#it's not actually that big of a deal we all have our own preferences

[riririnnnn]

I have this foreboding feeling that while we are prepared for Sae's and Shidou's backstory, Nagi's backstory is going to sneak from behind and punch us in the gut.

No, I don't think it's going to be straight up depression like Kaiser's, but I do think that it'll hit close to home.

You see, Nagi got Laissez-faire parents which means they never really interfered with his life. Like, these type of parents—as I have read on some websites—will basically set their child free and let them do whatever they want with no or very few rules/restrictions. They will not tell you, "Oh! You should do this!" or "Oh! You shouldn't do this!" They will simply let you figure out your life all by yourself.

I'm not an expert on this and I'm not calling this type of parenting bad in any way. Every child is different with different needs, and I'm sure there are many who grew up in this kinda family and liked this parenting method. However, I do think that Nagi didn't like it that much, and I got two reasons to think this way:

1. "That's nice."

When Reo said that his family constantly meddles in his life, Nagi's immediate reaction was, "That's nice" instead of being surprised or disgruntled. If Nagi really liked his parents NOT meddling in his life, then he should've said something like, "Really!? Sucks to be you, Reo. I can't imagine living a life like that!"

You getting me?

Also, we all know how Nagi is—he definitely feels that telling someone to do or not to do something is a hassle, so he, probably, feels that if someone is doing all this for you, then you are important for them.

And before any one says, no, I don't think Nagi was tying up his tongue thinking, "They are his parents. They wouldn't want anything bad for their own child, right? I shouldn't say anything against them and should say good things about them just to be safe." I don't think he has this kind of filter in him.

2. "Don't die ."

So, why would you not want someone to die? Of course, because you care for them and want them to be with you.

"Want"

That's really what I'm tryna highlight.

It's a pretty common knowledge that some children are just naturally more independent while others are a bit more dependent and seek guidance from the elders. Considering Nagi's first reaction to knowing about Reo's parents' meddling, I think that Kiddo!Nagi falls into the latter category—someone who likes to be guided and helped by the adults. Now, place Kiddo!Nagi with his Laissez-faire parents... You are getting where I'm going with this one?

That's why I think that Kiddo!Nagi, probably, thought that his parents didn't love him/care for him. And what happens if someone doesn't love you or care for you? Yeah, they don't care if you die which, somewhat, explains why Older!Nagi was happy to hear, "Don't die [before us (probably)]" from his parents.

I have already talked about his potential backstory before too, so it was actually when I heard he had longer bangs as a child that made my head turn to him again—something felt odd.

I understand that having long bangs is not a big deal—Niko's bangs literally cover his eyes, but having it as a kid is way different, y'know. Once you are like 12-13, you somewhat become capable of doing your own hair and clothes by yourself, so you can manage whatever aesthetics you prefer. However, for a kid younger than that, it's the parents' responsibility to look after his/her hair and clothes, and we all know that long bangs are quite bothersome—blocks our vision, sometimes stabs the eyes, and even irritatingly itches the nose.

All in all, till his backstory drops, I'd firmly believe that he was, though unintentionally, a neglected kid—at least, emotionally.

Now I can't get this image out of my head where Kiddo!Nagi is longingly staring at other kids in a park where everyone is learning things like riding a bicycle or maybe playing baseball and stuff with their parents while he is just.. there, probably, all alone.

[earthtooz]

what is your opinion on pineapples on pizza 🎤

*steals the mf mic from you aggressively* 🎤 AMAZING. NO OTHER WAY TO SAY THIS. people who don't like pineapple on pizza just a) saw that suddenly everyone is hating on pineapples on pizza and decided to be SHEEPS and joined the trend, growing faux animosity for such an innocent fruit, or b) just don't like pineapples LMFAOOOOO

sorry i evidently love pineapples on pizza 🍕🍍, i think they're a good topping! they add a hint of sweetness that's not too overbearing and when you have an overload of such salty things, something sweet and acidic is a nice addition to add. plus they're crunchy.

i will never not advocate for pineapples on pizza.

but thanks for asking, wbu u anon? what's ur opinion of pineapple on pizza? imagine you tell me that you HATE pineapples on pizza and i'm just gonna have to sit here like: oh... that's fine 😐 LMFAOOOO I'M KIDDING

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ 13

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,940ish

Summary: The team goes to the Statue of Liberty to stop Magneto.

Warnings: violence, injuries

Notes: I know that I've been updating this a lot. I hope that it's okay!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! (I’m now including this as its own section because people keep not reading it in the notes.)

When you and Logan went back inside, you found out that Jean had tried to use Cerebro after finding out that Charles had been poisoned. She ended up finding out where Magneto had taken Rogue, but it had taken a good deal of strength from her. The team gathered in the briefing room to come up with a plan. You had noticed that Logan was sticking close to you, not close enough to touch, but close enough that you knew he was there. You were all surrounding the pin table, allowing Scott to take the lead and use the table to show information.

“Magneto is here,” Scott said as the table changed to show the location. “Liberty Island. Presumably his objective is to mutate the world leaders at the U.N. Summit on Ellis Island.” 

“He doesn’t know his machine kills,” Ororo said, “and judging from what the Professor saw, if Magneto gave Rogue enough power—“

"He could wipe out everyone in New York City,” Jean finished.

“All right,” Scott said, “we can insert here at the George Washington Bridge. Come around the bank, just off of Manhattan. We land on the far side of Liberty Island. Here.”

“What about harbor patrol?” Logan asked. “Radar?”

“Magneto would have already dealt with most of the harbor control,” you replied. “Besides, if they have anything that can pick up our jet, they deserve to catch us.”

“Suit up,” Scott ordered. “I want to be in the sky in ten.”

You headed out to grab your suit, with Logan following. He had left his suit on the floor when the two of you found Charles. You stripped yourself of your clothes, leaving you in shorts and a sports bra, before pulling the suit on. Logan stepped around the corner in his suit as you pulled the leather up. 

“Here,” he mumbled, coming closer. 

He carefully unfolded some of the leather and zipped up the back of your suit. You inhaled sharply as Logan’s fingers grazed your skin.

“Thanks,” you told him.

Logan gave you a nod before following you to the jet. He zipped up the front of his suit as he sat down and tugged at the collar before slipping gloves over his hands. You could tell that this whole situation was uncomfortable to him.

“You actually go outside in these things?” He wondered.

“What would you prefer?” Scott retorted, as he prepared the jet for take off. “Yellow spandex?”

Logan gave you an unamused look with you giving him a small smile in return. The engines revved and Scott began to fly the jet.

“Whoa!” Logan exclaimed, closing his eyes briefly.

Remembering Logan’s thoughts on flying, you reached across the small isle, holding out your hand. He looked at it before shaking his head. You hated how your heart ached at the rejection. As you began to pull your hand away, the jet jostled and Logan quickly took ahold of your hand. You gave his hand a simple squeeze in acknowledgement, trying not to make a big deal out of it for both his sake and your heart’s.

The flight was short and before you knew it, the jet was above New York City. Logan let go of your hand and released his claws, causing them to form openings in the leather gloves he had on.

“There’s the bridge,” Scott stated. “I”m takin’ her down. Storm, some cover, please.”

Storm’s eyes went white and fog filled the sky. Scott flew over to Liberty Island and hand the jet land in the water with a thud.

“Sorry,” he apologized.

“You call that a landing?” Asked Logan.

“Let’s please save the fighting boys,” you said as you got up and opened the top of the jet.

The team followed you out of the jet and onto the island. It was normal for you to take the lead on missions, so no one put up a fight.

“They’re going to be in the torch,” you said, glancing at Logan. “Come on.”

Entering the building, you realized that the security had already been handle. The only sound was from a small television about the Summit happening nearby. You walked through the metal detector, not even thinking about it. Suddenly, the alarm wailed and you spun around to see Logan cutting down the detector. He looked over at the rest of you, leaving his middle claw up. You rolled your eyes and continued carefully through the room.

Logan paused next to you, sniffing. “There’s someone here,” he said.

“Where?” Scott asked, looking around.

“I don’t know. Keep your eye open.” Then he continued walking forward.

“Logan,” you called, put his hand signaled for you to stop while he kept going. “Damn it.”

“Anything?” Scott asked.

You looked over to see that Logan had returned, but from a different direction. Taking a step back, you began warming up your hands.

“There’s someone here,” Logan responded. “I just can’t see ‘em.”

He released his claws and before he could attack Scott, another Logan had tackled him to the ground. The two began fighting. Scott stepped up to use his lasers, while flames covered your hands.

“Wait!” Both Logan’s shouted. One of the Logan’s quickly hit a cord that shut a door between you and them.

“All right, back up, back up,” Scott ordered.

Before he could do anything, another mutant made their entrance. Their tongue attached to a pipe, they came swinging in, kicking Scott down between doing the same to Jean and Ororo.

“We’ve got him!” Jean shouted at you. “Find Rogue and Logan.”

You nodded, running off. You quickly found stairs and began heading up them. Hearing footsteps behind you, you spun around, throwing a fire ball.

“Hey!” Logan shouted, ducking before he could get hit. “It’s me!”

You readied another fire ball. “Prove it.”

He reached down his suit and pulled out two sets of dog tags. “I have yours with me.”

You nodded, calming down your flames. “Alright.” Logan came up the steps to meet you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Though he didn’t ask if you were okay, you could see Logan’s eyes studying you for any signs of injury. “Let’s go.”

You and Logan made it to the head of the Statue of Liberty with the others not too far behind. There was a hole at the top that allowed you a view of the torch. 

“Everybody get out of here,” Logan suddenly said.

“What is it?” You asked, moving to stand beside him.

“I can’t move.”

Suddenly, Logan went flying to the wall. You were next, the two of you facing each other as metal bands kept you there. Ororo was secured on a wall by herself while Scott and Jean found themselves in a similar situation as you and Logan. Magneto lowered himself into room.

“Ah, my brothers,” he greeted. “Welcome.” Magneto turned to face Logan. “And you, just point those claws of yours in a safer direction.” Though Logan tried to resist, his fists were placed on your chest. If his claws released, it could kill you. Magneto smirked as Sabretooth entered the room and took Scott’s glasses. “You better close your eyes.”

“Storm, fry ‘em,” Scott ordered.

“Oh, yes. A bolt of lightning into a huge copper conductor. I thought you lived at a school.” Magneto placed his hand on the commutation device in his ear. “Mystique? Mystique!”

“I’ve seen Senator Kelly,” Jean told him.

“So, the good Senator survived his fall. And the swim to shore. He’s become even more powerful than I imagined.”

“He’s dead.”

“It’s true,” Ororo confirmed. “I saw him die. Like those people down there will die.”

“Are you sure you saw what you saw? Why do none of you understand what I’m trying to do? Those people down there control our fate and the fate of every other mutant! Well, soon our fate will be theirs.”

“Help!” Rogue shouted from above. “Please help me!”

“You’re so full of shit,” Logan spat, anger evident. “If you were really so righteous, it’d be you in that thing.”

“Help! Somebody help me!”

Magneto floated up without saying another word. Logan suddenly groaned, sweat collecting on his forehead. You could feel Logan’s claws pricking at your skin.

“It’s okay,” you told him. 

“I’m trying—“ Logan was clearly struggling. “I don’t want to—“

“I know. It’s going to get hot real soon and you’re going to let it happen.”

“What? Y/N, are you—“

The metal around Logan gave way, having been heated up. Before Logan knew it, he was falling to the ground, his claws scratching you all the way down.

“Y/N!” Jean exclaimed as you cried out.

“No, no, no, no, no.” Logan was quickly on his feet, examining you. His claws had cut through the metal, allowing him to grab you and carefully move you to the ground. “Y/N, I am so sorry… why did you do that?”

“I’ll be fine,” you told him. “I’m healing.” Logan looked and could see your skin healing together into scars. You could tell that it wasn’t enough for Logan. “Logan, I’m fine.” Sabertooth growled, reminding you all of his presence. “Deal with him, I’ll free the others.”

Logan nodded, turning around and quickly started a fight with the other mutant. Their fight soon took them on top of the Statue of Liberty, allowing you to free the others by heating up the metal. Jean quickly gave Scott his glasses back while Ororo came to your side, helping you up. Sabertooth suddenly jumped back into the room and you blasted him out with your fire. You stumbled back, still weak. Logan jumped down and quickly steadied you. Your heads all snapped to look up when Rogue screamed again. Magneto had started up the machine.

“We gotta get her outta there,” Logan stated. “Cyclops, can you hit it?”

“The rings are moving too fast,” Scott replied.

“Just shoot it!”

“I’ll kill her! Storm, can you get me up there?”

“I can’t control it like that,” Storm said. “You could fly right over the torch.”

“I’ll go,” you said.

“Oh, hell no,” Logan shook his head. “I’ll go. If I don’t make it, at least you can still blast the damn thing.”

“You have a metal skeleton, Logan! Magneto can stop you. I’m going.”

“You won’t heal if Rogue touches you!”

“Yes, I will!” 

Before another argument could break out, you used your flames to shoot you up. You could hear the call of your name from below, but you didn’t care. It was too risky for anyone else to stop the machine and Magneto. You landed on the torch, beside Magneto. The radiation from the machine began to travel outward. Magneto raised his had to try to stop you, but soon found that there wasn’t enough metal on you. You threw some flames his way, causing him to stumble backwards and fall down. 

“Ah!” Rogue cried out, part of her hair turning white.

“I’ve got you, Rogue,” you told her. 

You set your hands on the machine and began focusing your energy into it. The machine melted, causing the radiation to suddenly stop and Rogue to fall forward. You caught her, realizing that she wasn’t breathing.

“Come on,” you whispered, trying to get Rouge to wake.

“Y/N!” Logan shouted. He knew what you were going to do. “Don’t!”

You placed your hand on her head and she began to take your power from you. Your wounds opened up on your chest and you began bleeding out. Rogue gasped as she came to and pushed you away from her. You fell back, unconscious.

next chapter >

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking someone not to make my art about a ship I hate?

This happened a couple months ago, but I’m still kinda unsure if I handled it correctly.

Basic rundown of events: I posted some art of a character on their own in the evening, and when I woke up the next morning, someone had reblogged with an addition about a ship that’s a big notp for me. I messaged them to ask they delete it as politely as possible, because people had been interacting with that version of the post specifically and it made me uncomfortable. They responded by saying I was being immature and needed to learn not to police what other people do on the internet. We exchanged a couple more messages, and I tried to explain my position my throughly. Neither of us was overtly hostile or anything, but I felt extremely talked down to by their tone of voice. After our conversation, we both blocked each other, and that was that. They never did delete their addition.

Why I think I might be TA: we weren’t exactly friends or anything. Neither of us followed each other. I’d seen them around in the fandom, and they’d reblogged some of my art in the past, but I think messaging someone I didn’t know instead of just blocking them might have been a bit of an overreach. Plus the ship in question is canon, and not particularly controversial or anything, so most people in the fandom probably wouldn’t have minded.

On the other hand, the ship being so unavoidable is a big part of the reason it upset me so much. It’s hard for me to exist in this fandom without having to see it constantly, and I don’t even ever mention the other character in it for fear of this exact thing happening. I’ve had people be assholes on my posts about the ship I prefer, or go out of their way to interpret my romantic posts about them platonically, or add tags to my art about how they only like my ship as backstory and not endgame. I don’t want to have to put a disclaimer every single time I post about this fandom. I just want to enjoy the things I like without being negative all the time. Which is why I figured messaging privately was more polite than making a stink where everyone could see. I specifically mentioned that I knew they wouldn’t have known and wasn’t mad.

No one actually ended up reblogging their addition, which is also a strike against me, but I got a lot of likes on specifically that version of the post, which made me scared they were going to. I hated the idea of having to turn off reblogs on a piece I’d worked pretty fucking hard on because a version I found so upsetting was in circulation. If it was just tags, I’d have blocked, but it being an addition is different. I don’t think asking people not to make my posts about it is “policing what other people do on the internet”. You’re in MY house, on MY post with MY art I spent hours on. Making additions to art posts already seems somewhat rude to me, that’s just not something you do, but I guess that’s a matter of the corner of tumblr culture you’re used it.

Also, their response felt very aggressive and condescending. They implied I was, like, a kid, and I do think I’m somewhat younger than them, but the only information about my age in my bio at the time was that I’m an adult, so it felt like a rude assumption. My age doesn’t have anything to do with it.

Again, though, I do absolutely see how my initial message could read as entitled. During the rest of our messaging, I did lose my temper a little bit at one point; I said something about how I’ve had to deal with shit in this fandom before, and I don’t remember the exact words since, again, we both blocked each other, but I know I swore at them. That might’ve come across as more aggressive than I wanted, and probably didn’t exactly help deescalate. (Can’t say for sure, I don’t have their side of the story)

Like I said, this situation was a bit ago now, but it upset me pretty bad at the time, and I’m still not entirely sure who’s in the wrong. So, AITA?

(Also to get ahead of this: please don’t make this about shipcourse in the comments. It’s not about that. They and I have similar opinions on that discourse from what I’ve gathered anyway. Thanks.)

What are these acronyms?

[lynzishell]

The Past 💛 Atlas

I’m at my desk trying to focus on writing code for our game, but it’s slow going. Distracted by my own thoughts, I find myself staring out the window in front of me more often than not while my fingers rest on the keyboard. Ash sits patient and unbothered on my bed, playing on my Switch while he waits for me to finish.

We’re quieter today than usual, both of us tired and mildly hungover from the night before, but still determined to make some progress today.

I try my best to clear my mind, to focus on the screen in front of me and listen to the music coming from my Lin-Z speaker, quietly singing along and bouncing my leg anxiously to the beat. Every once in a while, Ash chimes in, singing a line or two along with me, and I realize how often I make him put up with my playlist even though he much prefers his own. But I have a specific one that helps me when I work, so he usually doesn’t protest too much.

As I sing the lyrics to Your Silent Face for about the thousandth time in my life, and still never tiring of it, I hear Ash join me in singing the last line, “You’ve caught me at a bad time. So, why don’t you piss off,” and we both chuckle under our breath. Over time it’s become a joke between us, ever since the day he walked up to me at work to invite me out for a drink and caught me singing the line aloud.

I think about that night at the bar often. Sitting in the dark corner, like we were in our own world, nothing in the universe existing but the two of us, talking until the bar closed. I remember how disappointed I was when we were eventually forced to leave, how nervous I was as we stood on the edge of the sidewalk. And I’ll never forget the first time that I kissed him.

I can’t help but wonder where we’d be now if I’d let things continue, if I hadn’t gotten in my head and panicked, if I hadn’t pushed him away. And I want nothing more than to set things right.

As he sits behind me on my bed, I can’t stop thinking about the last time he was there and the words he said to me. I wish I’d handled it differently. I want to take it all back. To tell him he was right. But I don’t know how. Ash is the easiest person in the world to talk to, and yet, every time I think of opening my mouth to say anything I have a deep sense of dread that it will come out all wrong, that I’ll somehow make everything worse by doing so.

“I have a question.” The sound of Ash’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I stop typing, suddenly nervous, though I’m not sure why.

“What’s up?”

“The whole I-don’t-date-people-I-work-with thing, is that for real? Or is it your way of letting me down gently?”

I’m a bit confused by his question. Could he really think I’m not into him and just saying that to spare his feelings? “No, I meant it.”

“Why? What’s the big deal?”

I get up from my desk and walk over to join him on the bed as I think about how to answer. I hate that I suddenly feel the need to defend an argument that I don’t fully believe, but what else am I supposed to do? Say never mind, I was full of shit? Or actually I’ve changed my mind, let’s forget about it. I can’t do that. So, I give a reason, and secretly hope he makes a solid rebuttal that will give me the opening I need to take it back, “It’s messy,” I say, “Like, if we get in a fight or break up, and still have to work together, it’s just—”

“Messy?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay...” he stands and walks over to my bookshelf, looking over it like he’s suddenly very interested in my old worn-out copies of Tolkien books. I have a tendency to reread the same books, the same way I listen to the same songs over and over. I suppose I find comfort in the familiar. Maybe even more so than most. I’m tempted to make a comment about it, but I know Ash well enough by now to know that he’s not interested in the books, that he’s thinking carefully about what he wants to say next, so I wait. Eventually, he turns back to me, “So, if we didn’t work together…?”

“Then, it’d be different.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up into a smirk as he walks over. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of me, his legs between mine. He tilts his head to the side curiously, “Different how? Show me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s pretend for, say, five minutes, that we don’t work together.” He leans forward, bringing his hand up to my cheek, his face mere inches from mine, the spices from the chai tea he drank on his way over still lingering on this breath, and I feel a rush of heat fill my face and neck as if the very nearness of him has set me alight.  

“Five minutes?”

“Mhm,” he grins, “Five minutes. What would you do differently?” His eyes take on that playful glimmer that makes my heart race. I know that look. He knows I know that look. And it all goes to my head until all I can think about is pulling him back onto the bed with me.  

 “Set a timer.”

He smiles as he pulls his phone from his pocket, the warmth of his hand still lingering on my cheek as he slides his thumb over the screen before turning it around to show me it’s set for exactly 05:00. “Starting… now,” he presses the green button and tosses it onto the bed.

I waste no time, reaching for him as soon as the phone leaves his hand, and pulling him with me as I lie back. He falls on top of me with a startled laugh.

I don’t have the luxury of taking things slowly, of savoring each second the way I normally would. Instead, I roll him over and kiss him fiercely. Our legs intertwine, and I hold him as close to me as I can, wishing we’d had time to remove our clothes so I could feel his skin against mine.

Our kisses become deep and passionate, and I start to resent the timer counting down, my awareness of it preventing me from fully giving in to the moment. I’m tempted to reach over and turn it off, but I can’t do that, so instead I move my lips to his jaw, following the path of his birthmark and burying my face in his neck wishing I could pause time through sheer will alone.

And then the timer goes off. A series of loud beeps brings the room back into focus, and we pull away, breathless and laughing.

“Time’s up,” I say as I prop myself up on my elbow.

“Damn. I should’ve gone for an hour.”

“That would’ve been dangerous.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Guess you’ll never know,” I laugh as he pushes me away playfully so he can get to his phone, still beeping behind us.

The sounds of Blue Monday coming from the speaker take the place of the alarm as he shuts it off and slides the phone back into his pocket. “Okay, well,” he looks over at me, “you’ve convinced me.”

Convinced him? I suddenly feel as though I’ve missed something along the way. “Convinced you of what?”

“I’ll put in my notice on Monday.”

Everything inside me halts. My heart, my breath, every cell in my body stopping in their tracks. “You’re not serious.”

He shrugs as though what he’s saying is no big deal, “Why not? It’s just a job. I’ll find another one. Question is, is that enough? Or are you gonna make me wait the two weeks until I’m actually gone?”

My body restarts again, overcorrecting and going into overdrive, panicking at the idea of him leaving, of not seeing him every day. Getting coffee, going for walks, eating lunch, telling stupid inside jokes over IM and hearing him laugh from across the room… all of it… ending. “I… I don’t want you to quit.”

“Well, if you won’t let me be both, then I choose boyfriend over co-worker.”

“Wh- boyfriend?” A fresh wave of anxiety pours over me at the word. I mean, I get it, we’re obviously not just friends, I don’t think we ever have been, and we’re clearly incapable of being casual, at least with each other, so boyfriend makes sense, but hearing him say the word only reminds me of how incompetent and inexperienced I am when it comes to real relationships.

“Or am I just a piece of ass?”

“What?! No, of course not, it’s not like that.”

“What’s the problem then?”

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I have no idea what I’m supposed to say. My head spins, scrambling to come up with something... I can’t let him quit his job just to be with me. It’s too much. And I don’t want to not work with him. But I can’t tell him I want him to stay and be with me. Not after all the time I’ve spent insisting he can’t. Even if I could, I have no idea how to be his boyfriend. Not for real. But isn’t this exactly what I wanted?

I have to find a way to talk to him, but the longer I stay silent, the harder it is to find the words as they get crowded out by the growing chaos of conflicting thoughts swirling around my head like an out-of-control Tilt-A-Whirl.

Next to me, I feel his shoulders slump, and I know I’ve let him down… again. “Right.” He says this as if my silence has told him everything he needs to know. “I can’t keep doing this with you, Atlas," he sighs, "I’m tired of the mixed signals. I wish you could just be honest with me. When you're ready to do that, let me know. But I’m not going to wait around much longer. I can’t.”

I reach for him as he gets up to leave, “Ash, wait.”

But he shrugs me off, “Nah,” and continues out the door.

Once he’s gone, I lie down on the bed wondering how the hell I’ve managed to fuck this up yet again.

Maybe it was stupid of me to think I could do things differently.

And, if that’s the case, maybe it’s time I let him go.

As this realization sinks in, I feel my heart start to break, slowly at first, small fissures splintering, then shattering all at once as I stare silently at the floor, my throat tightening as my body tries desperately to remember how to cry, to give some kind of cathartic release for the pain. But, just like me, it fails yet again.

Prev // Deja vu // Next

[booksandcleverness81]

Coming out of hibernation just to say that Love, Theoretically was a good book. No, a great book. I like Ali Hazelwood's formula, I like her characters, I LOVE that she writes about women in STEM and uses her books to advocate for fairer practices in academia.

Modern romances are almost all written with the same general structure. I read a lot of them (and write some), and while some tell a really good story and create memorable characters, the majority are generic cookie cutter stories that I forget about as soon as I close the book.

Most romance characters are archetypes. Most plotlines are derivative. There is always miscommunication. Popular tropes are popular for a reason.

Ali's specific version of this genre has tall grumpy men who are misunderstood. It has academic collaborations that force proximity. It has quirky women trying to figure out how to human while unpacking trauma, fighting mysogeny, and dealing with inconvenient feelings they don't know how to navigate for men they don't realize are their biggest advocates. Then they have a happy ending where everyone gets what they deserve and progress has been made in the STEM world.

This is Ali's universe. I loved it the first time, I loved it the second time, I enjoyed it in her novellas, and to no one's surprise - I loved it this time. If she keeps creating complex characters that I can actually care about and root for (something many romances fail to do) then I will keep reading. Hell, if every single man in her books continued to be an Adam Driver clone I would never tire of it, because a well written romance is a well written romance.

If you do not enjoy Ali's formula, why are you still reading her books? Just stop. We all like different styles, tropes, character types, etc. and I'm not judging anyone for not enjoying her writing. But it feels to me like the big complaint is that she has written a romance... And it's familiar... And we'll, duh. So few romances stand out to me, I feel this way about most romance authors. It's all the same in some way or another. But Ali's writing speaks to me, her stories move me, her characters feel familiar and comfortable in a way I rarely find in other books, and in a world where 1000's of romances are published every year, I feel like we can all find our own version of that without shitting on a talented author who writes books that a lot of people love.

We all have the option to DNF and move on with our lives if something isn't our preference. Let people like things. That's all I wanted to say.

Thanks, Ali. Love, Theoretically was sublime.

[ananke-xiii]

ah yes, of course I have more to say. This time it's not about a specific comparison/trope, more about how angels are perceived by viewers (but also partly by writers, too, tbh).

anything about angels being ethereal and divine etc: I think sometimes the non-in-universe view warps what's canon when it comes to angels. For instance, the way we the audience commonly perceive angels sort of interferes with the in-universe depiction of said creatures. Like, maybe we see angels as ethereal, celestial, incomprehensible figures but in SPN they're anything but. We can very much understand their motives, their feelings and what their agenda is. It's totally not beyond human comprehension, as amatter of fact, it's very much human but it's also NOT human at the same time because angels don't have the same morality as humans do and their notion of "good" and "evil" is quite peculiar, if they even have one. This is also why the "halo and a harp" joke is thrown around quite a few times as a reminder that SPN angels are not "our" angels.

The same misrepresentation happens when it's about angels and love (and sex). It's pretty clear that in SPN (hashtag not all but many) angels are actually very, very, very much interested in sex and love. I'll concede that they tend to confuse obsession for love and that there's a lot of repression/suppression/sublimation/you name it going on in that department but, frankly, it's not something so inherently alien that humans can't relate to.

Anyhow, I don't think it's only the audience's fault, though, as I see SPN writers implicitly inserting their own personal view into the story as well. For example, the idea that Lucifer is the "primary agent of evil" in s14 after we've spent a whole season dealing with how God has traumatized and abused both his own sister and his own "son" and how said sister has, in return, abused and traumatized Lucifer doesn't exactly hold up. I mean, if there must be one primary agent of evil in SPN everything seemed to point to Chuck well before s14's big "reveal". Moreover, from their first appearance in S4 angels have perhaps wreaked havoc more than demons and other monsters combined. Lucifer is admittedly a big problem (among other things because he is an abuser and a general piece of shit) but he's not the only problem in paradise (lol).

Related to the first point, how Dean's in awe with Cas because he's a celestial being etc: this is something that I read in a lot of fics so it's just both my own personal taste and my fic preferences (I like when fics stick to canon as far as possible because I like to see how different minds might have developed a particular storyline) that differ from others and that's fine, to each their own. The thing is, I don't really see it. Maybe S3-4 Sam was more in awe with the idea of angels but after Lucifer I don't think the guy's particularly moved by them. As far as Dean's concerned, I actually see him hating on angels the most. Vampires can be okay, werewolves maybe, he's surprisingly okay with demons as well, but angels? He doesn't like them at all. And I mean this, this is actually interesting because out of all the creatures in the world he hates (and who have hurt him and his family) he ends up getting a best friend/consort who belongs to that particular flavor he just can't tolerate and who probably hurt him and his family the most ("Angels are just monsters with good PR"). As in: Dean finds Cas amazing because he's Cas, not because he's an angel but he IS an angel nevertheless and that alone causes some problems. It makes for a very interesting moral dilemma and an engaging angle to explore where a good chunk of their issues stems from.

[sysmedsaresexist]

Personally, as an OSDD system who's anti-endo, I think I'd be much more okay with endos if they'd separate themselves from CDDs, if they'd just use different language and claimed to be their own thing instead of saying their experiences are "just like ours", I wouldn't have a single problem with them at all, and I've seen a TON of other anti-endos share this sentiment, but I'm curious about what your take on it is.

/i think this post comes across a bit more negatively than I intended but I'm not sure how or why or what to fix. My tone isn't directly at you or anyone in particular, I'm just sort of rambling to myself. Anyone is free to discuss on this post, bring up other terms, or just ramble about your own thoughts.

I completely agree. I'm pretty open about that, and I've had several interesting conversations since I changed stances.

It's not necessarily an anti endo only stance. You can be pro endogenic and anti shared spaces/language.

CDDs = childhood trauma disorders

Endogenic systems = something else that can still be real and valid

The English language = surprisingly limited

I would love if there was a better divide in language, but I don't see it happening, so the best I can do is focus on CDD education. As young people move into system spaces, it's important that there be accurate info on CDDs in any system space, including inclusive plural spaces. You're not getting resources into those communities unless you're willing to talk to them.

But let's talk about language and the words we use.

I think the polls a couple posts down speak for themselves-- endogenic systems are moving towards plural language. Most prefer to be called plural over system.

Problem solved.

Now we can deal with internal family systems, computer systems, and the justice system coopting "system" for their own use 😤 /hj

As for alter, again, plurals would really rather not be called that. You'd offend most if you did.

System hopping was never ours, the proof is archived for everyone to see.

Everyone on this planet dissociates to some degree, and CDDs aren't the only dissociative disorders, so we don't own that.

Introjection is a general concept in psychology that everyone does.

What language are we fighting over?

And if it's just "system" why aren't we more angry about IFS and multiple selves theory? IFS directly compares itself to DID, and I consider their description of DID to be inaccurate. More people and clinicians know about IFS than plurality. Let's go be mad about that.

I've yet to meet an endo who says their experience is just like mine, and I've talked to a lot. At least ten, probably (I'm probably one of the most blocked accounts on system Twitter). Search my tag #shit endos say and bask in the glory of the most wonderful bullshit you've ever read. Several hundred posts, and I think I've only seen it happen like twice? I don't say that proudly anymore, but the posts are still up because we still laugh at misinformation here. It happens, I'm not saying it doesn't happen, but I think proper education might be best the route to go to avoid overlap.

From someone who's been in this way too long, the problem isn't as big as it seems, I promise. Doctors are well aware of the difference, no one is being tricked, the articles are real and valid, and incomparable to CDDs. They just released an article about how Christians can hear God as a separate stream of consciousness, and they tested tulpas at the same time. Give it another year, the article will be out eventually.

Anti endo is a dying stance, but we can still prioritize CDD content. And hopefully it helps someone who sees it.

But they're not going to see it if I'm anti endo, or if I can't hold a decent conversation and question their self perception every chance I get. Medical autonomy is real, even if it can be frustrating.

Google multiple selves theory and see just how long this has actually been a thing people have experienced. Look outside of psychology and into theories of consciousness, philosophy, and anthropology.

Don't limit yourself to learning only one thing.

[ooihcnoiwlerh]

New chapter is up for my Feyd-Rautha/Reader fic. I'll provide the AO3 link here: And I Don't Want Your Heart - Chapter 3 - ooihcnoiwlerh - Dune (2021) [Archive of Our Own]

But if you'd prefer to read it here I can provide it under the cut. As you can imagine, there are trigger warnings for this fic in general as well as this chapter.

TW: arranged marriage, forced marriage, dubious consent, implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced incest, heavy violence, first times, rough sex, blood kinks, and of course Feyd-Rautha who is his own walking content warning.

If you haven't read my fic yet I do recommend reading the prologue and first chapter to get what's going on. It's all on AO3.

CHAPTER TWO: THE MOMENT YOU'VE BEEN DREADING

“It’s time, Na-Baroness.”

You turn to look at her.  She keeps her head down.  “We need to get you to your bedchambers to prepare,” she adds.

You take a breath.  He and everyone else need you to be living and healthy at least for the time being.  You’ll be able to manage whatever happens tonight, you tell yourself.

You give a small nod, reach for your goblet, and finish the contents in three big swallows before setting it down.

Your mother sees you get up and her eyes widen just a fraction.  You smile at her as you make a detour to wish your family a good night.

“I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast,” you tell your parents.  Afterwards all off-world guests will be going home, and you’ll have to deal with the fact that this desolate killing field of a planet is your home now.  You try not to think about how you probably won’t be seeing any of your family again until the next wedding or funeral as you give each of them a crushing hug.  When your younger sister hugs you back, you wonder if she’s thinking about her future, if she’s terrified that she’ll have an even worse match.

“You look beautiful, Y/N,” Father tells you as you pull away from his embrace.  When he looks at you, you can tell he’s thinking, I’d give anything right now for you to have been born a son.

“Thank you, Father,” you tell him, thinking, Come on, now.  You can’t put me up to this marriage in the first place and then act as though I’m going to my execution.  You need for them to have hope that you’ll be okay.  One of you has to believe that I can get through this.

You sense the Baron watching you.  You can feel his distaste at the open sentimentality but he doesn’t say anything, so it seems that he’ll allow it.  How kind of him, you think bitterly.

When you start to move past them your mother tugs at your wrist one last time and you turn to face her.  She doesn’t say anything, so you end up speaking for her.

“It’ll be alright,” you say softly, taking her hands.

She almost smiles, then swallows.  “I should be the one saying that to you,” she says.  You just give her a small smile of your own and kiss her cheek.  You end up letting go of her hands first, but it takes only the first tug for her to relinquish yours.  You resume your trek out of the Great Hall when you reach the head of the table and stop, remembering one last obligation before you go.

You need to pay your respects to the Baron first and it makes you hesitate.  You don’t want to talk to him, don’t want to look at him, don’t want to even think about him.  His nephew strikes fear in you, but there’s a kind of revulsion that the Baron inspires that is tangible even as you can’t quite explain it.  Even if you didn’t know his reputation as a bloodthirsty warmonger that makes your father seem like a pacifist by comparison, even though you’re sure that there’s more you haven’t discovered yet, even with the limited interactions you’ve actually had with him, he makes your skin crawl.  You step forward, eyes downcast, incline your head, and dip into the deepest curtsy you can manage in your gown.

“Thank you, Baron, for your gifts, your kind reception, and your hospitality,” you tell him.

After a pause he seems to think you’ve expressed an adequate amount of gratitude and says, “May you continue to please my lovely nephew,” he responds, voice low enough that your family won’t hear but the people next to him will.  He knows that you know what he means.

Contempt and shame war within you.  You refuse to look up at him.  “Yes, Baron,” you manage, face flushing.  Your hands shake.  You rise and turn away.  Idrisa’s there within arm’s reach to escort you out.

It’s a long stretch of silence to get from the Great Hall to the Harkonnen private chambers, but neither of you know quite what to say that you’d be willing to risk anyone hearing.

She guides you back into your bedchambers.  Once there, you stand in the middle of the room, frozen and useless.  “Will he want me in this?” you ask after a moment.  You picture him tearing the fabric of your underskirts, maybe slicing your bodice with one of his hidden blades.  It’s easy to picture him desecrating a symbol of your union.  It’s also easy to picture him simply pulling down your undergarment, bending you over the nearest flat surface, and debasing you as you’re still fully clothed.

Idrisa shakes her head.  “The Na-Baron had some specific requests.  He’d like you out of this,” she says.  “I’ll help you.”

She’s so gentle with her touch and the meticulous way she undoes your bodice and arranges your skirts that it unnerves you rather than soothes you.  It’s such a contrast to how you’re certain you’ll be touched as soon as you leave these chambers that you tremble at her fingertips.

“It’ll be alright,” she says softly.  “You and the union between the Houses is too important for him to seriously hurt you.”  You don’t miss the disclaimer of ‘seriously’.  You have nothing to say to that, only watching as she sets the gown back on the mannequin it arrived with and turns to you, in just your boots and undergarments.  

You sigh and take care of your boots and the stockings underneath as Idrisa reaches into your drawers for a chemise and robe.

“He wants you to take off your undergarments,” she says over her shoulder.

“Of course he does,” you mutter, working on those next, stripping down bare.  “For ‘ease of access.’”

“It’s not an unreasonable request,” Idrisa says mildly, taking your discarded clothes and handing you the chemise to put on.  “We’re almost done.”  She sets down a pair of slippers for you to step into and gives you your robe before taking a step back and taking inventory of you.  She tilts her head and bites her lip.

“Hair down, I think,” she says.  “Your make-up held up well, so we won’t need to reapply anything.”

“We could, you know.”  It’ll buy me some time to collect myself.  Although that isn’t entirely true; you’ll still be just as nervous an hour from now as you will be five minutes from now, and you both know it as Idrisa quietly arranges your hair into a style she thinks your groom will find suitable.

His chambers, as it turns out, are just next door.  “Thank you,” you tell her when you get inside.  It’s a large room, as austere as all the other rooms but the limited furniture within it is of high-quality.  A black armoire against the opposite wall with dressers and a desk and chair to match, and then of course the bed.  

It’s a massive four-poster with a steep headboard.  You can’t help but notice rings and hooks lining each bedpost.  You don’t think you’re ignorant by any means, considering your overall lack of experience, but you’re not sure what they could possibly mean.  In the next room you can faintly hear the sound of running water.

“The Na-Baron is finishing up in his bathroom.  He’ll be ready for you in just a moment,” Idrisa tells you, before reaching for your robe.  You instinctively move away, wanting the barrier between your skin and the suddenly oppressive air of an unfamiliar room.

She holds on, undeterred, to your sleeves.  “The Na-Baron said that he would have his wedding gift already unwrapped and in bed waiting for him,” she says apologetically.  

You think of your father’s words from days ago (“oiled and trussed up before being thrown into his bedroom”) and take a breath before shedding the robe and stepping out of your slippers yourself. You don’t look at Idrisa as you raise the chemise up and over your shoulders before tossing it to the floor and once you’re completely bare try to cover yourself with your arms as you take a few steps back.  It feels dumb; she’s already seen you naked and so will the man on the other side of the bathroom door in just a minute, but you want to hold on some semblance of modesty in this unfamiliar room.

Idrisa looks away as she picks everything up.  “I’ll leave you to your privacy, then,” she says.  

“I’ll be nearby,” she adds, folding your clothes and setting them on the dresser and the slippers on the floor just beside it.  She glances over at you one last time as if to say, Good luck, before turning and leaving.  The door clicks and you’re left in silence.  The water stops.

Better get moving, then, you think as you stare at the bed.  You wonder briefly what such an intimidating piece of furniture has seen over the years, and you’re honestly not sure how to present yourself once you reach it.  Do you lie on your back, like you’ve been told, is the civilized, kind manner in which to take a bride?

You think of the way your groom prowls, the way he kills.  He’s barely civilized and he’s certainly not kind; the animalistic way he moves and looks at you suggests that he’ll fuck you like an animal too, on all fours and without preamble, but the idea of getting into that position, of presenting yourself to him in such a way, makes you wince the moment you imagine it.

So you compromise and settle on your side, facing the bathroom entrance where he’ll soon emerge.

Your heart races as nearly a full minute ticks by before the door opens and Feyd-Rautha emerges, as naked as you are.

You try to stay composed and keep a sense of demure composure about you as you take inventory of him and what is meant to go inside of you tonight.  He is indeed smooth everywhere, and half-hard.  You digest the fact that even without a full erection, he's larger than the limited sample size you've witnessed.  You think that it’s kind of funny that he looks more powerful naked than he does in his armor, or even in his undergarments but to your relief he’s also as unarmed as he can possibly be.  And if this is to happen, it is a comfort knowing that it will be with a man whose body you find beautiful to look at.

His eyes drift over yours, mapping everything as he takes his fill,of the rest of your body.  “Have you ever taken a man inside of you?” he asks.

You shake your head and try not to let your nerves get the better of you as you wonder how much this is going to hurt.  He sees the fear in your eyes, though, as he crosses over and slides into bed alongside you without another word.  Your breath hitches, your heart pounding.  Not for the first time he makes you feel like a rabbit in a field.  It’s hard to reconcile that and the excitement within you; perhaps it’s adrenaline.

He slowly angles you to lay back as he props himself above you.  Your pulse thuds in your ears and you hear your own gasp as if it’s coming from somewhere else.

There’s a moment he’s looming above you, and you’re caught between fear and a growing heat between your legs, your nerves on end, before you surprise the both of you.  Without allowing yourself to think about it you lean up, cup the back of his head and pull him into a kiss.  This much you’ve done before, anyway.  You hope that it’ll help ease you into everything else.

It catches him off-guard, which gives you a brief sense of satisfaction, feeling like the playing field has been leveraged, before he kisses back.  He seems to like it, the hint of a challenge, and responds in turn by deepening the kiss and pressing his tongue into your mouth.  After a moment’s hesitation, unsure where to put your hands, you find that trailing them along his arms and back feels right.  

For the first minute it actually feels nice.  Then the first brush of the tip of his cock against your stomach makes you gasp.  You can feel him filling out the rest of the way and try not to look down.  It won’t help settle your nerves at all to see just how large it is when fully engorged.  The soft skin of it bumps against your bare stomach again before he shifts his legs so both are between yours, forcing you to spread your thighs around his hips.  He breaks the kiss and watches your face as he shifts one hand from beside your head to between his legs, taking himself in hand.

You clench your thighs and gasp, heart racing.  Without thinking you give a small cry when he guides his cock along your slit.  You feel stupid for it; he’s not even inside of you yet, but you can feel yourself seize up.

He pauses, as if trying to gauge something. Then he releases himself to slide his fingertips between the apex of your thighs instead.  Your chest heaves as you think about how you’re the only one who’s ever put a hand there, and even then only a few times.  You have enough time to think that you’ve never felt more helpless in your life before he brushes his fingers along your slit, all the more sensitive for the lack of hair, and then brings a thumb to the bud between your legs you only discovered for the first time a few years ago by accident.  He circles his thumb lazily, watching your stomach clench and your lips part in a gasp.  You shut your eyes, the intimacy of it already more than you could’ve anticipated.

“Look at me,” he says sharply, and you force your eyes open.  He tilts his head ever so slightly as his thumb presses down and your hips arch up.  You hold onto him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you bite your lip, trying to breathe normally.  He blinks as he takes in your reaction, his gaze traveling from your face to your hips before moving his hand, shifting his fingertips to your entrance.

The press of one finger inside of you is a stretch, unfamiliar but not unpleasant once you adjust to the feeling of being penetrated for the first time, and you want to look away, embarrassed at just how exposed you are to this man but as soon as you do, he repeats, irritated that he’d have to say it again, “Look at me.”

Your eyes snap back to his.  He curls his finger inside of you and your mouth falls open in a silent cry, your stomach clenching, and he tilts his head slightly, pulling his hand back to add a second finger alongside it, and this time the burn of it’s just a little too much.  You try to pull your hips back, face pinched in discomfort, and he gives a frustrated exhale as he tries twisting his fingers, only to get the same reaction.  He pulls his fingers out, and seems to think about what to do next.

He glances down at your chest, at your stiffened nipples, and lowers himself down onto his forearms, his head down to your breasts, teeth and tongue scraping against one, then the other.  As you whine and cradle the back of his neck you wonder if this is like a game for him, trying to see what noises he can pull from you where, and doing what, as he travels from one part of your body to another.  You try to collect your breath as he stops, traveling lower, his body sliding almost serpentine along the length of the bed and you can’t help but watch the muscles in his back and shoulders.

You briefly notice that there are old scars there that you hadn’t been able to see properly in the semi-darkness of the fighting halls.  They look like lash-marks that span from his shoulder blades to the tops of his buttocks.  But that’s the last coherent thought you have before Feyd-Rautha’s face disappears between your spread legs and you cry out, back arching at the first contact between his mouth and your lower lips.

You were expecting and fearing a lot tonight but hadn’t accounted for your groom licking your newly-shaved privates.  It’s shocking enough that it takes you a moment to understand how nice it feels.  You pant and squirm, your moans pulled out of you with each swipe of his tongue along your slit, each flicker of it against your bud.

“Oh!” you manage, incapable of saying anything else as your thighs shake and you wish he had hair that you could bury your fingers in as he laps at you.

When the heat of it really starts to build and your whines start sounding more desperate, the very core of you slick along his lips and tongue is when he stops.  It’s all a means to an end and as far as he’s concerned he’s done more than enough to prepare you. 

He ignores your whimper of protest as he pulls away and props himself up above you again, taking inventory of your flushed face and chest, your parted and kiss-swollen lips.

Good, you’re ready, he seems to think.  He lines himself up, and your breath hitches as you shut your eyes.

“Keep ‘em open,” he says immediately, and you relent, gazing up at a pair of eyes that glint nearly silver, pupils wide.

The blunt head of him is wide, and you realize that the preparation, his fingers and tongue, weren’t enough to ease the passage.  He’ll tear you open.  He watches your face and the growing panic in your eyes and presses forward.

Fear is the mind-killer.  It is the little–

The first press of him knocks the air out of your lungs in a sob.  You lurch up, clutching at his back as your inner thighs clench around his sides as he thrusts in the first couple of inches.  You squirm around him, shifting, hoping to get unstuck like you’re a worm on a hook.  He just pushes in deeper with a grunt, his hand clutching your hip to keep you still so he can bury himself within you the rest of the way.

It hurts, you want to protest, as if he can’t tell already.  As if he doesn’t enjoy how he’s skewering you onto him.

You’ve been in worse pain than this.  Remember when you broke your arm when you were nine?  If it weren’t for the fact that you’ve never felt more vulnerable in your life to the most frightening man you’ve ever met who–you hope–is now fully inside of you, you’d almost laugh.

Virgin sex: not as painful as breaking an arm.

You dig your nails in.  Feyd-Rautha gives a breathless laugh and a sharp thrust that has you crying out and digging your nails in deeper.

“Does my little pet want to get her claws in me?” he says, the first time he’s spoken in several minutes.  You try to relax your hands, just gripping onto his back.  “I didn’t say ‘stop,’” he adds.

He likes pain, the Reverend Mother told you.

Well, alright, then.

You grit your teeth and scratch down the length of his back.  He groans, a rumble deep in his chest before pulling out nearly to the tip of him and pushing all the way back in again.  It helps, in a way, the feeling of reciprocating the pain.  The difference is that you’re barely tolerating it, but he’s enjoying it.  He seems to like the pressure of your kneecaps digging into his sides, the nails down his back.

Curiosity strikes and you reach up and pull him down close enough to bite down on his collarbone and he gasps, hips stuttering for a moment, a moan pulled out of him before he resumes thrusting into you with deeper rolls of his hips.

You’re not sure when the moment happens that you start to adjust, the sting of it fading to a sore stretch.  You still feel impossibly full, but the ache of it feels like a minor tear, not like you’ve just been split in half.  

It’s soon after that he draws the first real moan out of you since before he entered you and it gives you pause; the stroke of his hips had been just right, you’d tilted yours in just a way that actually felt good in a way that tugged at your insides.  After a moment he tries again and you can’t help but make the same noise, holding onto him as the push and pull of his thrusts finally starts to feel right, like an act that’s natural rather than a punishment.

It’s then that he pulls out, and you yelp in shock; you were only starting to get adjusted to having him inside of you and he hasn’t spilled his seed yet.  You barely have time to understand what’s happening as he flips you onto your front and hauls you up, grabbing your hips.

It feels like another invasion, the angle tighter.  You won’t be able to hold onto him or take your pain out on him.  You scramble to get your forearms under you as he well and truly starts fucking you.  You hadn’t realized that he’d been holding back at all.

You do realize, though, that he not only tolerates your hair but likes it, when he wraps your tresses around his hand and sharply tugs like your hair’s a harness.  You can’t help any of the desperate noises that you make, shaking, as you’re repeatedly pulled back onto his cock.  The heat of tears builds in your eyes as you lower your head, only for him to tug it back by your hair. 

You give another cry, which spurs him on.  Pleasure, pain, it seems like it’s all the same to him so long as he can keep pulling desperate sounds out of you.  He speeds up, goes harder, the snap of his hips against your ass loud to the point of obscene within the echoes of his room.

And then you feel it, warm and viscous inside of you as he gives a choked moan, grunting as he thrusts into you one last time and holds still, his hands still on your hips.  You gasp, freezing, before moaning even though you're not entirely sure if you like the sensation of it or not.

You feel him pull away from you and twist onto your back, your legs bent to avoid colliding with him, as he kneels on the edge of the bed and wipes his bloody cock off on the sheets.

You catch your breath as you bring a hand against your forehead, trying to think.

It’s done; you got through it. 

He turns to look at you, at your parted lips, your breasts rising and falling as your breath evens out, your inner thighs where a small smear of blood remains, and wordlessly brings a thumb to the tacky skin there.

You blink, eyes widening as he looks you in the eye and licks off the already-drying blood.  He tilts his head, still looking between your legs, when his fingertips slide against your slit, collecting both a little blood and a dribble of his seed that leaked out of you.  Without a word he settles back over you and brings his fingers to your lips.

You try to think about what he’d want from you at this moment, and all that comes to mind is to mirror him.  You try to shut out the part of you that feels revulsion at the sight and the smell and part your lips.  

You can’t look away from him as he presses the calloused pad of his thumb on your lips and pushes further, onto your tongue.  You want to flinch away at the salt of your blood mixed with the viscous salt of his seed, but with his other hand he cups your jaw.  His movements could be seen as gentle and if he were a different man this act could be seen as intimate, but no, not with him.  He’s trying to humiliate you, you’re sure.  Because he then says, quietly, “Close your mouth,” and you hesitate, face heating up with shame, before you do.

For a moment you want to pull back and spit the mixture back out into his face.  There must be a flicker of that want in your eye because he tilts his head in a silent challenge.

Go on.  Try it, he seems to say.

You want to, but you do the opposite, the new goal to be to catch him off-guard again.  You force yourself to taste the residue from both of your bodies off his fingers.  You lick delicately around the digits and watch his eyes widen just a fraction.  You do it again, slowly, realizing that you’ve surprised him again.

He pulls his fingers out, his full lips parted.

“Don’t swallow,” is all he says before crushing his mouth against yours. 

You didn’t think you were ignorant, but you don’t fully understand what this is, what it’s called, why he’s enjoying it so much.  It’s a tool you think you might have but don’t have any frame of reference for and aren’t sure how to use as he groans as the liquids merge between you in a desperate open-mouthed kiss.  You just know that you’re learning enough to keep him interested.  He lays fully against you, and you have enough time to think that his chest feels nice pressed up against yours before he reaches in between your legs to feel the puffy, bruised apex where he’d buried himself.

Is he already getting aroused again?  

You get your answer when he flips you onto your stomach for the second time and pulls your hips up just enough for him to settle behind you.  For a moment you lurch forward, away from his grip but of course he pulls you back.  Alarm sets in.  I need time.  I’m still recovering from the first time you split me open.  You hear yourself whine as he slides his rapidly-stiffening cock in between your tender folds as if to plead for his mercy.  He doesn’t grant it, moaning at the desperate sound.  You realize that he’s working himself the rest of the way in his own hand before pressing it back up against you and pushing inside of you in one sharp thrust.

In some ways it’s easier; you’re sufficiently stretched out at this point to take him inside of you, and the combination of blood and semen’s added second and third coats of lubrication.

But then he’s rougher; there’s no preamble, no brief moments of letting you adjust to the intrusion.  He goes hard and fast on your torn and bruised insides, and this time he doesn’t say a word.  All you hear are beast-like grunts as he pulls you onto him.

Just finish.  Please just finish and get it over with, you think as your cries become hoarse, and then nothing more than pathetic whimpers.  That in itself seems to spur him on, how much he’s wearing you out and taking you to the very limits of what you can handle. 

You collapse the rest of the way onto your front, panting and sweaty, and you shut your eyes when you can sense he’s almost done, shuddering as his thrusts become more erratic and he finally–thankfully–comes, filling you up a second time and you could cry with the relief of it.

He holds on for a moment, as if trying to make sure as much of him as possible stays inside of you as he settles down, his front against your back, his breath against the nape of your neck.  And then he pulls out and you wonder if this is how it feels when a person who’s just been stabbed feels the knife leave their body right before you sense him turn and fall onto his back against the sheets.

You remain on your front,  the side of your face resting on your forearm as you just don’t have it in you to move again.  You just hope that Feyd-Rautha’s finally done for the night.  You turn your head to the other side to look at him and confirm.

His penis looks a lot less intimidating when it’s soft and resting against his thigh.  You watch his chest rise and fall and briefly think about running a hand over it, and long the ridges of his abdomen even as you can’t say you’re proud of yourself for the instinct.  He just seems almost docile now, reclining on his back, after he’s rutted inside of you twice. It's almost like wanting to pet a sedated dog that had been trying to bite you.  You watch him raise one leg slightly, enough to bend his knee, and you notice more scars along his inner thigh that are even paler than the rest of him.  They don’t look recent, but not as old as the ones on his back.

He turns his head and looks at you, and reaches out, bringing a hand to your backside, lazily caressing a cheek before bringing his palm down in a hard smack.  He smirks at how the soft flesh jiggles and at your responding yelp.

“It was right there,” he says by way of explanation.  You’re tired enough that you can’t help but snicker as you keep your head pillowed on your forearms and try to focus on the softness of the sheets under you rather than the unrelenting ache between your legs.  You look at each other, him likely surveying the damage as you catalog him in what is probably the closest he ever gets to a relaxed state.

“Can you stand?” Feyd-Rautha asks after a moment.

You’re not entirely sure you can move your legs.  “In a moment, maybe,” you admit.

“Then take a moment,” he says.  “Then you can call your girl to take you back to your quarters.”

You get up on your forearms to get a better look at him.  “You’re sending me away?” you ask.  You don’t mean the hurt tone in your voice.  Not that you even want to stay the night, but his dismissal feels insulting.  You’re the one whose insides are sore and bleeding, after all.  Is he not even going to give you more time to recover and just relax here?  Maybe kiss you one last time?  

“It’s more practical if I do,” he says.  “I’ll be up a few hours before you tomorrow.”  His tone is so matter-of-fact that any trace of intimacy over the past couple of minutes dissipates into thin air and you remember who you’re with.

“Right.”  You look over at your clothes on the dresser.  You wince at the effort, but turn to your side and sit up facing away from him.  You can feel his stare burning into your back.

You wince as you sit forward and try to get your limbs to coordinate with you as you shift your legs.

You look down at the sheets and wonder if Feyd-Rautha’s going to have someone come in to clean them immediately after you leave.

No, you realize.  He’ll have someone come in to put down new ones, certainly, but he’ll be holding on to the bloodied sheets.  They’ll serve as a trophy, proof that he deflowered the heiress to the House of Y/H.

You don’t look back at your new husband as you get up, shakily at first, needing to hold onto the bed to stabilize you.

You need to walk gingerly, and the feel of Feyd-Rautha watching your discomfort makes it worse.  You feel tears build again, this time from anger.  You think to yourself that you might’ve been able to handle everything else tonight better if he were a little kinder to you afterwards, and gave you something to temper the roughness as he’d prepared you beforehand.  And here he is smugly watching the pain you’re in because of him, congratulating himself on how he wrecked your virgin cunt.

This is fucking undignified.  I’m part of a Major House, too, you think as you pull on your chemise and step into your slippers.  Finally you’ve decided that you’re not going to let this insult pass and turn to him.  He’s sitting up, his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped loosely around them as he watches you and that somehow makes it even worse.  “Is this amusing for you?” you demand, thinking, Of course it is, you stupid girl.  He and his kind get off on this sort of thing.

He looks neither embarrassed nor smug, but leans forward a little as he considers you.  “You did well tonight,” he says. 

“Thank you, Na-Baron,” you say coldly as you reach for your robe.  

“I like it when you call me husband,” he adds, and you glance back at him.  “That’s what you should call me when we’re alone together.”

You look at him a moment longer.  You realize that this is just about the closest he can get to being kind to you, at least tonight.  Whatever tenderness he’d shown when he first touched you was to serve his own purpose.  Now that he’s taken what he wants there’s nothing else to give you.  It’s not even intentional cruelty on his part, you don’t think.  It’s just the absence of everything else.

With a resigned sigh you pull on your robe and give him a curt nod.  “I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow, husband,” you tell him, pad over to the door, and open it just far enough to see Idrisa standing post just outside.  You head into the hallway and shut the door behind you without another word or glance backwards.

“How much of that were you able to hear?” you ask her.  

She tries to spare you.  “The walls are thick, Na-Baroness,” she says, and you’re even more grateful for the short distance to your chambers than you’d been before.

At your bedside you notice that there’s a jug of water and a glass, then beside them a dish.  You head for it to inspect closer and it turns out there are two small white tablets.  You turn to look at her.

Idrisa shrugs one shoulder.  “Part of the benefits of being promoted to your attendant,” she says.  “I felt it would be safer to take precautions and assume you’d need pain relief after…” she trails off, realizing there is no polite way to say getting fucked hard for the first time by a man who delights in your pain and just repeats, “after.  I spoke with a Healer who agreed that it would be safer to plan for that.”

As you reach for a tablet she adds quickly, “I wouldn’t take more than half if I were you.”

You pause, the tablet to your mouth.  “Why?” you ask.

She hesitates.  “I wasn’t sure how severe your pain would be afterwards,” she says.  “I really didn’t know how to predict so I requested two tablets.  Looking at you now, half a tablet should suffice.”

You look down at the dish and then back at her.  Just how badly did you think tonight would go for me? you want to ask, but then realize that there are some questions you don’t actually want answers to.  

You smile at her in gratitude, snap the tablet in half, and wash it down with the offered water.  “Will it help me sleep?” you ask.

She inclines her head in the affirmative.  “Now let’s get you cleaned up and ready for bed,” she says.  

“It’s alright.  I can handle the rest myself,” you tell her.

Her brow furrows and she frowns.  “It’s my duty to look after you,” she says.  

“I understand, but right now I need to be alone,” you tell her.

She looks nervous, as if her dismissal is some kind of failure on her part and something for which she’ll be punished later.

“You’ve done a great job,” you tell her.  “But the best way to take care of me tonight is to let me do this myself.”

“Whatever you wish, Na-Baroness,” she says finally.  “Good night, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

……………..

You pad over to the bathroom and a minute later find yourself sitting on the edge of your bathtub with a warm, wet towel in one hand as you inch up the hem of your chemise with the other.  

You wince at the first press of the towel against your tender skin.  You don’t want to look directly at the damage, wishing you still had hair down there to obscure some of it.  You shut your eyes as you wipe around your inner thighs.  You wipe directly between your legs and the sharp bite of the pain makes you briefly double over.  After a moment you look down at the used towel; there’s not as much blood as you thought, as it feels like it was spilled out of you, but you’re going to have to wring it out and start over if you want to feel clean.  Maybe you won’t feel clean again.

The reality of it all hits you, sharply, and you feel like you’ve been stabbed and a part of you realizes that the worst is yet to come.

For the first time since finding out you would be linked to Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, you break down and cry.

[limi-strology]

Astro observations II

Decided to make a part 2, didn't expect the first one to get more than, like, 50 notes 😅

Based on just my personal experience, might not be true for everyone! ᵔᴗᵔ

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ Contrary to the stereotypes, I don't think I've ever met a two faced Gemini. They honestly seem pretty cool people, they have so many friends and they just know how to communicate, you know? Their relationship with their partner looks really wholesome to outsiders too (but could be just me viewing it this way, lol). If anything, I think they just stand out more, which makes it a bit more difficult to approach them. 🤷‍♀️

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ Gemini sun girls also have something aesthetic about them, like my cousin has a nice academia aesthetic going on in her life and a classmate from uni has this high-end fashion sense, she looks really pretty everytime (For some reason, when I think of Geminis, I'm envisioning luxury parties with champagne and brands like YSL and Louis Vuitton, that's the vibe I get) ✨

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ People with Sagittarius in their big three (sun, moon, rising) are some of the most outgoing people I know. They have so many connections and, once their schedule allows it, they start planning coffee dates, hangouts with their friends, clubbing etc. A friend of mine can literally NOT stay at home the entire day, he just HAS to go out or meet up with people for at least 2-3 hours. 🏙️

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ To the fellas with Moon opposition Neptune; How do you guys deal with moments in life that don't live up to your expectations? You know, when your imagination goes wild and has a very idealistic scenario of a certain situation, only for it to happen in a much different way and lowkey dissapoints you? Also, do you have dreams that kind of warn you or prepare you for something that will take place in the future? Because I feel like we kind of build our own world and the universe has to remind us that life isn't always perfect, lol 💭

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ My dear Aquarians, why the pessimism? Rather than overthinking everything and imagining the worst scenarios possible, how about you try focusing more on positive things? Even if it's just something small each time, it helps you view your daily life in a better light :)

┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ Speaking of Aquas, I've noticed that most of you guys also don't really like being alone for too long. Sure, you want to have your me time (it's fine, we all do) but you also can't stand not having company around. Like, you'll randomly decide to stay in and spend some time alone but then you'll get upset and start calling your friends and family. A friend of mine cannot stand being alone for too long, even if we spend the whole day together, he hates being home on his own, to the point where he sometimes straight up takes the bus back to his hometown. It's wonderful that you enjoy spending so much time with others (I could never, lolll) but try picking up a hobby when you don't have the chance to be around people as much. It'll kind of distract you from loneliness and give you the chance to have some quality time with yourself 🧩

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Thank you for reading, hope you have a wonderful day 💙

Edit: Bonus Observations

So a lot of you guys commented that Aquarius actually prefers solitude and could easily pass time all by themselves, so I looked into the charts of the social Aquas I know irl and see what it is that makes them so outgoing and talkative;

(I didn't include houses because I haven't gotten to confirm their birth times)

• My friend has Saturn in Gemini, which can make people talkative in any situation (I also have this placement and, although I see myself as an introverted homebody, I am surprisingly pretty chatty and enjoy going out with people that make me happy). Truly, he always gives something to talk about with everyone he knows, sometimes he'll start a conversation with another friend of his while I'm standing there not knowing what to say or do in the meantime, like 🧍‍♀️?

• He also has Mars in Sagittarius and Jupiter in Leo; energetic, lively and outgoing, thrives when surrounded by people. He almost never gets tired of hanging out with people, my low social battery could never 😅

• Other than her sun, my mom also has Aquarius in her Mercury, which makes her friendly and likeable, plus she enjoys conversing with people.

• Another thing about my mom, her placements are a bit contradictory; She has Sun in Aquarius, Moon in Virgo, and Uranus and Pluto in Libra - These indicate shyness, independence and introversion. Truly, she prefers doing things on her own most of the time and doesn't open up to just anyone. She also used to be very shy around my age (probably because of Virgo moon?). However, she also has Jupiter and Neptune in Sagittarius, which make her more adventurous, outgoing, charming and humorous. So that would probably explain this whole 'outgoing yet independent yet still can't be lonely' vibe she gives me.

Hope this explains a bit better why I had this image of Aquas at first, thanks for sharing your thoughts in the comments!

[thebroccolination]

The J&A group NEWS is one of the most lore-packed music groups I’ve ever followed and I wish I had the energy to make an entire video essay about them. They started with nine members in 2003 and immediately lost a member before they formally debuted. He later became the fucking front man of ONE OK ROCK (yes, Taka, formerly known as Mori while he was with NEWS for those precious six minutes). Then they lost two more members shortly afterward when one got busted for underage drinking and kicking a cop car, and the other one for underage smoking. Then the group was suspended because what the fuck y’all get it together. A few years later, after their comeback as six, the two most popular members quit at the same time essentially because they’d never actually wanted to be there in the first place. One of the two had actually been debuted in TWO GROUPS because J&A was quirky like that, and because he’d always had an obvious preference for the other one, no one was too upset with him. That left the remaining FOUR in a bizarre limbo because while two of them could sing, the other two were basically The Other Two (don’t get mad I was half-seriously parasocially in love with one of them so I can say it) and a ton of the higher-ups at J&A thought of them as “a strawberry shortcake without the strawberries”—A THING ONE OF THEM OVERHEARD SOMEONE SAY ABOUT THEM. So they pulled off a comeback as four, which was actually sort of perfect because NEWS has four letters, so it introduced a fun new design scheme. Three kept their original member colors, but the oldest took over the Leader position and changed from orange to purple, which was sweet in its own way because he didn’t want to take away red, the color of their original Leader (the popular one who basically left to focus on a solo career and acting). The four of them go strong for several years, putting out some of the best music in J&A, and putting on some of the best concerts I’ve ever been to, and the general reception is, “They were good before but this configuration fits better—and they all want to be here!” There’s also some fun stuff in there, like how one of The Other Two feels the sting of being half of The Other Two so he runs with the smart thing he has going for him and writes a novel, and a LOT of people are like, “Hey, it kind of seems like the douchebag character in your book resembles your former Leader,” and he’s like, “nOOOOOO definitely a coincidence ha ha ha.” (Yes he’s the one I was sort-of committed to spiritually but it wasn’t a big deal I’m over it ha ha ha.) THEN, the wildest shit ever happens: in spite of their very serious pact as four to stay together and spare each other the continued trauma of shedding members, their best vocalist decides, “I’m bored I’m gonna go,” and skips off without remorse. He’s probably a controversial figure in some circles but the way I see it, if you followed NEWS for more than ten minutes you knew this dude had no loyalties stronger than his loyalty to himself and expecting anything else from him was a fool’s errand. Basically, he was always gonna dip, it was just a matter of when. He also wrote a gossipy tell-all book that made casualties of the former members in such a bitchy fashion he’s honestly iconic for airing his pettiness after years of pretending he forgave them for the group’s image. Like remember the member who left because he was in two groups and I said no one really held it against him? Our gossiping queen basically called him a coward and said he never would’ve left if the Leader hadn’t left first, and we were all like, “I mean, yeah, we figured he left because the timing was convenient, but ooooooh.” And then I stopped following them because my favorite duo Tackey & Tsubasa disbanded and my heart wasn’t in following J&A groups anymore, but NEWS is still making music in 2024 and I’m genuinely really happy for the three left because they’ve gotta be tired but at least they have each other. /closing credits

[naamahdarling]

.

Stuff under cut.

Anyway, I'm very tired. The Jeebers take work, still. They are so mannerless, just a vast untrammeled wilderness of horrible behavior, and it makes me HAPPY somehow. Their liveliness I guess. Their utter self-possession and minimal reliance on us, their understanding of themselves as cats and not human companions, the solid unit they form together, perfect balance between brave and careful, both stubborn, both bold, never having had to survive for a moment on their own, but so deeply and quintessentially feline in their instincts that I have no doubt that if they had been forced to, they would have easily been able to do so.

I have to alter a great deal of that to make them good companions, but it'll be worth it. Right now they're tiny chaotic roommates who come up to me at random intervals, lick my face for a few moments, and go dashing off to find some other mischief to be in. I sit there on the couch sometimes and watch them race around, skidding around corners, Jasper jumping out at Juniper and starting games, Juniper laying her ears flat and lashing her tail and squinting her eyes, and then going right for his fucking throat, going for the full body tackle, even though she's so much smaller than he is. Getting thrown by him over and over, and not caring, just washing his ears and then starting all over again.

It's good that they're here. It isn't the dynamic or the situation I would prefer, I know I keep saying that, but it's very true. But I still don't regret a single thing. They are unruly and don't do very many of the things that we like our pets to do, but all of that is mostly charming, and the parts that are not will pass.

I've been feeling the urge to do creative things again. I'm tidying up the studio as best I can around the babies, and I'll be able to work again soon. I have one project I'm particularly excited about, and I desperately want to post about it but I can't, because it's a surprise for my boyfriend for Christmas. I've never done anything quite like it, and I'm excited. I also have all of the memorial things for the boys that I need to make. A big box to hold all of their mementos, that sort of thing. And I have a project for a relative that is long overdue. AND there is a really fun thing for myself that will fit in nicely around the edges.

Hopefully I will have the energy and the spoons to get it all done. A lot of the work is going to tug on the heartstrings. All of it, actually, with the exception of the thing I'm going to do for myself. Which means I really should try to do it alongside everything else so I can give myself a break.

[eldaryasharbinger]

MCL New Gen Ep. 5 Review

Played the episode last friday and finally I'm sharing my thoughts on it (hopefully I still remember what I wanted to talk about...)

Since the episode is out for everyone, I will go straight into it so no spoiler free version this time! (still adding the cut cause this is a long post...)

I'll start by saying that this episode felt somewhat "empty"? I'm not sure if it was me playing it in a rush before leaving for the weekend but there really wasn't much going on?? at the same time the more I think about it the more I think it was just me lol

This time I didn't stop to take many screenshots cause again, I didn't have much time and I'm still not sure about how long it takes to play each episode, I only took a couple that I thought were intresting enough to share

This was of course very very important, as many of us were wondering about it, if it was actually poliosis or just idk design I guess

Turns out that whoever came up with this theory first was right! Love to see that especially after his reaction and expression during this scene, I'm sure there's more going on!! (if it ends up that we never talk about it again I'll just turn to dust)

SECOND VERY IMPORTANT THING HERE TOO!!

Some people thought that Jason came from a rich family, turns out that wasn't the case! I'm not really surprised since I really wanted him to be "self-made", like some ordinary guy that now got this horrible rich-person personality, he already looked like that to me so all I needed was confirmation!

----------

Now I want to talk about our interaction with Jason... I'm so so happy about it I kept giggling while playing lol

I could feel Candy's stress like it was my own because I've been in a similiar position back in april and It made me cry in front of 2 of my co-workers, only diffrence is that candy made a big mistake, I was too prideful to destroy my work for the client's ALWAYS changing "preferences"(?) (also I recently completed it, I just swallowed my pride and the client actually forgot about it so they didn't care as much and didn't remember what they wanted at first,, the audacity,,)

I'm not sure how everyone else feels about it (I haven't checked tags yet,,) but it was SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO weird to me that Candy accepted Jason's offer to do HER job for her? I could understand a little help but Jason literally got her everything, all she had to do was call these people? I don't get how she didn't feel more guilty about it, isn't it like cheating in a way?? Jason isn't just this random guy helping us but the RIVAL COMPANY doing our job?? What was the point of calling us for the job if Goldreamz did it in the end, they just don't know

Everyone else congratulating her on the well done job too... I was dying inside I hope Candy was too, I felt so guilty replying "thank you" to Devon's text about the little gilr's birthday party like,, the f did candy do??

Now... I love that Jason helped her, I wasn't expectin him to do THAT MUCH (it still blows my mind) but I really loved how kind of non-chalante he was trying to be?? Also, Candy said a couple of weird things while joking to which Jason replied so bluntly but also what surprised me the most was the fact that he replied at all?? Like if I'm not mistaken, his dad died when he was a teen or something, and he just told her that? he shared something personal about himself like that??!! Mentioning the poliosis too and how it's hereditary, he just told her about it?

To me that sounds like a big deal because usually you wouldn't expect someone like Jason to share personal details to some random girl he wants in his bed once, so that leaves us with one true conclusion

he loves candy already and really wants to get to know her, so maybe he feels like he has the need to tell her more? maybe I'm just running with my mind again but I think this could be what we could expect in the future?

The illustration is absolutely GORGEOUS, I've already made an edited version with Petronilla here!!

I just really love Jason's expression, he's so pretty he's so beautiful,,,,,, I can't wait till we get more ;w;;;;; I could stare at him all day and I probably will end doing that at this point

ALSO!!!!! I GOT AMANDA'S ILLU WITHOUT SPENDING MORE GEMS!!

They're both so pretty, this illustration was finaly crafted I can see that, just look at all the details!! Girls having fun!! They might kiss each other!

This time I didn't pay for her special scene because I want to save up on the gems,, (I did get Jason's tho)

Not sure if I unlocked it as a bug, during the episode I unlocked it like normal but in the library it has the locked icon?

Still, bug or not I don't care cause I LITERALLY CHEERED when I got it, I wasn't sure I was gonna get it if I chose to work on my own (to meet Jason) instead of asking her for help, I apparentely made the right choices (I winged it after seeing the illu online) and THANKFULLY the outfit was the same one as Jason's!

I think I've said everything I had to, or better to say "all that I remember", I'm sure there's more from this episode to address that I forgot about so If anything else comes to mind I'll make separate posts about it!

If you've made it this far, thanks for reading!

edit: I am not proofreading all that

[mumms-the-word]

Okay don’t come for me Halsin-enthusiasts and werebear truthers because like for the most part I agree with everything you say, and this is not one of my usual well-thought out deep dives, this is me rambling because I have questions BUT

One thing I love that hasn’t really been talked about (unless I missed it) is how good Halsin is with kids and how that’s distinctly NOT a male bear trait? Like, actually, Halsin deciding to adopt 30 kids actually kind of goes against what he says is his well-defined and very established nature. It’s very un-bear-like of him to want to raise kiddos

I mean maybe it’s a female bear trait but like hear me out

Male bears tend to mate with female bears and then leave. In some rare cases they will outright attack and kill cubs to mate with female bears (but this doesn’t happen often because mama bears WILL fight you and male bears aren’t looking for a fight they’re looking for fun). But for the most part a male bear dips out after mating and does his own thing for several months until it’s mating season again and then he’s like “knock knock guess whose back again no I will not be paying child support”

So like

If Halsin is a werebear, do wearbears have different behaviors? If not wearbear, then what else is influencing this desire to build a big family and settle down?

Are Halsin’s affections for/talent for raising a whole gaggle of kiddos a wood elf thing, a Druid thing, or something else?

I mean it could just be that this is an accidental overlooked thing despite that Halsin’s writer(s) are pretty intentional about writing him with a lot of “haha what a bear thing to do” traits (loving honey, etc) but we can probably headcanon our way into an explanation right

I’m only making a big deal out of this confusion in my mind because Halsin makes such a BIG DEAL about things being “in his nature” or “because of his nature” and so on. And obviously his nature is influenced by many things, not just his cave bear form, his identity as a druid, or him being a wood elf. I just think it’s interesting that for all his talk about stuff being “in his nature” and insinuating that at 350 he’s kind of established everything he likes and dislikes, that maybe he forgets he’s still capable of growth and change

On the same note, I find it so interesting that when you romance him he’s specifically like “the wolf mates for life, but the bear roams free and partners as its instinct dictates. I need to stay true to my nature and you to yours.” I mean, he’s being a bit reductive about wolves and bears alike here, but my point is that he’s constructing his polyamory as a bear-like behavior instead of being like “I was raised this way” as a wood elf, because wood elves are super poly too and that could have easily been the reference he went with

If I recall, his preference for roaming is also considered a bear-like behavior? In the dryad love test, the question “When is he most comfortable” has two correct answers: when he’s in the form of a bear, clad in nothing but fur (he says that’s a fair assumption but not the truest answer) OR saying that comfort doesn’t come naturally because he’s always restless and roaming (he approves of this answer more and says “Comfort is for the farm animal, snug in its pen.”). Roaming is…well a trait for any wild animal, but could be coded to a male bear specifically I guess…but anyway at the very least he makes this connection to being like a roaming wild animals over a settled domestic animal

So we have a Halsin who admits that roaming and avoiding comfort are things that are true to his nature…and yet he decides he’s going to build a community/commune out in the ruins of Thaniel’s lands and raise like 30 kids on his own/semi-communally. Which is not really a bear or wood elf thing to do (if we’re being super reductive about bears and wood elves, neither of which are monoliths, and also I could be wrong about wood elves because I can’t find much about their familial structures)

I’m not saying it’s inconsistent—because it’s not inconsistent to Halsin’s overall character. The minute I heard Halsin say that was his plan I was like “this is absolutely something you would do you great mad bear take me with you” (and then I was upset when I couldn’t go with him because it was patch 3 days and I was SAD). Like if you listen to him talk enough in Act 3, especially after visiting Jaheira’s house, that man has wanted a family for forever, and he has a big heart for refugees, the displaced, and children in particular

So, speculation, I think Halsin choosing to build a community and go from 0-100 on the family-building process is actually indicative of him realizing that now that he’s not an archdruid, and now that the shadow curse is fixed, he can remake himself into something of HIS choosing. Something that isn’t “dictated by nature” but aligns with his desires and motivations as a complex person. He says comfort is for the farm animal, but he builds a home in nature where his children will be safe and comfortable. He’s not making them a big nomadic tribe, they’re all in one safe space together. That could be seen as contradictory, but instead I think it just shows that he’s still a malleable person who needs a minute to grow into the idea that he can now be whatever he wants

And he chooses to be Daddy Halsin. He doesn’t even wait to see if his romanced partner (if he has one) is coming with him on this sudden about-face venture. He’s like “I’ve got nine wagons of kids who are already calling me Daddy and we’re leaving in two hours” like this dream is SO IMPORTANT for him. It overdrives nature and druidic duty and everything else. It very nearly overrides his love for his romanced partner

I mean it did kind of override it in earlier patches but the epilogue now lets us join him and patch 6 now let’s us openly be like “Halsin you ass I’m coming with you” when I say I slammed that button so hard let me TELL YOU but anyway his romance is not really going to influence his dream of having a family. He’s gonna raise those kids whether his current romantic partner there or not (but he will be disappointed and sad about his partner not joining him tho because obviously that stings)

Anyway I’m just rambling at this point. My question is this: do you think that Halsin’s desire for kids comes from a specific “part of his nature” (bear, werebear, druid, wood elf) or does it come from some other part of him as a person, or do you think it’s a moment where he realizes he can just decide things for himself and that he doesn’t always have to let nature dictate who he is?

Thoughts??

If you made it this far congrats you get a Golden Halsin :’)

[utilitycaster]

I don't know how you feel about it, but I was extremely frustrated last night when I found out that break was called after around 3 hours. I just felt that at that point they should have just made it a Crown Keepers episode instead of promising that BH would be back and then them barely being in the episode. I don't know, I'm usually really go with the flow with CRs creative choices, but this was just a real big swing and a miss for me. I wish this had all just been its own episode

So here's my feelings:

My thoughts on EXU Prime, and later Kymal, were that I love the player characters and their relationships and much of the worldbuilding (notably all of Niirdal-Poc and the Qoniira Tetrarchy) and I liked many of Aabria's NPCs but there were some pretty big gaps left in "what the fuck is going on" that left me feeling as though I wouldn't mind seeing the characters again but I didn't feel strongly about continuing the story in-world, if that makes sense. The Aevilux reveal, for example, was sort of what the main plot of EXU Prime hinged upon (ie, that was Myr'atta Niselor's motivation; that was what the deal with Ted was) and so the fact that didn't come out for over 2.5 years irl after it ended meant I'd just kind of said "well, some weirdo from Syngorn really wanted to do shit to Opal for some reason related to her sister, who is also her patron, and we don't know why either of these things is the case, and I guess that's what happened" and made my peace with it. Similarly, I don't know what the Nameless Ones want, and never have (other than, at one point, the circlet of barbed vision, and I don't know why they want it). I made a joke that Myr'atta, Poska, and Otohan are all kind of the same and honestly that is the thing: if you don't know why a villain is doing something - even if the reason is "because I love to be evil and terrible!" it's hard to care, and if those are only villains, it's hard to be invested in the story about the heroes either, even if you like the heroes as characters.

When I say I like how this ended, I mean it - I think it could have gone only a few ways, but I like that Morrighan and Opal have both become divine champions, Morrighan willingly and Opal less so (this is yet another case of "the gods don't do take-backsies on oaths", but also, I do feel for Opal despite it all because of Aimee's excellent work throughout). I mentioned how I felt about the exact details of Cyrus's death but I don't mind that he's dead. Fy'ra was a highlight throughout, as she frequently is, and I think she was faced with two extremely unpleasant choices and made a fascinating decision. But I'd have preferred to see this as a flashback (see next paragraph) or like. Just decide what happened. If I'm being extremely honest a lot of my issues with the Crown Keepers portion is that it felt like there was a very specific desired ending (Opal's complete corruption and Cyrus's death); I also said at some point well before that you can only do so much with the Crown Keepers while Dariax is there because Matt does, even if he's turning his brain off to play our Charisma-only kinda short king, know all the cheat codes for the main campaign. It's kind of like why how, even if the DM will control an absent player during RP, they usually have another player control in combat.

I don't mind that the Bells Hells portion was short. I think the choice to break where they did makes sense given everything else that went on. But I think that, criticism of the actual Crown Keepers portion aside, while you might have lost some of your audience for a Crown Keepers-only episode on the main feed, you would have preserved the drama of FCG's death better and gotten people more excited for the Crown Keepers if you had essentially run things exactly as done here but then just cut the two episodes together, which, as a pre-taped medium, they can now do! Hindsight is again 20-20 but: Run the first half of 92 as is. Break and tape a full Crown Keepers episode. Return to Bells Hells and narrate the message back from Dorian saying he'll be there, play out the rest of Bells Hells in the camp dealing with FCG's death, and then have Dorian arrive at the very end of that episode and end the episode when the party asks him what's been going on with him, then reveal there will be a Crown Keepers episode. Air your full Crown Keepers episode as episode 93, and then return to the main campaign with 94. It would have been better balanced in terms of time, people who wanted the Crown Keepers to return would have gotten hyped up, and people who dislike them or are neutral would have at least known what to expect and frankly if they skip the episode that's their choice to make. Hell, since there were 2 weeks? Could have even been like "hey, we'll do a Crown Keepers Marathon on Twitch and Youtube on some random weekday" to build up some hype!

So overall my answer is that I agree this wasn't a great creative choice. I don't think this means they shouldn't take big swings! But some will be misses and this was, while not an entire miss for me, at best a walk.

[ace-race-ace]

Autistic traits reflected by Max Verstappen - Part 2/?

Part 1

DISCLAIMER: this is in no way ‘diagnosing’ Max as autistic. You should not in any way use this post as a reason to start claiming so on Tumblr or any other platform as it can be damaging in many aspects. These are just observations made by me, an autistic person mostly as a sense of comfort in some similar actions/behaviors. It’s fine to discuss and find more instances, but it’s not with an end goal to ‘prove’ anything

Sensory avoidance/seeking

Autistic people often have very specific preferences when it comes to sensory input. Often times there are textures or tastes that we simply can’t/don’t want to deal with. Neurotypical people might dislike something but can “get over it” either because it isn’t that big a deal or out of social norms (ex: pretending to like food given to you to not seem rude). However, autistic people have a much harder time masking our dislike for certain things. A lot of times it’s because it actually physically hurts us in a way, either by headaches, gagging, or pins and needles. It’s not something we can easily ignore and it’s a constant struggle.

On the flip side, there are also sensory things we really enjoy and will reach out for even if it isn’t ‘acceptable’ to (ex: grabbing someone’s shirt out of nowhere because it looks soft and not letting go)

Examples of sensory ‘problems’ with Max

All of these are moments that separately wouldn’t be necessarily considered autistic behavior but it’s the fact it pops up a lot compared to others

Singapore crab video - right from the start, Max is obviously uncomfortable with the crab. Daniel is quick to point out Max doesn’t like seafood. Despite Max being extremely competitive, he doesn’t even attempt to get over his dislike to win the ‘challenge’. He also walks around a lot, probably as a self soothing gesture. Daniel jokingly puts the crab near his face and he can’t stop gagging and completely refuses to be near it.

Singapore Durian video - Similar to above. What’s particularly interesting about this one though is seeing how different Daniel’s and Max’s reactions are. Durian is known to be a ‘stinky’ fruit that many people don’t enjoy the taste of. Daniel definitely expresses how he finds the smell displeasing and when he tastes it, he definitely doesn’t like it. But he stays pretty tame, simply just saying it tastes bad. Max is much more hesitant, not even touching it to taste it. When he does, he immediately starts violently gagging and walking around. This is reflects the inability to mask some reactions as an autistic person. Most people would try and have a more tame reaction like Dan because durian is quite an important cultural thing but Max not at all

English crisps video - Again a great comparison video since Checo is with him. Max straight away expresses his dislike of cheese and repeatedly brings it up. His facial expressions are so pronounced every time he tastes any of the crisps meanwhile Checo is just kinda there like meh, whatever. Max also over explaining his thoughts on the taste and deeply observing every snack before eating it. Checo looks quickly or might give a quick sniff but Max is like intensely inspecting every one of them.

Monaco pool video - More over explaining on Max’s part. He could have just said oh I don’t like the fact people are jumping in together which would be reasonable, especially with everyone being sweaty after the race. Yet his problem is extremely specific, the fluff of new socks?? Like I’m autistic myself and I have no clue what he is talking about. It’s this special attention to detail that most people don’t think about that really exemplifies the autistic aspect.

AUS GP 2024 sand - This is very blink and you’ll miss it and very personal to my own experience. Max complains about already having sand in his shoe. Again, everyone else is also running in the sand and probably has some too but they can easily ignore it and keep going with the video. Max however makes his discomfort obvious. As a kid, I absolutely HATED having sand stuck to me like this, I wouldn’t put my shoes on or leave the beach before every grain of sand was off of me so his reaction just really reminded me of that.

Examples of sensory seeking with Max

Bahrain 2024 microphone - Max intensely observing the mic he’s never seen before, turning it around. Then he starts petting it like a cat and continues to do so despite Checo talking. Checo even jokingly makes fun of him at the end for how much he seems to like the mic.

Full body hugs - Everyone has seen how all consuming Max’s hugs are (with the people he likes). Autistic people often enjoy deep pressure which can be achieved through these strong hugs. Yet it often seems he doesn’t initiate them himself as much, which could relate to how autistic people are often afraid to initiate such deep contact because other people may find it strange. So he waits to be pulled in before fully engulfing the other in a hug.

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There are many more examples but these are a few I could think of off the top of my head :)

More parts to come!