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theaveragepsychoticbitch · 4 months ago

Text

Breakup smut pt 1 🫶🏾🥲

Poseidon x Fem Reader || NSFW || Warnings: body worship (hopefully lol), evil princess esque reader, but really youre just traumtized lol, repeated mentions of human sacrifice and the like, porn interlaced with plot, and kind of established relationship? Idk bro I obviously know nothing of relationships 🫠💔

A/N: I may have outdone myself

Your body is a temple, and Poseidon, the greatest of your devotees.

You are quite used to being worshipped. Back in the human world, your skin was kissed by peasants for good luck, and a strand of your hair was said to bring wealth upon families for generations. There was no shortage of adoration, for you were the blessed child, the one born to bare the gods' wrath like fine silks.

A very long and tedious way to say you were raised to be the human sacrifice, but you can't deny that it sounds better.

When the knife was raised, you knew at once you would not die. And when it lowered, you found yourself unsurprised that your skin stood strong as steel. The gods' wrath was not something that could be bested by mortal weaponry, it'd seem.

The resulting flash from impact left much of the happenings after as naught but a blur; how you got to Valhalla, and what happened to the villagers.

But it wasn't important to you anymore. You were no longer a scapegoat people could simply pin their fates on, a body to be slaughtered so others may live. Now, you were a true God, and the way the haughtiest of them all was gazing at you from his place at your feet proved it.

Eyes as cold and blue as a glacier were clouded with something akin to delusion. Obsession, perhaps. The way he couldn't keep his hands off you yet fought to follow your every order certainly lined up with such a trait.

As big a man as he is, even on his knees he'd dwarf you easily. Which is why you sat on a big throne- his throne, in fact. You find the sapphires and white gold compliment you quite nicely.

"May I taste you again?"

It made your head spin, the power you had in your lap. Your ascension to Godhood was accompanied by no powers; no super strength, no mental magic. All you had was your tongue, your body and your face. And with that alone, you've defeated one amongst the greatest of foes.

Your eyes are lowered to mere slits, a cocky sort of mischief darkening your irises and contorting your face.

"Do you truly believe you deserve a second taste?" The words slide off your tongue far too easily. If only you'd known the many ways you could use your power before... if only you'd always been a nasty bitch, maybe things would have turned out differently.

Oh well.

"Allow me to prove myself. Allow me to touch you, Princess. I will make you feel good."

You knew he would. He'd done it before. You'd seen stars when you came, felt muscles you've never used contract. It was pleasure so intense it almost pained you. You'd been quite vulnerable then.

But it was the sudden loss of control that put you on guard. For those moments, you were a weak human girl again, molden entirely by the people around you. If they wanted you happy, then you were. If they were scared, you were the brave one. If they needed a human sacrifice, you were it. If Poseidon wanted to make you cum, then you'd let him.

In the back of your mind, you knew that didn't make sense. But an emotion you didn't want to name pushed you to push him even harder.

"You will? Really? So much confidence... After your rather lackluster performance earlier, I can't quite say I'm ready and willing for you."

Poseidon was, at his core, a prideful God. For him to lower himself to his knees was already a great feat. But to gaze up at another? As they fix him with a disgust that was a cheap copy of his own? It was tearing apart the very foundations he'd built his persona around.

Poseidon was perfect. Everyone knew that. Perfect beings didnt bow to others– yet "may I's" left his throat in shards, like so much broken glass. And his knees were not used to such a position. The slow-creeping ache was deeply discomforting.

But your insult to his performance struck deep. A being incapable of subparness, being told he was a failure. Pride wasn't the only thing on the line here. It was his identity as a God itself that you've challenged.

"Watch, Princess. I shall wield your body as though you were waves at sea, and soon, you will know."

The sudden poetry left you speechless for once, allowing your legs to be spread as his lips crept up and over faded scars you still got insecure about. They were just slightly darker than your skin tone, and to you, stuck out like so many sore thumbs. They were ugly. But he kissed them with a reverence saved for something beautiful.

You hated this part; when his hands start to roam, and your mind, once so clear and your thoughts once so calculated, become muggy and muddled. He touched you with a gentleness you didn't think him capable of, as though you were something- someone -precious.

It's embarrassing to admit, but you're still quite new to the many facets of pleasure. Lust was never something you had a chance to indulge in. And now, under the slightest of pressure, you're left sensitive and open, your moans as common as flowers in the spring.

"P- Poseidon. Slow down..."

He was already going quite slow, and you realize that making him go slower was worse. His tongue dragged up your torso at a most agonizing pace, and the seconds it took him to slip your gown above your head felt like hours.

Now bare, the coldness of the room latched to your skin. You started to tremble, just slightly. If you'd been a bit more clear-headed, you would have forced yourself to stop. But Poseidon's mouth has found your tit, and he's got both hands at your hips kneading the skin like it'd make him cum. You never stood a chance.

You flinch, head thrown hard into the cushioned back of the throne as his tongue sucks on your nipple. He twirls it in his mouth, savoring the way your whimpers change in pitch when he runs his teeth over it. Part of him wants to bite hard, hear you squeal as pleasure mixes with the pain. He wants to feel your whole body jerk into his embrace, and hold you there while you suffer through it.

But the part that knows you knows you'd never recover from such a move. It'd be no fun to torture you if you'd become pliant after. He'd simply have to make you twitch in other ways.

His hands take more direct action as he lifts you up and into the air. You're balanced on his chest, and find yourself shy to be fully naked in front of him. You've had to bare yourself before crowds before, of course. But he was just one man, one God. You couldn't run from his eyes, from his hands, from his tongue. His attention was all on you, and you were far too aware of that fact.

Gosh, it made it no better that you were the only one naked.

"I-I demand you take your clothes off!" You meant to sound powerful, commanding, like earlier. But your voice broke and watered and you stuttered over your words and your face was getting hot and you couldn't look him in his eyes and holy hell. You weren't sure you could take much more of this.

"You demand me...?" You can feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest. However, it's rather inconvenient that your cunt is pressed so tightly to it. You almost sob out a moan at how good it feels. Your arousal was surely soaking through his robes, and you fear you'll pass out if you so much as glance at the stain you've made.

His deep voice has gained a tone of authority, much like the Poseidon everyone was used to. But it didn't thicken the air with his anger, like when he spoke to his brothers. It was cold and calm and calculated.

Where your authority faltered, his bloomed. It came naturally to him, of course. It made quite the farce out of your earlier bravado.

"Yes? I, I do. I do demand you!" You sound like a little kid. This is going terribly for you.

Poseidon doesn't answer you. He's still staring. His hands mold themselves into the fat of your ass, and the sensations leave you gripping his shoulders till the fabric rips, arching into his hold with full confidence he wouldn't let you fall.

You can't help but grind against his chest, just a little bit. It's muscular, but his pecs are soft like your own chest, and meld to your cunt so perfectly you can't help but chase the feeling. The thought to be embarrassed doesn't have time to cross your mind, as you're already long gone, riding the waves of pleasure to wherever they take you.

You're jostled suddenly, and you realize your eyes are closed when you open them and find Poseidon has retaken his rightful seat. You'd react, but he moves first. You're set down in his lap, all contact discontinued.

You feel... small. You now look up at him. And being that the chair was made for him, you find he looks far more regal than you ever could've. In seconds, you're transported back to that night. Being woken up from your bed in the middle of the night. Full restrained, your screams drowned out by the prayers they chanted as you were walked up the stairs towards the alter. Being laid flat along it, seeing the dried blood in the dim firelight. The way the knife gleamed under it.

Subconsciously, your hand moves above your heart, as if protecting it. The knife never struck home. But you're feeling pains as if it did.

Soft lips along your cheeks make you realize you're crying.

The stoicism hasn't left his features, but deep in his eyes you notice something deeper than admiration. Something that far surpassed the superficial love a devotee has for a God. This was a love for equals. For people who have seen each other, known each other's souls like they know each other's skin, who's loyalty isn't out of duty or convenience, but out of the most genuine of cares.

You find yourself standing up and leading him to the bedroom.

On the mattress, you see eye to eye. He's bared his skin for you. You got to watch as he did it. Waning candle light flickered across pale skin as he slowly loosened his fabrics. He enjoyed the hunger in your eyes. You enjoyed feeling hungry. It'd felt forbidden to want for yourself. But now, you let your greed consume you. And consume it did.

You basically drooled as the folds slid down his hips. His cock was soon exposed, and the red, throbbing tip made your mouth water. His thighs were sticky with precum, and now that you look, you weren't the only one leaving stains on clothes.

You found him gorgeous. Ever last inch of him was pure and perfect, the very image of Godhood. From his perfect golden curls to the deepness of his gaze and the stony expression on his face to match.

You wished you could tell him all this and more. Instead, when he approaches you, you kiss it into his skin.

You're maneuvered slowly onto your back. Kisses that felt like prayers rained down by the dozens. Open mouthed, wet, messy. His love for your body was so strong it seeped into you. Suddenly, you loved the skin you were in, loved it for everything its lasted through, loved it for being the temple he prayed at. His reverence was a clear sign he intended to finish what you started earlier- showing you how a perfect God pleases his partner.

All at once you were eaten. The teeth of desire are sunken deep into your flesh, your arousal drunken like water in a desert of lust. He was everywhere and you were nowhere, you were a map, and him a traveler determined to explore every corner. You never knew you could feel so many sensations at once. It was wonderful and terrifying and your hips were moving on their own and you could barely hear your thoughts over your own moans and-

"Ohhh..."

His tongue is inside you and his thumb is at your clit. His other hand palms your breast. Whatever spot he just hit triggered something to explode deep inside you, and you were cumming across his tongue before even you knew it.

You trembled hard, but his hands held you steady at the waist. If you saw stars last time, the whole universe has now spread itself out before you. Galaxies boasted a beauty you couldn't comprehend for mere seconds before you were dropped back on Earth, panting and sweating and surely out of your mind.

Your lover rises, and you find he looks rather good with your cum running down his chin. His whole chest was wet, and not long ago at all that would have left you feeling embarrassed. But right now, all you felt was a sense of rightness.

Pride bloomed alongside it when you see he'd blown his load all over his own thighs and the bed. He came untouched. And that was your doing. ♥︎

He hadn't softened even a bit though. He was looking at you like you were some kind of savior, and it made your cunt throb that much harder in anticipation.

"Poseidon...My love?"

Your tone was innocent, but one look at your face revealed the act for what it was. Your intentions were unholy despite the obvious irony of that, but as long he'd indulge, you could care less.

"I may not bend oceans to my will, nor be experienced in the wielding of the skin nor the sword..."

"But I find you've broken a spell over me tonight. The shackles of my past shan't hold me anymore. For the first time since that night, I have left the altar. I have left the false throne I'd known most of my life, and come to you not as a figurehead, nor a Princess, but as myself. I do not order, but ask: allow me to prove myself. Allow me to touch you. I, too, will make you feel good."

Your question is not answered with words, but a kiss. One as soft as a feather, and as sweet as freedom.

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A/N: This came to me in a wretched vision this very night, believe me or not. Will I spellcheck this? I'll see after I add tags. Will I edit and sharpen this? I'll see when I'm spellchecking. Enjoy.

#the psychotics writing #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader #ror #ror x reader #ror x you #poseidon ror #poseidon snv #poseidon x reader #poseidon smut #snv x reader #♥︎

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monayen · 2 months ago

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I love your stories! Perfect for feeding my bedtime delusions ♥️

Can I request something for ratman 3? Him & reader waiting out a threat in a too small hiding spot so they’re pressed against each other. The danger and close proximity make 3 noticeably excited…

Cramped | Ratman 3

➷ Paring - Ratman 3 x GN!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - dry humping, biting, very light description of violence, WHIMPERING

a/n - first ratman with a fic, isn't he special :-] ? sad state of affairs as i recently broke my phone (which i always write on) so i am now confined to my laptop. ignore any mistakes or formatting issues, i kept getting distracted trying to make a ranfren twitter. (i needed a phone number to do it D-:)

“Quiet, okay?” you whisper to the trembling ratman beside you, his forehead damp with fear as you guide him through narrow passageways.

Cramped spaces were second nature to you. Crawling between walls, squeezing through vents—it was how you’d survived since your formation. Open spaces were death traps, especially for vermin trying to get by in the confusing Ivory house.

Ratman 3 nods, his beady eyes darting nervously behind his round glasses as you move together, your bodies pushing through the tight crawl space.

“We need to bring something back this time,” you whisper, voice low and urgent. “I’m so sick of eating drywall.”

Behind you, his shaky voice follows. “I-I think it’s… fine, actually.” He mumbles, barely convincing even himself. You both know the truth. The shared bags of chips, warm beer, and crumbs of crackers disappear far too quickly in the nest. Rationing isn’t exactly an option for a group who can’t count.

Disputes over who should venture out into the Ivory’s pantry have become routine—bickering and rounds of makeshift card games determining the unlucky rat. This time, you and 3 drew the short straws. Though, you’re pretty sure Michael Jr. cheated.

The path weaves through chewn holes in the drywall and vents and pipes you two squeeze through. It'd be borderline claustrophobic for any other person, and it's even worse with how the blonde ratman clings behind you like a meat shield.

You glance back at your companion, his eyes wide and darting, every sound seeming to send a shiver through his scrawny frame. He's following behind, almost pushing against you in the narrow space.

“Keep it together,” you mutter, more to yourself than him. Ratman 3 gulps and shakes his head, “Let's just go back. I think I have a granola bar stashed away somewhere–”

You’re about to reply when heavy footsteps echo from the other side of the wall, cutting off whatever quip was on your tongue.

Ratman 3 freezes, chest heaving, his body trembling as he grabs your arm. You shoot him a warning look, silently pleading for silence. The footsteps are joined by multiple voices.

It’s the brothers that live here. The older one seems to be scolding the younger one, though you can't seem to piece together the context behind his words. You listen carefully as a deeper, gruffer voice says something short. Though it's enough that you both instantly recognize easily who it is, making your blood run cold.

3 immediately panics, his flight instincts kicking in as he silently urges you two to leave. Your heart beats in your ears, but still you motion for him to stay put.

The walls feel like they’re closing in, the tight space you're accustomed to suddenly pressing down with suffocating intensity. Claustrophobia creeps in, tightening your chest as the weight of the situation sinks deeper—you’re trapped. Any noise, any creaking movement, and you're sure they’ll hear.

Ratman 3 shifts nervously, pressing his body tightly against your figure as he tries to make himself as small as possible in the cramped space.

“The catman will leave soon,” you whisper as softly as possible in an attempt to soothe him. But even in the dark between the walls, you can see the sweat beading on his forehead, his chest rising and falling in rapid, panicked breaths.

You feel him shift again behind you, and you almost turn back to whisper for him to quit moving before you two get killed. That's when you notice a poking on your behind, and how shaky 3’s breathing really is against your neck.

“Are you fucking hard right now?” You say too softly, still concerned about being caught to let your baffled thoughts run out your mouth.

Your words hang in the air as Ratman 3 freezes behind you, his body trembling even more than before.

"I-I'm sorry!" he whispers, his voice cracking with panic. "I can't help it! It's just... being this close to you, in this tight space... It's..." He trails off, and you can almost sense the mix of embarrassment and excitement radiating off him.

Ratman 3's body tenses as he tries to suppress his arousal, but it's becoming more and more difficult for him to stay still. The confined space, the adrenaline rush from the potential danger, and the proximity all makes your heart beat faster and his dick harder. Both of you need to urgently relax, or you’ll be torn out the walls and have your guts spilled all over the floor.

Ratman 3's breath hitches as he grips your hips, his panting becoming more frantic. You can feel the contagious feverish sensation of his arousal pressing onto you, the friction of his pants rubbing against your own sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"Ah," he gasps, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't... I need..." His words trail off into a low moan as he holds up, the tight space tenfolding every sensation.

Pure heat radiates from his body, his breathing growing even more labored as he struggles to maintain any sort of composure. The poking sensation touching your ass is becoming more and more insistent, and you can sense the desperation for any type of relief on his flushed face.

Your own desire is growing, your body responding to the closeness and the danger of the situation. You lean forward, bracing yourself against the wall as you feel Ratman 3's hands sliding under your shirt, his fingers resting the curve of your waist and hips.

"We can't," you breathe, "They'll hear us."

But Ratman 3 seems beyond reason, his body mindlessly continuing to shift. He leans closer, his breath hot on your ear as he whispers, “Please,” his voice a desperate plea. “I’ll be good.”

His small movements grow more frantic, his pelvis grinding slightly for any sense of relief. The tight space amplifies every sensation, his arousal pressing insistently against you. His breath comes in ragged gasps, and you can hear the neediness in his voice as he whispers, "I can't stop, please don't stop me."

“Shh,” you whisper, your voice trembling with tension. You're acutely aware of the muffled sounds from beyond the drywall, and how even the slightest noise could expose you both. Despite the risk, you brace the wall, offering him more leverage, your heart racing as excitement pools in your empty stomach.

He takes up the welcoming position immediately, biting back a groan as his hips begin to roll off of yours. The rub of fabric makes 3 shudder, his head tipping back and almost hitting the wall behind him. His hand slides down to cup your ass, squeezing roughly as he pulls your hips against him. The pressure of his erection is too much to ignore, and you can feel your own arousal dampening between your legs.

You gasp softly as Ratman 3 speeds up against you, the friction getting rougher and rougher as pleasure waves through your body. He moves excitedly, taking in the softness of you cramped in front of him. He bucks his hips shamelessly, desperate and unrhythmic.

“Fuck," you exhale, your voice trembling slightly. You glance back just enough to catch the fog on his glasses, his beady eyes pinched as he nibbles on his lip to bite back too loud of moans. The smallest of whimpers still escape his mouth, his body tensing over and over again as he holds onto you. You press your cheek against the cool wall, trying to muffle the sounds of your own excitement as Ratman 3 continues to rut against you.

Ratman 3's breathing grows heavier, his movements becoming impossibly more erratic as he quickly chases his orgasm. You can feel the warmth of his body pressing against your back, his chest heaving with each ragged breath.

"I'm gonna... I'm gonna come," he whimpers, his hips thrusting urgently against yours. You're about to shush him, but a touch on your chest surprises you. His clammy hand moves from your hip to under your shirt, groping and squeezing frantically. He leans forward, giving a final rut of his hips against your ass before his teeth sink into your shoulder to suppress any loud moan that was going to spill out of him.

You almost gasp too loudly, but you catch yourself and clench your jaw to choke back the sound. Ratman 3 lets out a strangled whimper against your shoulder, his body tensing as he buries his face into your skin. He quickly comes into his pants, fully pressed onto your ass as his cock twitches and pulses, riding out his orgasm. You purse slightly, feeling the warmth of his release soaking through and staining your clothes.

Ratman 3 slumps against you, his body shaking with the aftershocks of his climax. You can feel his heart racing, matching the pounding of your own as you both struggle to catch your breath.

The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the sound of your ragged breathing and the smallest creak of the walls around you. You hold your breath, coming back to the reality of how dangerous of a spot you are right now.

You listen for any sign of the family, anxiety tugging at your gut as you wait for any sign that both your presences have been discovered. But the voices have moved on, their footsteps fading into the distance as they go down the hall.

You let out a shaky sigh of relief, turning around to face Ratman 3 with the little space you have. Ratman 3 lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours in the darkness. There's a mix of embarrassment and satisfaction in his gaze, and you can't help but smirk at the sight.

He shifts slightly, wincing at the sticky mess in his pants. His eyes dart down to the stain on the fabric, and his face flushes an even deeper shade of crimson.

“I, um... I guess I made a bit of a mess,” he mumbles, avoiding your gaze in embarrassment. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your clothes.”

You shrug, trying to downplay the rush of adrenaline in your chest. “Don’t worry; at least we weren’t caught.”

Ratman 3 nods, quickly wiping his brow and smoothing down his rumpled shirt. He takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself, then stammers, “S-So… you wanna… uh, share that granola bar?”

#ratman 3 #ranfren #randals friends #x reader #ratman 3 x reader #cw. dry humping #ranfren smut #ranfren x reader

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yanderes-galore · 4 months ago

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I'll see what I can do, sure ^^

Prompts Here

Yandere! Steven Universe Prompts 8, 18, 22

“I know everything about you, darling, and you’re so perfect.”

“Don’t say you’re lonely. You have me!”

“I know it’s creepy, but I love watching you sleep. It’s peaceful, you know?”

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Post-Kidnapping, Trauma, Clingy behavior, Steven's obviously not fine mentally, Delusional behavior, Angst, Forced relationship.

To him, it doesn't matter if this is wrong anymore.

Steven can't seem to feel calm without you. With everything going wrong in his life, he wants some sort of outlet. No matter how wrong it is.

Steven is so tired of having his needs be neglected. You are the only one who can comfort him. The only one he feels safe with...

Then he locked you in a room.

In his increasingly fragile mental state he felt locking you away in an apartment where he can keep you safe was the best decision (for himself....). Steven often comes to see you, living beside you to soothe his inner demons. It doesn't matter if you hate him or not...

He just needs you.

He needs you to be there for him.

He hates it when you say you hate it here. He hates it when you yearn for your old life, a life without him. When Steven visited one night, just to ease his stress, and you said you're lonely...

He refused to believe it... refused to share you with anyone.

You're meant to be here for him... and only him.

“Don’t say you’re lonely. You have me!” Steven laughs softly as he sits beside you one night. Even though the sound is meant to be lighthearted, Steven's nervous. He understands none of this is right... you don't deserve him doing this.

But he'll take anything to not be alone.

"I-I mean..." Steven stutters, cheeks flushing as he looks away from you shyly. “I know everything about you... and you’re so perfect!"

You evidently say nothing, glancing at him nervously. He hates that look. You look like some scared animal compared to him... frightened of him and his Gem powers. He really does wish he could love you normally...

There's nothing normal about him though... and he hates that too.

You should be someone he can't have. Someone as abnormal as him shouldn't have taken to someone so normal. Except... you're what he craves.

He craves normalcy and desperately wants that with you.

Steven has always wanted a normal life beside you. Except, he's gotten way too impatient. Way too demanding.... Such oversights is what lead to him locking you in your shared apartment.

He really is still a monster....

Which leads to him looking for your comfort to ignore such a fact... a constant feedback loop he's managed to get himself stuck in.

"I know the most about you... I love you more than anyone...." Steven tries to force a smile, trying to ignore how scared you are. No matter what he does... his origins keep echoing in his mind.

Will he always treat you like a pet? Even if you are just as, if not more, human as him?

"You just... You make me feel so calm!" Steven smiles. "Calmer than I have ever been... and... I know it’s creepy, but I love watching you sleep. It’s peaceful, you know?"

In an attempt to ignore the terrified look you're giving him, Steven pulls you close. Your struggling is ignored in his arms due to his strength. Steven can feel himself flicker pink but he ignores it, nuzzling into your neck as he tries to calm himself.

"Just... you understand I need you, right? Why I need you?" Steven whispers, glancing at you. "You'll always be there for me... I know it... even when things get tough...."

Steven is no doubt trying to convince himself you love him. Maybe at one point you did. But now? Well, he's too far gone to fix now.

Steven's rose-tinted delusions prevent him from seeing how you really feel. He's used to you helping him, used to you loving him. So much so he doesn't fully realize he's hurting you like everyone else.

He's not only hurting you... but himself....

Yet Steven doesn't know that. That, or more likely, he doesn't want to acknowledge it. All that matters to him now is you.

Steven still thinks you're the solution to all his problems, that you can help him...

When in reality, he's just leeching off you, dragging you into his own personal hell with him, just to make sure you're always his.

#yandere steven universe #yandere steven universe future #yandere su

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lalune9x · 3 months ago

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SCTIR Translation - Chapter 468: Even A Good Person (4)

Note: This chapter contains major spoilers for the China kidnapping arc. Additionally, understanding one of Yoojin's comments to Sung Hyunje in this chapter involves a fairly big spoiler for the Christmas Dungeon, which I've explained under the cut.

I think this chapter is very much worth reading, but those wary of spoilers may want to avoid it for now.

"Because I wanted to tell only Han Yoojin-gun." "…That you want us to part ways? That you’re leaving?" I asked. "You think too negatively."

Story context and chapter translation under the cut.

Story context: In the Christmas Dungeon based on the pre-regression world, Yoojin allowed himself to get possessed by the Crescent Moon. Using her power, he fought the others, including Sung Hyunje. Hyunje was really uhhh excited by that Yoojin and the prospect of having Yoojin seriously fight him, but that didn't exactly occur for reasons I won't spoil. Anyway, that's what Yoojin references in this chapter.

Also, I did my best to interpret the Chinese characters' names into authentically Chinese-sounding ones based on common CN to KR transliteration rules. So 황림 (Hwang Rim) = Huang Lin, and 초화운 (Cho Hwaun) = Chu Huoyun. I don't speak Chinese though, so please let me know if these names don't seem right.

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Chapter 468: Even A Good Person (4)

"First of all…"

I swallowed dryly. The wind brushing against my back suddenly felt colder. It was already November, and the nights were getting quite chilly. When I had regressed, it had been the beginning of summer.

"How much do you know... and since when?"

Moon Hyuna was nowhere to be seen. There were no signs that she would appear either. She wasn’t the type to leave me behind for no reason, which meant that something must have happened to hold her up.

"…Damn it, were you enjoying yourself?"

The fact that they’d even prepared to keep Moon Hyuna away meant that, in the end…

"You must have made contact before today’s banquet, at minimum. So, you were just watching? Did you just want to see me get rejected?"

"I’ll say that I didn’t see anything," Sung Hyunje said, his gaze softening slightly. "I went up to the rooftop as planned, confirmed Han Yoojin-gun’s presence, then parted ways with Moon Hyuna and came down here. So I neither saw nor heard anything from that point onward. You didn’t agree to date, by any chance, did you?"

"…No."

I had expected to get rejected anyway, but I’d been thoroughly kicked to the curb.[1]

"More importantly, you deliberately came outside and took your eyes off me. Did you trust Chloe-ssi that much?"

Even though the distance from the rooftop was quite far, if something had gone wrong, he could have attacked Chloe immediately. But to casually walk inside and take the elevator down? No way. No matter how capable Sung Hyunje was, he didn’t have x-ray vision.

"I trusted Han Yoojin-gun."

"You kept your mouth shut before, but now you’re spewing a load of bullshit. Sorry, Gyeol. Let’s cover your ears for a moment."

When I tried to cover Gyeol's perked-up ears with my hands, he shook his head. I whispered, "Just for a second," and he pouted but reluctantly used his own front paws to cover his ear tips. The sight was so cute that some of the frustration inside me eased a little.

"I knew you were shameless," I said. "So yeah, fine, I guess I was an idiot for never doubting you despite knowing that. You handed over that information really damn fast—was it since then? Did you two meet that same day?"

It was possible. Sung Hyunje had no reason to report to me about meeting Chloe or anyone else. Even now, he hadn’t actually deceived me; he simply hadn’t told me. Maybe I should be grateful that he even came forward like this instead of keeping me completely in the dark.

And yet, I didn’t just feel disappointed—I was actually angry. Sung Hyunje had been really considerate towards me lately. Maybe that was why. It seemed I had fallen under the delusion that he would help me readily and share everything with me. Even though there was no reason for him to do so.

"Well, whatever." I exhaled a long breath. "I think I was too comfortable with you, Sung Hyunje-ssi. Getting this cold shower has sobered me up a bit."

Sung Hyunje only raised his eyebrows slightly without saying anything.

"If this was a decision you made out of necessity, I can understand. So please just tell me."

If the other side had offered him a way to completely break free from the Crescent Moon, I could understand why he went along with it. Honestly, if they said they could help me get my brother back and keep all my loved ones safe, I’d be tempted too.

"I thought you would catch me," Sung Hyunje said.

"What? Are you serious? And I only said I’d understand, not that I’d let it slide. If you get in my way, do you think I’d overlook it just because it’s you? I treat you well now because we’re on the same side. But if you were on the opposite side, I’d crush you first."

I wouldn’t be able to sleep soundly until I dealt with him. Really. Not only because of his abilities but because of how much he knew. Just thinking about it sent a chill down my spine.

Two S-ranks. Grace was on my ankle, and that damn Sung Hyunje knew that fact too. The distance to the lounge was quite far, but they’d all rush over immediately if I just set off a single bomb. Was Jason also on Chloe’s side? If I excluded Moon Hyuna, there were three or four of them.

I could share the double attack buff. Sung Hyunje knew that, too. Noah’s skill wasn’t usable yet. The cooldown period was long, given how potent it was. If we could use it, our victory would be practically guaranteed, but...

"Sung Hyunje-ssi," I started.

In order for me to catch him properly... fortunately, it happened to be nighttime, and the moon was hanging over us.

"Back then, I was quite lenient with you," I said.

"If you talk like that, how can I not get excited?"

"So come clean to me. What are your real intentions?"

"I did receive a proposal," Sung Hyunje admitted.

He pulled out a letter from his inventory. Both the stationary and envelope seemed to be dungeon byproducts.

"Before the banquet started. To be precise, just before Han Yoojin-gun came down."

The tension in my body slightly eased. If it happened around that time, I could understand why he didn’t tell me. There wasn’t much time, and rather than changing plans on the spot, it made sense to confirm Chloe’s intentions first. It might be easier to make a clear judgment if I probed Chloe without knowing anything beforehand.

"Then what about Hyuna-ssi?" I asked.

"Hunter Miller doesn’t know much about the situation either. She just had no reason to refuse," Sung Hyunje said. "She doesn't accept my requests if she doesn't feel like it," he added.

Because she was an S-rank Hunter too, even though he was her Guild Leader. It was the same with Yerim; even though she was a Haeyeon Guild member, Yoohyun couldn't order her around as he pleased.

Anyway, it seemed Evelyn had been the one tasked with keeping Moon Hyuna away.

"What do you mean she didn’t have a reason to refuse? She didn’t even know the situation," I said.

"Because if there was an incident, I’d be the one to take the blame as Guild Leader. Unfortunately, it seems they didn’t clash too violently. Or perhaps they moved to another location?"

So... he set the stage for Evelyn-ssi to freely provoke a fight with Moon Hyuna? I thought Hyuna-ssi disliked Evelyn-ssi one-sidedly, but maybe Evelyn was wary of Hyuna too? And what was that "unfortunately" about? Was he fanning the flames for them to fight?

"I’m not asking how you held Hyuna-ssi back. I’m asking why."

If he’d kept her away just to show me the letter, then I’d gladly welcome it. Show it to me. But instead of handing it over, Sung Hyunje put the letter back into his inventory. And then—

"….!"

Suddenly, my wrist was grabbed. The speed was too fast for my eyes to follow. He pulled and spun me half a turn as if we were dancing, moving me from the railing to the glass door. The little fairy dragon growled softly and Sung Hyunje released my wrist. The lamps set up on the railing shone from behind him, casting a long shadow that obscured his face.

"Because I wanted to tell only Han Yoojin-gun."

"…That you want us to part ways? That you’re leaving?" I asked.[2]

"You think too negatively."

"Then why don’t you act properly? Suddenly doing something like this without saying a word, what am I supposed to think? Tell me clearly, exactly what you want from me."

"Act selfishly," Sung Hyunje said in a voice without any inflection.

"…What?"

"Or how about wiping your mind clean?"

"…What the hell are you saying?"

Chloe, who had been standing a little distance away from us, frowned. If she had a similar personality to Director Song’s, then even if she disliked me, she wouldn’t stand by and let an F-rank be threatened by an S-rank. Ironically, she might protect me even from Sung Hyunje.

"I'm saying there are those kinds of urges.[3] It’s been a while since we returned from China," Sung Hyunje said. The corners of his mouth lifted in a smile that looked like it had been drawn on. "I’ve been waiting all this time, you see. Waiting for something big to happen."

"I really have no idea what you mean."

"If I said it first, there’d be no meaning in it," he replied.

"…I genuinely don’t know what you want. Are you saying you’re waiting for me to do something?"

"Exactly."

The look in Sung Hyunje's eyes as he gazed down at me felt momentarily chilling. At the same time, I felt the urge to grab him by the collar and demand what the hell he wanted from me. Damn it, did he think he was some kind of ancient god? Dropping vague hints and waiting to see if I walked the path he wanted, praising me if I got it right?

"Why should I do what you want?"

"It’s not just me." Now his voice turned infuriatingly gentle. "It's what many people want."

"…I really want to hit you right now."

"I thought playing the role of the villain might not be a bad idea, if it was for that purpose. It might even be fun," Sung Hyunje said playfully, his attitude shifting completely from how it had been a moment before.

"Ah, you insane bastard."

I thought he’d changed, but no, he was still the same. Unpredictable, inscrutable, impossible to pin down. What did he want me to do in the first place, seriously? Did I annoy him in some way? I knew I had many shortcomings, but I’d worked hard. If he thought that wasn’t enough, despite all the hardship I went through, then damn it, just rip me open already.

"I may not understand the conversation, but please don't commit evil acts lightly," Chloe interjected with a serious expression. "Especially considering your position as the Sesung Guild Leader. The fallout would be far too great."

…To say something like that, was she really not with Park Hayul after all?

"By the way, Chloe-ssi. Do you know anything about my abduction to China?" I threw the question out vaguely. I didn’t expect her to give much of an answer.

"I am deeply sorry about that matter," Chloe said.

"…Excuse me?"

"Now this is unexpected," Sung Hyunje remarked, slightly taken aback, turning to look at Chloe.

She continued speaking calmly, as if she had never intended to hide anything in the first place.

"Officially, I came to deliver a letter to the Sesung Guild Leader. But personally, I also wanted to check on Director Han Yoojin’s condition."

"But you said you didn’t like me?"

"Personal feelings aside, Director Han Yoojin was still a victim."

"Are you admitting you had some connection to the kidnappers? Can I record this?" I asked.

"I wasn’t involved, but I didn’t put a stop to it either."

It seemed she felt guilty for knowing about it but doing nothing.

"I agreed that it was the solution with the least amount of harm. With Director Han Yoojin’s abduction, the military’s threat could be neutralized."

"…I’d like to hear more details," I said.

"Huang Lin made contact first."

…What? Well, I’d somewhat suspected it, but he really wasn’t on the military’s side.

"He warned that if the military gained full control over the Dokkaebi King, the standoff with the Murim Alliance would collapse completely. He said that would create issues. He also mentioned the potential for long-range portals to be used for invasions of other countries."

Thinking about it, it was terrifying. If undead Hunters were unleashed through long-range portals… Not to mention, there were many high-rank Hunters in China that were unknown to the public, so other countries wouldn’t even know where these high-rank undead were coming from.

"So they kidnapped me to draw in the Korean Hunters? Couldn’t they have just requested our cooperation?"

"That would have sparked an international conflict."

She wasn’t wrong. Since I’d been kidnapped, the Korean Hunters had been able to raise hell in China while everyone else turned a blind eye.

"Also, Director Han Yoojin's abduction was necessary to provide a plausible reason for the approach to Nosan Island. It would have been possible to carry out the plan to capture the Korean Hunters there."

"It was a success, but if it had failed, wouldn’t we have been the only ones sacrificed?"

"The Korean Hunters were stronger than anticipated. Originally, Huang Lin and some of his faction had planned to assist, but it turned out they weren’t needed."

…Is that why Huang Lin had just grabbed Chu Huoyun and left back then? Once the dokkaebis escaped and Yoon Yoon went berserk, his job was done?

"And you’re just telling me all this?"

"I was planning to inform you before I left the country, assuming your condition was okay. I also have a letter from Huang Lin. Would you like to receive it?" Chloe carefully watched my expression as she said this.

With a small sigh, I held out my hand. Honestly, Chloe telling me she disliked me had shocked me more than anything involving Huang Lin. Huang Lin was just a distant memory by now. Chloe pulled the letter from her inventory and handed it to me. I wondered what nonsense he had written, but put it in my inventory for the time being.

"So the conclusion is, kidnapping me was done with good intentions. Is that it?" I said.

"Of course, it was wrong," Chloe firmly stated. So then…

"Does that mean you’ve parted ways with Park Hayul’s mysterious noonim, whose name I still don’t know?"

"No."

…What? Seriously?

"I can't tell you any more details than this. If you want revenge, I understand. But I will resist." She bowed her head slightly, apologizing for the offense, and then turned to Sung Hyunje. "I will ask for your reply before I leave the country."

With that, Chloe turned, opened the glass door, and left. I felt even stranger than when the system message had appeared. Hearing that someone acted with good intentions but used twisted methods grated at my heart. It would have been easier if she had just been a bad person.

"If I may offer a piece of advice," Sung Hyunje said, turning his gaze to me. "Even good people can become enemies at any time."

"…I know. Even among those who cursed at me, I’m sure there were many good and kind people."

"And anyone trying to harm Han Yoojin-gun is an enemy, regardless of their intentions."

Was he really saying this right after he said he’d play the villain? I swallowed my question of whether that meant Sung Hyunje could be one of those people too.

---

Footnotes:

[1] The Korean word for "get rejected" (차이다) also means "to get dumped/broken up with". So yes, the ambiguity of whom Yoojin is so broken-hearted about is even stronger in Korean.

[2] "갈라서다 (to part ways)" is also used in the context of "to break up/divorce".

[3] It also sounds like he is saying "I mean that I also have that kind/those kinds of urge(s)." ("그런 충동도 있다는 거라네.")

#sctir #the s classes that i raised #s classes that i raised #my s class hunters #내가 키운 s급들 #novel translation #jinjae #edited to add footnotes 1-2

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lyss-sketchbox · 4 months ago

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My thoughts on Inazuma vs Natlan so far. Is that Inazuma dropped the ball. There's no questioning that. It was rushed and the resolution lacked weight, and it almost definitely needed a lot more space to breathe and probably would've benefited from the 5 act structure instead of speedrunning with 3 acts (such as needing actual time spent with the Watatsumi Resistance rather than spending like 30 minutes tops).

HOWEVER. I feel like the initial Act I-II of Inazuma did a great job established the STAKES. It showed us the very real damage being caused by the various unjust decrees and why people are fighting. Natlan I kinda felt like did a lot of telling instead of showing, and any potential stakes feel kinda... Unserious? Because no one's really seriously hurt and even if they're saying Natlan will explode soon, I'm not really feeling like it's as dire as they're trying to sell it.

BUT IVE BEEN INFORMED YOU CAN DO NATLAN OUT OF ORDER??? Like you could in theory do Natlan BEFORE Inazuma thru Fontaine (with the quick-start function) which is why Natlan is more 'self-contained' which is absolutely insane to me?? Like HELLO???

Overall, I feel like the concepts and plot presented in Natlan is fine. But they didn't do a good enough job of selling to me these things. Like the whole child soldiers stuff kjadf like we actually dwelled on it for longer than a millisecond, we'd probably realize that's super fucked up!! But instead we gloss over it, making the whole quest seem fairly light-hearted despite everything.

Rubs my hands together ok anon lets talk cuz yeah i have thoughts

About inazuma

I definitely agree with you that Act 1-2 (especially 1) of inazuma did well setting up and showing how much negative impact the shogun's rule has impacted the people:

Vision holders literally losing a chunk of themselves (or worst, their lives) from their vision being confiscated.

Non-vision holders risking their lives for helping said vision holders (the resistance)

International traders being stuck in the nation, repressed by local government, and scammed by local traders just to keep business alive.

Local government bloating the price of everything!!! (And being able to get discounts only if you have connections)

Corruption even in the highest positions (gestures at the Kujou clan)

Fatui meddling that lead to the deaths of many for profit

The shogun literally programmed her robot to be that heartless because she herself dont give a shit about any of these issues. As long as her eternity stays.

Fr after venti and zhongli, getting an archon that acts as a proper ruler of a nation AND an antagonist sounds COOL AS FUCK. The booba sword scene while yeah, boobs wooo, also was a wonderful show of her authority over her nation.

After that they tripped and fell in Watatsumi. While i appreciate the environmental story telling of Watatsumi's and Shogunate's bases during the war, we barely get enough time to do... ANYTHING of substance. If i remember correctly, we became team captain, then do a bunch of training and defeating vagrants (on our own because friendly npc fighters didnt exist yet) and thats it. Where is the plotting? Wheres the planning? It was all just an anime training montage we barely get to see or feel. I genuinely feel like we couldve just replaced the entire Watatsumi arc with 'the fatui is selling delusions to people with confiscated visions to help them cope with the lost so traveller go to the delusion factory' and NOTHING wouldve changed. Hell it wouldve made ALOT more sense why yae came to save us at the end if the whole thing happened in Narukami.

Also after all that SHOWING they did alot more TELLING about wooo how smart kokomi is she is so smart and cool and the savior of the resistance. Like girl the fatui had their grip on your soldiers to the point they almost didnt want to surrender their delusions what are you on about. While you can argue she was only a priestess before the war and had no war intellegence skills, the people prop her up as such, kujou sara took her seriously. So she has to have some merit. Well im not seeing any (fight me on this i dont fully remember what happens in watatsumi)

Also at the end we fight the literal dictator of the nation with the power of friendship then everyone and i mean EVERYONE forgave said dictator...... cool. They would definitely benefit from an extra act so that watatsumi adds to the idea that this civil war and the shoguns current decree is causing damage.

About AR

The thing is that the requirements for you to start Natlan AQ is to be AR 28 and finish Liyue AQ (which requires AR 29 for the entire thing). While starting Inazuma requires AR 30, Sumeru needs AR 35, and Fontaine needs AR 40 (highest AR requirement by far).

Id argue that each nation is supposed to be a self-contained story. Even so, based on AR requirements theyve been chronologically in order because you NEED to complete the previous AQ to start the next. EXCEPT for Natlan.

While this is obviously to be more open to new and returning players, it really.... decreases the stakes, like you would assume the more we progress the tougher challenges we will have to face. But Natlan? Nawww you can go to Natlan without fighting the dictator 👍

About Natlan

I AM ADDRESSING THE CHILD SOLDIER THING FIRST BECAUSE YES. THEY DEFINITELY DID ALOT MORE TELLING THAN SHOWING HOW THIS CHILD APPARENTLY CAN BE SENT TO WAR WITH A REAL CHANCE OF DYING!!!!! I talked about this before because they ironically did alot more showing how child like Kachina is which adds more to the FUCKING CHILD SOLDIER THING.

HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO BE OKAY WITH THIS??? Oh its our nations culture, its just the culture shock, OKAY YEAH BUT THE TRAVELLER AND PAIMON ARENT NATLAN NATIVES AND THEY DONT FEEL ANYTHING ABOUT THIS????? Wow yey cheer for the child to go to war! BRO SHE DIED AND WE WENT JACOOZIING WHILE WE WAIT FOR HER TO RETURN FROM WAR...............

ITS VERY OBVIOUS INFANTILIZATION BECAUSE IANSAN DIDNT FUCKING GET THE SAME TREATMENT. You know, the other small girl character there, nah she went to war just like Kachina, lived, and stood by the Archon and WAS READY TO THROW HANDS WITH A HARBINGER IF THE ARCHON DIDNT FUCKING FIGHT HIM HERSELF.

Everything just feels so.... chill? So relaxed with no stakes at all. I mean yeah the Abyss is creeping into the nation's roots but instead of sending armies we make it a tournament. Yeah people die in these excursions but we can revive them so we can ignore the horrors of experiencing death. Yeah the flames are dying so the archon has to give up some of her power to keep it lit but its okay! The harbinger is a gentleman that wont take this opportunity to do some scheming. We need the power of the chosen one of each tribes to save natlan but hey cant rush it! We got a year after all teehee.

Man. Head in hands. What the fuck.

Not even gonna go into the whole the archon is human but mavuika is the one that got reincarnated to retake the role just in time to solve a national crisis thing. Because i dont even know if THAT is accurate.

If they somehow trip and fall worse than inazuma id actually be amazed because the bar is very very low.

#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #im adding #kokomi deserves better #i was infact part of the kokomi was dogshit mob and i would like to offer my apology to the koko mains #but god i hate it when supposedly important characters NOT DO IMPORTANT THINGS #she deserves better man idk #lyssten to my rambles #spoilers #genshin spoilers

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finifugue · 6 months ago

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Reject reality (Hungary GP) embrace delusion (Landoscar Bridgerton AU) - opening snippet of a fic which I will update whenever Event Horizon gets too depressing and existential. Pre-landoscar, pre-lestappen (minor). 1.6k so far and I'll probably edit the fuck out of it. One day.

It is in the words of another anonymous Lady, that the truth of our merry ton may be found: “a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

“Are you quite sure it’s hers?”

“Who’s else might it be? There aren’t any copycats brave enough to write under her name!”

These words, though plain to the learned man’s ear, ring clear to those nervous mamas which, on this bright day, are finally given the opportunity to demonstrate their mettle in a battle of wit, courage, and pride which has been tended to from near the moment of our country’s consummation. For today, dear reader, is the day the marriage market opens, and the sharp teeth of society await the new nobility to step from the solitude of darkness, to the blinding light.

“Let me see! Let me see!”

“Ow ‒ do not push me, George!”

For many a family, young misses are being decorated with as much wealth as their families possess ‒ such as in the Bridgerton family, where the long-awaited Eloise Bridgerton is rumoured to finally be stepping out from her Diamond sister’s shadow…

“Damn Bridgertons. They’re all she ever writes about, and the Featheringtons, and all those however else associated.”

“Would you rather Lady Whistledown write about you, Alex, and your escapades?”

“I did not say that. When did I say that?”

… But for others, the fervour of this day only sends the gossip mill into a feeding frenzy. For it seems that this season, moreso than any other, it is the gentlemen of the ton which invite scrutiny; particularly the likes of the noble Lords Albon, Russell, and Leclerc, who have once again failed to be seen courting any eligibles of the ton, and are well on their ways to becoming a trio of ‘Capital-R Rakes.’

“Bollocks.”

Lando bursts out laughing. He’s met with three identical, loathing stares from his best friends, all trussed up in their frilly cravats and long coats and beaver hats. In Lando’s humble opinion, they look rather silly ‒ though, he’d never say it. They all have such odd ideas about clothing, as they do with housing ‒ George’s bachelor apartment is lavishly decorated, velvet lining almost every available surface. He wipes a non-existent tear from his eye, just to piss them off. “’Capital-R Rakes?’ Blimey, better get a move on, then. No worse fate than a fucking Capital-R Rake.”

It makes George roll his eyes. “Not all of us are content with bachelorhood, Lando. Some of us wish to appease our fathers.”

“Or our mamas,” Charles mutters. “Though it seems impossible.”

Scoffing derisively, Lando pushes himself up to a seated position from where he was lying on the chaise lounge, whipping the Whistledown article from Alex’s hands. “How very noble of you all.” His teeth clench, and he averts his gaze from them all, where they stare at him with a sort of tired pity that makes his bones itch. He lifts the page up, half-obscuring his face as he pretends to read it, not perceiving any of the writing at all.

There’s an awkward silence, in which Charles gives Alex and George a significant look, and in response Alex elbows George, who sighs. He sits next to Lando, where his feet had just rested. Puts a hand up, as if to rest on Lando’s shoulder, then thinks better of it and settles it on the back of the lounge, running a finger along the ornate mahogany frame. “Do not brood.”

“I am not brooding.”

George pokes him. “You are. You know we didn't mean anything by it. Besides, I do believe Charles’ mama frets about our marital statuses well enough to have more than enough spare for you.”

Against his better judgement, Lando cracks a smile, lightly shoving George away. “Fine, fine. I’m alright. George, keep reading this.” He pushes the page into his hands, lying back and throwing his legs over George’s thighs and resting his arms over his head. George, who has had to endure Lando’s dramatics and quick changes in temperament since they were children, just rolls his eyes.

Despite the misadventure of our most well-known Lords, it must be said, dear reader, that the polite society of the ton shall be graced with the presence of one who will be certain to turn every shrewd mama’s head: His Highness Oscar Piastri, Crown Prince of England.

Charles moans. “Oh, we are ruined. How are we going to compete in the marriage market with a prince?” Charles’ mother, as George had said, is becoming increasingly worried about his marriage prospects, despite the fact that he’s only in his twenties and a Duke, for God’s sake, and — and this part, in Lando’s mind, is the significantly more important factor — gorgeous enough that any of the eligibles would be chomping at the bit to have him court them. Not that Lando would ever let Charles hear him say that ‒ his head’s already far too big. If he knew that he’s been considered one of the most eligible bachelors of every season since he went on the marriage market, it would grow too heavy for his neck and he’d never be able to stand up.

Despite this, Lando feels a little sorry for him. He puts far too much pressure on himself. Lando pats him on the shoulder, smirking. “He can only take one spouse, Charles. I’m sure the rest of the eligibles would be content to settle for the likes of yourself… eventually.”

In return for his awfully kind and generous words, Charles grabs the Whistledown article and whaps him over the back of the head with it, as if he were an irritating insect instead of someone who’s seen Charles fall out of a tree trying to impress Alex’s pretty nanny when they were children. “You are rude and I do not know why we continue to spend time with you.”

“Because I buy you beer and lose at cards.”

“Your two only favourable traits.”

The Crown Prince has been the subject of all the conversation in society since the confirmation of his return to England from the perilous frontier of New Holland ‒ or as radical explorers of the New Age refer to the mysterious continent, the vast new colony of Australia. What he has been doing amid the penal colonies and military operations during his long expedition is unclear; certainly, his escapades are a topic which many a debutante will be sure to delve into in the battle that shall come, as the Prince’s favour is fought for.

Lando thinks about that. It is quite insane, really, that the King allowed his Crown Prince — his only son — to sail away across the globe to a new, faraway, tiny little colony full of the Empire’s criminals, utterly defenceless and all alone, with only a few military bases to house him. He wonders if the King simply did not care for his son. Or if his son wished too desperately to be away from all the pomp and pride of England’s society. Lando’s heard it said that Australia is vast, vaster even than the British Isles, full of life and animals completely different to those seen promenading the streets of Mayfair. “Why’s he decided to come back, then?”

Alex shrugs. “Perhaps he was lonely.”

“Perhaps his father became tired of him wasting his time in a colony a million miles from England, and called him home for supper,” George shoots back, before returning to the article.

The Prince is due to make his first appearance within society within the coming week, at the delightful annual occasion hosted by Lady Danbury ‒ the first ball of the season. Mamas, ensure your children are well prepared in their speeches and talents, for this author hears that the Crown Prince, though most entirely the Incomparable bachelor of the season, has, in fact, very little desire to marry ‒ nor, by many an account, to court at all.

That makes Lando roll his eyes a bit. Of course the Crown Prince of England has no desire to court ‒ to have mamas and eligibles fawning over him and pawing at his lapels for a chance to be next in line for the consort’s throne. Lando can only imagine the type of person to skirt his responsibilities to the throne to adventure the frontiers of the Empire ‒ self-interested, dull, puffed-up and vain. He’s convinced himself, then, that His Highness, the Crown Prince Oscar must be terribly arrogant.

“Ha!” George crows, righetous anger colouring his voice. “Simply because he is a Prince, he is afforded every excuse known to man ‒ no, the Crown Prince of England could never be considered a Capital-R Rake!”

“Well, yes, George, that would be because he’s the Crown Prince of England.”

“You know what I mean, Alex.” George shoots him a glare. “It seems that Piastri is the only person Whistledown refuses to name a rake. Apart from Lando, of course.”

It’s quite amazing, Lando thinks, how long George can hold a grudge. “I don’t think I pass across Lady Whistledown’s mind enough for her to even consider calling me names in her writing,” he replies tersely. “Same as she never talks about your cooks. Or your servants. Or your nannies ‒”

Sidling down beside him on the lounge which is absolutely not made to seat three people at once, Charles throws an arm over his shoulder. “Ah, but Lando, you are terrible at cooking, and you have never once had the indignity to serve us, and on account of the fact that you seem to have been raised in a barn, rather than Lord Rosberg’s countryside manor ‒”

“Charles‒”

“‒ I would not ever call you a nanny.” Charles grins at him. “Perhaps you are just more noble than us all, after all.”

A challenge, then, to all eligibles of the season; for charming Prince Piastri seems to have become the most fruitful task of all… and the most Herculean.

#I'd like it to be known that I wrote this in maybe ~2 hours exluding a very long break so forgive any messiness #set in a world just that bit more radical than bridgerton where poc AND gay people are allowed to exist. extraordinary. /s #might be called charming prince piastri. Might be called something better. the voices have yet to tell me #also vaguely another excuse for me to write in an archaic tone bc it fun #landoscar #landoscar fic #f1 fanfic #mctwinks #fin's fics

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neiviele · 5 months ago

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There is such a strange overlap between anti-endos and a particular set of harmful, discriminatory behaviors that I keep on seeing.

In particular:

• Despising schizo-spec people for some reason

▪︎Actively trying to trigger schizo-spec people in psychosis despite being told otherwise

▪︎Ignoring their boundaries - being told that they're harming people only to insist that it's good for them

▪︎You can recover from your DID! Not so for schizophrenics, who must always constantly fight to be normal and never give in to their delusions

▪︎You can never have fun with this. No delusion entertaining here! Not like DID/OSDD systems, who make pk profiles for their alters and learn to love their systems with time.

• A sort of tunnel vision directed only at fellow traumagenic systems compared to endogenic systems.

▪︎You're having fun with this disorder? Not possible, you should always suffer... unless you're a traumagenic system, in which you can do anything you want.

▪︎You're not one of us? Pssh, must be an endo

▪︎Obviously your trauma didn't happen if you're a pro-endo traumagenic system, otherwise you would know how bad it is to be this way

▪︎"Why aren't you suffering exactly like me"

• Gatekeeping of alterhumanity and other communities

▪︎Endogenics are pushed out of every community. Doesn't matter if the community is for them, doesn't matter if it has nothing to do with syscourse. Get them outtttt

▪︎▪︎Bonus points if you make other people feel unsafe in the process. Don't look at me, look at those endogenics that were doing nothing!

▪︎Putting their own conditions on a pedestal when compared to others (ex. it's fine to be autistic, but God forbid you identify as plural)

• Othering and a kind of racism directed at POC and spiritual folk

▪︎If your practice is spiritual and mystical it's 🥰beautiful🥰, if it's clinical and psychological it's 👎harmful👎

▪︎▪︎Bonus points if it's an ancient, old practice from long ago, conceived in the wilderness far away from the "toxicity" of the "modern world". Slavery? Genocide? Cultural oppression? Not a factor, you should all have practices from long ago. Don't blame me for not having them!

▪︎POC are used as pawns in syscourse. If you're endogenic you must be white (certainly there can't be any POC endos out there) and if you do exist, you are dismissed. However if you are POC, you must exist in all areas of discourse and hold all the right opinions.

▪︎Certainly you can't hold multiple viewpoints on your origins - a spiritual plural who also believes in science? A spiritualist who also believes in spiritual things, yet takes their medication to function? Not possible, you're either psychological or spiritual.

(Apologies for the snark near the end, but in truth it is annoying.) We've noticed these beliefs seem to appear in tandem with each other to a greater degree than other beliefs- could be wrong, but it's a pattern we've noticed. I'm guessing this behavior is a result of a traumatic cultural Christian-European upbringing? Which makes sense, but I wish they'd unpack that before jumping into syscourse.

#thoughts #ableism #racism #spirituality #syscourse

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songofpolaris · 1 year ago

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Imagine: Scribbled notes

masterlist / navigation

-> pairing; reader x Remus Lupin

-> wc; 1.3k

-> warnings; fluff, autumn and mentions of smoking. if any of the previously mentioned sickens or disturbs you, please do not read.

-> a/n; i don't even know when I last posted a good old hopeless romantic imagine that I would normally use to fall asleep to.

Lattes, cappuccinos, mint tea, cinnamon rolls and pumpkin spice on everything you eat. Movie marathons, thick fuzzy blankets, rainy nights and cold morning air. Dusty books, poison ivy and poems. Autumn.

For some people, this is the time to hide away and complain that the sun is nowhere to be found while sitting in their houses all day, doing nothing. But not for you. No, for you, this is your time to shine. The leaves are showing your favourite colours each morning on your way to work and the customers come in with hair that’s blown in each and every direction by the winds outside. They smile, grateful to have a place to recharge at for a bit, and are always that tiny bit more thankful when you hand them a warm cup of coffee and a neatly wrapped book. Your autumn brightness lights up their seasonal darkness.

There is also always a switch in customers when this change of season takes place. The summer blonds in flowy dresses leave and the autumn brunettes with thick sweaters take their place.

There’s only one person who keeps coming in, every week, when you work. He’s tall and dark and handsome and all the other cliche book descriptions you wish you could use for someone in real life. But he’s also introverted and not perfect looking. He has scars and messy hair and doesn’t seem to act like he’s anything other than himself.

As you stand on your toes to put the new book series on the shelf, you hear the bell ringing from the door. The door itself creeks enough for you to hear that someone has come in, but the boss won’t fix it for reasons no one can quite comprehend. Something with nostalgia and how the youth keeps on fixing things that do not, ever, need fixing.

“Hello! I’ll be with you in just a moment, just let me put this down.” You greet whoever just came in still standing on the tip of your toes, clumsily balancing three books under your left arm while placing another one on the shelf.

“That doesn’t look like it’ll be done in a moment and if it is, it won’t be because all the books got to their place, y/n.” A low voice answers. You smile as you realise it’s him.

“Delusion is a fine way to work, Remus.” You answer as you try to get even higher on your toes.

You hear footsteps hasting your way as you fall back, realising gravity actually still is with you. However, two arms envelop you before you hit the ground. They slowly push you back into your normal standing position, still hugging you from the back.

“It’s also a way to break your toes or get a concussion, genius.” Remus whispers into your ear. You huff and turn around. His arms leave you and you feel the absence of them immediately.

Remus kneels down and gathers the books, then easily places them on the havened book shelf. His curls fall back from his eyes and the strong jawline gets shown off more than ever. ‘How is this specimen real?’ is all you manage to think. As he looks back at you, you clear your throat and walk up to the register. While walking, you raise your hand to your cheek. It actually feels hot. Is it hot? You let your hair fall into your face to cover up the cheeks, which feel like they might actually be looking like tomatoes.

You duck behind the register to grab the only delivery made this week, which could only be for him. This man reads a new book every week and buys a new one each time he comes into the store. So far, the only week he didn’t come in was the first week of spring break, which later turned out to be because he broke his leg and physically could not make it to the bookstore on his own.

“Emma by Jane Austen this time?” You ask as he comes up to you. He nods.

“I love you for this! It’s actually my favourite book.” You tell him while wrapping it.

Now, a blush comes up on his cheeks. He picks on his sweater awkwardly while starting to lean onto the counter. While looking away he answers; “I know, you told me last time.”

You ignore the awkward change of behaviour and push your hair back out of your face. You couldn’t hide that heat in you even if you did try, so why would you. You look at him questioningly.

“You remembered?”

“Of course I did. Anyway, even if I did forget the conversation, I have a list of books you recommended to me.” He says it like it’s the most normal thing on the planet. Sure. Everybody is this attentive. Every single person on this planet is this kind of attentive.

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I care about your opinion and trust it.”

“Can I see it?”

“Why are you only asking questions suddenly?”

You lay the neatly wrapped book in front of him, tilt your head and look at him.

“Can I?” Is all you say, still keeping a hand on the book. He looks down at the book and then focuses onto your eyes.

“No.”

“Why in the world not?”

Remus shakes his head. His glasses are crooked and he smells like cigarettes and peppermint. There’s only a register between the two of you that’s really just 17 inches broad. That gives you a good sense of someone’s smell when they lean up to it.

“Fine” he reaches into the pocket of his trousers and takes out a folded piece of paper, “but don’t start thinking I’m a stalker or anything now, alright?” He says as he hands it to you. You nod and unfold the paper. On it, titles are scribbled and quotes stand behind the ones he has read.

“What are the quotes for, smokey?” You ask jokingly. Not that it reflects how you feel in any way, shape or form. Truthfully, you’re tearing up and trying to hide it with a stupid comment.

Remus seems to hesitate answering this question. Though the weird nickname always does make him show that lopsided grin of his.

“Unless it’s a state secret, you can tell me.” You add.

“They’re quotes I see you in.”

“But these quotes…Remus”

“Yes, y/n?”

“I know you have read these, but have you?” You say perplexed. This can not be real. Outside of the store, you two have run into each other some time and each time it was amazing, but it didn’t feel like he thought much more of the two of you than just people who sometimes coincidentally run into each other and talk about books outside of that. The quotes seem to think otherwise. And they’re all ones you love and annotated yourself.

“Y/n, please say something. I swear I’m not some obsessive person, I just really enjoy spending time with you and thought this would… I don’t know. Give me more to talk to you about? Understand you better?”

You laugh. How can someone think this is going to make you see them as anything less than amazing. Less than wonderful. Less than perfect. You move around the register and then you’re standing right in front of him. His chin actually hits the top of your head when you stand closer to him. You move back and move your hand to the back of his head.

“I’m going to stand on my toes again, alright? So you just hold me.” You whisper as you stand on your toes and your lips slowly, delicately touch his. His arms wrap around you. You have never been more steady than this.

“It's such a happiness when good people get together.” Jane Austen - Emma

taglist; @calamitoustide @innerloverpainter

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screamingcrows · 6 months ago

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Like a self indulgent fool, I made a complete set of Genshin style voicelines for Celeste who features in this. (Written as if speaking to the Traveler, I like to think she meets them when they're in Snezhnaya)

Hello:

I'm Celeste, assistant to The Doctor. I've heard a great deal about you and it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. There's no need to be nervous, I'm neither interested in nor skilled enough in combat to harm you. It's a little soon to go into the details of my work, but if you need anything related to medicine or the like, you're welcome to ask and maybe I can be of assistance.

Chat: Cooperation

Clear communication is important for cooperation. Just make sure to distinguish between being clear and being rude.

Chat: Tail

Yes, it's soft. Touch it, and I'll make you regret it.

Chat: Samples

Did I properly seal those flasks before leaving? Ugh, would I even have enough subjects to start over?

When It Rains

I wonder if Snezhnaya has legends about what controls the weather. You wouldn't think the Tsa- wait, maybe I shouldn't say that.

When Thunder Strikes

It's a bit loud for me, but watching lightning strike the sea is mesmerizing in it's own right. If you count the seconds from lighting flashes you can- whimpers make it go away…

When it Snows

Really? ...Doesn't this just make you want to curl up inside?

When the sun is out

We should get a move on, this won't last forever.

In the desert

If you see me start digging, look away… No? Well I thought it was funny.

Swimming

I'll find another way, I don't like to get my fur wet.

Good morning

Starting your day with a glass of water is beneficial to your health and helps wake you up. We lose a surprising amount of moisture over the night.

Good afternoon

I'm going for a nap.

Good evening

It's time for dinner already? Time truly waits for no one.

Good night

You can go ahead and lay down, I have some things to get done. Hm? It's fine, I work best at night anyway.

About Celeste: Expressions

I've been told that I don't have the most expressive face, my ex would constantly pinch my cheeks and tickle me to get me to smile. As far as I'm concerned, it's preferable to wearing your heart on your sleeve. It's unfortunate that my body will still betray me, if I'm not vigilant my ears tend to move around a lot.

About Celeste: Pieces

We leave little bits of ourself in everything we do and everyone we meet, it's inevitable. Just make sure not to break yourself beyond repair.

About us: Friends

It's admirable how you always go out of your way to help your friends no matter what it takes, especially with how many people you seem to know and how they swarm you, it's a miracle you have time for yourself. It must be nice to be so adored. Make sure never to leave with things unsaid, but you probably don't need to be told that, do you? Anyway, I'd like to observe you a little more, maybe some of your 'friendliness' will rub off.

About us: Loyalty

As a way of thanks, if you'd like of course, I can set up a meeting between you and The Doctor? Just remember, you'll be on your own from there, certain circumstances keep me from being able to take your side should a confrontation ensue.

About the delusion

My delusion? Mm, you've got a sharp eye. It's more akin to those carried by Harbingers than regular soldiers, that's as much as I'll say. A certain someone was adamant about ensuring there would be minimal risk of backlash from using it.

Something to share

There are things in this world that should be left alone. Figuring out who spread this idea and why should be at the tip of our ambitions.

Interesting things

It is easy to think that the eyes of the gods are a blessing, while this might seem immediately true, power is never given away that freely without any strings. When it all turns to ash, they will be the hardest to save.

About Dottore: Segments

It's important to get familiar with all The Doctor's segments, not only does it make working with them a lot easier as I can defuse any situation before it gets really ugly between them… I'm kidding, don't look so concerned. It also lets me pick the ideal one to approach if I need his signature on something, did you know, his handwriting hasn't changed one bit since his youth!

About Dottore: Relationship

I was quite surprised to find that The Doctor is quite the lenient boss. As long as I get done what he requests, preferably without damage, he's satisfied. He'd rather I speak my mind and correct him than simply go along with whatever he says out of fear.

About Pierro

How do I put it, The Director is, well he has an aura that commands respect wherever he goes. I rarely see him, but whenever I have, he's always looked a little weary up close. His patience must be tested daily having to manage the rest of the harbingers, either his tolerance is boundless for arguments or he just tunes them out.

About Arlecchino

The Knave is, rightfully so I suppose, a little wary about anyone who associates with Dottore. However, she's invited me to accompany her to Fontaine on multiple occasions, with the hopes that I could help one of her children. I'd go so far as to say we're on amicable terms now, last she returned, I found a box of madeleines outside the laboratory along an invitation for tea.

About Childe

I think you've spent more time with him than I have, and I'd prefer to keep it that way. It's a pity he's so obnoxious, I'd like to run some tests on him but there are limits to what I'll tolerate. Maybe you could get some biopsies for me? I can provide detailed instructions, I'm sure he wouldn't mind.

About Sandrone

You want to know something about The Marionette? I'm afraid there's not a lot to tell, she keeps to her own wing most of the time and we rarely interact save for a few times where I've had to borrow some spare parts from her. She pretty much just shoved it into my hands and spun me around…

About Columbina

Every time I've spoken to The Damselette, there's a strong desire to rip out my brain and scrub it. Something about her presence clings to you like a mist and makes your blood run cold. She always speaks in riddles, popping out of nowhere, and clearly knows much more than she lets on. I'm just happy I'm not the one who has to keep her on a leash.

About Pantalone

The Regrator is such a stuck up bastard, avoid him at all cost. You couldn't pay me enough to willingly listen to his incessant monologues, always bragging about his newest acquisition. I always make sure to drag my tail along his furniture whenever I visit his office, white fur on black furniture is such a good look. If you do end up meeting him, sounding convincing enough when arguing can make him lose his cool, oh and wipe that dumb smirk off his face for me will you?

About Capitano

If you're waiting for me to gush about his bravery, strength, or dreamy voice, you're going to be sorely disappointed. While The Captain is certainly an honorable man, I just don't see him enough to have an opinion. I've heard about his exploits, it's impossible not to, and think his actions should speak for themselves.

About Signora

I never really had time to get to know The Fair Lady, as I was otherwise occupied before she left for her last mission. I do feel an odd sort of kinship hearing about her past, maybe if fate had been kinder…

About Wriothesley:

Oh you've met The Duke as well? Did you get in trouble or something? I had to sit through a meeting with him once, something about borrowing resources from the institute. I've never seen anyone look so displeased by the coffee I made.

About Furina:

So she wasn't really an Archon? It's not too surprising if I'm being honest, she's always seemed more like a spoiled child, a cake topper if you will. Oh, so that's what happened to her… Makes me feel pretty bad for almost assaulting her once. Maybe I'll speak with Arlecchino about delivering an anonymous gift…

More about Celeste: I

You want to know more? Ah- I think you already know what you should.

More about Celeste: II

From what you've seen on your travels so far, would you say the Fatui are inherently bad people? I used to be of that belief, now I believe that what binds us together is desperation more than anything.

More about Celeste: III

Every once in a while, I find myself regretting not moving to Sumeru. I even passed the entrance exam to the Akademiya and all. Maybe it's for the better, having heard about all the wondrous sights and places to explore, I'm not sure I'd have finished a single assignment.

More about Celeste: IV

There was a time where I could be easily goaded into just about anything to prove myself. I wish diving headfirst into a rock had made me sit down and think.

More about Celeste: V

There's nothing worse, in my opinion, than disappointing those who have hopes for you or are counting on you. That might be partially why your altruistic nature is so confounding, aren't you afraid that something will slip through the cracks? It's so easy to blame fate for our misfortunes which can be both a blessing and a curse. It might sound rough, but in a sense, I'm grateful to my misfortune in Fontaine, it woke me up to the bitter truth that I'd grown complacent.

Celeste's hobbies

There's just something about laying in the grass and watching insects pass by, living their life undisturbed by all our tribulations. Not that I can do it anymore, not living in Snezhnaya, so I've settled for taking care of my little terrarium instead.

Celeste's troubles

I hate when there's dissonance between what people say and what they do, even worse if they themselves are completely aware of it. Is this about someone in particular? No, why do you ask?

Favorite food

If you're thinking about making it for me as bribery, don't even bother, I can't even replicate the taste myself. You still want to try your hand? It's relatively simple in theory, just regular crêpes.

Least favorite food

Seafood. I've had enough of that for several lifetimes. The smell alone should be categorized as a hazard.

Receiving a gift: I

You made this for me? It's good, even if it was poisoned, it'd still be worth it.

Receiving a gift: II

I'll admit, the presentation had me a bit skeptical, but I enjoyed it. Would you show me how it's made?

Receiving a gift: III

This is… Unexpected. Were you really going for this?

Birthday

Birthday? But I'd heard that you-.. Nevermind, if you say so. Happy birthday then, would you like a little celebration? Or perhaps you have a request for something you need? In any case, I hope you can enjoy yourself a little extra.

#crowc: celeste #genshin impact oc #there's a super bad litterbox joke in there and she's not sorry #next on; writing things no one cares about #in all seriousness if you have a genshin oc I recommend doing this; it was so much fun

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collectivecloseness · 11 months ago

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sorry I hope you’re still wanting asks about those yan fruity 4 posts I’ve just seen them all sorry but I’m really intrigued by what’s been going on with ‘the lamps’(?) hinted at or like i don’t know if it’s something you’ve posted about earlier but what happened with the lamp after they kidnapped reader and like why they’re banned and stuff. Sorry if this is late or anything

OMG YES thank you so so much for bringing it up actually bc no I haven’t posted specifically about it yet, I really wanted to talk about this part but it felt too much to add on to the other posts!! But no no no absolutely I’m still loving talking about the yandere fruity four, and especially this specific like Nancy kidnapping au ig you could call it, absolutely do not hesitate to send me thoughts on this scenario you’re absolutely fine hahaha.

And yes, there was a specific incident that lead to the fruity four banning lamps from your room. That and water glasses, ceramic plates, bowls, vases... don’t worry, they still give you lots of flowers though :)

You thought in the first couple of days that they’d let you go. Then if not all of them, maybe some of them, eventually even just one.

But no. The four keep you locked in that room - ‘your new bedroom’, and they only seem to get more into the delusion that this will all work out well and you’ll forgive them, as time goes on.

Once your begging tactics don’t work, and you being smart and attempting an escape only leads to them feeling so much more sympathetic towards you and trying harder to be so lovey dovey, you decide to switch up tactics. Or, maybe it’s less of a decision, and more your emotions switching up as you deal with this trauma, threat, situation, whatever the hell this is.

Specifically, now you’re angry. Of course you have been pissed off, but now you’re ready to fight. You feel rageful. And you’re beginning to get so ballistic that where a few days ago you would have killed an entire town just to protect your friends, now you’re willing to do whatever you have to to either get out of here, or get them to fall out of ‘love’ with you, or at least let them know you’re serious business.

Just not... just not that, you wouldn’t go that far. Honestly? You couldn’t ever imagine doing... that.. to them, even if they have you locked up here. You don’t exactly see them the same way as before, and you never will, but they’ve saved your life so many times, and you’ve saved them. You’ve nearly fallen apart having thought one, or more of them, may have died, or are too close to danger; you can’t imagine losing them after feeling all of that, having been through that pain of waiting, no matter what they’ve done. You can’t feel that way ever again. But are you full of enough adrenaline and rage and justice to draw blood or fistfight your way through them and a whole door if needs be? Definitely.

Robin has come into your room alone one day, Eddie waiting by the door, as she comes to chat with you, check up on you.

You inform her that you can’t possibly be doing well, considering the circumstances, but Robin is pissing you off. Yet again she’s saying that you’re not getting out of here. And she even seems upset that you keep bringing it up!!

You try to have a semi normal conversation with her as you let her sit side by side on your bed- the bed. Hoping beyond hope that she’ll prove how much she loves you and at least talk to the others. You’re sure her even trying, and with you holding the same view, it might sway some votes. But Robin decides to leave you be with a sigh, standing as she turns away from you with a “Y/n that’s not gonna happen. I don’t know how many times we have to tell you, but we’ll keep doing so. Look just rest up because you haven’t been eating. And, you know, Steve’s been trying really hard to make all your favourites!”

She sounds more emotional talking about Steve’s efforts and trying to get you to understand their love, versus actually talking to you about your captivity. “Someone will come check on you again in an hour. But you know you can always ask for one of us if you wanna talk.”

Robin has her back fully turned, with Eddie opening the door and waiting for her, Steve and Nancy both meeting them in the hall too. You’re still on the other side of the bed, so no one bothers to get too close to the door, it’s not like you’re making a run for it this time from there.

But they shouldn’t have let their defences down.

Robin is still facing away from you, just a couple of feet from your open door, when suddenly a lamp is smashed into the wall and door frame in front of her, to the left of her head.

The three who watched from the hall are frozen in utter shock.

Robin stands still too. Before turning around to see you, breathing heavily, and with your arm still out from where you’d launched your bedroom lamp, right on the wall just feet away from her head, all to make your point.

Nancy and Steve quickly move forward, Nancy taking a step into your room for the first time without you screaming at her, but it’s because both of them are rushing and grabbing an arm of Robin’s each, pulling her out of the room so nothing else can happen that can escalate this further.

Robin looks utterly betrayed. Her mouth open in shock, still facing you even as her partners pull her out the room, and her eyes hurt by what you’ve just done. None of them could ever have expected this of you.

Which was weird considering the situation they’ve put you in, by acting so unexpectedly in your mind too.

Eddie looks away from you and to the ground with wide eyes, clearly also shocked and conflicted, maybe even a little ashamed, although who of you’re not sure.

But you keep your eyes fiery with rage, with your body still. Breathing hard, arm still stretched out, but apart from that you’re almost calm. Which is scarier for the others. Like you have no guilt about what you’ve just done whatsoever. Acting out violently, and threatening Robin. Who really had just come in your room, chatted with you, and not done anything wrong at all! She hadn’t even upset you today! Not until then...

They all close the door, and you can’t hear what must be a hushed conversation on the other side. But you just sit down on your bed, staring out the window. And wondering if the others would all restrain you even worse if you had thrown that lamp through there instead, to try and call for help.

Imagining all four of them all pinning you to the bed, you struggling, but your limbs with nowhere to go, their faces... their faces like in your nightmares, determined and scary. And imprisoning you even more. So that walking around in your room, which is all you can do right now, would be a luxury in comparison.

You try to get those thoughts out of your head, when you realise that after your little stunt, you’ll probably be left alone with just your mind for the next few hours.

Eddie comes in with dinner for you by the end of the evening, while Steve follows him in. You notice Robin at the end of the door, but when she catches your eye she looks away after a second, shutting it behind you three.

Eddie makes quick conversation about food and such, but you’re more focused on the way Steve’s completely avoiding looking at you, his head bent like he’s ashamed to do so. And then Eddie’s talking isn’t distracting you at all, because you notice Steve picking up the other two decorative lamps and hauling them under his arms.

When you ask him what he’s doing, even though you know full well, Steve seems shy around you almost. He’s pink in the face, and he does make a bit of eye contact, but mostly keeps his head down. They all agreed they should take the rest of the lamps out. You can tell he’s also sad about the whole you threatening Robin thing, especially since you know how much his ‘family’ is important to him.

If it takes making them unhappy to get them to understand this is not a good plan, then you don’t really care.

Nothing about what you did seems to have effected them too much at all though. And while you were getting more and more enraged at the fact your ‘ex’ friends had not only kidnapped you, but were obsessed delusional assholes, you were steaming even more at the fact they seemed to brush off your threat as if it was a little tantrum. Well, you knew they did take it seriously, but they were trying to act as if it was all okay and they love you just the same and everyone’s just moving on blah blah blah.

The day after your lamp stunt Robin came in with the other three, it was another attempt at getting you to not react so... poorly, to Nancy. And apart from a talk in the morning, and you bringing it up again at lunch, the others had tried to act normal with you. Whatever normal could possibly be with these guys.

The next day Robin came in with your meal, happily chatting away to you - after turning on the main light, considering it was dinner time and dark out. She didn’t even mention what you both knew was a little act of rebellion on your part, sitting in the dark for probably hours, because they took away your lamps. She just chatted with you and tried to hand you the new book Nancy had brought you a couple of days ago, asking if you’ve read it yet. Or if you’d like her to read it to you!

Apart from some spoken arguments on your end in the beginning, you were pretty quiet, as Robin lounged about your room, as she was free to do so in any room of her house, and tried to get you to open up again. Like you were before.

This time, as Robin turned to leave, the door shut closed, and facing your wall in the same spot she’d stood just two days before, you threw the now empty glass of water she’d given you across the room, and you smashed it into the back of her head.

It wasn’t particularly strong glass, and it half shattered the moment you threw it at Robin’s head. You knocked her out cold.

Steve heard the thump of something loud collapsing on your bedroom floor, and he ran down the hall to burst open your room. Upon finding Robin, knocked unconscious face first on the ground, and the broken cup by her side, Steve fell to his knees right by his best friend. Shock crashing through his system like frozen ice in his veins, his heart pumping wildly, as Steve scoops Robin up to his lap, watching her screw her face up and moan smally, as he pressed his hand to her cheek, Robin still remaining unconscious, if not seemingly alright apart from that.

But she was still hurt. The shock was still there. And Steve was very much aware that you, one of the loves of his life, had just hurt Robin on purpose.

“What the fuck have you done?” Steve asks stupefied. His hand on the back of her head coming back with just a small trail of blood, mixed into his best friend’s dirty blonde hair, as he looks up at you horrified. Steve is genuinely just shocked, asking you this.

Astounded and appalled by your actions. But for the first time after this, he looks at you differently. Because you watch Steve cradling Robin knocked out, and you just sit down on the edge of your bed. Nothing else in your hands. And you just look at them.

It’s the first time Steve has ever seen you differently...

But only a second later, Steve can tell there’s some upset in your eyes. You’re not looking at him as he just gawks at you, but with your head tilted down on him and Robin, he sees the shininess of wet in your eyes, a twinkle of deep deep knowledge and thought of your actions, of what led to Robin being like this. And Steve very very quickly remembers that you are just so stressed, he knows it’s not like he just never knew you, any thoughts he could have even started to think in his horror are no longer gonna sprout to his mind. He takes a second in dumb awe definitely, but Steve very quickly remembers just how hard this situation is for you, and of course in such terrible times, people act out in odd ways.

Even though this is not okay, he still understands you the same as he thinks he always has. He knows you’re not different, he knows that very clearly, and he certainly won’t let one incident effect how he thinks or feels about you. This just... none of this is right. And his focus is very much on Robin right now.

You’re crying as the four all take Robin out. They can all see and hear you, even though they’re panicked and fussing over Robin right now. For the first time no one really with you as you cry, as you sob, all just focusing on quickly checking Robin and what happened, as Steve carries her in his arms to take her downstairs. Everyone staggered at not only seeing Robin like this at home after running to Steve’s worried yells for them, but hearing you did it, and seeing you’re not even coming to her now. Your eyes full of tears and sobs aching your chest, as you watch Robin groan unconsciously, before they all take her out.

Even while Robin wakes up on the stairs downwards, just seconds after leaving your room, and as they all apply first aid while Robin is on the dining table downstairs, they can still hear your hearty cries from directly above them.

All their attention is on Robin, tears in their eyes and their touches all either medical or reassuring or loving, as they ask her questions ranging from ‘Can you tell me if this hurts? How many fingers am I holding up? Do you remember everything?’ All three genuinely upset at not only seeing Robin hurt, especially after all their trauma, and especially it happening in their home with all of them there who are supposed to protect her, but the fact you, their love, her love, did this. That you were so pent up from your situation you acted out like this.

The three all stay to console Robin, as she bawls knowing that you’d just done this to her, even as they all brace themselves from hearing your heaved and panicked wails and sobs from up above.

All five of you in agony. But this time none of them coming to try and help you.

Not one of you are even sure if them doing so would make you feel better, or worse, that night.

It was your first break, the first time you really acted not like yourself, not like anyone you ever wanted to be, but what they were turning you into.

You weren’t as destructive as that again. But it didn’t stop you from either acting out of impulsive and defensive anger, or letting them know you were serious.

Like one time with Eddie. He wasn’t one of the worst ones, if any of them could be called so, but sometimes being that meant he forgot his place. Like over a week in, when he very softly brushed his hand down your hair.

You were on his side the moment your spine finished crawling. Yelling angrily, but it was on par with Eddie’s pained yells for you to stop.

You were on top of Eddie’s side, yanking at his hair hard, pulling and scratching at locks of his shaggy mullet as you took literal tufts out furiously.

“Y/N STOP! STOP, STOP IT!!” Eddie yells, trying to push you off, but pained shrieks leaving like cries as it only means you rip more of his long waves out from his head. Eddie trying desperately to get you to stop, pushing not too hard at you because he didn’t want to and because it only made it worse.

You were screeching as you attacked at his head. Ripping Eddie’s hair out and not letting go whatsoever, even when the others were all pulling you off of him so hard it hurt. Your fingers going numb as your wrists were being squeezed, and your hands were being scratched up, as they try to unhook your claws from the knotted fistfuls of Eddie’s hair you’re grabbing onto. Arms wrapped around your body and upper arms tightly, squeezing you hard and painfully squishing you as they try pulling you away, while also soon pinning you down with their own bodies. Having to hurt you just a bit as they try and pull you off of him because you just will not let go. Eddie crying out in pain, you screaming madly, and the others all yelling your name and for you to stop loudly.

They were all acting quick and had to be uncaring about being a bit rough with you as they had to get you off of Eddie now. You were worried Steve was going to break your wrist, even though he would never want to, he was just squeezing it that hard, to the point that hand cramped so you couldn’t even untangle your fingers from Eddie’s knots if you tried. Steve’s other arm wrapped like a python around your body, as him and Robin tried leaning on top of you. All three scratching at the backs of your hands, Nancy’s especially pinching and painful. Gripping your fingers in such awkward and painful ways, as they tried to unhook you from Eddie’s head. But it still took all three of them and Eddie’s help a long time to fully free Eddie from your clutches.

By that point Steve and Robin were sitting on top of your body with their own. Crushing you. You were crying out, pained and panicked and horrified at being in a situation like this. Trying to breathe with them on top of you, made much harder by your sobs, as not only were they shadowing and crushing you, but also as you never ever wanted to be in this position with the stalkers who declared their love for you near constantly, the friends who you now were horrified by.

Eddie went straight to the floor as soon as he was free, panting and crying, looking right at you with those big fucking doe brown eyes, that you can barely see from where Steve’s torso is blocking your view as he shadows on top of you, but those fucking eyes making you wail even harder. For a completely different reason now.

Nancy goes right down to comfort Eddie. Meanwhile you’re trying desperately to get his hair out of your hands as quick as possible. The small strands you managed to get, making you feel sick to now have touching you, for a myriad of reasons. But you couldn’t get them off with Robin and Steve both lying on top of your restrained body. You could only shake your hands and not even purposely. Steve was still restraining your arms too, and now they were in a twisted position that hurt, but the four couldn’t exactly focus on that when they were concentrated on Eddie. Even if you knew you were in a similar amount of pain to what he was in, at least in some way.

They had to restrain you, if you were hurting them, if they had to, you might get a couple of bruises from attacking them, but they would never, ever hurt you apart from that. They don’t want to. And they weren’t hurting you too badly, even now, they wouldn’t do that. You were still their love but you were just acting out in dangerous ways.

Nancy hit you. She knocked you unconscious. She tied you up so much the others had all thrown up at least once from the image since. And then they’d all kidnapped you. You guess, to be fair, they don’t always respond much the other times you hurt them. They even accepted it sometimes.

Although that could occasionally infuriate you more.

Steve comes to check on you and see if you’re hurt, after they’ve all gotten a sobbing Eddie breathing again and somewhat looked over downstairs. You spit in his face. Steve still gives you first aid for your bruises and scratches, and apologies.

Sometimes when you hurt them they’ll stay there and accept it. Sometimes they just simply leave you be. And sometimes they apologise, but you know it’s not just for the recent reason that caused you to hurt them, you know they know what they’re doing to you is wrong, even if they convince themselves it’ll all be good.

Sometimes you didn’t care after one had left and you’d hurt them; you’d think you only really did so when they deserved it, even though for what they’ve done they always deserve so.

Sometimes you feel bad. That’s normally for when you’ve hurt them more than just one quick reaction.

You could slap Robin in the face, and she could look into your eyes with absolute awe and sadness, you’d stay exactly where you were, staring her down. Other times you could kick Steve in the stomach as he was on your floor for something, but the moment you meet his teary eyes, you were sobbing at him to just go, because you didn’t want him to see you cry because of this. It was usually context dependent.

Nancy once left your room with scratches all over her face. Steve was shocked and immediately grabbed Nancy’s cheeks, lightly, to look at her face in all angles, where he waited for her down the hall. Worried about Nancy because of course he is, he loves her and she’s part of his family, but also asking her what the hell happened in there?

They were light scratches, they’d fade soon. At least when you hurt them with your fingernails or something, it wasn’t like an object they could take away from you. Like the fact you now only get plastic cups. Your nails were getting bitten to hell enough anyway.

She’s tried to instinctively push your wrists away when you first started clawing at her face, trying to soothingly say “Y/n-“ but you went for her lips. Nancy leaned her head away from you, backing up, but you kept following. And she kept her hands trying to chase your arms, trying lightly to push you off of her. Getting slightly more panicked when you tried to pin her down and really go at her face, Nancy thought of democreatures pinning her and loved ones down and attacking if that happened, but you were in one of your moods where you were set on your task.

She winced and cried out quietly and tried talking to you, asking you to stop now, that she’d go okay? Hissing and whining and groaning sad you continued wildly scratching at her anywhere you could get near her face, neck and shoulders too a little, dragging them down. And also a little scared, definitely hurt, and worrying the longer it goes on. But she’s managed to hit your hands down in one swoop and back up a couple of steps, and as she knew, that pause made you finally stop. Especially with Nancy telling you she’d just leave now, okay?

Nancy hadn’t even called out for help, even though she had obviously asked and tried to get you to stop. She didn’t want any of her other partners to go talk to you either, not that they’d really ‘punish ’ you much or anything though. Nancy understood, even if she didn’t like the fact you’d do things like this now, no matter how much, she loved you, so so dearly, it would never ever change no matter what you do.

Sometimes they won’t call out to the others if you hurt them, either they think they can handle it, or mostly it’s because they feel like they deserve it. You can get it out, it’s okay, they understand how maddened you must be, and they know they’ve got a lot of making up to do to you, they’re guilty enough to let you do so anyway. Not guilty enough to convince themselves they should let you leave them or anything though. They can’t have that happen, they just couldn’t cope if that..! But even if they’re a bit emotionally hurt at those times, they’re not mad at you.

And unfortunately, they do start to become slightly less surprised by it. Even though at the same time, past the first two - three weeks, your attacks lessen. It would be an odd looking chart.

Nancy’s making graphs of you concerning different things though, it helps her keep peace of mind sometimes. And they all have big family talks about you a lot anyway, more than they even did before you joined their home, so she has all of them to show her notes to.

That scratching at her was still pretty early on after she hit you and knocked you out, Nancy can’t blame you for acting out. Even if she feels right having you here, finally having you home, Nancy felt guilty for hurting you.

The first time she tried to have a conversation with you, after they all explained you would be staying here now, you’d looked at her with such emotion in your eyes as you said “You hit me Nancy.”

Nancy could never forget that. She’d burst into tears the moment you said it, but kept her eyes right on you, her hand to her heart, as you looked at her so betrayed, so hurt, so in shock that she would ever do something like that to you.

“I’m- I’m so so sorry y/n..!” Nancy hiccuped, tears streaming down her pink cheeks as she felt genuine horror at knowing she had hit you. She loves you. She can’t believe she would ever be the type of lover to hit you. After both of you saving each other’s lives. After all the promises she made to your image. Being so sure she and the others were the right option for you, the best way to keep you safe, and loved, and comforted always, your future. She hit you hard enough to make your head bleed, and then she’d taken you away.

The others weren’t exactly comforting her at that point. But Nancy would have directed them back to you anyway, during that conversation. Nancy never wanted to hit you again.

Steve had soothingly applied first aid to the scratches you’d clawed all into Nancy’s face, and neck, trying to ask her if she was okay, emotionally they both knew he meant, but Nancy kept promising she was fine. Even though everyone in the house felt a gloom cloud over the home and all of them each time you became different and hurt someone.

They did understand. And they still loved you. Sometimes you were genuinely scared in that moment, even a little traumatised (they were horrified to think it), and they really didn’t blame you at all in those moments. Usually someone would stay with you to try and calm you down from your panic attack state about the other one going to hurt you, as someone else took them out of the room, to check they were okay.

They really did feel awful for you in those instances. No one treated you differently after them. They were even more caring in fact. Just trying to soothe you into knowing you were okay, they weren’t trying to hurt you, look at them, just look at them, in their eyes don’t look at the other, nothing is going to try and hurt you, they promise, it’s alright, no one is going to harm you here okay? You’re safe.

Steve had been that person to breathe with you once, when you’d repeatedly shoved Eddie hard to the ground, and kicked Nancy to the floor as well, not allowing either of them up as you panickedly kept pushing them down, convinced that one or both of them were about to hurt you. As soon as Robin helped them both leave and shut the door to leave the room quiet, with Steve holding your shoulders and looking into your eyes, his own sure but empathetic, and comforting as well as strong, talking you through how safe you were as you came down from your sudden panic, you’d moved forward in a rattling fearful sob and wrapped your arms around Steve.

Steve felt shame for the fact he thought you were coming to tackle him too, rather than hug him, but he’s sure it’s because he hasn’t felt you hug him since he first untied you in this room. And not leaping at him wanting his comfort in that long either. Immediately, Steve’s wrapping his arms around you, and he’s hugging you just as he’d always do before. Tight, but not too strongly, tender and soothing. He kept you close, as your fists gripped onto his waist and shirt, one of his hands stroking your hair down your head, neck, and shoulders. As he let you place your head into his shoulder, and he pressed his cheek into your head, your hair moving softly together, as he held you in his close arms.

He holds you, he just holds you, he does everything you need right now, that you’ve probably needed for a long time. His words confident and soothing, promising you all the safety in the world. Letting his soft cheek finally press against your warm one again. Actual skin on skin contact, to comfort both of you. Letting him finally be not just the hero, screw that, but your friend again, one of your best friends. Steve’s heart and body full of relief at the fact he’s able to comfort you again. And hugging and holding you lovingly, the same way he did before, nothing more, it wasn’t needed. All Steve needed and all he wanted right then in the entire world was to hug you and make you feel safe and comforted. And so, that’s exactly what he did. Exactly like he would as your friend, and he is still your friend! He would never ever stop, and he’s so so glad you’re letting him be your friend again, just like before.

For two full minutes you clung onto Steve and sobbed, needing your best friend to promise you that you were not in danger right now, as you came down from feeling like you most definitely were. And Steve relished that you were finally able to be comforted by him again, but also that you let him, that you wanted him, and that you’d been so so brave to come to him for it first. You were amazing. You were constantly proving how strong you were. And he loved you, not just like that, but in every single way.

It killed Steve just a little bit after just those two minutes, when you pulled back, and looking right down at the floor, arms wrapped around yourself instead, you quietly asked him to leave now. And that the next day, you didn’t reach out to him or the others, in any way the same. That you seemed even sadder...

But he had told the others what had happened. It at least gave them all hope. All they want is to be able to comfort you again, they just don’t want you to feel like this anymore, and especially not all alone.

#yandere fruity four/reader #yandere Eddie Munson #Yandere Steve Harrington #Yandere Robin Buckley #Yandere Nancy Wheeler #yandere fruity four #yandere fruity four x reader #yandere fruity four drabble #yandere fruity four blurb #yandere fruity four angst #stranger things #anon #ask

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savelockwoodandco · 2 years ago

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Hi Admin, hope everything is fine with you, because I truly need your insight.

Whilst I understand that we must approach a battle with high spirits, the way the world goes and with it the media industry really saddens me.

Are we really gonna get the show back?

Do we think CF or the Strouds will really tell us to stop if they think all is over?

I might be far too cynical, but for the Strouds any publicity brings more people to the books.

As for CF, it's still free publicity.

I know that of course none of them will ever be straightforward with us - if anything is happening behind the scenes - because they can't, I guess, but where does the Clowning stop and become simply Delusion?

I keep looking at CF reply for their 5000 followers, and I get it, it looks sus. But are we building a castle made of thin sand out of it?

I'm sorry, Admin, I don't want to upset you. :(

I will still support the show campaign, but I'm so, so, so sad about everything...

Hi Anon! Thanks for the question, and no worries, you didn't upset us! We've got decades of experience in this media game (and in cancellations specifically), and we understand that it can be challenging and frustrating at the best of times.

We totally get being discouraged due to the state of the media industry. It's never been a particularly kind nor relaxed space, and everything about it seems to have been heightened within the last decade or so. What's good -- acknowledging the impact that actors have, the ability to tell stories that would have gone unseen in years past, feeding fan interaction through behind-the-scenes looks while filming and the newfound safety of transformative works (i.e., fanfic) -- has become really, really good. On the flip side, the bad parts of media -- encouraging division and in-fighting, poor treatment of non-administrative professionals, the blind-eye to any profit beyond exponential growth -- have gotten worse.

This isn't a doom-and-gloom statement, though -- these things come in cycles. The Hayes Code Mentality is coming back into full swing, but at least we're past the point of forcing actors to get married in order to promote their films. Some things improve, some things fall back, lather, rinse, repeat. We get being discouraged due to the media landscape -- but remember, all problems are temporary, and bad things will come and go just as often as good things. The good things, the progress, the encouraging changes are no less good simply because they're accompanied by uncertainty.

And if we had to pick a mission statement for answering this ask, I suppose that would be it. There are so many good and encouraging things that have happened -- watch this space, as I (tumblr mod) am going to have Twitter Mod, in all her beneficence, grab me some screenshots from Twitter to show off good/hopeful/encouraging things that have happened recently, since not everyone (including me!) is on Twitter -- that, while we may encounter doubts, disappointments, and uncertainty, it would be as foolish to throw everything out as it would be to assume that we're completely in the clear.

Recency bias, negativity bias, and plain ol' uncertainty have a way of reminding us that there's still doubt and uncertainty surrounding us in this campaign; at times, to borrow a quote, we can feel like we're braving a storm in a skiff made of paper. When a day, a week, two weeks, or more pass without Absolute Confirmation of being picked up, it's easy to lose confidence, to become discouraged, and to believe that nothing we do matters.

And yes, to just simply get sad. And that's okay, that's normal and understandable.

To answer the question posed at the beginning of this ask: yes, we still firmly believe that we're going to get our show back. So many good things -- Nice Things -- have happened and continue to happen (once again, watch this space for a screenshot-heavy post about those things!), that I think it would be wrongheaded to ignore them.

Yes, CF would tell us if there wasn't a chance. It's not really 'free publicity' to encourage people to support a campaign to save a show that they don't have a stake in.

And yes, they make Lockwood and Co; but without a second season, there's no opportunity to make more profit off of it -- sales off DVDs only apply when the show will be put on DVD, after all, which is increasingly uncommon for streaming-premiered shows. Positive word of mouth of "oh they made that really good show that netflix unfairly cancelled" -- a true statement -- only goes so far when negative word of mouth -- "they led fans on when they knew there wasn't a chance" -- is the trade-off.

CF isn't a huge company, they need that positive word of mouth to draw in viewers for current and future projects. On top of all of that, they're human. It's tempting to see every business, no matter the size, as a soul-sucking machine that wrings fans dry for profit, but that simply isn't true, especially of smaller outfits.

The same goes for the Strouds -- there was so much of a rush for the books when the show first came out; people had to wait weeks and weeks for more copies to be printed and sent out through Amazon/Barnes & Noble/other booksellers, and libraries had hold lines for months. That fervor only holds out so long, though, without something concrete -- another season -- to keep it up. In this age of 'receipts', Stroud isn't going to risk his reputation (and provide a lot of clean-up work for his agent) by stringing us alone without any hope.

Everyone involved in this, from the production studio to the author to us, the fans, has a vested interest in not just creating buzz but in actually making a S2 happen. Simply from a business standpoint, it's better business to supply an in-demand product than to not. Attention spans -- and business experts' opinions of attention spans, which is almost more important -- are famously short nowadays. Businesses cannot and do not plan on a small injection to produce long-lasting loyalty and results -- and when they do, like Netflix has been, it bites them in the rear repeatedly.

The sad, sorry fact is that they can't be open and transparent with us about renewal efforts, you're completely right about that. The legalities of contracts and deals within the media industry demand absolute silence until the ink is dry, and sometimes for a bit after that. To use a recent example, the showrunner for Warrior Nun tweeted in March that the show being saved would be because of fan efforts to make it happen. A full 3 months later, he was allowed to announce that the show had officially been picked up. The wheels of media move slowly, but they move.

When does clowning become delusion? The only situation where it would would be if CF came out and told us to stop and that there was no chance. Barring that, it doesn't become delusion. We like to toss around the term 'clowning' -- and it's a fun term that we, the mods, use regularly -- but all we're referring to is the process of distilling what we see into tangible data.

I don't mean to make it sound like some scientific process, but...isn't it? Isn't this all some grand experiment in the name of a grand hobby?

We plot, we plan, we infer, we record, and at the end of the day we turn all of that effort into tangible results. Those results -- trending every single day since cancellation, usually with multiple hashtags/phrases, numerous articles written about the show, its cancellation, and the efforts to save it, a petition with nearly 25k signatures, award nominations, you name it -- are very real, and very helpful.

While ultimately we can't sign the contracts or enact the business deals that will cement our pick-up -- trust us, if we could, they'd be signed by now -- we can provide strong reasons through our engagement for business to want us. The higher we raise demand, the more of a no-brainer providing supply -- a second season -- is.

To all of LockNation, we thank you for your continued efforts. Your tweets, posts, fanart, fanfic, hashtags, signatures, articles, and most importantly, your relentless cheerful dedication, mean the world. We heartily thank you and we heartily encourage you to take breaks, to take care of yourselves. We're confident that, in the future, we will be able to look down at our little skiff made of paper and find that it was made of sterner stuff than we thought.

We're confident in the continued future of Lockwood and Co. We can do this. Look to other successful campaigns; we may have months to go, but we can get through them and come out the victors on the other end.

#save lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and co #l&co #encouragement post #answer post

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gordontheengineswifenirmal · 5 months ago

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My mum would b thrilled that Kamala Harris is running for president, because she’s female. I like her not simply because she’s half Indian, but because she’s strong, she’s classy. She’s intelligent. She’s a mature woman - she doesn’t show off or seek attention. She shows great potential.

I also have to laugh at jd Vance’s comment.

"We are effectively run in this country via the Democrats, via our corporate oligarchs, by a bunch of childless cat ladies who are miserable at their own lives and the choices that they've made and so they want to make the rest of the country miserable too," Vance said.

Oh for fecks sake. He acts as though ALL mothers are automatically happy being so. Even if u became a mum through rape or had kids n realised it wasn’t as great as u thought. Or whatever. Ok, me life does suck, but it’s NOT because I don’t have kids.

He wants you to think that ONLY childless cat people have mental health issues, and that tradwife lifestyles don’t. There’s a silent oppression and delusion thought process that goes with that lifestyle. It often feels cultish, and can easily entertain abuse. No thanks. Mothers can be just as miserable as what he assumes ALL childless women are. Some childless women do wish they had kids, n that’s valid. Many of us are quite happy that we don’t. We are equally valid. Sometimes, by NOT having kids, we r saving prospective offspring from more health concerns or possible abuse. It’s actually incredibly responsible, and that energy can be better spent elsewhere that’s more productive for the individual.

In fact, if I would have had kids, it would have been worse. I was never emotionally cut out for children, and they’d bring out the worst of me temper. I know this and accept this about me. I would be the best them/make the afraid of me to love me sort. I’m also extremely sensitive to stress, and get overstimulated easily. This leads to me getting rather bitchy. I’m also sensitive to pain. Pregnancy and especially labour often cause intense pain. Kids are loud, they smell, they are full of shite, piss, n puke. Frequently. I’m not worried about ruining the figure, lol. That’s already been gone, n there r far more serious concerns to worry about.

Besides, a lot of parents think they are doing well by their kids by spoiling them. They create entitle, privileged brats who are unable to properly acclimate to society’s challenges. Struggle is a natural part of life, and these folks can’t cope as easily. They also treat others as tho they can walk all over them. These parents teach their kids that they don’t need to move aside for others, it doesn’t matter if their kids run smock n knock into you. They don’t need to apologise. You are at THEIR mercy. They can’t mouth off to u, n that’s fine. Its selfish. Its delusional. It’s vile.

Also, mental and physical health issues run thick in the family. Aside from that, I’m just barely making it meself. I have tried to keep jobs, and ptsd n anxiety (as well as other issues) have led to me quitting or being fired. I’ve applied for well paying jobs, got me degrees, n don’t even get looked at - unless it’s a scam. I don’t even have my own place. The struggle is so real, i rebt a room.

In fact, the therapist and shrink seem to think that me ptsd doesbt affect it, just bdcause to them i can live in roomd. The thing they dont realise is that its either a room, or im homeless. I dont have a choice. Thus doesnt mean that its not without issue. I have to internalise a lot, since no one either acknowkedges the issues, or dont really care. Or both. And when youre in such a position, u put urself more at risk of neing kicked out. Its a battle of ‘whats the bigger evil?’ I often battle depression over frustration in private. The internalising also leads to depression. Tbe everyday stress of cohabitation add more triggers. It literally feeks like im at war, trying to durvive every day. N wbrn a hoysemate has a paramour over, the intense lsnic attacks strike. These r quickly exhuasting.

With all that being said, being childless, and being around cats makes things slightly better. Cats are soft, delicate. They allow me to experience a temporary patience I’m unable to have with people. They make sweet sounds, they cuddle with me, they look at me with soft, sweet faces. They don’t talk back, they don’t insult or abuse you.

Nah, I’ll never regret being a childless cat lady. I’m doing society a favour.

#childless cat ladies #childfree #mental health #mental illness

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unfinishedslurs · 1 year ago

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Nancy's GBF (ghost best friend)

IT'S OCTOBER QUICK POST GHOST BARB FIC

She dreams about Barb every night.

She’s dreamed about her before, of course, but ever since Vecna died it’s different. She doesn’t scream. Doesn’t cry. There’s no blame placed on Nancy’s shoulders, no shrieking accusations about how it should have been her instead.

She’s a silent figure. Unmoving, unfeeling. No matter how far Nancy reaches, or how fast she runs, she can never get close.

Eventually, she comes into focus, and it’s awful because she seems younger than she ever did in real life. Her best friend died a child, closer to her little brother’s age than Nancy’s own now. The red shade of her hair, the exact outfit she had on, it’s all things she forgets in the waking world. But for these few minutes she can have Barb back. Even if she can never hug her best friend again, or exchange secrets, or laugh together, she still has this.

When she wakes up, it’s with tears on her face.

“Nancy?” Jonathan asks groggily, still half asleep. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Later, when he tells her he was accepted to Lenora Hills, she’ll wonder if she could have saved their relationship if she hadn’t started lying too.

Two months after the dreams start, Barb speaks.

“Nancy? Nancy, it’s so cold. I don’t like it here, Nancy, please–”

In that moment, Nancy can finally reach out and take her hand.

She wakes up shivering and automatically checks her surroundings. Mike bursts through her door when she shrieks, her mom not far behind him.

They both try to ask her what’s wrong, but she can’t answer, too busy staring at the dead girl in the corner.

“Nancy?” Barb asks, pool water dripping down her chin. “What’s wrong with me?”

She tries to ignore it.

She’s having a mental breakdown of some kind, that’s fine. It’s to be expected, really. She’s been struggling keeping up with school, and the end of the world, and breaking up with Jonathan. Of course she’d see Barb around every corner. Of course she’d be cold all the time. Of course. And everyone knows the first step of having a mental break is to not feed into the delusion.

She checks with El and Will, just to be safe.

They both look confused when they open the door, which makes sense. She and Jonathan have been split up for a month, she hasn’t exactly been around. Still, they accept her inside without question.

“I need you to make sure Henry isn’t back,” she blurts out as soon as the door shuts behind her. Both of them rear back in tandem, and something clatters in the kitchen.

“Nancy?” Jonathan pokes his head around the corner, bewildered. “Are you okay?”

“Jonathan!” She feels herself flush. Why didn’t she think he’d be home? She knows he doesn’t have a job anymore, and his friend Argyle went back to California a while ago. Where else would he be?

“Nance, you’re pale,” he says, like she hasn’t noticed. As if her mom hasn’t said the same thing a hundred times in the past few days. He reaches out to guide her to the couch, and flinches back as soon as he feels her bare skin. “You’re freezing. Let me get you a blanket.”

She turns and looks at the kids as soon as he’s out of sight, noticing the way Will is rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I’m sorry, I’ve been having weird dreams for a while, and lately it’s gotten…worse, I guess, and I need to make sure it’s not him. It doesn’t feel like him, but I need…I can’t…”

El’s face turns into something determined, and oh, Nancy hates asking this of her. But if Vecna isn’t really dead, if they can get a headstart on his next plan, well. The sooner the better.

Ten minutes later the three siblings are sitting across from her, El tying a blindfold around her eyes as a blanket sits on Nancy’s shoulders. It doesn’t do anything to help, of course. It’s nothing like when Will was possessed but the mindflayer. The heat doesn’t bother her, no matter how many times she brings a spare blanket to add to the pile on her bed or turns the shower faucet to its highest setting. In fact, she can’t feel it at all.

“Close your eyes,” El commands. “Focus. I need to be able to see inside you.”

She grimaces, involuntarily glancing at Barb in the corner. The past few days she’s been weeping nonstop. More than a few times, Nancy has cried with her. Now, though, she looks around the Byers’s new place curiously.

Nancy shuts her eyes.

“Don’t shut me out,” El reminds her gently, and then light floods her vision.

Barb, always Barb. When they were kids they would push each other on the swingset and dare each other to climb trees. The last time she saw her, reassuring her she’d be fine before following Steve upstairs. Vecna daring to taunt her, as if she could ever forget what she’d lost.

A million memories, some she’d almost forgotten. And then it’s over too soon.

El rips the blindfold off, breathing heavily. Jonathan hands her a tissue for her nose, looking at Nancy with so much concern it feels like it’s going to kill her.

“What did you see?” Will asks frantically. “Was it him?”

El shakes her head, confirming what Nancy already knew deep down. “It wasn’t him.”

“Then what was it?” Jonathan asks, eyes still on Nancy. She raises a shaking hand to her face, and it comes away wet.

“Nothingness,” El finally says. “And then sadness, and cold, and dark. And a light. There was a light, and a hand, and then there was warmth and feeling again. But the feelings are bad. They are not Henry, but they are not good.”

“So she’s real?” Nancy’s voice cracks.

“What? Who’s real? Nancy, what’s going on?” Jonathan asks. WIll just looks at her, concern in his big eyes.

El tilts her head. “I think so? But I do not know her. I can’t see her like you can.”

“Who is ‘she?’” Jonathan demands. “Will someone tell me what’s going on?”

“I actually have to go,” Nancy says, almost stumbling as she stands up. She takes a moment to fold the blanket Jonathan gave her so kindly. He’s still trying to get her attention, but she brushes him off as she heads out the door and to her car.

“Nance, please, I know we broke up but I still care–”

“I know!’ She says, whipping around. Barb watches curiously from the corner of her eye. “I know you do, and that’s great, really, but it’s none of your business. I didn’t even think you’d be here, so…”

“Where else would I be?”

“I don’t know, Jonathan, California?” She snaps. He rears back. “Isn’t that where you’re going anyway? Just– stop acting like this is any of your business! We broke up, we’re done, I don’t… I don’t want to talk, Jon! Just leave it alone.”

“Nancy…” he reaches out, and Nancy takes a step back. Barb appears between them in an instant, and his hand passes right through her. He jumps, swearing and turning pale. Nancy feels herself gasp, feeling warm for the first time in days in that split second before he pulls back.

He watches her silently, with those big eyes she’s always been weak to. She doesn’t have anything to say to him, or maybe she has too much to say. Either way, she gets in her car silently, driving off and leaving him standing in the rearview.

For once, she doesn’t startle when Barb jumps into existence in the front seat.

“Byers, huh?” She asks, something like humor in her voice. She always sounds distant now, like she’s underwater, or whispering from across a field. But Nancy understands what she’s saying. She always will.

Barb sighs when she doesn’t answer. “At least his brother’s alive, I guess.”

That makes Nancy laugh, a harsh cackle that would make her jump if it came out of someone else. “Yeah,” she agrees, speaking to the ghost of her best friend for the first time, “At least Will’s alive.”

It’s not like having Barb back. Not really.

She’s bitter, and angry, and she screams and yells and cries all the time. Sweeps her arm across Nancy’s desk like she’s trying to break something, and only gets angrier when she can’t. Yells at Nancy sometimes, which she knows she deserves.

There’s the blame for her death of course, which is nothing new. She’s been having nightmares about that for years. But then there’s the other stuff. The weird questions, like, “Why did you bring me back? Why couldn’t you let it be?”

When she asks about it, all she gets is Barb turning away from her.

“Nancy? Naaaaaaancy. Nance, are you listening to me?”

She turns her head and almost shrieks to see Robin staring at her, almost nose to nose. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for, like, forever minutes,” she complains.

Nancy looks at Steve. “It was, like, forever,” he confirms, staring at her intensely. “You okay, Nance?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “It’s been thirty seconds,” he deadpans.

Robin flops onto the floor. “Forever.”

“I’m starting to think getting you guys high was a mistake.”

“You say that every time. It’s not even your weed.” Steve yanks the dying bud out of his hand, taking a drag that has to be mostly ash at this point and putting it out on the ashtray. They don’t do this often, or at least Nancy doesn’t join them often. She’s not fond of the floaty feeling the weed gives her, preferring alcohol if she’s not going to be sober. But Eddie asked her to come, and Steve and Robin prefer having more people around if they’re going to get high. Something about what the Russians gave them.

She hasn’t seen Jonathan here since they broke up, but she thinks that’s less about them not inviting him and more about everyone trying to give them both space.

Nancy’s gaze has already wandered back to Barb. It’s been a quiet day today, which makes her nervous for tomorrow. But at least during quiet days she can seem semi-normal in front of her friends.

“Nancy? Seriously, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she tells Steve, not bothering to look away from Barb. She looks from Nancy to Steve, this new, older Steve she’s seeing for the first time, and pretends to gag herself on a finger. The pool water that never stops coming out of her mouth splatters silently on the floor. Nancy doesn’t laugh.

“Hey.” Steve moves in front of her, slightly wobbly as he sits cross legged across from her. She can barely see Barb past his hair. “Yanno, Jonathan asked about you.”

“What?” That breaks her from her trance.

“Yeah, he said he was worried about you. I asked him why he was asking me and not you, but he said you didn’t want to talk about it. But he was, like, really worried Nance. So, like, is everything alright?”

“Do you ever dream about dead people?” She blurts out.

All three of them go completely silent, staring at her. She laughs nervously. “Never mind! Never mind, that’s weird. Wow, why did I ask that? I think I took too many hits. Where’s your bathroom?”

“I mean,” Eddie says, after Steve doesn’t answer, “I dream about Chrissy all the time. How could I not? Shit was a real life nightmare, of course it made its way into my dreams.”

Steve shakes himself. “I guess I dream about Billy, but that’s different. I mean, it’s still a nightmare, but it’s not like…” his hand drifts unconsciously to the faint scar on his forehead. “It’s not about the Upside-Down, I guess. It’s not the same as my other nightmares.”

“I have dreams where people die all the time,” Robin declares, scooching herself across the floor until she can lay in Steve’s lap. “They suck.”

“Yeah, but are any of the dreams ever…weird to you guys? Like they’re not normal nightmares? Like they’re there all the time, just staring at you, and you try to reach for them but you never can?” She asks desperately.

The three of them look at each other, and shake their heads.

“Cool,” Nancy says, palms sweating. “Me neither.”

It’s raining when Mike storms into her room while Nancy is trying (and failing) to do college prep. “What is wrong with you?”

Barb starts laughing, a gurgling, chilling sound that Nancy heard once and made her summarily decide to never make a joke again.

“What are you talking about?” She asks, eyes flitting between Mike and Barb. “Get out!”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” he accuses. “You’re not even looking at me!”

“Maybe I just don’t want to see your dumb face.”

“Fuck off!”

“Michael!” Their mother hollers.

He rolls his eyes. “Ugh, sorry!”

#stranger things fanfic #nancy wheeler #barbara holland #ghost barbara holland #nancy's gbf au #barbs got JOKES in this frankly nancy should have laughed at them smh #the idea of barb coming back somehow to see how nancy has changed since she died is so intriguing to me #in my mind vecna dying released the spirits he was holding and somehow nancy's freshly reawakened regrets were so strong she like #summoned barb somehow instead of letting her rest or whatever #so thats what barb means when she asks nancy why she couldn't let her go #this doesn't happen with anyone else bc uhhhhh reasons. i am no longer taking questions at this time #or maybe max is going through the same thing #OHHHHH THAT WOUD BE SO FUN TO WRITE I LOVE NANCY AND MAX PARALLELS

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