fans. From there, some research does start and the more the Batfam learns, the more they want to go and find the reader- you know the deal.

I hope this answered your question even if I really did ramble on this time- if you'd like me to clarify anything or go into more detail on a specific part, feel free to send in an ask!

[wordbunch]

how you pamper them when they're stressed/overworked

a/n: requested by the sweet @almost-gabrielle, i hope you enjoy it, and everyone else too - it's going to be GIGANTIC! 😍 be nice, cause I included some characters I haven't written much before (exciting!!!) and if you reblog with a comment or a nice tag... i'll love you forever! 💖 that means a lot, and i'm very grateful for all of it 🥰

ARAGORN: he actually feels like that quite often, but he’s incredibly good at hiding it. Luckily, you’re an expert in reading him like an open book, but oftentimes you need to literally physically drag him away from whatever he is doing (and he might complain as you do so). Aragorn just enjoys sometimes being quiet with you, and it’s usually what he needs when his mind is racing, or his body is overexerted. Or both. You can just lie down together and run your fingers slowly through his hair, and that will help him forget his worries at least for a little while. Secretly he is an absolute sucker for sweet, romantic confessions of love and affection, and he will melt if you whisper sweet nothings in his ear.

LEGOLAS: something has to be extremely serious for him to feel that way, because his limits are very high; but in those moments he just wants to get away from everything as soon as possible and run to you, because with you the rest of the world just fades away. He enjoys an outing in nature, far away from real life, especially if the two of you find a nice lake or river to go for a swim in, and eventually act like a couple of children splashing and chasing each other. If that doesn’t help, he likes to sit in front of you and let you braid his hair as he talks about whatever is on his mind, and it also helps him physically relax to have you sitting behind and so close to him.

BOROMIR: this man will most likely push himself to his absolute limits, because he shoulders too much responsibility and feels pressured constantly to be on top of things. However, it’s easy to notice when he becomes a bit more irritable at one point, and then you know it’s time to talk him into taking at least a little break. That can be a slippery slope, because once he gets you alone for 5 minutes, it can very easily turn into 15 hours, and he would never finish anything. But on some days it’s just necessary - you sweet talk him into a cuddle session, during which he accidentally falls asleep with his head over your heart, or you make some tea with love as the special ingredient – and tell him that! He’s going to melt and finally, gratefully accept that his partner wants to look after him.

FARAMIR: much like his brother, he will probably suffer in silence, but you can’t miss his tired sighs every now and then, and the way he shuts his eyes and rubs his temples. If you hug him from behind, he will melt into your touch and lean onto you so much that you will almost topple over, but that will also make him admit to himself that he really needs a break. Run him a nice, hot bath complete with fragrant ingredients, and candles lit around it,  and he will be forever grateful. If you don’t join immediately, he will very sweetly ask you to come with him because 'oh the bath is so big and so lonely' without one more person in it. 

ÉOMER: this hardworking man is actually quite in touch with how he feels, both physically and emotionally, and he knows when things are becoming too much and he needs to step away for his own good. It is not unusual for him to go search for you and suggest that the two of you do something away from everyday life. Many times he doesn’t even suggest anything, he just follows behind you whatever you’re doing - taking a walk and admiring some trees in bloom? He’s right there holding your hand. Sitting on a balcony and reading? He will lay his head on your lap and ask you to read to him. And he is content just being present with you.

SAM: he gets both overworked and stressed quite often, poor thing. Make him something to eat and bring it outside while he’s working in the garden, and just have a spontaneous mini-picnic in the backyard. Although he’s very hardworking and persistent, over time he’s learned to accept your help and pampering, and he really really enjoys it too. If he is under mental stress, maybe you’ll need to push him a little bit to tell you what is on his mind, but once he does, he will gladly listen to your advice or any help you can give him. 

FRODO: baby boy is in his head a lot and oftentimes he will accidentally create things to worry about, and he will just zone out. if he has a faraway look in his eyes, while doing nothing in particular, you can accurately guess what is up. He likes to feel useful, and he will gratefully accept if you ask him to help you with whatever you’re doing - it gives him an excuse to be kind and helpful, but also spend time with his favorite person. Especially if you’re organizing/re-organizing something, he will enjoy doing it with you, or cooking - he might not be the best at it, but he delights in giving you a hand, and he likes to learn and improve new skills anyway. 

MERRY: he is actually much more of an overthinker than he seems to be on the outside, so stress sometimes just generates outta nowhere! Also he isn’t the biggest fan of physical labor out there, but he is a little bit of a show-off when it comes to you, and he will go above and beyond when helping you with something or doing something for you, until he can barely stand. Afterwards he will take pride in the fact that you had to force him to stop whatever he was doing, but he was simply being so very nice to his favorite person! Something he loves to do to unwind in those moments is just come up with random stories with you, the two of you taking turns making up characters and events. He is a little bit of a baby and he will just take your hand wordlessly and put it in his hair, because it feels nice when you run your fingers through it.

PIPPIN: he will either be stressing over very small, irrelevant things, or something absolutely terrible, no in-between. If it’s something small, he has no problem rambling about it to you, and that usually helps him sort things out; but if it’s something serious, he will grow quiet. The best thing you can do for him in those moments is distract him with a silly idea like “let’s go for a walk and find as many kinds of blue flowers as we can” or just straight up make him laugh - it’s the best medicine. He wouldn’t ask you directly to do it, but he’d love it if you could just hold him or cuddle him for a bit (he’s the little spoon of course).

BILBO: oh he will get worked up over a whole bunch of random things; and when he is working on something, he goes all in (and then has a random episode of doing absolutely nothing), so you need to be the one who grounds him in reality sometimes. Just don’t startle him when approaching him quietly. He is very responsive to your touch and he will just lean into you as soon as you’re near, almost forgetting about everything else. He adores it when you hold his face in your hands and he will look at you as if hypnotized while you comfortingly reassure him that everything will be alright and that he doesn’t have to do anything alone as long as you’re around.

FÍLI: he is very big on “strong protective independent dwarf” and sometimes he doesn’t fully allow himself to rest properly, or to process some things that are bothering him on the inside. However, at one point it will all have to culminate, and then his first instinct is to shut himself off. A guaranteed way to get through to him is to kiss him senselessly wherever you can reach and it makes him subconsciously relax almost immediately. He will kiss you back passionately which helps him eliminate some of the tension he’s feeling. Additionally, he will never ever say no to receiving a nice little massage from you. 

KÍLI: oh he is quite proud of himself if he ends up overworking himself for you, as if it gives him bonus partner points. You will gently scold him for pushing himself too far, and then he will pout, but you know he still doesn’t regret it. Then he himself will drag you away for a cuddle session - he chose that as his reward for being the very best partner in all of Middle-earth - but you don’t have to exclusively cuddle. He finds it very relaxing if you sing something quietly to him and he will look up at you with shining eyes.

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[anfie-in-the-box]

Be Who You Are (An Error Just Like Me)

Notes

A little something for @zu-is-here (: Thanks for the request! It was a bit difficult at first, but today inspiration hit hard and I couldn't help but write, write, write. It was amazing, and I'm quite proud of the result.

。。。

For one too many times, Blueberrory stumbles on something he doesn't see and groans, frustrated, caught in Error's strings so he doesn't fall and possibly break a bone or two. Error laughs at him, glitching slightly, but helps Blueberrory regain his balance.

“Ugh. Ho-o-ow?” he mutters with barely concealed irritation. He's definitely become moodier as an error. He wonders if it would ever go away. 

“You want me to teach you how to navigate the Anti-Void? That's what I'm doing,” Error says, still giggling — and glitching, just a tiny bit. Blueberrory can't help but smile fondly. Oh, to slowly but surely learn to understand Error's twisted mind… He enjoys Blueberrory's struggles very much, but he also cares, and he also wants Blueberrory to succeed. If only to prove he's the best teacher and guide in the Anti-Void. And because they're becoming friends. 

“There's this one tiny little thing that I don't understand,” Error says, now frowning. 

“Am I missing something?” Blueberrory asks with hope. Maybe Error is finally tired of his games of vague charades? But he stands up and spreads his hands. 

“Come here and hug me.” 

Hope is a stupid feeling indeed. Error hates physical contact and barely knows how to soothe the feeling — before Blueberrory he didn't even have the clothes that would suit his needs. And now he just stands there, almost demanding a hug? Blueberrory knows Error's not the most stable person around, but this… 

Nonetheless, Blueberrory comes closer and… He's not sure what happens next, but stars, he's glitching like crazy. It doesn't hurt though, not at all, and then it ends as fast as it has started. And he finds himself a tiny little bit away from Error, though Blueberrory can swear he was close to him, closer than Error ever allowed. 

“What… What was that?!” Blueberrory shouts, startled. 

“Stupid, don't you realise that's your main advantage here in the Anti-Void?” Error makes a dissatisfied face, but there's a certain sparkle in his mismatched eye-lights. He enjoys knowing more and understanding better. And Blueberrory will be his favourite subject for a rather long time — he's a fast learner, but now that his nature and soul have changed, he has a lot of things to either learn or relearn. Like navigating his new home.

“I don't understand,” Blueberrory says after a few deep breaths. He's still frustrated but not angry or bewildered to the point of shock. “What happened? Why am I farther from you than I was before, well, trying and failing to hug you, I suppose? Why did I glitch like that?”

Silence falls. At least Blueberrory isn't irritated anymore, and Error's thoughtful face soothes his soul even more. Blueberrory really, truly misses the times patience came naturally to him. But he'll do his best anyway. And besides, that part of him is deep inside, more than a memory, less than an illusion — a part of his experience, a part of his past, long gone. Blueberrory isn't the magnificent Sans.

Error laughs loudly and Blueberrory takes a step back, startled. 

“You're so funny,” Error finally says when his laughter ceases. “Wonder whether I would be as funny if I had someone to look after me.”

Blueberrory perks up. Error doesn't talk about his past, or, well, his past in the Anti-Void. He loves telling stories about the AUs he once destroyed, or the AUs that managed to attract his attention and therefore stayed. The latter ones were far and between at first, but as Error learnt to tame his insanity, he found beauty and fascination in more and more things. He found his own reasons to grant mercy, as twisted as those reasons are.

“What's funny, then?” Blueberrory asks calmly. 

“That you really don't understand!” Error grins. “What happened is one of your own ways to be an error. Congratulations! Now you know what to master!”

Blueberrory sighs. Error's words still don't make any sense, though they really should. But that's fine, Blueberrory is still getting used to… everything, really. Error knows that, so Blueberrory will get his answers. Sooner or later, one way or another. 

“I see you're not getting it.” This time, Error quickly goes to Blueberrory and touches his shoulder. 

Well, he tries to. Blueberrory doesn't even get a moment to react. He's glitching again, and he's a few steps away from Error. Again. 

“Most errors can't touch living beings, as far as I know,” Error finally starts to explain with words. “But you? Oh, how I envy you, little Berry! You can't touch anything, not in the state you're in right now.”

“But I… I stumble on… whatever it is in the Anti-Void?..” Blueberrory mumbles, then grimaces — he's meant to sound coherent and confident, not like this. 

“Of course you do! That's why I said you've got to master your ways to be an error. They're advantages as much as they are obstacles.”

“So what you mean is… There's a way to cheat?”

“Sure, call it like that, why not! We are errors, but we are also hackers. The Anti-Void loves those who know the rules, but it loves those who set their own rules even more.”

“What is yours, then? Advantage and obstacle, I mean.” 

Error tenses for a moment — Blueberrory doesn't even start regretting his decision to ask. Enough is enough. But Error answers slowly, “My vision. Without the glasses, I see more. Or, well, differently.”

Blueberrory hums, not letting this show of Error's trust and honesty go unnoticed but also not focusing attention on his words. 

What feels like hours later (though you never know with the Anti-Void), Blueberrory still stumbles here and there, but sometimes he doesn't, glitching out of the way — and gets a standing ovation from Error, slightly mocking yet genuinely proud. What a mix.

“Be who you are — an error just like me,” he murmurs, almost to himself, but Blueberrory hears it anyway. He makes a promise to himself to become the second best error ever. The first is Error himself, of course.

So much to learn, so much to see, and Blueberrory won't be alone. Lucky him.

。。。

Credits

Undertale © Toby Fox

Error and Blueberror © loverofpiggies

。。。

Notes

There's a few references here and there. The title is a slightly corrected line from Hazbin Hotel song Loser, Baby.

"Hope is a stupid feeling" is a belief from a series of Russian books that I like a lot, though I don't fully agree with this particular notion. Still interesting to look for situations where it works.

Thanks for reading, and take care 🌻

P. S. Requests are still open!

[gor3-hound]

silver lining

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, hybrid!reader, very brief suicide mention, p in v, creampie, daddy kink, a LOT of pet names

a/n: hiii! throwing out some (kinda) fluffy smut for once lmao. mainly picturing vendetta leon, but any older leon works tbh. i'm so tired, so if you see typos, no, you don't >:[ hope you enjoy !!

word count: 1.7k words

Raccoon City was something that Leon would never forget. It's been years since the incident, and he still wakes up in a cold sweat some nights with nightmares of the things he'd seen.

It's fucked him up in more ways than one. He would have killed himself a long time ago if he was sure that Sherry would be safe. The “top secret programme” the government so lovingly initiated him into isn't the way he saw his life going - but if it kept her safe, he'd grit his teeth and bare it.

Sure, he's made his peace with it, but it doesn't make it any less difficult. He runs around like the government's personal lap dog and then comes home and drinks himself half to death. It's a routine he's gotten used to, and he doesn't plan on changing it anytime soon.

But it gets lonely. He's not a stranger to flirting with a pretty girl in the bar, but he never manages to get them to stay. He's not sure he's capable of forming a relationship anymore. Work always comes up, and no woman seems to want to stick around when he disappears for weeks or months at a time.

When he was younger, he always wanted a dog. That was another thing Raccoon City took from him. He still flinches when a dog moves too fast near him or gets too close. He's never been a cat person, either. Thinks they're grumpy bastards at the best of times.

He leaves it at that for a while. Looks like he's destined to be alone. Whatever. He's used to it by now. Or he thinks so, at least, until he starts to hear about hybrids becoming more commercially available as pets.

They've been around for a while, sure, but they were the type of exotic pet rich assholes buy to show off. He hears about the new hybrid adoption center opening in his city and spends one of his only weekends off doing a shit ton of research. He's not entirely convinced, but he figures there's no harm in taking a look. As soon as he spots you, he knows he's smitten. Bat your pretty lashes at him, and he'd do anything you asked.

You're the cutest little puppy girl he's ever seen. Fluffy ears atop your head, your tail wagging so fast behind you it's practically a blur. He doesn't even think about it when he calls a worker over, paying for you then and there. He doesn't even blink at the amount of money you cost him. He'd sell a kidney to be able to afford you if he needed it. At least the government pays well.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It's been a few months since he brought you home with him. You were a pain in the ass at first, constantly bouncing around his apartment. Your tail was a hazard, always knocking things off his table and breaking things.

He wouldn't change it for the world, though. You've become the highlight of his day. He finds himself smiling as he opens the door to his apartment, hearing you thunder towards the front door as he walks in. He can't help but chuckle as you wrap your arms around his waist, leaning up to lick at his face.

“Alright. Easy, girl. Easy.” He says with a smile, pushing you off him and ruffling your hair as he steps past you. He shrugs off his jacket, hanging it up and settling on the couch. “I had a long day, y'know? Could at least let me through the door before you jump all over me.”

“But I missed you.” You whine as he pushes you away from him, following him closely as he moves to sit on the couch.

“Yeah, yeah. I missed you, too, pup.” Leon says with a grin, patting his lap. He waits for you to jump in his lap, leaning back comfortably. “C'mere, then. Don't you wanna come sit with daddy?”

Your tail wags lazily behind you as you shift closer, straddling his lap happily. His hands settle on your waist to tug you closer, and he rubs small circles into you with his thumb.

“Missed you.” You repeat softly, cuddling close to him.

“You’re a sweet girl.” He nuzzles his nose into your head and caresses your hair. “A good girl…” 

Leon hums quietly and his hand starts to wander along your side and up towards your chest. “And beautiful, too. Can't believe I got so lucky, baby.”

You giggle softly at that, tail wagging just a little bit faster as you press your chest into his hand, shivering as his thumb brushes your sensitive nipple over your shirt.

“D'you wanna play with me, daddy?” You ask softly, trying to press as close to him as possible. Your hips start moving on their own, rutting your aching pussy against the hard muscle of his thigh. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling his scent deeply. He always smells so good when he gets back from work, sweat clinging to his skin. 

“I just got back, baby. What's got you so worked up, huh?” He teases softly, grabbing your hips and adjusting them so you're grinding down onto his steadily hardening cock over his pants instead. He groans softly, reaching around to pet the base of your sensitive tail.

That gets a twitch and a whine from you, making the corner of his mouth tug up into a lazy smile. He rocks his hips up into you until he's fully hard and leaking.

“Alright, alright. C'mon, puppy. Let's get you to bed.” He grunts, trying to act like he isn't as desperate as you. His voice is low and gravelly, brows furrowed in concentration as he lifts you up, carrying you to the bedroom.

He plops you down on the bed, kicking his shoes off and pulling off his jacket. His hands roam your body, tugging off your clothes as he runs his palms along your curves. His eyes take you I'm greedily, his hands working to undress himself instantly.

“Fuck.” He groans as you shift on your hands and knees, ass up in the air as soon as you see his cock. His cock twitches, pre-cum leaking and staining his stomach. “Always so eager…”

All he gets is a whine and an ass wiggle in response. You lift your tail straight up, presenting your glistening pussy for his hungry eyes. “Daddy, please…”

“Yeah, yeah. I got you.” He murmurs, settling between your legs. He runs the pads of two fingers between your glistening folds, dragging them from your clit to your entrance, gathering the slick dripping from you before pushing them inside.

He thrusts them in and out a few times, letting you get used to the intrusion. Not that you need it - your pussy is always so drippy, sucking him in greedily every chance it gets. He curls his fingers, earning a low moan from you, your cute ears pressing firmly against your head.

“That's it.” He coos, repeating the action every time his fingers are half buried inside of you. “There's my good girl. You want my cock, don't you, sweet thing?”

All you can manage is to babble please repeatedly, already so desperate for him. He's not sure how he ever managed without you. You always make him feel so wanted, and not just when he's buried balls deep inside of you. It's nice. Makes an unfamiliar warmth build in his chest, something he hasn't felt since he was still a bright-eyed kid in the police academy.

“Don't worry, baby, I got what you need.” He says softly, pulling his fingers out of you and rubbing your juices onto the sheets before grabbing your hips. His breath hitches as he slides his length into your tight heat, his head tilting back in pleasure before he lets out a low moan.

He leans over you, pressing some of his weight against you as he starts to thrust slow and deep. He presses his lips to the back of your neck before leaning back, his thrusts picking up in pace.

“Such a pretty puppy.” He groans, gripping your tail to pull you back against him every time he fucks into you. The room is filled with your needy moans and the sounds of your sloppy pussy.

“Daddy…” you whine, drool spilling past your lips and onto the pillow your face is smashed against. He can feel you tightening around him, so he knows you're close. He adjusts his angle slightly so he rubs up against that sweet spot that makes you see stars every time he pushes in.

“C'mon, cum for me, pretty girl.” He grunts, hand tightening on your tail as the other slides up from your hip to your waist, giving him more leverage ti rock you back onto his cock.

“Fuck, daddy… cummin’!” You moan, your walls clenching so tight around him you almost push him out. He presses his hips against your ass and thrusts shallowly, keeping him buried deep inside of you as his tip grinds against your cervix.

His mouth hangs open as he feels you gushing all over him, his breath caught in his throat as his cock jumps and kicks against your cervix, the feeling of your pussy fluttering around him making him shoot ropes of his cum deep inside of you.

You whine softly again, slumping against the crumpled sheets. His breathing is slightly heavy as he drops his weight on you, pressing you against the bed.

You grunt at the feeling of him dropping on top of you, wriggling yourself free with a soft huff. You cuddle up to him after, ignoring the feeling of his cum leaking down your thighs. You give him a few locks to his stubble cheeks before cuddling up to him with a smile.

“Sleepy.” You huff softly, nuzzling into his neck with a content sigh, your eyes fluttering shut. He lazily wraps an arm around you, tugging you closer to him and petting your back.

“I bet. C'mon, baby. Think we deserve a nap.” He murmurs, kissing your forehead before letting his eyes shut, too.

[joshleyson]

Life Update + Postcards from Mount Pulag

If there's one thing I'm particularly proud of that I did this year in the name of self-care, it is using my Apple Watch for what it was designed to do and being mindful of closing my rings on the Fitness App, which includes meeting my Move, Stand, and Exercise requirements for the day.

Last weekend, I went on my first major walk this year, to Mount Pulag in Benguet, the majestic and highest mountain in Luzon. For the first time ever, I was able to set a *drum roll please* record-breaking 42K steps, perhaps more because my watch died in the middle of the climb. It never occurred to me to go on this ALMOST 10-hour hike until J, who by the way was a famous OG Tumblr influencer during the peak Tumblr era circa 2012 (if you know him, mag-asawa ka na hahaha), introduced me to the idea of going to Baguio (I haven’t been to Baguio since forever) and eventually having to explore Mount Pulag after. J and I have known each other for over 12+ years, but it was only this year that we began to see each other more frequently; he is also the person who introduced and challenged me to finish my rings on the Fitness app. I began this "ring" journey at the end of March, but I wasn't fully committed until I started seeing some, hmm, what's the word, "changes" when I started monitoring my InBody results, which show my weight, BMI, muscle mass, and even body fat percentage decreasing. Long story short, I'm making some small progress with trying to make my BMI normal again. Hey, don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to paint the typical fitness buff image with raging, strong-looking muscles, because that's not who I am, but I wanted to give myself credit also for losing 10kgs in just 4 months, and I'm not even pulling my hair out about it, just that awareness of "Did I close my rings today?" moment. Like I told J, I never expected accountability to feel this good. So I'm quite delighted with that.

Enough of the fitness thingee and going back to Mount Pulag, I'm so happy that we were able to pull it off this year. We started by staying in Baguio for 2 days which by the way the weather was THE. BEST. Having to walk around the city in layered clothes without breaking a sweat as a pawisin was HEAVEN. It was something that I missed when I went back to Manila. After 2 days, we headed straight to Kabayan, Benguet, where our homestay was located, and by midnight started our trek to Pulag summit. The trek was surprisingly easy. The quiet and quaint landscapes while on our way to the summit were something that I enjoyed so much. It was tiring and yes, the weather was extremely cold. Miss Hypothermia is REAL especially on the summit but with the right amount of clothing, it's no biggie. Just do a little bit of research before signing up for the hike and you'll be just fine. On that trip, we met and bonded with new faces which I hope soon will become friends because they're nice to be with which made the hike bearable. Being the beach person that I am which is very OBVIOUS on this blogosphere, exploring the mountains and the countryside was very refreshing to see and I kinda wanted to make that commitment to at least do this at least once a year. Let's see!

(No Light Pollution? Here's the Milky Way captured in the default iPhone camera app.)

Overall, the Mountain Province trip including late-night walks in Baguio, wandering to places and cafés and bar hopping walking side to side because we’re drunk AF, and then Mount Pulag was something I'm so grateful for that I get to check them out this year. There were "unplanned" and "down" moments on that trip, sure, but I guess that's just normal, especially since I'm with the person I wanted to get to know more, and J, if you're reading this, thank you. I feel like all the things that happened on that trip have a reason and I just wanna say thank you for being…you. I will not be surprised if one day that rough idea of a psycho-thriller slasher movie we kind of created while sitting on a bus will soon come to life. Write that fucking screenplay. PLEASE.

So that's my not-so-quick life update that no one asked about. I think I mentioned before in this space that the more I have something "major" going on with my life whether professional or personal, I am less inclined to talk about it versus in my heyday, loud, teenage years and I think that's what really living is all about. Touch some grass they say, and literally, I did that in the mountains of Mount Pulag, and those memories which I hope I could bottle, and that seeing something so beautiful is enough to remind me that everything's gonna be alright.

Siri, play Gravity by Sara Bareilles, JOSHY

(Mountain Province, July 2024)

[hyuuukais]

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> general, y/n gets told she talks too much kind of, discussion abt cheating

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER THREE -> AM I IN? (partially written! wc:546)

"...and then, after telling him how much I love him, he comes out of our shared- yes, shared- bedroom with another woman! Can you believe that? I pour my heart and soul to this man, and he just steps all over it! Them? My heart and my soul, so, yeah, I guess them. Sorry, what was the question again?"

"...what do you do for work?" The guy on the right side of the couch says, arms crossed.

You blink. "Right! I'm a graphic designer for a website."

"What website?" Beomgyu leans back, arms behind his head.

"This Just In!" You say excitedly, passionate about your work. "I'm trying to move into the journalism area as well. I'd love to be able to interview some of the people we do, but my boss didn't seem very keen to the idea yet."

"How come?" The one in the middle asks.

"He says I talk too much." A sudden wave of emotion hits you. "My boyfriend says the same."

"Ex-boyfriend."

"What?"

"Your ex-boyfriend." It's the one on the right again, eyes piercing into you; you can't hold his gaze.

"Right." You clasp your hands in your lap. "Maybe I've overshared a bit to you guys. I don't even know your names-" You point at the two.

"Han," the middle one offers. "Well, Jisung, but most people call me Han."

"Minho." You still can't look at him.

"Okay. Um, so, unless you have any other questions...?"

"Yeah, actually," Minho speaks. "What's your current living situation?"

"Oh! I'm living with my best friend, Hyunjin, and his roommates. But they're all models and it can be a bit... dramatic." You laugh nervously.

"Models?" Han sits up straight, looking at his two roommates. "What are the others like?"

"There's Felix, a literal sunshine, and Yeonjun and Wooyoung. They're usually the ones causing drama." You laugh again, this time more naturally. "Wooyoung just came back from a business trip, so I'm gonna be staying in my other best friend's, NingNing, she's amazing and I love her, apartment until she comes back. She's also a model... I'm friends with a lot of models."

"Do you mind stepping out for a second?" Han says with a smile. Your stomach drops. "I just need to discuss something with my roomies here."

"Y-yeah, okay." Quickly, you pick up your bag and head to the door, only stumbling a little bit.

Of course, you press an ear to the door once outside. If they don't want you, at least you'll know before they tell you to your face. Then maybe you won't cry at the news. The thick wooden door makes it hard to hear, only picking out bits and pieces.

"Dude, her best friend is a model-"

"Han, I swear to God-"

"She does talk a lot-"

"Like you're one to talk-"

"Okay, but with the breakup? Won't she be, like, crying all the time-"

"Hey, Min just went through a breakup too, so maybe she can help him with it-"

"Shut up-"

"Back to her best friend being a fucking model-"

A loud sigh signals you should back up, taking your phone out and pretending to be busy. The door opens, Minho in front of the other two looking more tired than before you left.

"You're in."

notes -> what is with me making idols i love into shitty exs like what is with that genuinely

taglist -> @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @puppyminnnie @tfshouldidohere @kangaracha @chlodavids @whitney190 @thisisnotjacinta @borahae-reads @brooklynie @gini143 @kayleigh-28 @skz-streamer @babyphotos0325 @scallywag1299 @venusmoonxnight @naomisosoup @fertiliezedtoesw @s00buwu @realrintaro @anothershorthuman @skzstaykatsy @ilovejeongin007 @btswestan @taeriffic @ihrtlix @raehawthorne @euphoric-univers @hyperpixie @evermourning @satsuri3su @jazziwritesthings @minhwa @wyzminho @fic-for-readers

^^^ orange means i can't tag you

[itsgrimeytime]

When it rains... || Rick Grimes (TWD)

And there it was.

The rain poured down from the skies, heavy and unrelentless -as a deep rumble echoed through the ground.

You'd been on a mini-run with Rick, he'd only let a few out of the camp -shelter was weak, and everyone was on the move. He didn't want to expose more than he needed to, and you frankly refused to let him go alone.

"Shit," he muttered, the door barely ajar -lighting up his face ever-so-slightly to the pouring rain.

In the normal world, rain hardly meant anything. But in this one, where treatment was desolate and sickness was easily aggressively excelled, it was a deal breaker.

You paused, fingers trailing along the dirty but intact windows -watching the rain spill down the glass, "Think it'll pass through?"

Rick bit his lip, shaking his head -eyes heavy on the pouring rain outside, "Looks too heavy to go anywhere now."

"Shit," you agreed, hearing the heavy downpour, "-you think we can stay here?"

"We 'ave to," he answered, sighing and rubbing along the bridge of his nose -worried.

"Hey, hey," you rushed up to him, rubbing your hands down his arms -hoping any sort of comfort would come from it, "-I'm sure they're fine. Daryl would've found a shelter, at least for the night."

Rick sighed, leaning his head forward to rest on your shoulder. You could feel the gentle puffs of air blooming across your skin from where he breathed -it made your heart beat just a touch faster.

Ever since the run-in with the Claimers, he'd been on edge -a ruthless edge. He hadn't let you so much as move from his side for weeks, never mind Judith and Carl.

"You always kno' the right thin' to say," he mumbled against your skin, as your fingers trailed to his hair -combing through the mess.

Part of you wished that you could take care of him like he so often took care of everyone else. You tried your best when you could get him to focus on anything but shelter, food, water, and safety.

You'd always hoped it helped.

"I try," you smiled, bringing up your other hand to brush over his scalp. Mindlessly counting the breaths he took against your skin, you dusted your fingers over his shoulders -detailing the stitching on his jacket.

He pushed into you just a little more, and you faltered in your step -tone light, "Rick, you wanna go somewhere more comfortable?"

He let out a low hum against your skin -lips brushing against the fabric of your shirt, you felt some goosebumps erupt in its place. Even now, he still affected you.

"Yeah," he finally replied, sitting up from your shoulder with a soft gaze steady in his eyes -he looked tired. So very tired.

You frowned, holding up your hands to the sides of his face -focusing his attention on you, "Have you been sleeping?"

"'Been tryin' to."

You sighed, leaning up to press a kiss on his cheek -slowly retracting your hands to link one with his own. He absent-mindedly rubbed his thumb along the back of your palm, almost like a reassurance that you were there. Remembering a couch in the living room that had looked untouched by the outside world, you guided him behind you.

Without so much as an extra thought you laid down on the cushions -hand still loosely intertwined with his, you tugged gently. He was so soft then, so vulnerable that he merely followed the motion. Like putty in your hands, he trusted you.

You smiled, as he laid on top of you, head neatly on your chest -your fingers trailing through his curls, sorting out some knots with the gentlest of brushes. This was a special sort of occasion.

Sometimes, when the world would get too loud and all he could do was worry -he'd asked for this. And when you'd asked why this position specifically, he answered -tone muffled and tired but all too fond.

"I can hear your heartbeat, I know y'er alive."

You whispered, barely a breath -hoping to instill it into his head, soothe the worries that creased his brow, "I'm not going anywhere, Rick."

He scooted up, placing his lips on your collarbone -sweet, gentle, and domestic, "I kno', sweetheart."

You laughed a bit at the sensation, a familiar buzz echoing down your spine -as it always had done with Rick. Even before all this, when he'd just placed a hand on your shoulder and told you the plan for the day, or gently held your wrist to keep you from stepping forward on a run. (He always insisted to go first.) You still felt a sort of spark there, untamed and timid, but enough for you to know what it meant.

Rick only grinned at the nose, stubble tickling the exposed skin of your neck as he pressed more there. Only chaste ones that merely last a moment, gently moving your chin with his fingers (calloused from the days work) to get better access to each inch of skin.

You hummed at the affection, trying desperately to savor something so domestic, as your time dwindled. Being on the move meant fewer quiet moments like these, and being in the apocalypse had practically erased the idea of domesticity in your head. So, this was special, you'd try to remember it clearly.

And suddenly, Rick peeked up at you -through hazy blue eyes and a fond smile on his face that made your head spin just a smidge even today. A certain look you knew trailed there, you would've merely laughed at the circumstances if his face hadn't fallen rather serious.

"I love you."

Lips twitching up into a smile, you moved your hands to hold his face -carefully tracing some of the scars you could see there, "Do you, now? Or is that just because we're stuck here for the next few hours together?"

Rick rolled his eyes, leaning into your palms with rested ease and kissing them -like they were the most precious thing in the world. Like you were the most precious thing in the world.

"I love you too," you whispered back, as if the moment in front of you was breakable -blue eyes held on you like it was where they were supposed to be like they fit there.

He grinned, a teasing kind of smirk smoothing across his face -and you found that maybe the night wouldn’t be empty, "Thought so."

[sareisnot]

Lord Gwyn: The Perfect Anticlimax

"Dark Souls is a hard game"

To anyone who's even a little bit familiar with the franchise, this is an obnoxiously obvious statement. The game has held the title of THE "hard game" for so long, that not only has the statement "X is the Dark Souls of Y" become a cliche, but so has every subsequent mocking subversion of that comparison. To even acknowledge its obviousness, as I did, is territory so well-worn, that I'm at risk of falling through, into the hackneyed void. But it's still worth mentioning. It's a well-earned reputation. Not only is Dark Souls, on a purely technical level, difficult to beat, but its entire identity is based around its difficulty, if the name of the "Prepare to Die" edition is any indication. Its world is a punishing one, seeking to beat the player character down at every single opportunity, until they can't stand to move another step forward, lest they get thwacked by a swinging axe, skewered by a demon, swept off a cliff, or obliterated by a dragon with teeth where its torso should be. It's a game that crushes you down, intending to make very clear just how easy your character can die, and, importantly, just how unimportant your death will be. To these bosses, these titans, these near-gods, you are nothing but an annoyance. Many of these fights feel like climactic struggles against an ancient, near-unbeatable foe, who existed long before you were born, and has a pretty solid chance of existing after you've expired. When you enter the arena of Ornstein and Smough, the music swells, and the two knights flex the skills that they're going to use to kill you over and over again. Many of the game's bosses, try to tap into that sense of scale, of importance, of grandiosity, each of their respective battles feeling like they could easily be the final one.

Then, after a long struggle, you make it to the end.

The game's final boss is Gwyn, a towering figure who's been hinted at throughout the game, through dialogue and item descriptions. Even if you didn't pay much attention to the little pieces of lore that the game hands you, you're able to put together that he's a pretty important guy: the mighty Lord of Cinder. The buildup to his fight hints at an even larger presence than the other bosses. You travel beneath Firelink Shrine, your home base for most of the game, where you find a massive expanse of land, cold and dark, a mysterious coliseum-like structure looming in the distance, which is impossibly large, even so far away. As you get closer, ghosts of old knights appear to attack you. They are easily dispatched, but still a shock. The structure towers over you, emphasizing just how much space is needed to house this mythologically strong figure, and the power that he holds. You enter, and find…….a hollowed old man. He's slightly taller than you, dressed in robes, and wielding a flaming greatsword, but he's nowhere near the scale of other bosses. However, he rushes at you all the same. When you begin the duel, it feels different from the others. There is no dramatic, sweeping music. All you get is a somber piano, like something that would play during a funeral, rather than a climactic duel. It feels like Gwyn's theme is actively pitying him. Granted, it's appropriate for the fight. All Gwyn can do is swing is flaming blade, which you can avoid with ease. There's been some easier bosses, but at least they didn't feel like they WANTED to die. Besides, this isn't the fragile Moonlight Butterfly, or the starting Asylum Demon, this is the final boss! He should be challenging you! Putting all the skills you've learned to the test! He's a fucking King! Why isn't he stronger? Fighting Gwyn after you've fought everyone else feels like walking into the home of an old, dilapidated hoarder, and kicking him while he's down. If you've been practicing your parrying, its like doing the same, except with cleats. He just seems………tired. As pathetically destitute as you were at the start. He might as well just keel over when you walk in the door. You beat him, naturally, and then the game just kinda….ends. If you got the ending I did, you just exit the area, look at all the nice snake friends you just made, and then roll credits. For all the work you've put into getting here, and all the struggles you've had to overcome, it feels like a severe anticlimax, like the game is playing a prank on you.

But if you know anything about the setting of Dark Souls, you'd know that there's really no other way this could end.

"The world of Dark Souls is dying"

This is a phrase that, while not as oft repeated as the above, is also pretty common knowledge at this point. Lodran, the game's setting, is a desolate place, long past its glory years. Once a powerful kingdom, teeming with life and magic, it is now in ruin, every citizen either dead, hollowed, or left to survive amongst the numerous deadly creatures that now roam the land. Everyone who's still around at the start of the game is either destined for misery, or already there (Unless you're Andre. He seems to be doing pretty well, all things considered). Somewhere around the time Lordran has reached the end of its life cycle, is when the player character enters the story, albeit with a rather unenviable role. Your job is to essentially be the world's janitor, cleaning out the world's former main characters, most of whom are insane, and all of whom are well past their useful days (or, if you have the DLC, you get to see Artorias right as he passes this point). Unfortunately, most of them would like to keep being alive, so they're going to make that difficult for you, by turning you into red mist until you stop trying to kill them. Even the grandiose presentation some of them have can't entirely hide the fact that this is a rather sad state of affairs for everyone, especially for those who haven't really done anything wrong (I nearly cried at having to kill Sif, and I will never fight Priscilla). Fortunately, some of these bastards contributed to the world's current bleakness, so killing them provides at least a twinge of catharsis, albeit one that will certainly be gone by the time you move onto the next bastard. The goal of this whole clean-up process, is to prepare the world to either continue with the age of fire with you as the catalyst, hopefully without those brutes who were clogging the power vacuums, or plunge the world into a new age of darkness, now that it has been cleansed of its polluting influences.

The only mean to either of these ends, is to kill Gwyn, the Lord of Cinder, former ruler of Lordran, and one of the primary reasons that this world is such a goddamn mess. To sum up his actions without getting too deep into the lore's intricacies; Gwyn knew that his kingdom was destined to fall, due to the world's oncoming transition from the age of fire into the age of shadow. This transition was represented by the dwindling light of the first flame, the lifeblood of the kingdom. After utterly failing to rekindle it, Gwyn entered a final gambit to prolong the life of his empire, linking himself with the first flame, but burning himself, and many of his knights, away in the process. This left him as a hollow, doomed to languish in his kiln, until another unfortunate soul took his place, linking the flame to further prolong the changeover. In doing this, Gwyn went against the natural laws of his world, which didn't react well to having its transitionary cycle interrupted. The world fell into a sharp decline, becoming a desolate, unhappy place, festering with demons and monsters (many of whom were the result of the last time someone tried to rekindle the first flame), making life hell for anyone unlucky enough to still be around afterwards. Gwyn wanted to prolong the inevitable, prevent the death of his kingdom, and continue its prosperity, so he sacrificed everything. His realm has persisted, but in a state of undeath, having stuck around long past its natural expiration date, just like him. Gwyn's story can be properly summarized as what happens when someone is psychotically obsessed with preserving their power, even when that preservation only serves to make the world a substantially worse place. Gwyn, in his hollow state, is a symbol of Lordran's persistent deterioration.

None of this information is directly handed to the player. Some bits are alluded to through snippets of dialogue and item descriptions, and the opening cutscene depicts one of the major inciting events of the narrative, but for the most part, it's a sprawling, multi-phased story, that is dolled out non-linearly, and piecemeal.

Now, with that context, let's cast a new lens on that fight…

After delving underneath Firelink Shrine for the final time, you come upon a desolate landscape, the Kiln of the First Flame looming in the distance. It's clearly well past its glory days, looking decrepit and sad. It is home of the world's lifeblood, but in name only. Now, it holds the last remnant of an age long past. As you approach, the spirits of old knights come to attack you, but they aren't much of a challenge, being just shadows of their former selves. They're victims, really; their loyalty has bound them to a sorry task, but they're in the way, and they weren't really living much of a life anyway. When you get closer to the kiln, it feels impossibly large, but also cold, and surprisingly dark, for something that's supposed to house an eternal flame. When you can see more details, it becomes clear just how long it's been falling into ruin. It feels abandoned, but you know its not. After all, you're here to end the life of its only resident. You enter, and find…. Lord Gwyn, a king who destroyed himself and cast the world into ruin, just to hold on to a formerly prosperous time. Lord Gwyn, whose refusal to let the fire die is the reason why you had to struggle through this entire journey. Lord Gwyn, whose death will mark the end of a era, no matter what you do afterwards. He charges at you, barely even conscious anymore, having been locked in this tomb for unknowable amounts of time. But he can't really fight you, at least not well. His strength isn't nearly what it used to be, now that he's a hollow, tired and worn-down, just like you were at the start. He's a pitiable figure, and the music knows. That sorrowful piano fades in, almost like something that would play at a funeral. But this isn't a funeral. This is a mercy killing. Spiritually, Gwyn died a long time ago. You're just putting his body to rest. When he's finally dispatched, it feels like an anticlimax. But of course it is. Gwyn is the embodiment of the world you've spent so much time exploring. Lordran has been denied a proper climax for so long, because he extended the story long past where it should have ended. He's been waiting to be killed for ages now. It feels only right that Gwyn be an easy, anticlimactic boss, because how could such a destitute figure be anything else?

"Dark Souls is a hard game for a reason"

The above statement is a simplified summation of why Dark Souls is one of my favorite games that I’ve ever played. It's set in a dying, hostile world, that's been brought to ruin by the violation of its natural laws. Thus, the game is insistent on making the player struggle at every turn, to make them feel just as downtrodden as the world they explore. Lord Gwyn is a example of just how thoroughly holding onto power can corrupt someone, leaving them as a husk, the scraps of their former glory existing only the in the memory of the people who are still forced to cope with the consequences of their selfish actions. Thus, his boss fight is an intentionally easy anticlimax, to emphasize just how far he's fallen, to the point that he can't even put up a good point. It's the themes of his character, perfectly melding with the gameplay. It's a perfect encapsulation of the game's best quality, how the experience of playing the game, reflects the themes and tone of its story. The reasons why the fight with Gwyn is the perfect anticlimax, and why Dark Souls is a near-perfect game, are one and the same.

[techmomma]

Driving Tips

As I understand it, there's actually quite a few of you on here who either don't drive or are very new at driving, or are very scared of driving! So as someone who has been driving for 15 years, here are some tips from good ol' Steph in no particular order.

Put more space between you and the car ahead of you than you think you need. Especially on freeways/highways/motorways. I grew up with the rule of "for every ten mph, add another car space." So if I'm going 30mph, then I should have at LEAST 3 car's worth of space between me and the car in front of me. I don't know how that translates to kph but I'm sure there's something similar.

I extend this even to coming to a stop. I try to leave at least a car space even when stopping at intersections.

The reason for this, if you remember from driving school, is to be able to come to a safe stop for your vehicle. But did you know it's not just for you? It's ALSO for the people BEHIND you, who may still be up your ass. If you come to a sudden stop, they're going to ram right into your backside. The space to slow down gives them time to slow down too.

If you've never had to come to a hard stop, YOU NEED MORE SPACE THAN YOU THINK YOU DO TO COME TO A FULL STOP. YOUR CAR WILL JUST KEEP GOING IF YOU WERE GOING FAST ENOUGH.

See this bad boy? The little circular mirror?

If your side mirrors don't come with one of these, get one. They will let you check your blind spot without twisting around in your seat--meaning you're not taking your eyes off of the road ahead of you so you can see behind you! They're literally like $5 and you can get them almost everywhere from convenience stores to supermarkets to auto shops.

It also helps with parking!!

The more scared you are, the worse you are going to drive. Like yes, don't be lackadaisical, you're driving a machine that weighs several tons. But the more afraid you are, the more you're going to overreact and overcompensate when things go wrong and in a car, keeping a cool head is going to be one of your biggest strengths if something goes wrong. Panicking will make things worse. You need to take active steps to stay cool when driving.

One of the ways you can do that is trying to find things you do enjoy about driving. You're controlling a scientific marvel full of incredible math and physics at play! Find ways to turn driving into something you can enjoy and it'll get easier to keep a cool head in it, rather than focusing on the myriad of ways it can kill you.

A horse can kill you in a myriad of ways too. But so can a dedicated duck. Your car ain't special.

In the same vein, I approach cars kind of like riding horses: yes this thousand pound animal can kill me, but also if it moves wrong it will break all of its bones, so while I need to respect its power, I also need to remain calm and take charge, to keep both the horse and myself safe. Do it. Anthropomorphize your car.

Another way is learning how to take care of your car, yourself! There are countless youtube videos that can teach you how to change a tire, emergency supplies you should keep in your car, how to change the oil, etc.. Taking care of your car helps turn it from something scary to something you start to understand inside and out--and knowledge helps us be less afraid.

In the same way, take some time to sit in your car, pull out the owner's manual, and read it over. Learning all of the buttons and what-does-what also helps give you a sense of control over your car.

Wear your fucking seatbelt jesus christ the laws have been in place for 50 fucking years (in America) for a reason

Figure out the best driving setup that works for you and keeps you the most comfortable and relaxed. For some people, this means putting on some tunes. For some, it means turning them off. Adjust your chair so that you have the best view around you, of your mirrors, while not putting strain on your back.

Keep your eyes ahead but take glances at cars to either side of you. There are two kinds of driving, called "reactive" and "proactive" driving. Reactive driving means only reacting to whatever immediately comes up, proactive driving means anticipating things that could come up. So for example, I'm driving down the highway. The car to my side is driving faster, at such a rate that if they continue, they will hit the car in front of them. If there is space in front of you, that probably means they're going to try to merge into your lane! (And probably suddenly, without using heir turn signal!) I slow down in those cases, to give this manic plenty of room to merge.

This also looks like keeping an eye not just on the car ahead of you, but several cars ahead of you. If you notice red lights in the distance, that means people are slowing down or coming to a stop, and you should be preparing to do so, too!

Just let people merge, man. If you're moving forward, you lose nothing by letting people merge with you. I don't put a "limit" on the number of people who "can" merge into my lane--if you keep enough space between you and the car ahead of you, there's always enough room to merge. There's literally nothing to be gained by not letting someone merge, besides being called an asshole.

And I mean. How many times have you tried to merge and fucking nobody would let you? And then some saint of a person finally lets you in before you miss your turn and you want to kiss their feet. Just imagine how many people will call you a saint for letting them merge. Imagine how many days are made when you let people merge.

In addition, though you probably won' reap the benefits, letting people merge helps keep the flow of traffic going and prevents backups and slow-downs! You, personally, can help clear up traffic that's come to a crawl. I have watched it happen in my rearview mirror, just by letting people merge.

(Think of how many accidents you also prevent because someone isn't panicking as they try to get to merge and trying to make sudden decisions under high pressure.)

Obviously don't do it FREQUENTLY if you don't have to: but try to learn how to drive one-handed. Being able to do so (briefly) means you know what to do if an emergency comes up and you need one of your hands. (Secret: it's your palm, not your fingers, for one-handed driving.)

Look, I KNOW the temptation is fucking real. I know. I KNOW. But do not brakecheck people. It is way more dangerous for you than it is for the shithead up your ass. It doesn't even work most of the time, if they're gonna get on your ass, they're gonna get on your ass, and brakechecking them is just gonna make them even pissier about it.

I do, recommend, however, going slower. Ease back on the gas~ This will also piss them off but it will make them more likely to just get fed up and pass you. If they can't pass you then you get to drink in the exasperation on their face in your rearview mirror.

When it comes to seeing other Problem Drivers on the road, there's kind of two main schools of thought, which is to either keep them ahead of you or put them behind you. I personally like to keep Problem Drivers ahead of me, if I can help it. I'd rather be able to see a problem and be able to react to it than put it behind me and then the Problem driver slams into me from behind because I had no idea they were still there.

If you have problems with night driving, try getting some kind of anti-glare lenses. It's glare that's typically the biggest issue with night-driving, so cutting through that will make things easier, safer, and more relaxed if you have to do so by night.

If your tire is losing air somewhat slowly and you can't afford to get it replaced just yet, there's an old solution that younger people might not know: find an air pump at a gas station, and fill the tire with air, yourself! It's really not hard, you just need to find what psi the tire is supposed to be pumped to (this will be on the side of the tire). At the air pump station, most stations now will let you set the psi you need for the tire, so you can set it to idk 42 psi? And it will automatically cut off or warn you when the tire pressure hits that psi! Pchow, easy fix, and if it's deflating slowly, this will buy you a little more time. Best of all, some stations offer their air pumps for free, but even if you have to pay, I think when I filled my tire a few months ago it was like $2 for 5 minutes of unlimited air pumping, which is more than enough for all of my tires, let alone just one.

That's all I can think of for now, so if you have any questions or want any advice, please feel free to ask! I am happy to impart whatever cultural knowledge/adulting information I can to you!

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

So post Beyond the Spider-Verse. Miles and Gwen have things patched up, you know those two are EXHAUSTED and Peter B. is gonna turn around from whatever celebration they're having (they BETTER end this movie with a cookout if Miles' parents learn he's Spider-Man) and you've got Gwen curled into Miles passed out while Miles is snoring. Gwen's got her hood pulled up to keep the lights out of her eyes and Miles' jacket is spread across them.

I like this idea, mind if I write a bit about it with some variants?

Headcanon: Gwen when she is sleepy defaults to following people who she is close to; Miles may be closer to the top of the list that he may realize.

AO3 link

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In a liminal space, we still find ourselves reaching for each other

As much as Miles wanted to kiss his parents goodnight and hit the bed, Peter's proposition to stop by his house to recharge seemed like the best idea.

He still needed to tell his parents that he was Spiderman, and maybe would be better to do it when he is less beaten down and with some sleep. Miles isn't sure when was the last time he slept; dimension hoping made time very confusing.

As they stepped into the house in Queen's (Miles assumed it was the living room but he couldn't be too sure,) Mary Jane stepped in from another room. It was kind of weird knowing who she is without even being presented first.

"Hi, I'm-" He started, a bit slower than he would like to. Too many hits in the head for one day.

"Miles" She completed seamlessly, smiling brightly at him as she put her hands on his shoulders "I had heard so much about you," And out of nowhere, she hugged him "Thank you for bringing him back to me," she told her in a really low voice, one he wasn't sure if it was meant just for him or not.

As tired and beaten down as he felt, he couldn't help but smile fondly as he awkwardly hugged her back. It was a good reminder too, that some of the greatest things he did weren't for being Spider-man, just by being Miles.

"C'mon honey, let the kid breathe," Peter says as he walks up to them.

"And you-" Mary Janes puts a finger on his chest, she doesn't look especially pleased but not too angry "I imagined it was serious when you went back to leave Mayday with me, but what happened? All of you look like you were thrown into a blender."

"Is a loooong story," Peter said, putting his hands up as he is trying to placate her anger, "Speaking of which, I promised them they could crash here until they recharge, hope that's okay-"

"Hmph," Mary Jane crosses her arms, looking at her husband unimpressed "I prefer a little bit more of a warning when you invite people, but I guess this was an emergency. Help me out to get some stuff for our guest."

"On it ma'am," He said with a mocking salute, to which she rolled her eyes before going to what seemed to be the kitchen. Despite how tired Peter B should be, he smiled brightly at them and said "Relax guys, my house is your house."

"Don't need to tell me twice mate," Hobie said as he looked around for a place where to drop dead, which seemed to be everyone's idea. They were all beaten down.

Miles, despite being ready to sleep for an eternity, followed Peter B and Mary Jane because even half dead his upbringing was stronger than any tiredness could be, and he could hear his mom in the back of his head saying "Be polite, bring a gift, and ask if you can help with anything they may need when you are visiting someone!"

Sadly he couldn't bring anything after trying to defy fate and time itself, but at least he could still be nice.

Aparently the couple didn't realize he was following them, because when Mary Jane turned around with cups in her hands she said "Oh Miles! Do you need anything?"

The place was homey, almost in an old-timey way. Pictures everywhere, a floral wallpaper that reminded him of white old ladies, but the warmth he feel around wasn't exactly for the warm lighting.

The kitchen seemed to have the same vibe, kind of similar to the one the Aunt May of his universe had.

"Um, I was going to ask if you guys needed any help?"

"Oh you are sweetheart," She said cheerily, before softly shaking her head "But you don't need to do anything, you are our guest and you had done more for us than you can ever imagine; please go to rest."

"You hear the lady, sit this one out, we will handle it," Peter said as he patted his back, before looking behind Miles and saying "Hey Gwen, you want anything?"

Miles turned around once he saw Peter looking behind him. Gwen stood at the entrance to the kitchen, she has been so quiet Miles also didn’t hear her come.

At the sound of her name, Gwen straightened her back and blinked a bit, as if she has been falling asleep on her feet, yet somehow she has decided to follow them here for some reason.

As she looked on to the front, she seemed to have the faintest blush, before she groaned and scrubbed her eyes “No, I- sorry, I guess I need some sleep.”

“Oh you can say that for all of us,” Peter laughed gleefully, before leaning his head to the side for Miles “You guys go to the living room, we will see if we can whip something quick to eat and see what we can do about emergency sleep arrangements.”

As they went to the other room, Miles realized that everybody has somehow found an answer to that last issue.

The living room had two loveseats and one armchair, and everyone more or less had found a place. On the loveseat that closest to the entrance, Noir was sleeping with Peni and Ham in his arms, Peni’s robot was turned off in a corner, and on the arm closest to Peni’s and Noir’s head was a hologram that read “Say ‘Spider-byte’ to bring user’s attention. P.S: Don’t wake me up unless the dimensions are collapsing.”

Pavitr has decided to go on the armchair, and you would believe he has been sleeping there for a long time because his head was hanging on the side, one of his legs was on the arm of the couch and the other lying against where your back is supposed to go. If it wasn’t because he was breathing fine, Miles would have thought he lost conscience and someone drop his body from the ceiling.

Speaking of the ceiling, even with one more loveseat available, Hobie had opted to make a hammock out of webbing as close to the ceiling as possible, on a corner of the room. From his position, Miles thought Hobie was using his mask on; maybe he needed more darkness to sleep than he needed to breathe properly.

At least it meant his decision was easy.

Dragging his feet on the ground, he let himself fall onto the side of the loveseat, he would have rejoiced in glee at how soft the couch felt against his beaten body if he himself wasn’t so tired.

Yet he didn’t have time to even sigh before he felt someone else not only fall right beside him but had her head leaning towards him. Miles felt himself go still as he felt the warmth of Gwen right beside him.

Despite the loveseat being big enough to have space for both of them.

How rigid his body was must have alerted Gwen because her eyes fluttered open, and seemed to look a bit confused towards him before she almost jumped on her spot and moved away enough that their bodies weren’t touched anymore.

“Shoot,” She muttered to herself before she hit her forehead “Sorry, when I am sleepy I just- sorry.”

Perhaps is because he was tired and his mind was making stuff up, but somehow things were starting to click in his head. The sleepiness in Gwen seemed to make her follow someone, and for reasons beyond his understanding, Miles has been the person she has decided to attach herself to, even if subconsciously.

“That’s different” Gwen had said to him before in the Williamsburg Tower, saying it as if somehow what they had was different from what she had with anybody else. That conversation felt like a lifetime ago, and yet his heartbeat raced all the same.

There were still a lot of things to talk about, of the lies and the secrets that she has keep, and how he has been feeling about all of this. Even now he wasn’t sure what to say.

“Is fine, we are all tired,” He said casually, before raising the arm that was closest to her side, “Come here, we can catch some zzz together.”

And regardless of all of it, he felt himself wanting to reach out to her too, missing her warmth even if he only got to have it for a second.

In a way, that’s what had ended up happening to him, wasn’t it? She came for what should have been just a blink in his lifetime, and he still was unable to let her go.

Her eyes opened slightly, as if she was surprised he had actually said that; probably thinking all the same things that were still between them and neither of them had the brain to talk about. He saw the hesitation in her eyes, as if she herself wasn’t sure if it was okay to accept.

Maybe it was a bit of wishful thinking on his part to think that way, as he said “Is okay, you can lean on me Gwen.”

Miles has really meant that in a literal way, even if deep down, he knew he meant it all the way. As upset as he was, he couldn’t bring himself to be mad at her, not when they were like this.

That seemed to be all the encouragement that she needed, because she quickly went back to his side, in fact so quick he was a bit shocked.

“Thanks,” she whispered to him, bringing her knees up to her chest as she rested her head on his shoulder, one of her arms hugged Miles’ waist as her other hand was left between her knees.

As it was the most natural thing in the world, his arms went around her, holding onto her as he rested his head on top of hers, “No problem.”

Despite the pain, the couch and still being in his suit, it was the best sleep he had in months.

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This was supposed to be a drabble, oops?

I Will upload this to ao3, may as well. I like it more than I expected for something that I made on a whim.

Sorry for not having any analysis yet, I am kind of sick and I feel my brain is fried 80% of the time, HaShem knows how I managed work like this.

Hope you guys like it!

[nekropsii]

Ask Game Speed Round!!

[For the Unpopular Opinion Ask Game!!]

These are all a bunch of smaller ones I thought would be too cumbersome and spammy to post on their own... Enjoy!!

Content Warning: Long.

While I do really like Dave's character as it exists in the comic- no clue what version of Dave most of the fandom is talking about, but I don't know him- I kind of like the themes in Davesprite's character more than I do Dave's. It's another Hal situation.

Dave's character tackled a lot of things very personally relatable to me in ways I'd never seen illustrated before, but Davesprite is more interesting to think about, and seems a little more fun to write. Dave was great representation for me, as someone who grew up in a very bad home, but Davesprite just has that extra oomph with his talk of humanity and individuality. Really like that guy.

---

@lupinecalibrator

This may come across as crass, or stepping out of my own lane, but I don't think giving them either multiple sets of pronouns, neopronouns, or both actually rids them of the bigotry in their characters. Lipstick on a pig situation. It just seems like a lazy, incurious fix. Yes, trans headcanons are great, but more and more often I see people use it as a cure-all to the issues a character has, either in a Doylist or Watsonian way. Queer friendliness does not eliminate racism. If a character is a bigoted caricature of a specific group of people, then slapping on a leftist layer of paint by saying "actually they're a minority icon in this other way" doesn't actually... Get rid of the problem. It's just kind of... Tone deaf.

We see this often with Transmisogynistic Caricatures getting claimed as Gay Icons, and people just saying that because they've just claimed them as a campy gay queen, the transmisogyny has been nullified- you can't talk about it anymore, they're the real good leftist in the room, you're a killjoy, and they've defeated bigotry. Not how it works.

---

Kind of tired of how some act like her only character traits are Silly Ditzy Furry Girl. Jade is an incredibly, incredibly intelligent young girl, an excellent marksman, and so, so deeply lonely. We need to talk about Jade's chronic loneliness more.

Also, I think she's some kind of Psychotic. One of the flavors. It just feels right to me. It feels canon-adjacent. Or, at least, a textually valid way to read her character. I have a whole post about it somewhere. Mituna and Jade shaking hands on the Psychosis.

---

Taking this opportunity to defend Aranea. Some people really need to stop acting like she's worse than Vriska. We all know what Aranea did was justified. Maybe not correct, but justified. And fucking awesome to watch.

Like, look. She spent an unfathomable amount of years being shot down and ignored and belittled by people who were supposed to be her friends... Aranea had to literally pay Meenah, her own best friend, to listen to her infodump, and even then Meenah couldn't afford to give her own best friend enough respect to just listen to her talk about something she's passionate about for 5 minutes.

I need you to think to yourself, genuinely. If you spent thousands- and I mean thousands upon thousands- of years getting ignored and walked on by everyone around you, even your own friends... If you spent thousands upon thousands of years getting called boring and a doormat to your face by even your own friends... Wouldn't you go crazy, too? Wouldn't you snap? Wouldn't you want to do something drastic just to get people to look at you? Just to be seen as something other than weak and boring? Just to be seen as worth even an iota of interest, a shred of someone's time? Wouldn't you? Because I think any normal person wouldn't take thousands upon thousands of years. I don't think you would last a decade. I wouldn't either, and I'm a pretty patient person.

Y'all are just jealous you can't play billiards with planets using your mind when you're mad. That shit was so awesome.

---

@searedtroutpeacharugula

This is not an Unpopular Opinion, or even an Opinion, I'm just pointing this out. Do you ever think about the fact that we hardly got any conversations between Rose and Jade? I do. This haunts me. This fucks me up so bad. We get plenty between John and Dave, and Dave and Jade, and Dave and Rose, and Rose and John, and Jade and John... But hardly anything between Rose and Jade!! This is so fucked up. We were robbed. I need to watch them hang out.

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Okay, this is less of an Unpopular Opinion, and more of an Unpopular Fact, but... Mituna doesn't just throw slurs at people. That's one of the things people jump to when they're talking about Defanging Mituna- they always say something about how he "calls people slurs every two seconds". He literally doesn't. That is legitimately not a thing he does. If you heard that before and believed it, you were literally lied to. That is straight up demonstrably not true.

Like, if you're trying to think of something Mituna does every two seconds unprompted, it's either sex jokes or apologizing. Slurs aren't a thing he just slings around casually. He said a grand total of one slur... To Meenah... And it's a fake troll slur. And then we get it defined to us... Aaaand it's the troll equivalent to "Cracker". That's it. That's the crime he's committed- calling someone a word that is immediately after defined to us as "Someone who is at the top of and benefits from the furthering of the oppressive Fuchsia-Down power structure, and the Lowbloods that help enforce it." That's the slur he used. That's what made people start declaring that "he would totally say the N Word" with full and complete confidence. Absolutely ridiculous. He's called no one else any kind of genuine slur. He just called Meenah a Wader once, and then she and Kankri got upset about it, because they are both, by definition, Waders.

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Leijon Hot Take Party Pack: If you think Nepeta shipping her friends together is fine, or even adorable, but then sneer at or get grossed out by Meulin doing the same thing, you're a hypocrite. I don't care if you say "Meulin's writing Friend Fic, though, that's weird!!" the problem with Shipping Your Friends and Writing Romantic Fanfiction Of Your Friends is at the same root.

The problem with these things isn't the presence of writing, it's the presence of, you know, shipping your friends? If you're fine with Nepeta doing it, you've gotta be fine with Meulin doing it. Be fine with both or neither. It's the same damn thing. I'm pretty sure both friend groups are fine with it, too, so it's not like this is a boundaries issue or anything. Both or neither. Pick one.

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Observation: I do think it's cool how Jane and Jake are related and have similarly opposing relationships with their gender. Jake's oft presented with Feminine themes and imagery, and Jane with Masculine themes and imagery. Very cool. Wish more people made that correlation.

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Okay, that's all for now!! Thank you for reading, if you did. Have a nice rest of your day. :)

[tklpilled]

kaeya knows the things people say about them. most of them were there when it happened, when kaeya was left all alone and decided to drink his problems away. he knows they pity him. he's heard all the rumours.

"it has been a long time since he last called diluc ragnvindr 'brother'", they say, but the truth is quite the opposite.

it has been a long time since diluc last called kaeya alberich "brother."

their relationship is strained at best, but at the very least it's not as bad as it was. at least diluc isn't avoiding him anymore. at least diluc is there.

if one were to ask kaeya what they were, he would answer by saying that they're siblings. if one were to ask diluc, he'd say that it's complicated, and that is the difference between the two.

but kaeya is nothing but stubborn, and he has faith in the fact that diluc, behind all the walls he's put up, has a rather soft heart. so he visits the angel's share when he knows diluc is working, and he drinks and he talks and he drinks some more, and little by little he can tell that it's working. they've even managed to drop the formalities.

"enough," diluc says, sliding the glass back to his side of the counter. kaeya whines like a little child, reaching after it. "you've had enough," diluc repeats with a stern look.

"you underestimate me," kaeya says with a crooked smile. "my tolerance for alcohol is high."

diluc scoffs. "but my tolerance for you isn't. we're closing soon, anyway. you should be leaving."

kaeya groans. "you're so cruel to me, making me walk all that way by myself in the dark. what if i'm kidnapped."

"they would get tired of you and release you soon enough," diluc responds with a deadpan face. "out."

this isn't the first time this has happened, where kaeya has stayed late and diluc ordered him to leave before closing. but kaeya has obeyed every time, and the thought lingers now; if he refused to go, would diluc just leave him?

his answer comes half an hour later, when diluc is finished wiping down tables. he sighs as he looks at kaeya, still slumped over the counter. kaeya stares back, grinning, waiting.

diluc looks away first. "come on." he grabs kaeya by the arm and begins to drag him towards the exit. kaeya goes along with it. they make it to the city gates when he realises.

anxiety creeps into the pit of his stomach. he hasn't been to the winery in ages.

"how kind of you to walk me home," he says, trying to distract himself. he doesn't linger on that last word.

diluc doesn't answer. the walk is mostly silent, and the nervousness in kaeya's chest only grows as they get closer. he wonders if it's changed. he wonders if he'll remember enough to notice if it has.

adelinde greets them at the door, her eyes widening in surprise. "master kaeya!" she gasps, a mixture of shock and delight in her voice. "is everything alright?"

she steps aside to let them in. "it's fine," diluc assures her. kaeya waves, making her smile. "he'll just be staying the night."

"hey! you can't make these decisions for me!" kaeya protests.

"you're perfectly capable of walking back, if you'd like," diluc retorts, knowing damn well that kaeya is too tired and too drunk to do anything even if he wanted to.

kaeya shuts up.

his old room is still intact, but adelinde insists that she hasn't cleaned it in a while, and it's too dusty for him to stay in.

so.

he ends up in diluc's room.

"why did you take me here?" kaeya asks into the darkness, staring at the outline of the ceiling. it's a question he already knows the answer to.

diluc is quiet for a long moment. "did you not want me to?"

he doesn't reply.

"it's late. you were more intoxicated than usual," diluc continues. "…i missed you."

kaeya's heart nearly stops.

surely he's dreaming. surely this isn't real.

"kaeya?"

"you missed me," he says, dumbfounded.

"yes," diluc says quietly.

there's a moment of silence before kaeya laughs, rolling over to throw his arms around his brother. diluc makes a strangled sort of sound, squirming. "i knew you had a soft spot for me!" he exclaims gleefully.

"g-get off!" diluc demands, and though kaeya can't see it, something tells him that he's blushing.

“oh, don’t be like that,” he teases. “i know you—oh?” the last bit is in response to the way diluc suddenly jolts, his mouth clamping shut. “still ticklish, are you?”

“kaeya,” the man beside him warns, but it’s too late; kaeya is already drumming his fingers over his skin, muscle memory from his childhood flooding back into his head. “k-kahahaeya!”

“i forgot you were still capable of laughing,” kaeya grins along with him. “truly a miracle.”

diluc kicks him lightly under the blankets, shoving at the knight’s hands without any real meaning behind it. kaeya knows better than to say that he likes being tickled, but he’ll at least tolerate it if he trusts the person.

which—

oh.

kaeya blinks tears out of his eye and focuses on diluc.

he’s not being rough at all, just gentle in a way that he knows drives diluc insane. “y-yohou say i’m the mehehean one,” he giggles. “yet hehehere you are, tohormenting mehe…” archons, kaeya forgot just how dramatic he is.

“oh, hush.” kaeya digs in a little harder, only for a second, enough to make diluc yelp. “torment?”

diluc nods, his giggling sounding a little happier, more playful. “betrahayed by my ohohown brohother,” he manages, and kaeya is so distracted by their banter that he almost doesn’t notice that last word.

he never wants to wake up from this dream.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

[19:57]

Tags and warnings: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem! Reader, not very relevant but, this is a non-idol au, elements of perv! Hyunjin, mentions of unconsensual voyeurism and photography, Dom! Reader, more subby! Hyunjin, foot fetish, foot grinding/mild cock stepping, dirty talk, degradation (m. receiving), stocking kink if you squint and mentioned oral sex.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

Overtime is, easily, the bane of your existence. However, you need the money. There's a new apartment you've been eyeing for months now and, as much as you wish it would, you know the money isn't going to materialise in your lap out of thin air.

So, here you are.

Your eyes already burning with fatigue while you stare at your computer screen. Willing your brain to care about the numbers spread in front of you. The office is mostly dead. Everyone else opting to clock out hours ago, leaving you and the new hire to slave away at your respective desks. The joys of capitalism.

Speaking of which, Hyunjin remains steadfast in his concentration beside you. The sounds of him clicking away at his keyboard combined with the faint hums of the machinery on the floor all that keeps you company. You don't know how he remains so focused when you find your mind slipping away every few minutes. God, maybe you should just go home for the night. Your brain is turning to liquid in your skull.

"I'm going to take a little break. Maybe get some food. Would you like anything?" His question startles you enough that you nearly knock over your water bottle. Frankly, you're surprised he's spoken to you at all. In the weeks he's been here, Hyunjin tends to keep to himself for the most part. Not because he's reserved or has some sort of superiority complex, you've come to learn, it's more so because he's shy. Only piping up from time to time and, he seems to be the most comfortable around you.

His offer is sweet but, "No, thank you. I have some snacks in my bag and I have my water for now. Thank you though, Hyunjin," you respond with a small smile. The flush that rises to his cheeks is surprising but, he nods and scurries off before you can think about it too much.

Now, you're totally alone. The excel sheet your only companion.

You're close to finishing up this one anyway, luckily. A few final checks and you're free to work on the next one. Stretching your arms over your head, you cringe at the knots that have made themselves at home in the base of your neck. You can hear Minho's voice filtering through your brain clear as day. Nagging you to take better care of yourself.

Shoving thoughts of your fussy best friend aside, you can't help but, sneak a glance at Hyunjin's desk. Typically you'd be more than happy to wait for him to return so, you can compare sheets to ensure you're both on the right track. However, you're tired. And you want nothing more than to take a scorching shower and crawl into your sheets. So, you opt to be a little more proactive. Rolling your chair over to his desk until his screen is within your view. Some of his numbers are a little off but, they're mostly fine. He's picked up on the ropes pretty quickly. It's impressive, to say the least. However, a folder catches your eye before you can return to your desk.

It's simple. Titled 'Favourites' and nothing else but, there is something almost siren-esque that calls you to it. You know this isn't right. Yes, it's his work computer but, it's still his computer and he's entitled to some level of privacy on it. Minho has always said you're too nosy for your own good. It could be filled with his favourite tools to use for all you know.

The folder is not filled with tools. Not even a little bit.

You're stunned to see what appears to be hundreds of pictures. Pictures you're pretty damn certain are of you. Tonnes of pictures focused on your legs, your breasts straining against your button-up shirts at times and your heels. You're not even sure what to think, let alone feel. Your lips parted in shock while you scroll and scroll and scroll. When had taken all of this? How did you never notice? Why are they on his fucking work computer?

"Hey, I'm back. The line was a little longer than-" Hyunjin's words stop as soon as he sees you sitting at his desk. His brain taking a few very long moments to process your new position as well as what's filling his screen.

It's impressive how red he becomes within seconds. Looking for all the world that he'd much rather the Earth open up and swallow him whole than continue this tense interaction with you. Long fingers clutching his sandwich and coffee as a lifeline.

"I ca-can explain. I wasn't- this isn't- I'm-"

If someone had told you even a few hours ago that you'd be propped up on Hyunjin's desk with his bare cock pressed against your stocking clad feet, you would have thought they'd utterly lost their grasp on reality.

And yet, here you are.

Your panties cling to you in a way that is quickly growing uncomfortable but, that doesn't matter right now. Hyunjin's hair sticks to his already sweaty forehead. Previously neatly styled, dark locks now a mess while he pants with every jerk of his hips against the soles of your feet. Not meeting your eyes. His pretty cock bordering on painfully hard and copious amounts of pre-cum dribbling out of it. Every whine and moan hits you like a tidal wave. Everything about him just has to be so gorgeous, doesn't it?

"Jinnie," you drawl, adding pressure to your feet and smirking just the slightest bit when he chokes out a grasp at the sensation. Purposefully dragging your feet along his length and using your toes to toy with the sensitive underside of his head.

"I can-can't- please- " he gasps out, doubling over in his chair while his cock jerks dangerously against the pads of your feet but, you haven't had your fun yet.

"Are you already going to cum, Jinnie?" You ask with a faux pout and tilt of your head, adding even more pressure until the heat from his cock is searing your skin through the barrier of your stockings. "Gonna cum just from me using my feet to play with you? Isn't that a little pathetic?" The saccharine quality of your voice sends a shudder from the top of his head straight to his throbbing cock, more slick staining your beautiful stockings.

"Not-not gonna c-cum," he huffs out with a spark of determination in his voice despite the pitiful state he's in right now. As though you can't feel how hard he twitches when you begin to drag your feet along his length once more. As though the way he hunches over when you press and press and press isn't so blatantly obvious. Barely contained moans ringing out through the empty floor.

"Really?" You ask, biting your lip to hide the smile that threatens to split your face in half when you use your toes to stroke his tip, "Because I think your cock says otherwise. Are you really going to cum just from this? What a little pervert you are, Jinnie."

You don't fail to notice the way he whimpers when your mouth coils around the word 'pervert.' Oh. Looks like there's even more to your little coworker than meets the eye.

"Oh wow, not only are you a little freak who takes pictures of my feet to jerk off to but, you like when I'm mean to you too? You're more of a masochist than I thought," His face must be burning based on the flush you can see moving below his neckline. Cute. He doesn't respond verbally but, the way his hips jerk into your feet tells you all you need to know.

"You're such a disgusting pervert. I wonder how many times you snuck off during your breaks to touch yourself to the thought of me. Well, how is it, slut? Better than you imagined?" You enquire, the rush of having him crumble underneath you making you a little bit lightheaded. When he still doesn't answer you, this time, you choose to stop.

The way his head whips to meet you would be comical if he wasn't still incredibly hard underneath you and his teary eyes didn't cause your heart to rise to your throat.

"Pl-please, don't stop," he whines, lifting his hips up from his seat to desperately grind against your feet. The sight significantly worsens the state of your likely ruined panties. "This i-is better. So muc-much better. Yes, I'd sneak away to touch myself to y-you. Ah. I couldn't h-help it. You're so bea-beautiful and you're always fuck so nice to me," he rushes out and god, how could you not touch him after that?

"Something tells me you don't only like it when I'm nice to you," you muse before increasing the speed from earlier. Your blood roaring in your veins watching him start to crumble underneath every stroke of your feet, every bit of weight you press further and further onto him. "You like being a little, sick, perverse slut huh. My little perverse slut. Did you want me to see you? Find you cumming in your pants to fantasies of humping my feet like the pathetic, little loser you are?"

Much to your surprise, that's all it takes for Hyunjin to totally shatter. Your eyes widen and your heart thunders in your chest when broken moans fall from his plump lips. His eyes squeezing shut while his cock throbs against the bottoms of your feet, soiling them in rope after rope of his sticky cum. Gathering your bearings, you help him through it. Lightly dragging your messy soles against his cock until it has nothing more to give. His body jerks violently in overstimulation until you eventually stop, pulling away from him to let the man return to his body.

The sensation of his cum on your feet is a little odd but, it's worth it. He looks so beautifully fucked out slumped in his chair. Unfocused eyes staring up at the ceiling while his chest heaves with exertion. Sweat dripping from his cut jaw while his softened, slick cock rests against his work pants. You hope you'll remember the vision he provides for the rest of your life. Your clit throbs just from drinking him in.

Well, you don't see why you can't journey further down this rabbit hole. He came on your feet minutes ago. You're pretty certain the two of you have thoroughly stomped over any sense of propriety.

Fuck it.

"Hyunjin," you call, and you walls clench harshly when he turns his glazed over eyes your way. He's horribly unsubtle, and you don't miss the way his eyes linger on your chest before drifting to your spread thighs. You try not to smile too hard when he swallows. Loudly.

He's just so easy.

"Don't you want to take care of me too?" You ask with a pout, spreading your thighs further and tugging your pencil skirt higher until it bunches up at your waist. You're beyond wet. You've soaked through your stockings and you're sure he can tell.

"I'm so wet," you moan, dragging your fingers along your slit. A breathy gasp leaving your lips when you brush your clit, your eyes fluttering at barest hint of sensation.

The sounds of him rising from his chair and shuffling onto his knees forces your gaze to him. Heat simmering in the pit of your gut when you watch him shuffle closer to you until you can feel his laboured breaths hitting your skin. Large hands tentatively resting on your thighs as he makes himself more at home between your legs.

You don't think you've ever been wetter in your life than in this moment. His big, brown eyes glancing up at you while he presses light kisses to you over your stockings. Prompting soft mewls from you and your hips to unintentionally jolt against his mouth.

Maybe overtime isn't so bad after all.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[qqueenofhades]

Enjoy your time out of the office and vacation! Since you’re taking prompts, how about Kastle? I always think about reconciliations and reunions during the winter holidays. It doesn’t have to be explicitly romantic and I’d love it if it was at least a little messy. But I miss Karen and Frank so much, I’ll take anything.

The house is dark, the heating is on the fritz again so it's barely cracking sixty-five degrees in here, and despite the glow of the tree lights, it doesn't feel particularly warm or festive. Karen makes a note to call the repairman in the morning, though the sudden cold snap across New York means that they're likely to be booked solid, and pulls on the extra sweater hanging over the back of the kitchen chair. She thinks everything is ready for tomorrow, when they'll head over to Foggy and Marci's place for Christmas dinner, but if it isn't, she can't be bothered. She doesn't feel especially possessed by holiday spirit, and can't imagine that she will. At least keeping busy for other reasons has stopped her from thinking about it, but still.

Karen sits on the couch, rubbing her tired eyes and thinking that she should go up to bed, not least since she's going to be woken disagreeably early. But then, just as she's about to do so, there's a creak on the front steps as if someone is climbing them, she sits up and tenses -- it's been a long time since open trouble, but she's never quite lost the instinct -- and then, after what feels like forever, a knock on the front door. Why a knock? She isn't expecting anyone. Is this a trap? Her gun is locked in the safe upstairs; she can't leave it lying around for obvious reasons. She wishes that paranoia wasn't her first instinct even on Christmas Eve -- the night of welcoming in strangers, all that -- but she can't help it. She waits tensely, pretending she's not home, to see if they'll try to break in. Nothing.

Karen sighs, reminds herself to call a therapist along with the repairman, and goes to the front door. Unhooks the deadbolt, pulls it open a crack, and then --

Her hindbrain catches up to the realization faster than her conscious mind, like the white blaze in the very instant before a lightning strike. She goes stiff all over, and then she jerks the door open. "What the fuck," she hisses, "are you doing here?"

Frank Castle looks back at her with a very Frank Castle expression, a black beanie crunched low on his head and an old parka zipped up to the chin, grazed with two or three days of unshaven stubble. Karen can't tell if the dark stains on it are blood, but the wise individual would wager so. "Hey," he says gruffly, after a long pause. "Karen."

No, no, no. Karen rubs her fingers under her eyes, contemplates whether to strangle him or just slam the door in his face. Tempting though it is to leave him to freeze to death on her porch, she finally decides otherwise. "Fine," she snaps. "Come in. But you'd better be quick about it. And you aren't staying."

Frank opens his mouth, decides he can't dispute that, and steps over the threshold, his heavy boots clumping on the wooden floorboards. He glances around the house, raises an eyebrow. "Nice place."

"Shut up," Karen says again, short and tight, arms folded over her midriff like armor. "Say what you came to say, then get out."

There's another crackling pause. Frank looks wrong-footed -- which, good, he can't just think he can turn up out of the blue whenever he needs her help in one of his demented murder crusades, then vanish again. At last, he spreads his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Hey. I'm not comin' to make trouble, Karen. Swear. I just -- I was back in town, and I heard that you'd moved here, and I -- I was gonna see if, you know." He pauses. Shuffles. "You needed anything."

The barely-working central heat suggests that maybe he could, in fact, do something, but Karen isn't going to ask that of him. She doesn't want his pity or his charity or whatever years-too-late realization he's finally had about her, about them. "I'm fine."

"Karen -- " Frank hisses in frustration, takes another step. "I'm sorry, all right? I'm sorry for being a fuckup, for what's happened. You were right, as usual. I want -- " He stops, chokes. "I want -- "

"You want what?" Karen's voice rises. She can't help it. "What do you want, Frank? Because you've had plenty of chances, and -- "

"Jesus Christ, Karen -- "

They're forgetting themselves, they're making too much noise, and then in the living room hallway, there's another voice, small and tremulous. "Mommy," it says. "Mommy, what's wrong?"

Taken totally off guard, Karen and Frank spin around at the same moment, thus to behold the small, tousled four-year-old girl in her pajamas. Karen briefly goes very still. Then she flashes over and scoops her up. "Katie. Katie, it's fine. Go back to bed. Mommy just has to deal with this. You don't -- you don't need to see this, all right?"

Katherine Francesca Page looks unconvinced. She stares over Karen's shoulder at Frank, and Frank, staring back, looks as if all the breath has been driven out of his body. After all, the resemblance is unmistakable: the smaller and daintier version of his own crag of a nose, the fine brown hair, the stubborn set of the chin. He is staggered, shaken, stripped down to nothing, and Karen wants to enjoy it, but she's still too bitter. Frank looks wildly between them, can barely seem to breathe or form a thought, stand up or remember his name. "Karen -- " he starts at last, a hoarse stammer. "Karen -- "

"Go back to bed, Katie," Karen orders her daughter, puts her down and turns her sharply back toward the stairs. "Now."

Katie backs up, stares fearfully at this big strange scruffy man come in out of the cold on Christmas Eve and arguing angrily with her mother, and then runs for it. When she's sure that Katie's gone, Karen turns vengefully back to Frank, who's halfway sat, halfway-collapsed on the couch, rubbing both hands over his face. "Jesus Christ," he manages, choked. "Jesus Christ, you didn't -- you never told -- "

"No, I didn't." Karen's voice comes out like a whip. "If you weren't going to stay for me, then I certainly wasn't going to make you stay for her. What was it you said -- you and Maria dated for three months, she got pregnant with Lisa, you proposed the same day? I wasn't doing that. I wasn't going to try to hold onto you the same way. I asked you for me, and you turned me down. When I realized that I was -- that I was going to -- it was too late. You were already gone."

Frank is white as a sheet. He still can't muster a single word. Karen wants to feel bad for him, but she doesn't, not yet. At last, she points at the door. "Go."

"Karen. Jesus Christ. Fucking -- fucking hell, Karen -- "

"You decide." Karen marches to the door, holds it open against the swirling chill. "You decide what you want, Frank. And then don't come back here until you do. Got it?"

He looks at her, wild and raw, ragged and yearning. She almost cracks, but still doesn't. He opens his mouth. He shuts it.

"Her name's Katherine," Karen says, very softly. "Katie."

Frank looks at her again. His eyes flick up the stairs, as if it's taking all his wherewithal not to run up there right now. But at last, he obeys, and nods as if his head is something stiff and clumsy, unfired clay. "All right," he says, barely more than a whisper. "I, uh. I'll go. Merry Christmas, Karen."

Karen looks back at him, fierce and vengeful as a valkyrie, not wanting to break down, not wanting it -- because if she opens her mouth, she'll invite him to come back yet again, and this time, stupid and shallow and useless as it might be, she can almost delude herself that he'll stay. She just nods in turn. "Merry Christmas, Frank."

[dead-lights]

workout buddies

I built a little library in the attic of wolfsbane manor as a wedding present for Morgyn. They returned to their wholesome dynamic after getting married, and all has been well.

I stepped away from the Vatore household for like 5 minutes to check on the retired sages (Tess is now besties with the Grim Reaper after hanging out with him at the wedding - it's my favorite) and when I came back to Forgotten Hollow they'd adopted a cat. Welcome to the family, Hilda - she is a playful, cautious, glutton. She is very much Lilith's cat.

Lilith holds regular vampire club meetings at the manor. Morgyn actually hasn't been attacked before (tho Vlad bit Emilia at least once when I had both magic club and vampire club going on at the manor) but when Elle stumbled across the duplicate they'd summoned to clean up after all those messy vampires, she got a bit thirsty.

I felt kinda weird about that, given the origin of vampires. I wasn't sure if Caleb would be able to stop her, but given that he was standing right there, I figured he should try to intervene. He commanded her to leave. They're both grand masters so that was a bit of a gamble, but it worked!

I'm not sure exactly what happened, but Lilith managed to develop a somewhat positive relationship with Kristopher when I wasn't looking (he shows up at a lot of Morgyn's events). Given that they are both extremely buff, I had the brilliant idea to start an occult workout club. Rory, Kristopher, and Lilith are all pretty evenly matched physically so it seemed like a potentially fun idea.

It's called "We Aren't Friends," it meets at the Moonwood Mill library, and I invited a bunch of buff werewolves, Elle (in case Lilith needed someone to spar with) and Vlad.

regular football practice was great. Lilith and Rory actually ended up with a positive relationship, so I decided to up the difficulty.

Difficult football practice turned out to be a mistake, first with Rory and later with Kristopher. While the wolves were able to catch all of Lilith's throws, she got hit in the head every time. I stopped practice before their relationship dropped back into the red.

Eventually, the group made their way into the library gym, with Rory literally walking all over Kristopher.

For shame, Rory. Even Vlad's getting swol and you're just on your phone.

Watching Vlad flail at the punching bag with Kristopher and Rory in literal beast mode made me so happy :D And gotta love the vampire punching bag when there are 3 vampires in the room Rory could be punching instead.

When Vlad's noodle arms got tired, he went over to bother the alphas, possibly to remind Rory about how she promised to fuck him up if ever they met, possibly to throw a yo mama joke at Kristopher. Who can say.

this looks familiar... don't worry rory, that's just his vampire idling animation face, he's not attacking.

Caleb is not much of one for the heavy exercise, but he, Morgyn, and the cat came along as well. Morgyn loves libraries! Caleb took the opportunity to catch up with Lily. things are getting better! possibly because she doesn't recognize this gentle soul...

Lily seemed to be kinda tired by that point, and eventually she left the gym to hang out with Caleb and Morgyn in the books part of the library. For someone who was just in a room with Vlad Straud, she seems awful scared off that little kitty.

The club ended up being less dramatic than I'd expected. Everyone behaved, even Vlad. And while Caleb/Lily and Lilith/Rory aren't quite friends, a few days later I checked neighborhood stories...

YEAH. Tbh that's more surprising than if they'd just fought and sniped like I expected. Rory can't get along with Kristopher, but apparently Vlad is ok. Maybe they can beat Greg up together idk