#i'm terrible at remembering names so i can't guess who you might be

[vampsol]

NO DOUBT | 박종성

⟢ PAIRING: park (jay) jongseong x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 4.1K ⟢ GENRE: hints of comedy, smut ⟢ TAGS: ceo!jay, employee!reader, sexual tension for the win, pwp, dirty talk, oral fixation, pet names (pretty, princess, etc.), sir kink, degradation kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, breath play, spanking, creampie ⟢ SYNOPSIS: You hate your boss to an insurmountable degree, and he more than likely feels the same with the way he constantly berates you. But only when you finally give him a piece of your mind do you understand his animosity stems from a rather surprising place. -ˋˏ✄┈┈ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Happy birthday to Mr. Park himself! This was so much fun to write even if I'm losing my mind at work myself, unfortunately. Thank you to my lovely friends for beta'ing for me once again—Linda @xomakara, Ally @lovetaroandtaemin, and Booki @kwanisms—and of course we all know the song that inspired the title this time.

You might have to kill Mr. Park, preferably with something incredibly sharp.

Every remark your boss throws at you, verbal or handwritten, trickles down your body like acid. It's a wonder you haven't been eaten alive by his criticisms already, the CEO cruel in his meticulous focus and scathing remarks.

These estimates look terrible.

My dog could create a better spreadsheet than this—before he chewed it up, anyway.

Do you always lack focus on projects like this?

Just because he's the head of Daydream Media does not mean he gets to parade around with the energy of a pompous cockatiel. As soon as the thought comes up, though, you shut it down. Cockatiels are much cuter than him, and probably a lot cuddlier too.

Working under the guy for twelve months, you know how unrelenting his desire for perfection can be. Starting his company straight out of high school, the business went from a passion project in his garage to a multi-tier musical instrument and audio equipment manufacturer that could make Yamaha blush.

Park's admirable work ethic drove you to apply for a job at his company in the first place. Yet, his need to micromanage others quickly overpowered all the qualities you first admired about the man. His head status practically ensures all he needs to do during work hours is oversee company meetings and sit prettily at his desk. So why did he have to be such a prick?

You're grumbling to yourself as you type out your response to his last email regarding your monthly sales report. Every clack of your laptop's keyboard feels and sounds like gunshots in your ears. You try to remember to stick to facts, keep your response level, and do all the things you've learned from years working with pretentious dickheads like Park.

But there's something about him specifically, the irritation he stirs in you so deeply ingrained beyond the surface of your dignity you can't seem to think rationally.

Your cubby mate, Sunghoon, notices the tension pervading your shoulders and neck, the veins in them close to bulging from your skin. He slaps you on the back with a manila folder, and you roll your eyes in response.

"What crawled up your ass and took a vacation?"

You give him your best fake smile as you punctuate your email's last sentence with a period. "Who do you think?"

"Santa Claus? I hate that fucker." Sunghoon's smirk can usually put you out of any funky mood you're in, but not today. You smile with closed lips instead, hoping the message gets across well. I love you, but it's not the best time.

You close the email and rotate your chair in his direction. Sunghoon may put too much gel in his hair and annoy you to no end, but he's your best friend, regardless. He's partially the reason you stick around the hell-ridden office you've made a home in for a year. "Mr. Park," is the only answer you give him to curtail his initial sardonic guess.

"Ah, head honcho." He flicks his gaze toward your boss's office, a stray hair whipping into his forehead. "What's he mad about now?"

"My latest stats for the new snare kits." You huff out a breath of air. Rubbing your temple, you try to curtail the impending headache on the horizon. "Don't know if he's pissed they're not selling as predicted or because I didn't make the headers on the sheet the right shade of green."

"Hey!" Sunghoon points one of his slender fingers in your face. "You know the guy uses night mode on his fancy PC all the time. He needs to see the projections, you heathen."

Just as a laugh is ready to escape your mouth, your computer pings. The notification reads the email is from the devil himself. As you click it to pop open the application in full-screen mode, you wonder what Park could say so quickly after you gave him a three-paragraph-length explanation on your report.

When you read the single line of text, any semblance of happiness turns to bile in your throat.

You'd think with your degree, you'd be able to spell "acquisition" correctly.

All the composure you tried to muster dies. Your jaw muscles tighten and your teeth gnash against each other as the words replay in your head over and over. He has no right, and yet he does at the same time. He didn't need to say it the way he did, and yet it's here in black and white for you to spiral because of, the exasperated and petulant tone practically hitting your eardrum in the way only his voice can.

You ruminate on your initial thought of murder, and you know even now—despite the ever-present reason to put the guy in a casket—it's childish.

But if you can't kill him, the less drastic option is to at least give him a piece of your mind.

Your chair bangs against the cubby opposite of yours when you stand up, and Sunghoon flinches. "Hey, don't do something you'll regret," your best friend warns.

"Trust me, I won't," you mutter quickly before storming off in the direction of the executive offices.

At lightning speed, you're in front of Jay Park himself. The man's ready to dig into a chocolate cupcake when you approach him.

"Do you get off on being an asshole?" The words come out biting and high-pitched, but every knot in your gut unfurls when you say it. His eyes bug out, and that gives you the perfect signal to continue before he can open his mouth with a witty comeback.

"I spelled one fucking word wrong in an email, and it was another excuse for you to pick me apart and prove you're the one calling the shots here. But having millions of dollars to your name or a shitload of success doesn't make you a good person. You treat so many people in this company like disposable pieces of garbage, when the only one who should feel like that is you!

"You're an arrogant, self-centered, irritable…" Your last words disintegrate on your tongue when you see the single pink candle strewn across his desk. The flame was puffed out long ago, but it tells you all you need to know.

You're giving your boss the proverbial middle finger on his birthday.

In the second between realizing you've been telling him off to considerable lengths for a long minute and the fact you've done so on his birthday of all days makes you flush. Your entire body drains of its color the longer you remain silent. How could you forget this day? Why did you have to find courage at the worst time?

He doesn't yell back, scoff, or do any of the telltale things you expect from him by now. Instead, all he does is laugh. He almost smashes his face into the cupcake in front of his lips as the chuckles exit his mouth.

"I thought Chaewon in accounting giving me this would be the highlight of my day," he lifts his cupcake for dramatic effect as he speaks, "but that…tirade has to be the best present I've had in a long time." He sets the cupcake down and stands up from his desk, but not before rolling the cuffs of his button up to his forearms, wiping the crumbs off of his fingers with disinterest.

You stutter, unsure how to continue now or what he plans on doing. As you try composing an apology, the automatic blinds to the windows that give Jay a bird's-eye view of the employee floor from his office come down. You slowly watch the people outside of the room leave the corner of your eye, and you gulp. "I—"

"I admire your courage, you know. Walking in here with that angry pout and little performance. I thought you couldn't get any cuter."

"I didn't pre-plan it," you interrupt him, some of your flare coming back in full color. Even as you say it, your mind hangs on his last word like a clothespin. Cuter?

You never would've expected that word to come from his mouth. Not in relation to you, anyway.

"Of course." His smile remains plastered across his face, but it doesn't meet his eyes. "Do you remember that team-building retreat in Seosan? It must've been around your three-month mark here with us."

You nod vigorously, going back to the memories of that vacation in your mind's eye. That word fits better, you think, when you recall sipping cocktails and lounging by the pool with Sunghoon and your mutual friend in sales, Jake. You did your typically professional routine by day, attending meetings and learning seminars like an astute employee. The nights that accompanied them were filled with fun and laughter you were glad to have with your new coworkers.

"Yes, I remember." You stand stock still even as he steps closer, the professional bubble on the precipice of being popped with every step he takes to get closer to you.

"Do you ever stop to think when my…excuses to pick you apart, as you said, began to occur?" He holds his fingers under his chin, pretending to contemplate the answer to the question with you, and while it riles you up, it leaves you more confused.

"It must've been…" You bite your lip, unsure what intentions are hiding behind his questions. "I'm not sure."

"One of the first emails I sent to you was marked right after we came back from the trip."

"I—I don't understand."

Jay laughs again, the sound hollow. "For an incredibly brilliant woman, it seems you need things made explicitly clear to you."

He's so close now, you smell the mint on his breath. It's intoxicating mixed with his cologne—Prada, you think. The mixture combined with his proximity makes your knees buckle a fraction. "Maybe something about you caught my eye, sipping Mai Tais one minute and being so prim and proper the next, and I've been spending the past excruciatingly long nine months trying to figure out what. All I know is that it's definitely not your penchant for spelling." His eyes gleam with sincerity, a rawness that you've never witnessed in his presence. This is the first time you've ever been alone together, truthfully.

"Respectfully, sir, there's nothing particularly eye-catching about me," you say meekly. "It's not like I'm the one with the company—"

Jay's lips slamming into yours is the last sensation you planned on feeling because of him. You can live with displeasure, annoyance, exasperation, but this is entirely new. He captures the inside of your mouth with his tongue, pressing in and probing like he's never felt someone more worthy of exploring before.

His fingers find purchase at your waist, and he takes your bottom half in both of his hands as he continues navigating your mouth. The spank he lands to one side pushes you further into him, and his body rumbles in delight. He's searching for the answer to his previous question; you can tell. What is it about you that's been driving him crazy, and continues to do so?

His intense physical analysis of you and your body makes you cry out, eager for more and not settling for anything else. Has this been always sitting under the surface, the tension you so adamantly assumed was hatred? You should've noted the way he stared at you from across the bar all those months ago, lights twinkling behind his head as he quietly observed you in all of your alcohol-flushed but starlit stupors.

Again, the words run around the two of you like a marathon, practically screaming in your ears: it's always existed, this tie between you both that you once assumed was founded on disdain.

Boy, were you fucking wrong.

Jay pulls away when he hears your moan fill the room. "Forgive me," he starts, "I just couldn't help myself." You must look breathless, seem dumbstruck, for him to hold you with such care and tenderness. You barely recognize the man in front of you, the tyrant you purported to know long gone.

He runs a finger across your bottom lip, and you can't fight the urge to take the digit into your mouth. When you bite down on the soft skin of his index finger, he groans. "I just apologized for my lack of control. Don't make me lose it again, princess."

The pet name shoots you in between the legs, your body jelly in his hold when his eyes stare you down so intensely. "What if I want you to…sir?"

He takes your throat in one palm and kisses you deeply, cutting off your breathing just a touch for you to focus only on his mouth. Like he's the only thing that can keep you breathing if you just give into him.

"I thought you hated me," he confesses in between kisses. He peppers them across your cheeks and takes a long pull at your mouth again before pushing you into the edge of his desk. You squeal when he lifts you up and sets you down on the glass tabletop, not stopping his barrage of kisses and licks to your skin.

"B-Because it's not normal to feel the opposite. To have a crush on your very powerful and intimidating boss isn't exactly smiled upon in the code of conduct, sir," you whisper as he trails his lips down your neck, across your collarbones. He even goes so far as to dip his nose towards the center of your cleavage. You never hated him, you realize. He frustrates you to no end, for sure, but that emotion clearly has many facets that you never dissected before.

"So you think I'm intimidating now?" Jay questions you with a lilt of humor that is unmissable. He unties your blouse and unclasps your bra in record time so both articles of clothing fall to the floor like raindrops, insignificant now that they're out of the way. It would be incredibly easy to get lost in the beauty of your chest, the peaks of your nipples and curve of your breasts, details Jay wants to take to his short and long term memory, but he's got a one-track mind that points south. If he enjoyed making you squirm with words before, he smirks to himself at how different it'll be for you when uses his body this time.

"I've always thought you were," you confess. You gasp when he bunches your skirt between his fingers to sit the material at your hips, exposing your lace panties. The fabric is soaked by now; you swear you can feel a damp spot forming under you and on his desk.

But he looks more than satisfied.

"Fuck, this is how wet you get?" The question is more for his ears than yours, and you whine from the lack of his touch on your skin, although you've had a plethora of that merely a second ago. You thought you were burning before, but now you're on fire and close to becoming ash before he's even truly done anything.

"Mr. Park, p-please," you beg, slightly gyrating against the glass desk for some relief. It's better than doing nothing to fix the ache he's created.

"It's Jongseong," he interrupts you with a smile. "Jay if it's easier pretty, but I do love it when you use my surname like that." He nips your lips again, licking inside your mouth lewdly.

"Lie back," he commands. It's hard to do as he asks with so much in the way, but the problem's immediately solved when he throws the contents on his desk—including his laptop—to the side. Everything clatters to the floor, but you fight the urge to react outwardly. The only physical reaction is your eyes going wide at the sound the clattering of his pencils, books, and electronics just made. Your reaction causes him to scoff, the sound on the edge of wickedness. "I can get all of this brand-new in a second. Don't focus on that," he says with his hands rubbing the outside of your thighs in tender circles, "and focus on laying down now, princess."

You let your bare back softly hit the glass. The desk is cold against your naked skin, but the sensation's immediately replaced by the warmth of Jay's breath against you. "You're beautiful. Just like I dreamed," he whispers, partly amazed and fully intoxicated, before diving in.

Jay immediately laps and sucks along your folds—the sounds of his mouth working your hole reverberating across the walls—as if he's been starved for decades. He takes your clit between his lips as a finger prods your center. The digit hooks inside of your core without issue. He eats you out like no man has ever done to you or for you before, his method alternating between long strokes of his fingers and little flicks of his tongue. How could heaven be so attainable with someone you initially saw as the devil incarnate?

"You asked me if I get off on being an asshole," he whispers into your cunt. "I don't. But I just might from touching you. You taste impeccable." He slaps your clit abruptly, making you keen. He presses the hand originally at your neck against your chest, your heartbeat thrumming against his palm. The tempo is all for him, a beat he wishes to hear on loop forever.

“It's like you were made for me," he whispers, "the perfect little slut splayed out like this." He inches your thighs further apart to see the way your hole glistens with his spit and your gathering arousal. The sight makes the strain of his erection in his slacks a touch more painful. It begs for him to do something else fast to relieve the surmounting pressure, but he puts off the urge for now. "I fucking love it."

"Jong—sir—I'm gonna come," you announce, the lower half of your center bumping into his chin harshly from how hard you're following the movements of his mouth. You shouldn't chase it so fiercely, but you want him to pick you apart in this way. You've never wished for anything more in your life.

And you know he'll put you back together just to repeat the process all over again.

"Come for me, princess. I want to feel it on my tongue." He replaces his finger with the wet muscle, dipping inside of you to lap up all of you before you completely crumble. Jay takes it all beautifully, allowing his face to be covered in you in the aftermath. You scream out as your release continues overtaking your better judgement. Your brain doesn't care how loud your cries of pleasure must be or have been.

Your coworkers saw you walk in here moments ago; they have to know what you're getting up to, legs spread for your boss and letting him use you for all of his fantasies. But, as you float back to consciousness, you don't seem to give a fuck about any of them.

"You did so well for me, pretty." Jay unbuckles his belt and unzips his fly just a touch to pull his cock from his pants. He hisses when he touches himself, and you know he must be aching from no stimulation prior to this moment. "Think you can handle one more?"

"Yes, sir, please." You say it with such a twinkle in your eye, Jay doesn't seem to care if he breaks the Italian-made iron of his desk. He has to have you, to cover your body with his and push you beyond your limits again.

Jay does exactly that, squishing you between his white button up and the glass underneath you, but you wouldn’t mind if he collapsed your lungs at this point. He's taken you to the edge of breathlessness by now, so there's nothing stopping him from fully toppling you over.

He slides inside of you without issue, your previous arousal creating the right amount of slip. But he's so big, his cock tightly filling your pussy with every inch, the tears that fill your eyes are unavoidable. "S-sir, it's t-too much—"

Jay halts the lie on your lips with his own, his teeth tugging at your bottom lip with a fierce power. "It's not nearly enough, pretty. You feel incredible, so tight. Such a tight little cunt, and all mine."

You nod your head as he thrusts, fat tears falling down your cheeks as he sets a relentless rhythm. The iron fixtures of Jay's desk squeak and tremble from how hard his hips snap up into you, but the only sounds he focuses on are your mewls and labored breaths. You're a vision, fucked out and trembling, and he can't picture a moment where you don't captivate his very being.

The answer to his earlier question hits him like a flutter of wind to the face: it's everything about you. Your relentless effort to every minute task that mirrors his own, your smart retorts to his endless critiques, the way your eyes crinkle at the edges when you laugh. It's all that pervades his mind, but the new images of your slung mouth and sounds you make on the brink of your second orgasm take precedence on the list of ways you enthrall him.

He reaches in between you to pinch and roll your clit against his thumb and index finger, feeling his own release on the tip of his tongue. "Come with me, princess. Let me feel it."

You don't need to hear it a second time to listen to his words clearly. You rattle around his cock like thunder that follows a stroke of lightning, your body shaking as your body surges with endorphins. If your first orgasm was bright and blinding, this one is all-encompassing and soul-shattering, threading into every seam of you so you don't forget how it feels to be pleasured so well, loved so thoroughly.

Jay comes right after you, his warmth flooding you as his body goes taut from his own shocks of numbing pleasure. You know he feels the same, with the way his brows knit together and his jaw slacks. His hips stutter to a full stop, and he can barely pull out of you without his body quaking. He watches the traces of his cum leak out, mixing with the arousal still surrounding your hole, and he knows he's in it now. He'll never go back.

You slump against him when he lays back on the table. The staccato of his heartbeat sweeps through your right eardrum. The muscle's tempo is an exact match for your own racing chest.

"I can't believe I was so loud," you murmur into the silence that follows your labored breaths. Jay looks down at you with a dazed smirk, and you giggle with a shy smile before tucking your face in between your fingers.

Jay takes both palms in his own to kiss, and semblances of the sweat on his skin touch you like dew. It's beautiful to be so wrong about someone, this gentleness he's displaying proving that fact perfectly. "The glass is laminated, and the rest of the walls are soundproof, princess. Nobody could hear you in here unless I truly gave it my all."

You smirk, unruffled by the fact your boss always thinks one step ahead of everyone, even in situations like this. "That wasn't your all?" You blush and tuck your face into his neck, the question rhetorical and teasing. "Seems you have a lot to show me."

"That I will." He takes your jaw between his fingers when he kisses you again. Mint still lingers on his tongue behind the traces of your arousal, and you could become a puddle again from how unreal it all seems. The past thirty minutes, the preceding moments before you walked into his office, and the plans that lay ahead for the future. "But not before I take you on a proper date."

Months later, you sit at your desk with only your boss on your mind, his eyes lingering on you even as his CFO Lee Heeseung discusses something menial with him. You try to go back to your laptop screen, the seasonal trends report for the new line of guitar strings begging to be completed, but it's no use. You're enthralled with the man across the office space, just like he is with you.

So when the email to meet him in his office for an "oral report" of the latest documented projections comes a few moments later, you don't question him, the man you love.

You thought you wanted to kill your boss before, but it was truly unexpected how many deaths—both little and enormous—Jay Park seemed to have in his pocket for you.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @jjunberry @frenchkisstheabyss @prkhaven @tinycatharsis @fangel @aaa-sia @yvnempire @addictedtohobi @innocygnet @filmnings @lovetaroandtaemin @xylatox @dawngyu

𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 ── .✦ @kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @/moadiarynet @/pirateeznet @/thediamondlifenetwork @sweetvenomnet @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators

𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑴𝒀 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲𝑺 𝒐𝒓 𝑱𝑶𝑰𝑵 𝑴𝒀 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑺 © 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖢𝖧𝖶𝖤; 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍.

[kedreeva]

#we spoke of this a LOT at work after that one tech was murdered and hidden in a wall

hi!👋 hello! kedreeva! i’m going to need to ask you to explain this!!!!

So back in 2009, a lab student named Annie Le was murdered at Yale university. Cameras saw her going on into a building, but not out again and it was like, the eve of her wedding (or close to? I don't remember) so clearly she had places to be and people waiting for her so they immediately started looking and the next day (or so? Anyway on the day of her wedding) they found her body in a recess in a wall, down in the areas where the research animals were kept. It turns out, a tech had killed her, but since there were cameras like EVERYWHERE, he just, I guess, left her there. Well, hid the body where it was. I don't remember how they caught him, but they did. It was a horrifying story. It still is.

And it was a huge news story among the folks at my workplace because, at the time, I was working at a different university, as an animal husbandry technician. As you can imagine this was a kind of intense time to be in that situation. They started offering, like, I'm not gonna say counseling but it was "if you need to talk we would prefer you talk to us about something wrong rather than kill anyone about it" and as techs (even if we were not even the same kind of tech, the killer was a lab tech and we were husbandry techs but I think a lot of people assumed it had been a husbandry tech since she was in an animal area), we were kind of getting the side eye from lab people for weeks afterwards. Like they thought we were gonna go "wow that's a fantastic idea, you're next!" or something, idk. And I mean like, people would freeze when you were alone in a hallway, or turn and walk the other way, or duck into the nearest room and watch you walk past, and they were all being super nice/civil to us when they did have to interact. It was very atypical behavior for lab people. Like not all of them, some of them had always been nice and weren't worried, but some of the people who had been unbelievable dicks previously were walking on eggshells. And the people who had friends in other universities reported this was happening at their jobs, too.

And instead of talking to The Man (because all the higher ups were garbage at the time), we just. talked among ourselves. It was a lot of "I may say I feel like strangling lab people sometimes when they do things that drive me up a wall but I don't MEAN it you know that right" and it also led to group discussions of what would be a theoretical *better* solution to hiding a body than what happened, with clear disdain for doing things like hiding bodies in walls, which is a terrible idea and one we would never do (looking at the people who think we might have decided this was a great idea actually).

Which consequently led to a lot of supervisors and/or managers that happened to overhear us bringing us donuts or arranging pizza for lunch in like, some kind of bid to help us feel appreciated, I guess, so that we wouldn't murder anyone, even though none of us were going to do that anyway. But also none of us were in a position to turn down free donuts or pizza or whatever.

And then after a few weeks, maybe a month or so, people just kind of forgot and moved on and things went back to normal like fifty people hadn't spent every lunch hour for weeks talking quietly among themselves about how human bodies would definitely fit into a carcass disposal barrel or that you'd have to crush hip bones and/or skulls before incineration. Hypothetically.

Like I said, it was a VERY weird time to be at my job, and every time I remember it happening feels like a fever dream. I can't even imagine what it was like at Yale.

[howdoesagrapewrites]

𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬

Plot: Baela needs some stress relieving before the battle, and who's best than her sweet older sister?

Cw: lovesick!Baela Targaryen x reader, top!Baela x sub!reader, could be Blackfyre!reader but this is not really canon so who cares, smut, fingering, grinding, your usual unhinged medieval sexuality, incest, targcest could be read as internalized homophobia but not really, dirty talk, virginity loss, Baela's POV at first, then reader's POV

Notes: This is not really canon, or important in the Dragon Jaws/Blackfyre series, it's just a little treat

Baela and Y/N were in a tent after a session with the generals of the black army, they discussed the strategy for combat tomorrow. It was late, probably later than it was prudent, after all, no warrior with half a brain would go into war without proper rest; but it was not easy to fall asleep with so much in mind.

The sisters shared a tent, both as a security measure, and one of emotional need. They had spent their whole lives together, missing each other terribly when apart. They would exchange letters and travel on dragonback into the arms of one another, though the tent was missing Rhaena, their other sister, they accepted this gracefully, as it was to keep her safe.

They slept on a big bed (as much as it could be called a bed), usually ending up tangled in the other's embrace. For Baela, it was hard. She was in love with her sister, she desired her. It had evolved throughout the years, but she was sure she loved her sisters from the moment she was able to love. During puberty this feeling grew, it enveloped her, and now, as an adult, it was irresistible. For one, she was grateful she was born a woman, she could shower and dress with her without any shame, stare at her bosom, her perky nipples, her hips, her back, so soft and ready to be marked. She remembered this time during her younger years, where with the excuse of curiosity, she asked her older sister about her developing body, Baela standing naked before her, with her only in her undergarments, both getting ready for bed after swimming on the sea.

"I just can't know if they will get like yours, can you look at me?" She timidly asked. Y/N just caressed her curly hair, and said "It's normal, they look normal. They just might be small, that's lovely too" she said, innocent to the hormone-filled train of thought Baela was conjuring. Y/N topped it off with words that would be repeated over and over in Baela's head for years to come: "You can't tell anyone this, but you and Rhaena are the most beautiful Targaryens to have ever lived" they laughed and Baela felt butterflies erupt in response to her gentleness.

And now, Baela can't sleep thinking about that, she wants her, if not now, when? When will they ever find a better place and time to have each other? Probably many more, Baela thinks, however, what matters is that after years of simmering, her lust has come to a boil.

"Y/N" she calls

"Ahem?" She responds, sleep filled voice

"Have you thought about the end of the war?" She asks, snuggling her body close to hers, Baela is hugging her from behind, the bed feels warm

"I guess we all have"

"I'm fighting like a man" Baela stated "But once the war ends, I won't have the power of a man"

"I think we all want the power of a lord. Lord Baelon, how does that sound? I think it has a nice ring to it" said the oldest "How about me? How would my name sound as a lord?"

"Hmm... I'd like you to remain a lady" Y/N made a curious noise at Baela's words, and then noticed her hand going lower, from the side of her chest, to her waist. "That way... You would be lord Baelon's wife, keep the blood of the dragon pure" her hand hands reached for the buttons in her nightgown. "I would share you with Rhaena" she stopped to think of a fitting name for her sister "Lord Rhaegar, that would be nice... But she can be a lady too, what matters is that I'll have both of you"

Y/N aids Baela with the unbuttoning of her blouse, guiding her hand to her bare skin "I'm not liking it too much, you are cocky, I would like to marry a gentle lord" she says that, but she's undressing for Baela. "Remain a lady, for me, sister, I do not need more"

"I do" Baela says, flipping you on your back, looking deeply into your eyes from above, her hair tickles your shoulders as they fall like a cascade

She closes the distance and kisses you like a starved animal, like a dragon. She's fire, so are you. You devour each other, you grab her curls to trap her, she moans when she feels your nails massage her scalp. You break the kiss to gasp for air, Bae looks dizzy and lovestruck, all of her bold attitude is now gone.

Her hands touch your sides softly, and you nod so she can go ahead. Her palms are soft, but there's an undeniable roughness thanks to the dragon reins she holds onto.

Baela kisses your neck, by this point, your torso is bare, you get goosebumps from the cold air around you. She kisses all the way down to your navel, your underpants are tied with baby blue ribbons, and Baela softly tugs them down.

"It's not enough" she whispers in your ear as she exposes your cunt

You softly sigh as her slender fingers play with your folds, gathering the slick and rubbing your clit with it. She keeps kissing you, and teasing your hole with her finger, not quite fucking you with it. You enjoy it until you don't, and start shamelessly grinding against her, you get a little louder, whining "Lady Baela" and biting your lip in hopes of seducing her. She can't resist, and slowly inserts only her ring finger, slowly pumping in and out of you.

Soon the pace quickens, but you both agree is not enough, and Baela is shivering with the desire to be touched too. Mid-making out, she asks you to sit up.

"I have an idea, just-" she undresses too, with your eager help she lays down, resting her head on the pillow, now naked. She motions you to sit on top of her. You slowly lower yourself with Baela guiding your hips to where she wants them to be, both of you giggle with the tender awkwardness of both your cluelessness.

Your pulsing cunt comes to grind on top of her, you experimentally move, and are rewarded with a a breathy moan from Baela. You build your pace, wiggling your hips and riding her pussy, you start slow, feeling her clit and folds rub with yours, at first it's too intense, and your eyes get wet with tears from pleasure. But then it's not enough, and you ride her like it's the last thing you'll do, it gets difficult to hide your moans, but you think anyone would know what's happening, based on the wet clapping sounds of skin of skin.

It gets slippery with slick, and your hips get tired, but Baela's voice demanding more is just too intoxicating. You come and collapse on top of her, but she's still rolling her hips and sucking on your neck, you plead for mercy, but she's as ruthless in bed as in the battlefield, so after you momentarily stop, she bites you. "Did I say you could stop?" You are in fact tired, but just listening to her commands has you clenching, so your lower body gets a mind of its own and keeps moving to satisfy your sister. You know that you would probably see the sun arise before Baela had her fill of you.

...

"Y/N" she calls, this time she doesn't wait for an answer, as she knows you're awake "You will not marry anyone, you'll wait for me"

You get a little sad, you know that you can never marry Baela, and don't know exactly what she means "Yet you will marry Jace" you say, maybe a little too hurt

"I will" Baela makes you look at her in the eyes, as she promises you this "But I will make him take you as a wife too, you will not marry until that happens" she's tender, but you are aware she's being dead serious. Jacaerys taking a second wife? A bastard one at that? It sounds too fantastic, and you would like to live in that fantasy, but your mind will not let you.

"Trust me, Y/N."

"I don't think many would accept it"

"Then I suppose Moondancer will have grow fat from too many nobles"

[barksenji]

KNOCK KNOCK (DUSTTALE).

I've always wondered who Dust's first victim was. It would almost certainly be an accident—but who could it be? The logical answer is some background NPC, someone forgettable. And yet, there's an idea I've been turning over in my mind for a while now.

It’s hard to imagine Sans killing someone he can actually look in the eye. I don’t think he could (at least at first). But a voice feeding his paranoia?

It's a risky idea, but oh well. I'm cringe and I'm free.

If you guys want to read it on AO3, it's in my fanfic Déjà Vu: a Dusttale Dusttake.

The wind blew through the branches of the trees, making the leaves howl in their symphony. He felt the crunch of snow beneath his feet; his slippers weren’t enough to shield him from the cold, but he didn’t care.

He had forgotten the last time he talked to her. He didn’t have the energy anymore. He’d run out of jokes, and he hadn’t been that good at telling them anyway. If there was anything scarier than the resets, it was the fact that he was losing his sense of humor.

Eh, at least Papyrus would be happy about that.

Still, even with nothing to say, he kept visiting the place and would sit in front of the door. He didn’t do anything but watch: the snow, his hands, the trees. The images contradicted his memories. Each detail different from what he remembered.

He wondered if she knew he was there. She might have felt the door creak as he leaned on it. Or noticed his shaky breath when he heard too much. But she never said a word. Neither of them did.

Today, something changed.

"You ever been out to snowdin? Don't think I've seen you around."

There was no answer—not that he had expected one.

"...Heh. I used to think only pine trees made it out here. But wanna know a secret?" He tilted his skull up, gaze drifting through the trees like he was looking past them. "There's aspens too. Seen 'em with my own sockets."

He swore they weren’t there before, but then again, he swore a lot of things hadn’t been there before. He’d been trying to get comfortable with the fact that the world was changing.

Wasn’t that what he wanted? For things to change?

Then why did change give him the same feeling of unchanging permanence that he hated so much?

"Ever get that feelin' like someone's watchin' you? yeah... it's the aspens."

He gave a half-grin, like it wasn't a joke—or maybe it was.

"Always wondered why they look like they got eyes. Guess I still can't get to the root of it."

A soft laugh echoed from behind the door. It warmed his heart, but the feeling faded quickly. Why did she always show up only when he made a joke? Why did she fall silent when he tried to start a normal conversation?

Why was she always so... available to listen to him? Didn’t she have a life?

"That was a good one!" Her syrupy voice rang out, so sweet it almost stung. "I’ve got one too; want to hear it?"

"Sure."

"What did the rock say when it rolled into the tree?"

"What did it say?"

"Nothing, rocks don’t talk!" she burst into laughter.

Sans let out a small chuckle. It sounded more like a bark from between his clenched teeth. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, darkened by something he couldn’t put into words.

Toriel’s laughter faded into an awkward sound, ending on a nervous note.

"Are you okay?"

Sans sighed.

"Has the human fallen yet?"

The question slipped through his teeth before he could think it through. He couldn’t see Toriel’s face, but he could hear the way her breath caught, the silence afterward so intense it burned.

"What?! N-No. I don’t know what you’re talking about."

The lie hurt him. He didn’t count on the truth, but it still stung. No one was honest with him anymore.

Besides, she was terrible at lying.

"Have you ever talked to him? What did he tell you?"

Silence.

"Do you know his favorite color? Food? Name? Age? Anything?"

He wondered if it was truly human or not.

A long pause followed—longer than he would have liked. He could still sense her presence behind the door, motionless, as if weighing what truths she was willing to let slip through.

“He's a quiet kid. He doesn't talk much… if at all. But I’m sure he’ll open up.”

Sans muttered something under his breath.

“Have you ever seen him say a single word? Show any joy? Wear anything besides that stone-cold face?”

“Why are you talking like you know him?”

He laughed out loud; the sound was so sharp and brittle it unsettled him.

He knew him better than anyone.

He dared to say he knew him better than the back of his bony hand. he was the only person he knew well. How long had it been? Months? Years? He had spent more time with him than anyone else in this dump.

But he said nothing. He didn’t have to—Toriel spoke before he could.

That same old, worn-out monologue.

“Look, just… if a human comes through this door… could you please promise me something?” She paused, waiting for a response. Sans said nothing. “Watch over them and protect them, would you?”

Everything stopped for a moment—at least, for Sans. He didn’t even know why he got his hopes up anymore, expecting something different from the same old people.

"She knows what she’s doing." Oh, shut the fuck up.

“Why are you so hellbent on helping the kid?” Sans snapped. It came out low, broken, a growl wrapped in a whisper. He didn’t notice that he clenched his fists until he felt the sharp edges of his fingers pressing into his palms. “What’s he ever done for you?”

The sudden change in tone startled Toriel, but she replied with equal sharpness.

“Nothing. And he doesn’t have to. I don’t expect anything in return for my kindness.”

Bullshit.

Toriel continued, “You don’t know how much I’ve lost. You… you don’t even know what I have lost! You don’t know this child—”

“And you do, lady?”

The silence was deafening. The whisper of the leaves and the wind grew to an unbearable volume. The humming in the back of his mind became more noticeable with each passing second.

He didn’t know the true identity of the woman behind the door. He had trusted her because—why wouldn’t he? Only a few could match his awful sense of humor. But the more he heard her, the more it felt like she wanted him to let his guard down.

And she’d managed it—before he remembered everything. If he hadn’t made that promise, would he have acted in another way? Would it matter?

“He’s scared… like any kid would be. You always protect others; that’s what I admire about you. Can’t you do this one favor for me?”

His mouth went dry; his eyes scanned his hands like they had answers scrawled across them. He formed something in his mind, but as he was about to speak…

“Whatever it is you’re planning… please don’t do it.”

Sans looked up.

The trees, dressed in snow, stood tall and proud, hiding behind them the edges no man could ever reach. Between the leaves, beams of light filtered through and painted the snowy ground. Where was the light even coming from? Who knew.

An unreal sight for words just as damn unbelievable.

She knew everything. Now he was sure of it. Thousands of thoughts piled up in his head, seeping into reality like a bleeding wound in his skull. Yet he couldn’t put them into words: so many whys and hows, but all he managed to murmur was—

“How much do you know about what I’m planning?”

She stumbled over her words—was she surprised? There was a tone in her voice, the kind someone has when they’ve just been caught.

“I… I don’t know. You… please.”

There was a pause, then she went on.

“You’ve been… watching the Ruins more than usual, haven’t you? I know you’re there. I used to wait for a joke, but it never came. I thought maybe you just needed some quiet company.” Her domestic calm turned into something more severe—maybe even desperate. “But now you sound like you’re waiting for something. Like you know something. I can’t lose another child. I can’t.”

There was something so unnervingly real in her tone—the quiver in her voice, the way it almost sounded like a plea. She couldn’t lose another child—but how many times could he stand losing everything? Maybe he couldn’t anymore.

And then, like a reply to his thoughts, she spoke again.

“You think killing him will fix the pain? It won’t.”

That shouldn’t have shaken Sans the way it did.

“How the hell would you know?” This time, he didn’t even try to keep up the laid-back tone. Not that he was doing a good job keeping that mask on anyway.

“…What?” Toriel whispered.

“How would you know? What do you think you know about my pain?” Every word came with a shaky breath. Toriel could feel him staring daggers at her through the door.

“I’m… I’m talking about the pain of the underground. After what happened—”

“Don’t pretend with me, lady.”

Silence. Again. He wasn’t the kind of guy who hated the howl of the wind—it gave space for thought—but right now, he wasn’t thinking clearly.

“I've talked to him, y’know?” He let out a bitter chuckle, dark and dry like the crack of a whip.

”He tells me, ‘pull the trigger, funny guy. It’s the only punchline you got left.’ And you come here to talk to me about my pain?”

Toriel couldn’t see Sans’ face behind the door, but she could imagine it. She didn’t know him well, but he sounded off—his voice, usually so relaxed, now strained with something darker. He sounded like a completely different man.

Her brow furrowed, not in anger but in worry.

“Who are you— Did something happen? Maybe… with your brother? Is that why you come here more often?”

His face twisted with something he couldn’t even name. Yeah, something did happen to Papyrus—the same thing that was happening to everyone.

“Heh. Paps is fine.”

But she pressed on.

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

Toriel could hear the rhythmic tapping of his foot in the snow, the snap of something that sounded like a… lighter?

“You wanna know what my fucking problem is? You’re not real. You’re made of pie crumbs and grief and ‘please don’t kill the human!’ That’s not a person. That’s a damn script. You know how many times I’ve been here?”

The crackle of a cigarette lighting up.

“You got a face? Behind that door-mask, you could be anyone. You could be him. You could be me.”

Before he could spiral further, Toriel stopped him. She opened her mouth to string together an answer to his rambling mess of words, but nothing came. Instead, she tried to comfort him.

“You sound… troubled. Deeply. Can you breathe with me? Just for a moment?”

Nothing. Just the tapping of his foot and a sigh.

“You always have a joke, remember? Tell me one. Remind me we’re still ourselves.”

A dry laugh—something slipping closer to a cough or a cry, she couldn’t tell.

“Lady, you’re not you anymore. And I sure as hell ain’t me. You think you can trick me every time I come up to this door. I just want to have one goddamn normal conversation, you get that? No promises, just—”

He was so painfully aware of what was happening to him it hurt. He knew he was slipping—his words felt so foreign he wasn’t even sure he was saying them. He was going off script. 

And there was nothing he could do. There never was. He just let it happen. The paranoia would take over and turn him into someone else. 

No. Maybe this was who he really was, behind the walls of code. 

“You’re not talking. Not really. Just replaying old recordings. Little cassette tapes. Little scripts. You’ve got your lines well memorized, huh?” 

“What you’re saying doesn’t make sense. I want to understand, but I can’t keep up with you like this.” 

And she said it in such a gentle tone that Sans almost didn’t lose his shit. 

Almost. 

How did it not make sense? He felt betrayed by his own language—by the absence of words, by the lack of terms to define whatever hell he’d been put through. Want to understand? Who said she didn’t understand already? Was she pretending to be clueless? 

"You know, sometimes..."

He paused, voice trailing off like he was thinking out loud, but not really expecting an answer.

"I think it'd be better to just walk away...I mean, if it’s all just a joke, why bother with the punchline, right?"

he shrugged, his tone a little colder.

"Guess that means... you and I don't need to talk anymore. So, forget it."

That didn't really make any sense, did it?

Sans tried to get up, the movement making the door creak. Toriel froze, a deep certainty settling in her chest. Somehow, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop the human from leaving the ruins.

And something in her gut told her the man outside the door was going to make sure that kid didn't make it.

“Please, don’t hurt him! If you harm the human, what will become of me? Of us as monsters?! It’s not right... please.” 

Sans tensed. 

“I don’t care about the human. Just forget it.” 

“Your brother... what was his name? Papyrus! Right? You talked about him...” 

“Don’t bring Papyrus into this.” 

“Papyrus doesn’t want to lose you. He doesn’t want you to lose yourself, either. If he were here right now... would he want you to make this choice?” 

“He wants to be in the royal guard. He’d do the job himself.” 

“You told me he wouldn’t hurt a fly...” 

“I told you I don’t care. I’m not doing anything, buddy.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

Sans could’ve walked away. Should’ve. Normally, he would have. But something kept him glued to that damn door. 

He was waiting to hear something. He wanted to run—but he felt there was stuff he needed to know. 

“Maybe it’s just my silly hope, but... Papyrus reminds me of the human sometimes. They’re both innocent in their own way. Don’t you think? I know you can’t see it now, but maybe... there’s room for both of them in this world.” 

He felt the beat of his soul rise in his chest. 

Usually, the forest felt vast—the towering trees gave the illusion that there was something beyond them. 

But in that moment, it felt like the pines were closing in. 

He tried to force himself to walk away. He couldn’t. 

“Don’t... Don’t compare them.” 

And she could tell, by the way his tone softened, that somehow—her words were reaching him. 

She should’ve never let her guard down.

“...I-I know you're a good monster. I know it in the way you talk about your family, your friends. I don’t know you very well; I don’t even know your name, but…”

Toriel’s voice had that same tired warmth. The kind that had comforted him before, back when the door was just a door, and he was just some guy who told jokes.

“If you lay a hand on that child,” she said—quieter now, voice shaking. “Then, Papyrus will look at you the way you look at the human.”

A beat.

“Like a stranger.”

He didn’t know what had happened.

He couldn’t grasp why those words twisted in his stomach. They felt like something rotten, eating away inside him. A creeping clarity so intense, it felt like staring straight into reality—and going blind.

Toriel hadn’t meant it the way it landed. She hadn’t. But she’d let her heart speak, and in doing so, she’d opened the one door she shouldn’t have.

Because deep down, she knew. She knew she couldn’t keep the kid there. Not forever. So maybe she thought if she appealed to the right part of him—Papyrus—he’d soften.

But he didn’t.

It wasn’t the words themselves. Not exactly.

It was the place they hit—deep, somewhere crooked and raw and twitching. Something hollow in him reacted before the rest of him could catch up. A gut-pull like nausea, like clarity too sharp to touch. Like having truth handed in shards of glass.

He didn't think.

Not with his mouth, not with his hands. He didn’t even look toward the door. He didn’t aim.

Just a low, mechanical whirr—and then the blast.

The sound jolted him upright like waking from a dream, or maybe falling into one. It echoed off stone, off his bones.

Then came the silence. A strange, unsettling quiet. The sound of rubble falling from the doorframe was his only company.

“You… in my most vulnerable moment…”

Toriel’s words played like the lines from an old script.

He wanted to look back, to see what he had done—but he couldn’t. He stayed still; everything felt more unreal than ever. He feared that if he looked back, he’d lock eyes with the human… smiling with that sick, knowing pleasure.

He threw a quick glance. Too quick to register much, but just long enough to realize he had fucked up.

No, this can’t be happening.

He finally mustered the courage to fully turn toward the door.

There was nothing.

Purple and white slumped under a crumbled corner of the marble doorframe. Dust stained the hem like dried blood.

In truth, nothing was different.

The person behind the door still had no face.

She never had, not really. Just a voice, warm and full of weight, like a blanket you couldn’t see but always felt. He remembers a silhouette, gentle and warm, beyond the ruins. They shared stories about snails, pie, and hope.

Now there was no voice. No warmth. Just rubble and cloth.

He stared, but it didn’t register.

Maybe he made her up. A coping mechanism. A soft edge in a world getting sharper by the day. Someone he could imagine as kind. Someone who said his brother’s name like it meant something.

Wasn’t that how this always worked?

People disappearing.

Becoming scenery.

Maybe the door was always empty, and he just filled it with a voice he wanted to hear.

She was gone now, and her absence was so striking that it felt as if she had never been real at all.

And if she wasn't real—if she never had been—then maybe this wasn’t murder. Maybe this wasn’t anything at all.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

Something sank deep in his ribs and lit a spark. The kind that shows, with sharp clarity, that something inside you has shifted forever. That this wasn’t your last step.

It was your first.

Addictive in its enlightenment. Sharp as a shot of vodka.

He staggered a step back.

And then another.

And then—he walked.

Just walked.

He walked away like it hadn’t happened. No limping guilt. No broken sob. Just a step, then another. Mechanical.

It didn’t feel like murder.

And that’s what scared him the most.

There was only one thing the kid had that he didn’t: LV.

Did it feel this way for him, too?

“Finally.”

A voice. Sickly sweet, syrupy smooth. It could’ve been mistaken for praise—like Sans had finally understood what she’d been trying to tell him.

“Yes. Finally.”

[callsignfate]

Risk is my middle name

Day Nine of Writemas/Birthday posts!

If you want to see the scheduled posts go here

If you want to see more posts like this go here Reader wears glasses/contacts

TW: None? Let me know if I've missed any!

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

"Damn it!" You hissed as your last pair of contacts had dried out. You looked at them in disbelief before moving to find your glasses. Usually, the world was an uncomfortable blur; your terrible eyesight made people standing even two feet away appear blurry and their faces unreadable.

Valeria, who had perfect eyesight, watched you walk around, moving your hands over the objects on your nightstand and dresser, pulling them mere inches away from your face before putting them back down. An amused smile played on her lips, your mind so focused on finding your glasses that you had forgotten Valeria was still in the room, lounging in bed.

"What are you looking for?" she questioned with an amused tone. A small, startled scream escaped your lips before you turned and squinted your eyes to try to see Valeria clearly.

"What in God's name—have you been in here the whole time?" you questioned immediately as Valeria's laugh echoed into the room. "Yep, just enjoying the show," Valeria replied, her laughter continuing. "You're like a detective investigating a crime scene without your glasses. Or trying to decode some ancient script. It's cute."

You scowled, the effort of squinting making the expression comical. "This is not cute. This is a serious situation. I can't see anything."

Valeria sat up, her laughter subsiding but a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well, maybe you should've taken better care of your last pair of contacts. What's your plan now, Sherlock?"

You huffed, knowing you looked ridiculous. "I guess I'll have to go to the optometrist and get a new set. But right now, I need you to guide me. Help me find my glasses, Val, Please." you hummed out before you made your way back to the bed.

"You broke your last pair when you fell, remember?" Valeria added.

"Oh, right," you muttered, mentally facepalming. "Well, that complicates things. I might need a walking stick instead of glasses."

"Okay, blind detective, what's the plan now?" Valeria asked, settling in next to you.

"I guess I'll have to wait until tomorrow to get new contacts," you replied, a hint of frustration in your voice.

Valeria patted your back reassuringly. "Don't worry, we'll figure it out. In the meantime, you can enjoy the world of artistic blur. Who knows, you might discover a hidden talent for abstract art."

You chuckled, appreciating Valeria's lighthearted approach to the situation. "Maybe I'll start a new movement: Impressionistic Living."

Valeria grinned. "I can't wait to see your masterpiece." "You might be witnessing the birth of a genius," you huffed dramatically, gesturing toward the blurry surroundings.

Valeria pointed her blurry arm at random objects from the room. "Describe this masterpiece to me. What do you see?"

You squinted in the general direction of her hand. "It's a... uh, blob of colors.. Definitely represents the complexities of life."

Valeria burst into laughter. "I think you're onto something. Abstract art enthusiasts would pay a fortune for that description."

"I can't even see your expression's Val, you're a blurry blob, a hot blurry blob, but a blob." You sighed now even more annoyed with yourself.

Valeria playfully pouted. "Well, as long as I'm a hot blurry blob, I guess that's acceptable."

You sighed again, dramatically. "Imagine all the details I'm missing right now. Your fabulous hair, your radiant smile, and, most importantly, your evil plotting expression."

Valeria chuckled. "Ah, the evil plotting expression is a fan favorite. Too bad you're missing out."

You mimicked a gasp. "Maybe this is all part of your grand plan. Sabotaging my vision for world domination."

"Lean closer so I can." You pouted as you tried to release you eyes from squinting, the headache from the squinting, that wasn't helping, already forming.

Valeria leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Yes, my grand plan is to make you utterly dependent on me. Step one: sabotage your vision. Step two: rule the world together. It's foolproof, really."

You groaned, "I knew falling for you was a risky move."

Valeria chuckled, her breath warm on your face. "Risk is my middle name." "I knew it." You playfully mumbled before she leaned in and left a gentle kiss on your lips.

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

If you want to see the scheduled posts go here

If you want to see more posts like this go here

[asha-mage]

i'm on desktop and i'm too lazy to pull up emojis but imagine a pepper emoji right here

The best adaption of the famous Superman story 'For the Man Who Has Everything' is not the Justice League episode of the same name (though that is a very good episode and adaption) but rather, the Supergirl season 1 episode 'For the Girl Who Has Everything'.

As with the comic, Kara- like Clark- is ensnared by the Black Mercy, a plant that entraps it's victim in a hallucinogenic vision of their ideal life, and like Clark, we learn that Kara's vision of an ideal life is living out her time with her family on a Krypton that is never destroyed.

What's interesting is that Clark's vision of Krypton is not really grounded in anything- it can't be. He was a baby when he left and he has no memories to cling to. It's shown that what Clark really wants is being able to live in a world where not only does he not have the power to be a hero but their is no need for heroes at all. His visions of his parents, of what Kryptonian life might have looked like, all of it- it's all a fabrication. Even his dream wife is clearly just 'Lois Lane but on Krypton'. Clark Kent's darkest fantasy is "I don't have to be Superman anymore", because being Superman is a terrible sacrifice, but one he feels he has to make, like he does at the end of the story when he finally breaks free.

But that's not the case for Kara, because Kara's darkest fantasy is not "I don't have to be Supergirl anymore". Kara likes being Supergirl even despite all the sacrifices it demands of her, in part because its her way of making up for not being there for Clark/Kal El when he first got to earth. Instead Supergirl's darkest fantasy really is 'Krypton was never destroyed and none of this ever happened'- because for all the good in her life: from her adopted family, to everything Clark has become, to the friends she cares about so deeply, to everything she has done as Supergirl- she would trade it all to go back to Krypton, back to her family, her world, her life before it was all violently ripped away from her.

Kara remembers Krypton in a way Clark doesn't, and so her vision is more cruel in a way his can't be. Those visions of her parents aren't guess work or fabrication, that's really as she remembers them, and her vision of Krypton and what it was like are grounded firmly in her lived experience. For her, she is seeing people and places that where killed and destroyed, and that she mourned. Clark's vision is of a life he thinks he can never have. Kara's vision is of a life she had but was taken from her and unlike Clark that means that she can not escape on her own.

Instead her adopted sister Alex has to go into the vision to try and reach her, and in the process delivers one of the best speeches in the Arrowverse, or a Superfamily story:

Life isn't perfect. I know it can be hard and it can be lonely. Especially for you. You have sacrificed and you have lost so much. I wish you could've had a life with your family. But even if you did, Kara, it wouldn't be this. Because this isn't real. And deep down, Kara. Deep down, you know it. I can't promise you a life without pain and loss because pain is a part of life. It's what makes us who we are. It is what makes you a hero. You fight every day to keep people from struggling like you have. I know you can remember, please. Please try, Kara. Because Earth needs Supergirl.

This finally breaks through and sets Kara free, because Alex is right. Earth does need her, and just because being Supergirl is not the same burden for her as it to Clark, it doesn't change that, and it doesn't change that it demands incredible sacrifices of her- including saying goodbye to her family and her world for a second time.

Anyways all this to say while the Arrowverse made some wild choices later on, it still had a way better understanding of the DC heroes and what makes their stories tick then basically anyone they've ever let write a Superman movie for the last twenty years.

[a-yellow-van]

Stranger Tides | Chapter I

Hey uh I'm back? I guess? I don't know if anyone will be interested but after almost a year of complete writer's block/trying to finish my degree I have found a new addiction in the name of Baldur's Gate 3. More precisely with this little guy above. Which has led me to finally write something new, featuring my OC Alys. I might be a bit rusty, but I'm happy enough with it to share the first chapter. So here goes. Enjoy!

Alys Vaelthorne never stayed on land long enough to grow roots. The sea wasn't home either - you can't make home of something boundless and turbulent - but it accepted her. Let her breathe, let her escape. Cleaned off the sins. Carried her away.

Now Alys can't run anymore. There's a worm gnawing away at her soul and its voice murmurs promises of absolution.

And, on top of it all, him.

That strange, cunning elf who always watches too closely. Who lies and charms and kills with a grin. And who, beneath it all, understands.

That scares her more than the end of the world.

A story of survivors. Of loss and grief and monstrosity. Of two circling each other until teeth and claws and bones clash. Until humanity starts to bloom again, in the places that used to be barren.

Pairing : Astarion x f! OC, Astarion x f! Tav

Rating : Mature

Warnings : Canon-typical violence, mentions of trauma and PTSD, explicit sexual content (eventually)

Additional tags : slow burn, hurt/comfort, angst, arguing as a form of foreplay, healing but making each other very angry first, enemies to lovers (kinda), Astarion and Tav are terrible at feelings, they both need a hug, true neutral tav (but leaning good), canon compliant with some divergence, eventual romance, eventual smut, i hate you because you remind me of myself vibes, but i also feel safe with you, but please stop seeing me like that, author is losing it

Chapter 1 : Beginnings (AO3)

Read an excerpt below !

She didn’t look in the faces of corpses she robbed. Didn’t take note of the colour of their eyes, of the pattern of their hair or the slope of their nose. Because that made it all wrong- gave her something to remember them by. They became people again, taken cruelly and unfairly, when they were simply means to an end. She moved swiftly around the beach, plucking gold from pockets, prying a wooden staff from broken fingers, untying leather armor from a caved-in chest and slipping it over her tunic. She was detached, methodic - heartless, an onlooker might have said. Force of habit. 

Her pack filled once more, she fixed her sight to the smouldering wreckage, its bloated and greyish tendrils draped over the cliffside. She would start there. 

She tied her hair above her neck and took her first steps towards this newfound purpose. Chin up, steady-legged, not a pause to mourn for the existence she was leaving behind. She’d always been good at that. Leaving without ever looking back. 

Even when it ripped a piece of her she could never replace.

She didn’t get very far. 

A brutal feeling of being watched, of being hunted, made her stomach drop to her heels. Up to her right, needles rustled under boots - just once, before retreating. A misstep. She halted, blood thumping at her temples, and tilted her head slightly towards the sound.

There was someone on that hill, near a patch of sickly, short conifers. She could only make out their silhouette, crouched by a gnarled trunk, sticking to the shadows - nearly blending with them. A rogue, without question. She darted behind the nearest boulder. 

Do they know I saw?

Alys didn’t have much time to wonder. There was a flash of white against ocher - and then she was pulled down, a yelp caught in her throat, a dagger under her chin and a dangerous voice in her ear. “Don’t. Move.” 

She went very still, back flush to this stranger’s chest. Her head spun, stars danced in her vision. But what stunned the sorceress wasn’t how quickly he’d sneaked up on her, or the blade an inch away from her artery. No, it was the icy sting of the assailant’s fingers tightly wrapped around her arm. They were freezing. Colder even than hers when she summoned the skies. 

For a moment, she was taken by the sensation. His touch almost felt inhumane, as if no blood pulsed beneath the skin. 

“I saw you on that ship,” he hissed, cool breath tickling her neck. “You’re in league with those… those things, aren’t you?” 

“Get off of me,” the sorceress retorted, voice trembling with fury, and she dug her free elbow into the rogue’s stomach. 

As she rolled away from the man, only one thought remained. 

There was something deeply wrong with him.

She jumped to her feet, thunder fiercely crackling in her chest, ready to strike. 

Her assailant followed suit, coughing, a hand clutching his middle. Alys looked him over, her sight narrowed by adrenaline. The rogue was an elf, tall and thin and pale. Paler than anyone she’d ever met. Almost translucent in the harsh sunlight. He was all angles and long, sharp lines, except for his hair - a mop of curly silver, unruly like the fur of a lamb. He donned elegant clothes, but the velvet of his coat was worn, the gold motifs tarnished as though he’d mended them a few too many times, to give the impression of nobility. And he was scowling at her, eyes blazing with hatred. 

But, gods, was he beautiful. A preternatural beauty that drew one in and spurred obsession. Hypnotic. 

It made her anger dissipate in volutes. 

Alys stared for a second too long, and the elf lunged forward. It shattered those wholly unbecoming feelings. 

“Back off!” she shouted, drawing her staff. 

"Oh," he sneered, tone laced with venom, "you filthy little - ARGH!" 

He doubled over, his dagger clattering to the ground, and, a heartbeat later, Alys’ knees buckled as her skull split in two.

A pain greater than she'd ever felt seared through her brain like wildfire. Her tadpole writhed, burying deeper, biting through matter, destroying nerve endings and connecting…

Her vision went black, and then her eyes weren't her own anymore. 

The rest is crossposted on AO3!

[ri-writes-if]

I'm usually a Vezmancer, but this time I decided to try all the routes and Laz...my my my what do we have here? I love the Oracle being this morose, hissing wet cat to him, hitting him with the "Why are you doing this I'm doomed to die sooner or later, stop it, let me die in solitude" is just marvelous (I'm a sucker for that sort of thing). (I also love being able to just pick whoever without worrying about always picking that RO in other scenes).

I truly hope at some point we get to circle back to the loneliness conversation (for added angst maybe after Laz fs up and get to hit them with the "should've stayed lonely I guess" and idk turn invisible or into a bird/butterfly so they can't/won't look at us and fly off).

I do have a question, mostly because I can't remember what the warnings were prior to this chapter, but just how dark can we make the story? Cause I noticed that every time the Oracle starts to go dark, they immediately bounce back. Like with Argellan (apologies if that's not how it's spelled, I don't remember assholes' names out of disrespect lol jk I'm just terrible with spelling) they almost start to cry and then just don't. Or they feel helpless and then just get determined even if most options I pick are the passive/I deserve this and "oh well guess I'll die" options. I'm not complaining, mind, I get going down the major depression path is not something everyone wants to do nor is comfortable doing, and that's 1000% ok. Your story, I'm just here for the ride.

I'm mostly curious given the warnings on if those tags are for the other characters? Or if it depends on our sanity or if it can get darker later? To set my expectations if you will. No need for spoilers and if it makes you uncomfortable/upset apologies, please don't feel the need to answer.

Regardless I look forward to confusing all the ROs with my pessimism and chaos.

I’m glad you enjoyed Laz’s route! Thank you for sharing your thoughts 💛

I understand you might want more “depressing” options, but it’s just not the direction I planned for this main character. They can end up in a pretty bad situation if their sanity falls, but overall, their potential tragedy is in misinterpreting what they need to become happy.

The Oracle is someone who wants a better life. It’s at the heart of their character. Every decision they have been making their whole life is pushed by this desire. They might be doomed, but they’re not going down quietly. They will force themselves to get up even when the situation is bleak, and that was the point of that moment—to show that they don’t allow anyone/anything to beat them down easily. They never have, and that’s why they’re still alive and trying to not just live, but live well.

Their developing arc isn’t “I want to live love laugh” vs “I’ll die so everything’s meaningless”, it’s more like “I’ll become a better person against all odds and find my place” vs “I’ll take what I want by any means necessarily even if it makes me miserable”. That’s as much as I can say without spoilering things.

So yeah, they’re not staying in the gutter. We’re actually at the point in the story where they begin to pick themselves up and take control of their life.

For the warnings—it’s mostly for what the Oracle encounters, though some of it will apply to them if you go down a particular path. Let’s just say… they might end up in a worse situation than they’re in now, you know? 🌚 Perhaps you'll enjoy that route! :)

[delicatetigerobject]

Just finished episode 5 of Stranger Things 4 for the first time!!

And HOLY SHIT. It was GREAT!!

Now I started it a few days ago (the episode) and only finished the second half today and I loved it so much! Spoilers ahead for anyone who hasn't watched this yet btw! :)

Ok so here's my thoughts on the episode as someone watching it for the first time!! :DDDD

(warning that some of this stuff might end up just being from ep 4 as well, since I am very bad at remembering when things happened lmao)

The fact that Victor Creel (pretty sure that's the one, I sometimes get name mixed up of the guys involved with Vecna directly in the past in st4 lol) tried to kill himself to join his family is so sad especially with how devastated he sounded when he said that they stopped the bleeding, like I know he isn't one of the mains but that scene was so sad :(... the guy who played him did such a good job tho!!

Also loved when his family got vecna'd. The spiders coming from the drain thing with his wife (I think?) is actually one of my most frequent intrusive thoughts, I can't imagine how terrible it would feel to see spiders crawling out of the drain in the tub like that, and then coming back just to see that it was never there? spooky shit indeed.

and that makes me think about the jars with... dead spiders that steve found in the vent. I wonder if that scene actually holds any significance at all?? idk yet lol. We'll see!

The lumax scene at the piano in the Creel house was so sweet, I think it was really nice and I'm curious now if it might parallel any byler scenes from st4... I'll have to keep an eye out as I watch the rest of the season I guess lol.

The lights flickering and leading them to the attic, and the way the camera view shifted to be showing Vecna in the upside down? That was AWESOME.

And don't get me STARTED on the death of Jason's friend, I was NOT expecting it to happen when they were chasing Eddie! God, that must've been so terrible for Jason and Eddie. I mean, for Jason, can you even IMAGINE seeing your girlfriend's body looking like that, being about to catch the guy you think murdered her, and then your best friend dies to vecna'd but you have no clue how it's happening? and then HIS BODY FALLS IN THE WATER WHILE JASON IS IN IT, like, that would be SO DISGUSTING to me lmao. And Eddie, well, he'd just seen Chrissy die in the same exact way less than a month ago, like, talk about salt in the wound! (The wound being Trauma™)

And Argyle saying that about the neverending story was really funny lol

BUT THEN EL? the stuff SHE was going through? ughhhhhhfhfhfhhghghfhffff that was so sad and scary. amazing acting, it felt so real, but the scene with the first guy (002 I believe) and the lightbulbs kinda hurt my head lol (I was watching the episode with my earbuds on my phone, so that's probably a bit understandable). But then her choosing to STAY there and get her powers back, I just wanna give that poor girl a hug so bad, she's been through so much. And the thing is, she thought she was going to a place that could help her! and then it was just grabbing her trauma and shoving it back in her face, the poor girl :(

The scene where the government dudes with the guns were trying to shoot them was insane tho, I mean like, that was so cool! I love how close Mike and Will were sticking together. Mike, Will, I know what you are ಠಿ_ಠ

and then Dustin being Dustin, ofc. telling little holly about a dream murderer, real great idea, man. and then not telling Steve anything, that wasn't very cool of him. but then again, he's only 14, I mean, I'd do that too if I was stressed out and my friend who GRADUATED FROM HIGHSCHOOL ALREADY kept asking me questions that I thought were dumb. Like, oh, what clues are we looking for? literally any. the flashlights? well, I'd rather be a bit rude than admit that I forgot to tell you only. plus, what with Eddie being in danger AND Max, I doubt he got too much sleep... poor little guy :(

And Mike, Will, are you really planning on visiting Dustin's girlfriend WITHOUT HIM? oh, he's not gonna be super happy about that, you guys. haha, I can already see it, he's probably gonna be so pissed that they left him out of a visit to his gf, and then Mike will be like, "Dude, we needed to, El could be dying right now, what'd you WANT us to do, figure it out on our own?"

Wasn't too fond of the little stancy moment tbh, it kinda gave me a bit of jancy doubt and of course the byler doubt followed. because they are NOT gonna be giving us canon steve x Jonathan x Nancy in st4, its going to be either jancy or stancy. And with how many jancy and byler parallels there are, and I'm pretty sure some stancy and m*leven parallels, them setting up some sort of romantic thing tension or whatever you want to call that spiderweb scene just makes me a bit worried that they're setting them up for a stancy endgame and of course if they choose to save THAT failing straight relationship, then they'll surely do that with m*leven as well, right?

Overall amazing episode, I loved it very much, and the fight with Murray and Yuri on the plane was SO FUN!! Yuri is such a funny character too lol. his sense of humor is honestly so good imo.

but yeah I really really loved the episode, as usual with this show, and I thought that you guys might like to hear my thoughts on it as a first-time viewer, especially since most of you I've noticed have watched it through multiple times before, since this is a fresh take on it RIGHT after finishing the episode for the first time! ngl the scene with El at the end had me crying, like omg no, don't stay there!

robin is such an icon tho. so is Nancy. so is will. so is argyle. so is Jonathan. so is Mike. so is Steve tbh. I love all of them so much I really hope none of them die but argyle might :(

I think I'll probably be doing this with the rest of the st4 episodes, but I'm not promising anything lol.

anyway even tho this post isn't really byler themed, manifesting a byler rain kiss that somehow is also flickergate rn because that is what I want to happen so bad. and give Mike and will guns! give my boys guns!! 🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯

[ask-postcrash-curly]

Hello as always, dear. Kind Words.

I was just lost in thought over something that I wished to share with you. Perhaps it will lighten your mind a bit. Many of these voices seem to be growing more... audacious. Restless, in all too unpleasant a manner. I certainly haven't been very appreciative of it; the last thing you (or I...) need is more anxiety.

Regardless... do you remember how I've said I love birds? I do, I do. As you might recall, my son is named Kestrel - which are a subspecies of falcon! But truly it begins with my mother, whose name was Dove, when she named me for one of her favorite birds. Would you like to guess what kind? I'll give you a hint: It is a sweet little songbird with a yellow beak, gray wings, and sunset-red belly! They are known for their small and strikingly blue-colored eggs. (If you can guess correctly, you'll earn three Warbler points! Hahah!)

Anyhow, I've been reminiscing over a story my mom told to me when I was a child. We used to live where the night sky was quite dark, you see - perfect for the stars to really come out and shine. Well, she once said that the stars were actually the spirits of birds who had flown too high into the sky, and had gotten lost forever. And the sparkling of these birds' wings soon became a signal to remind all the other birds here on Earth not to fly too high. She liked to call them "starlings." (Yes, those are also real birds! They are quite beautiful.)

After she told me that, I wandered out into the yard that night and gazed up into the star-filled sky... and I began to just cry my little eyes out! "Oh, those poor lost birds! They must be so lonely up there!" I remember being an inconsolable mess for hours! My poor mom must have felt terrible about it, because she tried to reassure me that they weren't lonely at all; that the moon was their nest, and every morning before the sun came up they all flew back to it to sleep together during the daytime. I believe that is finally what soothed me enough to calm down, haha! It is quite a fond memory, despite how it may sound.

Mom passed a few years ago... but she always told me that when her time came, she would be reborn as a mourning dove and visit me again someday. I have been spending a lot of time outside waiting for her since. I'm sorry - perhaps that sounds a bit silly. It is a comforting thought more than anything, I think. I like to hope...

I've found myself thinking of that story a lot nowadays, though. More since she passed, and ever-more over the last few weeks. My precious starlings... I've entertained the thought that perhaps that is how we have been able to hear one another? That they are passing our thoughts from ground to sky and back, like divine carrier pigeons delivering prayers. I know that sounds like the nonsense ramblings of some sentimental old woman, and perhaps it is so! But until someone gives me a better answer, that is what I will believe! 🕊️

Hello again!

I've noticed that, yeah. Can't say I'm a fan of the vague ominousness either. Been doing a decent job of tuning it out, at least.

Yeah, yeah, I was wondering if that was what the name came from. Couldn't remember which bird it was though. Wow, three generations of bird names is sure something. Hmm. Would that be... Robin? That's a nice name. Suits you. (What are Warbler points??)

I've lived in places like that. You don't get those views anywhere else. They're peaceful. ...Lost bird spirits? Huh, that's a new one. Your mother sounds imaginative!

Aww, no... I don't blame you. That's a dark outlook if you think of it too hard, yeah? Sweet twist on it though. Imagine that. All those little starlings huddled together in the moon. Hah.

Oh, I— I'm so sorry for your loss. I can't imagine. No, no, don't be sorry. I don't think it's silly. We need these things to cling to, yeah? To— to feel we're not alone, somehow. And who knows? Maybe your mourning dove will turn up for you soon.

That's... a nice thought. Nicer than most of what I've come up with, anyways. Wish we'd heeded their warnings not to fly too far... Hah. Thank you for the story. It was nice, and I mean that. Hope you're doing okay down there. Take care of yourself, yeah?

[you-poopin]

from @nilesdaughter since my ask box wasn't open, even though I opened it? Anyway, song #13 is Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? by Taylor Swift, which was very hard to fit with Vaxleth Royalty AU, but I did my best! Enjoy!

Enjoy a look into the future of my Royalty AU (which is started here: A Glimpse of Light In A Mine of Gold - Chapter 1 - Dragon_Princess - Critical Role (Web Series) [Archive of Our Own])

The Asylum Where They Raised Me

“Is it always like this?” Vax asked the princess, who had all but collapsed against the railing when they stepped out onto the balcony. 

It was their first official appearance at a Ball as a engaged couple outside of Zephrah. Keyleth had been excited earlier in the day, flitting about and fussing with her gown and her tiara (things she normally didn't worry too much about, but she was worried about making sure everything went perfectly), chatting a mile a minute, and helping Vax remember all the names of the people they could bump into. 

Keyleth dragged her eyes up to meet his. Her face was flushed, but not from embarrassment or even the cold, just pure irritation. “Yes, it's always like this. It's terrible.” It was loud and people asked too many questions, people were looking at her, at them, and she hated it.

Vax stepped closer to her, taking note that they were still in clear view of the other party goers and unlike Keyleth’s father, most had strong ideas of what constituted as proper. And strong ideas about a princess courting a bastard. He didn't want to risk making Keyleth’s life any harder for doing anything deemed untoward by a nosy Nelly.

“Usually after the formalities, if he was invited, Percy and I would hide in the corner and everyone would leave us alone for the most part.” Keyleth continued, turning around so she could look over the forest and stars. Her hands held onto the railing. “But I guess I can't do that anymore.”

The de Rolos had not received an invitation to this particular Ball, and even if they had been, Percy was awfully busy doting on a rather heavily pregnant Vex in Whitestone. 

“Is this the first Ball you've been to without him?” Vax asked, his hand hesitating before settling on her forearm gently. The wind blew gently and sent the layers of Keyleth’s amber colored gown fluttering against his leg. 

Keyleth nodded. Percy was her dearest friend, her lifeline for the longest time. He was like her in all the ways many others didn't understand. She was safe when he was around. “Yes. Outside of Zephrah anyway. And now… now we're adults and I can't…” she took a shaky breath and tightened her grip on the railing. 

“Can't what, love?” Vax asked softly. 

“I can't do this!” Keyleth shouted suddenly. 

“Woah, woah, KiKi…” Vax said, stepping close enough to wrap his arms around her, not caring at all who might see. 

“No!” Keyleth yelled, writhing out of his grasp. Vax stumbled backwards, eyes wide, hands raised in front of him, palms toward Keyleth. “I can't do this, Vax! I can't do any of this! I feel like I'm going insane! I was raised for this life, to be a princess, and there's so many rules, especially now that I'm grown and… I'm in constant fear I'm going to do something wrong, upset my father, disgrace him, or something. I don't… it's so hard. And someday, I will be in charge of an entire kingdom and I can't do it!” 

“You can,” Vax said. “Keyleth, you can.” 

“I can't!” She shouted again, tears gathering in her eyes as the wind picked up around them. Clearly this had been festering for some time. “You wouldn't understand! You have no idea how different and wrong I am! You have no idea what it's like to be raised for a job you know won't be any good at. I shouldn't be a princess and I certainly shouldn't be anyone's queen.” 

“You're right, Keyleth,” Vax said gently. “You're right, I have no idea what it was like to grow up in a big castle all alone. I have no idea what it would be like to be raised to lead a kingdom someday. I won't pretend I have any idea what it's like, because that would be lying, and you know I never lie to you.” 

Vax could hear murmuring from the open door to the ballroom behind him, over Keyleth’s heavy breathing and the music still playing. He could only imagine what people were thinking; a crying, wild looking princess and her betrothed on a balcony, him looking for all the world like he was trying to calm a wild animal. He didn't care, not really. Keyleth meant more to him than nosy nobles, far more. And nosy, judgy nobles he did know a thing or two about. 

“I do know this, KiKi; I know that you are a kind, incredible, caring person. I know how capable you are. People can be terrible, my love, that I know as well. People will judge you for anything and anything you do. People will talk and gossip and complain about your ideas, your outfit, your dreams. But you're the strongest person I know. And you shouldn't care what others might think of you. You're perfect as you are.”  

The wind that had picked up around them slowed and Keyleth's lip trembled.

“You have to do what makes you happiest, what you believe in, and you will be a fantastic queen. I believe in you.” 

Keyleth threw herself into Vax's arms and he held her close, rubbing his hand up and down her back. She grabbed the back of his fancy jacket into her fists and cried into his shoulder. 

He didn't care who was looking when he pressed a kiss to her temple. “I've got you, my love. I've got you.” 

[iobartach]

okay but since this is hogging my brainrot all week, here's a taste of what acolyte!miguel is like, a.k.a mig in my gach dual síoda / each strand of silk verse 👀

Miguel is from piltover, so he was a scholar, with a bright and intelligent mind as ever. more specifically, i'm gonna draw this from the arcane version of piltover, where most folk there are adverse to magic, including the council. basically; heimerdinger was right

so hey, guess what, he is also a bit of a magic sceptic, probably more than in any verse i've previously established for him

another point to note for piltover!mig, during his studies, he potentially went on field trips around and near piltover? especially since the place is pretty much a nexus for merchant trade anyway, and heard more than a few stories from visiting adventurers that got him curious enough to explore other shores and lands.

one of the places he visited was most definitely bilgewater, since this'll be important later ~

bilgewater being, ofc, a completely different beast, even compared to what zaun might throw out. it'll be where miguel likely realises that his shiny lil' piltover degree aint gonna matter squatttt in such a lawless place lmao.

idk who'd be ruling bilgewater at the time -- i don't know enough about either miss fortune or gankplank to officially decide tgyhuj. but basically; mig is toast if he crosses the wrong person whilst visiting there

but well. maybe he went to bilgewater every so often, eventually getting in touch with some pilgrims and cultists, that make mention to him stories concerning the shadow isles, and the dark magic that has long come to infect such an accursed place.

mig, being the magic sceptic that he is, is all, 'bet', and doesn't buy such tall tales for a second bc an island? home to the living dead and ghosts? you've got to be kidding--

but no, actually, it might have some merit after all, as he'll eventually recall his studies back in piltover, where he had spent more than a few hours pouring over various scrolls and tomes that he had collected on his adventures, that spoke of.... the blessed isles.

which, ofc, the shadow isles later became, after viego's desperate attempt to revive his dead wife using the waters of life, that only happened to backfire spectacularly 💀

....but miguel's interest is piqued, now, and he seeks a way to pay such a ruinous place a visit. but there's a slight problem; no sailor nor pirate with any sense of self preservation left will be caught DEAD ferrying any smuck to such a place!!! helll nawh!!!!!! and these are the same folks that go hunting the eldritch-looking sea monsters for a living! so you know this is serious!

fortunately (or not 💀) for miguel, this is the point where he officially comes in contact with a cult, that happened to worship a particular spider god ( i can't remember if they have a name or not 🥹), which happily obliges, since you know.... more blood for the blood god hfghgfh

AHEM, so then!!! Mig and his party, head off to the shadow isles, and probably come across elise, who in turn takes mig & co to meet their god, that all pilgrims who visit the shadow isles are said to worship

and mig, sceptic that he is, falls for elise's alluring and -- deliberately -- seductive charms, happy to make false promises that all will be revealed to him, if he just follows her

so ofc he does, except that's a TERRIBLE MISTAKE, that earns him a venomous bite from the spider god himself, vilemaw 💀

who maybe, maybe, wanted to make an example of this nonbeliever. and transform him, by injecting him with a venom that runs through his veins and changes him forever

which also is significant when you consider; vilemaw tends to just straight up d e v o u r anyone that elise happens to bring before him. yes, even putrid arachnid horrors need to eat.... and, uh, dance, apparently

but, yeah, BAMMM, ACOLTYE MIGUEL IS BORN

a spooky creecher who has WEBS THAT STEAL YOUR SOULS

AND POTENTIAL SHADOW POWERS

And dont get me started on his bite 😤

but well, details details, tl;dr he'll become something similar to elise????

and as for what happens next, welp...... no more piltover for him. 🥹 if he's lucky, he might be able to lurk in the deepest caverns of zaun, but more than likely wouldn't really belong there??? or feel welcome? i'm debating --

but heyyyy, y'knw where he could go instead??? 👀

the black rose 😈

potentially through elise's connection with house kythera, back in good ol' noxus 👀 and through her, leblanc

bc yes, everything always fucking comes back to leblanc 🥹

and hey, guess what miggy? if he tries to decline, wanting to have no part of this (considering he is vilemaw's acolyte now, fun-funnn) , well guess what? leblanc is still gonna do her thing, and puppeteer him around. if need be.

but alsooo alsoooo, i need to point out; maybe sometimes mig does vilemaw's bidding? and mayyyybe sometimes he doesn't????

maybeeee sometimes he'll lead strayed souls back to the spider god....

or mayyybeee he might devour a few himself....

all whilst still being that saaaame damn sceptic at heart 🥹

who now seeks freedom, the chance to get away...

...but in true miguel fashion, it never works 😔

vilemaw's dark corruption is in him. as is the power of the shadow isles itself.

there's no 'quitting' from him, not even dying will grant him release.

but he still struggles, anyway. because that's how he always rolls.

🥹🥹🥹🥹

[supagogoman]

My thoughts on Shadow Generations

I played Shadow Generations. Here are my thoughts about it.

tl;dr it's amazing

Before it was released I was already expecting to enjoy Shadow Generations. It was, after all, a follow up to Sonic Generations, one of my favourite Sonic games, so more of that sounded good to me.

Of course, I'd been burned by this before; Sonic Forces also promised to be 'more Generations' and that game ended up being pretty mediocre. Still, things were clearly different this time. One of those differences was the huge focus on our antihero - Shadow the Hedgehog.

Before I go on, I should preface by admitting that I never liked Shadow the Hedgehog. I wasn't a big fan of Sonic Adventure 2, the game he debuted in, and was of the opinion that he should have stayed dead at the end of that game instead of being bought back for Heroes. He was a fine character in SA2, but the Shadow the Hedgehog game released in 2005, with it's dark, edgy writing, made Shadow a huge joke to me. I'm surprised anyone could take that character seriously after they thought it was a good idea to give a cartoon hedgehog realistic guns. His backstory seemed like the progenitor for those terrible deviantart era OC fan characters. He became a meme for years because of SEGA's seeming lack of self awareness. This edginess continued somewhat in Sonic 06, but after the disasterous result of that game it seems like SEGA tried to course correct, and since then Sonic became much more lighthearted in tone and they became much more self aware.

Perhaps they course corrected too much, as the self-awareness almost went a little too far - at the time, I remember thinking Sonic Colours' writing and simplicity was refreshing, but it seems these days people complain about the jokes and humour in that game, and the kids began to yearn for the wacky shonen anime plots of the earlier games. I didn't entirely agree with this sentinent (I was always worried about what would happen if Sonic went back to it's EDGY phase again), but in the end I didn't care how terrible the story was so long as the gameplay was FUN. I still hold Sonic Colours in high regard, but not because of it's plot, it's because it was one of the few Sonic games that didn't make me want to kill myself (which are surprisingly rare in the entire series).

Frontiers marked an apparent shift to direct the story back to taking itself more seriously, and this trend has continued in Shadow Generations. Actually, I guess Forces also tried to do this, but Frontiers clearly had more competent writers (namely Ian Flynn) at the helm. Compared to it's companion game, Shadow Gens is darker in tone, and way more serious and dramatic. Unlike Sonic Gens, which is a celebration of Sonic's past games and history, Shadow Gens is a story that basically acts as a sequel to the Shadow 2005 game, exploring the tragic backstory of Shadow and his relationship with Maria, Gerald and Black Doom.

From what I wrote earlier you might think that this return to it's edgy roots might be something I was opposed to, and I did have some reservations initially, but it has actually been executed incredibly well. It's dramatic, but not overly edgy. It's darker, but not devoid of personality or charm. They walked a fine balance of making Shadow a more serious character with additional nuance to avoid making him seem like a joke (competent writing and not giving him guns probably helped a lot with this). The game's story, as well as the Dark Beginnings animated short, actually made me like Shadow the Hedgehog as a character for the first time ever. That being said, Shadow has the luxury of being pretty much the only character in the series that has a dark, tragic backstory to flesh out. Sonic couldn't have a story like this because his backstory amounts to being a way past cool dude who like to go fast, and I can't see them doing something like this with any other character (as funny as a stand alone Chaotix game exploring their financial problems sounds) There's nothing wrong with that, but what I'm getting at is I'm hoping whatever the story of the next game is will show restraint and be of an appropriate tone.

Anyway, I have discussed at great lengths about the story. I just thought it was interesting as someone who wasn't a fan of Shadow that it would win me over. I think that speaks to how well it was written Taking plot points from shitty games and working them into something more palatable to me. Even so, none of that would have mattered if the game sucked. As I mentioned earlier, I liked Sonic Colours not for it's story, but for it's gameplay. Shadow 05 has a shitty plot, but I could forgive it if the gameplay was good (it wasn't). So if Shadow Generations was a game that sucked then having a good story wasn't going to save it.

Thankfully, not only is this a great companion to Sonic Generations, but in my view this is one of the best 3D Sonic games ever made. When I played Sonic Frontiers, I wrote how it was a good foundation for what the next Sonic game should be. Although I enjoyed traversing the open zones, I suggested that they could be downscaled, and have more effort be put into more traditional Sonic stages rather than bite sized Cyberspace missions. Shadow Generations does exactly that - it's hub world, rather than being a glorified level select as it was on Sonic Generations, is now expanded to be it's own mini open zone, filled with rails, springs, ramps and many collectables that make traversing and exploring the hub fun. It feels a more polished too - the pop in isn't particularly noticable unlike Sonic Frontiers, and though the scale isn't as impressive as Frontiers it more than makes up for that with it's main stages - each with 2 acts and several mini challenge missions. These are exactly what was missing from Frontiers - gone are the repeated themes and assets seen in the Cyberspace missions, and back are the intricately designed stages with plenty of alternate paths with cool set pieces and spectacles that are fun to experience over and over.

Also contributing to my enjoyment of the game are the controls. I already commended Frontiers for having pretty tight controls for Sonic, and these have only been refined further in Shadow Gens. Shadow just feels incredibly easy to control and being able to pull off those reactions and jumps needed to access those alt paths in the stages feels great. It also does away with the overly complex combat system, there are no crazy dodges, parries or combo moves to do, but Shadow does have his Doom Spear and launcher that mixes things up and ties into level traversal too.

In fact, it kind of makes Sonic Generations feel clunky in comparison. The original game has been 'remastered', but very little has changed, besides some rewritten dialogue and some hidden Chao to find in each level. Graphically it looks exactly the same, and the controls remain untouched. This is fine, the game was and still looks and plays great, but Sonic compared to Shadow feels a lot stiffer to control. The way Sonic handles has been refined in the years through Forces and Frontiers, so going back to a game from 11 years ago, packaged with a brand new game, unfortunately makes inevitable comparisons, and playing the two games back to back definitely takes some getting used to.

My main complaint about Shadow Generations is that there just isn't enough of it. Not that it was a short game, it's length is pretty comparable to Sonic Generations and I can see myself replaying more in the future, plus the hub world exploration certainly adds a lot to the experience. I also understand this is a smaller project, designed to be a companion to Sonic Generations and was clearly made to capitalize on the release of the Sonic 3 Movie, but part of me was hoping for something a little more comparible to the 9 levels Sonic Generations has, while Shadow Gens has just 5.

Supposedly Sonic Team are still working on their next game - possibly a follow up to Frontiers. I can only hope that they take the lessons they've learned and build upon them. They already have the framework of additional characters, introduced in the Final Horizons update for Frontiers. They could design a more intricately designed hub world in a similar scope to Shadow Generations, interconnecting fun, tightly designed traditional stages. There's a lot of potential here for the next game, and my hopes for the series haven't been this high since... well... since when Sonic Generations came out, I suppose...

[herefortheships]

You ever have a headcanon with interesting potential but then you remember canon and that busts it?

I just had the thought "what if 'taking your husband's name' was literal when it came to Delores and Betelgeuse?", which well, it would make sense to be able to summon the soul of your freshly-dead spouse if you were trying to steal it to gain immortality, right?

But then I remembered that Delores never tries to summon him by his name, nor seems to know that he can be summoned like that. I checked an "all Delores scenes" vid on youtube and she says his name just twice in the whole movie. Once to the janitor, and once in the church.

It just... it doesn't feel right that she doesn't seem to know how to summon him, bc it feels to me that ofc everyone knows how to summon him. It's Betelgeuse! Even Rory knows how to summon him!

...huh.

Actually, maybe she can't summon Betelgeuse bc her ritual wasn't complete. Which would mean she'd need to keep someone around who can summon B for her. Or, if it's more an issue with location rather than with ability, someone who can lead her to the model where B likes to hang out. Cause tbh, I'd quite like to see Rory again. Terrible person, but great character!

You ever had a headcanon that re-gained interesting potential while you were sharing it lol?

I think Delores might just be unaware of Betelgeuse's name curse. She was locked in those boxes maybe ever since she came into the afterlife (or maybe she was locked away because they knew she had become a Soul Sucker? Room for headcanons there). It's likely that Betelgeuse's name curse happened too long after his and Delores's death.

That said, she could have found out through the movie, only she didn't for some reason. The afterlife people like Wolf Jackson are no longer afraid just saying Betelgeuse's name (Wolf says his name several times and he isn't afraid of him at all), so she wouldn't have had a reason to be suspect of his name having some sort of power over him, anyway. In Rory's case, he only knew because of Lydia.

As for headcanons that are busted by the actual canon, I totally had one for years and I have no idea how I made this one up, but I was so sure of it 😆. Listen, I thought that Juno the caseworker was the one who casted whatever curse is upon Betelgeuse's name and banished him off to the model at the Maitland's house as punishment for something he did. (I'm sure I even wrote about it here recently even, when brand new to the fandom, lmao).

I knew he worked for Juno, but I'm pretty sure the only thing that's mentioned about the whole matter in the movie is that he was her assistant but he was a troublemaker and eventually he went off on his own as a freelance bio exorcist. Juno was aware that saying his name three times would summon him (she doesn't seem scared to say his name herself, though, but wouldn't let Barbara and Adam mention it even once), but upon rewatching the movie now that I'm obsessed with Beetlejuice vs before as a casual fan, I don't think there's any indication that it was her who cursed him.

I guess his name curse is still open for headcanons. Maybe he even casted some spell on himself, or maybe it's a punishment for his many crimes (the man has a thick file with his name on it in Wolf Jackson's office lol). His crimes also explain why he's been around for over 600 years unable to pass on. Being a civil servant seems to be a form of Purgatory in the world of Beetlejuice. He won't be able to pass on until he's served all those years, unless he does something to pay them back if that's possible, I guess. Violating code 699 now added 100 years more to his civil work time 😭 (I think I read it was 100 years, but I'm not sure, so fact-check me on that one).

But yes, that was my headcanon that I felt was pretty solid but then rewatching the movie I went like "wait, how did I come to that conclusion?" 😅. It happens. Earlier tonight even, I almost got to the conclusion that Astrid was dead all along, and then I remembered Jeremy literally almost stole her life. Plus, she interacted with other alive people who are normies, like her classmates, Delia, the people at the funeral, etc.

[longsightmyth]

Honestly one of the biggest problems here is that everyone has the same bland, stilted dialogue, and it's all designed to hit every beat of every tortured romance ever without giving us the tortured romance. There did not used to be anything getting in the way of Kelsey and Ren banging outside of my own deep conviction that he was gross, but the characters don't share that view.

So when all the characters speak exactly the same way, it makes them all blend together. When they all speak like wikipedia pages or like a ten year old wrote a conversation they think adults would have, it just adds to the bland and emotionless effect.

Observe.

“Hmm, maybe you have PTSD.”

“What’s that?”

“Post-traumatic stress disorder. It’s a condition you get when you’ve been exposed to terrible trauma and high stress levels. Soldiers in combat usually have it. Remember when you told Kishan that when you heard my name, all you could picture was Lokesh torturing you, questioning you?”

“Right. There’s still some of that, I guess. But now that I know you better I don’t associate you with him as much anymore. I can distance that from you now. It wasn’t because of you that it happened.”

“Part of your symptoms with me might still be related to that. Maybe you need a therapist.”

Ren chuckled, “Kelsey, first of all, a therapist would put me in an asylum for claiming I was a tiger. Second, I’m no stranger to bloody battles or pain. It wasn’t the first time Lokesh has tortured me. It was definitely an experience I wouldn’t want to go through again, but I know that you are not to blame.”

This is by no means the Wikipediaest of sections, but bear with me.

(Also the Tiger question could be resolved by simply turning into a tiger, and even if the therapist did think you were hallucinating or having delusions and good therapist would still try to help you with your ptsd)

(How does Ren know about asylums but not shellshock/ptsd)

(Undergoing similar traumas does not mean you can't have ptsd from one or both)

ANYWAY BEAR WITH ME.

"Maybe you have PTSD," I said, almost to myself.

"PTSD?" Ren asked, sounding out the letters clearly and individually rather than running them all together.

I winced. "Post-traumatic stress disorder. It's a thing a lot of soldiers get, from combat and all the other trauma."

Since I didn't have a whole lot of expert knowledge on the specifics of PTSD, I added quickly, "You told Kishan that when you heard my name, all you could think about was Lokesh torturing you. That's a thing, I think? A flashback."

"Oh, shellshock." Off my look he pointed out, "I was alive during the Great War, Kelsey."

"Right."

"Anyway, that doesn't happen anymore," Ren assured me a little too quickly, and when I frowned at him clarified, "Not often. I know it wasn't your fault. I can tell myself that and it works sometimes."

"I think it's pretty clear you're going to deal with that for a long time," I said, trying not to sound as hurt as I was. "You probably need a therapist."

Ren cracked a laugh. "I'm sure a therapist would believe me about the curse. I'll recover. This isn't the first time I've fought for my life, or even the first time I've been tortured."

I didn't think how many times somebody was tortured mattered much in the grand scheme, but I also didn't think I was going to convince an ancient Indian prince who's been living as a tiger for more than a hundred years to go to therapy in one night.

Even in a linear conversation there's going to be give and take outside of specific circumstances. In a first person narration, you get to add an internal monologue to circle in and around for more fun hijinks. Since this specific conversation is a slow one happening without particular urgency, breaking up the dialogue can convey a thoughtful or slow discussion. Giving the characters specific knowledge or different knowledge or the same kind of knowledge under different terms because the characters have different backgrounds informs the characters and makes them distinguishable from the others.

Anyway. This isn't the only way to rework this bit, but it's A way.

[zalrb]

A Simple Favor Live Review

Those zucchini cookies look gross. But I'm also a firm believer that zucchini chocolate chip cookies should not exist.

Anna is a better actress than this, this whole vlog thing seems like something she's doing to cover her tracks about something else.

"I do consider Emily my best friend" after knowing her for a few weeks? Oh yeah, this whole thing has to be a covering-my-ass move.

"My famous meatless meatballs" lmaoooo

"It doesn't have to have chocolate in it, like..." oh, I fear I might like this movie.

"But the pervert got obsessed with me." "Oh that happens, yeah." Anna Kendrick is a delight.

Oh, this movie is very gay.

Blake's hair just looks like it gets everywhere.

Like it just looks like it would get in their martinis.

Did she kill her husband?

This movie is very gay.

I know the suit is supposed to be a Thing. And I get what they're going for but it doesn't fit Blake the way they think it does.

"I'm going to head upstairs for a shower" yeah, Sean, stop cock blocking.

Her hair and her suit are fighting for dominance.

Lol, did she fuck her half-brother.

"You fucked him." "WHAT?" The delivery.

LOL she asked her to stay for dinner and she's the one who has to cook?

"She's a beautiful ghost." "That is so poetic." No it isn't.

Oh my god, it's only been 29 minutes?

"Is that a vintage Hermes scarf?" "My Aunt Frida gave it to me." "Did she want you to hang yourself with it? Look at that knot, jesus fucking christ!" L O L.

"OK number one, they're not Indonesian children, they're Vietnamese teenagers." oh my god.

Oh, Anna was just crying like that. *sigh* I guess.

I can't believe it hasn't even been an hour.

The movie stopped being fun when it stopped being gay and just became about whatever this is...wanting to/quasi taking over life, fucking the husband, eh boring.

"And one of the moms thought you might be here." "OK ... well that's ... Was it Stacy?"

I don't even remember Anna's character's name.

Stephanie. I will forget.

"I love you" "I love you too" you do not.

Lmao Emily fucking with her by putting all of her stuff back is funny though. I already know she has a twin.

"I don't ever talk about religion on this vlog" L O L.

"Mom, they're not dolls! GOD." Hahahahaa.

LOL Linda Cardellini. So random.

"Whaaaat they're SO good people are just jealous..."

This is so long for such a pointless movie. Like what's the point?

They had to give a nod that Anna was in Pitch Perfect by having her rap to Ante Up.

The suits just don't work for me.

This movie should be bizarre and it's oddly boring after the first, like, twenty minutes.

"You haven't come up with a decent plot in ten years." "REALLY? RIGHT NOW?" Hahahaha.

I like how they put the info at the end like this is a real movie.

OK, so, I thought I wouldn't care about this movie when it started and then I thought I would like it when it did and then when Emily went missing I didn't care about it again even though there were some pretty funny lines.

Also, maybe the problem is me, but I'm just like, I mean, was Emily really that bad? The only thing that I thought was terrible was taking Sean's mother's ring, honestly.