#it's probably somehow capitalism fault

[not-for-a-while]

This week in Poland, a great polish actor Jerzy Stuhr has passed away. And this got me into the thinking spairal. I never was really connected to polish culture even though I was born in Poland ,my whole family is polish and I was thought everything about Poland since I was a kid...I feel this disconnect.

There might be many reasons for that. My family very rearly talks about polish culture in a good light. I only recently (at the age of 23) learned about musicians that my parents actually like. We never really talked about the culture and art of polish people.

There's also school, which only told me to study and pass a test. Not make me and my peers curious about the country that we live in.

The other reason (this might be the biggest one) is that the world aroud me is so foucsed so much on westeren media that they just semmed boring to me when I was young. And now I feel like an outsider in a country i was born. And i don't even feel ike geting into polish culture. I still have some resentyment about it all. And I just feel like it's too late for it.

The reason why I got into this thinking spiral is because it got me thinking how much of the new polish artists I don't know. And that I might not even remember their names in the future. I know about polish artists that were before and what they done, but because of my resentment I don't feel anything to the culture that's happening right now. Like I now that there are new artists doing things, but whenever I hear a polish on radio I feel nothing. I can't even name five actors that are around 30 or name two directors that are around 40.

It makes me sad that I don't feel a connection between me and polish culture...but also I don't feel like even getting into it.

[yazmarina]

in my drafts

for the love circuit series

—that message wasn't for you but paul doesn't mind as long as you don't, either.

paul aron (f2) x gn!social media admin reader

warnings/notes: smut, unprotected sex, lewd photography, office sex, fingering, creampie, accidental nude sending, mild dirty talk

a/n: sorry i disappeared again!!! pls take this as my apology

It was supposed to be just pictures of him during the break. You expected innocent, somewhat average snapshots of how Paul spent his past two months. You knew he took that trip to Italy, attended his sister's graduation, did some training. It was your job to be at least a little updated on the drivers' whereabouts, in case the head of comms needed you to capitalize on it for content.

So when you received a few photos from Paul through iMessage of all his fall whereabouts, you didn't think much of it. You messaged him a few days earlier asking if he could send a few more unreleased pictures that he hadn't posted on his personal account yet, stating that it was for a post you were putting together for the Hitech Instagram. He was delayed in his reply, as usual, but that's something you expected. He was busy, after all.

Perhaps too busy to notice the outlier in the stack of photos displayed in your message thread. Everything seemed to be normal at first; Italian architecture, gym photos, the cheesecake he made. Typical day in the life photos.

And lastly, a photo of him in dim lighting, taken in front of a mirror, with nothing but shadows covering most of his naked body.

You stare at your phone, dumbfounded. Your first instinct is to wait to see if Paul has anything to say, an apology, maybe, or a half-assed excuse. Anything to indicate that he noticed how he sent you a full-on nude. You prepare yourself for the three dots that show he's typing, the frantic scramble to delete the photo from your exchange, but it never comes. Heat rises up your neck as you realize you're going to have to confront him about it. This was, after all, a professional exchange and you'd hate for HR to come knocking at either one of your doors.

-Paul, please review the photos you sent. Thanks.

You regret it as soon as you send it. Was that perhaps too snippy? Too callous? It was as embarrassing for him as it was for you, maybe even more. But come on, how hard is it to distinguish your nudes from your vacation photos?

The loud throb of your heartbeat reverberates in your ears as you wait, cursing under your breath as a full minute passes and then another. You lock your phone, getting up to pace around your room. You're most likely going to see him tomorrow as he'll be at HQ for sim work and other things and you just so happen to have a lineup of meetings at the very same time. You're going to have to face the fact that you'll have to look each other in the eye after you've seen the outline of his dick.

Wonderful.

You unlock your phone, resigning to just delete the photo from your side. You can claim plausible deniability or whatever legal term it is, if it comes down to it.

Just then, Paul starts typing.

You yelp, setting your phone down on the desk harder than intended.

You realize belatedly that you're holding your breath, fingers pressed into your mouth as if suppressing any more potential noises. He stops then starts again then stops, as if he's unsure of what he's typing out.

-I'M SO SORRY!!!! It was an accident I promise 🥹 Don't report me

-Please I'm so sorry it's totally my fault ______ 😭😭😭

-______ please I'm so sorry

Somehow, despite everything, this coaxes a chuckle out of you. Paul was always open and easy around you, and you know he knows you won't report him for an honest mistake. He's probably just red in the face right now, fighting his inner demons.

You type out a reply to ease his nerves.

-I'll just delete it off my phone so no one can say we were fraternizing inappropriately 🥲

The response from Paul is almost instant.

-YES please I'm sorry again

Your finger hovers over the photos when another message comes in.

-Unless you want to save it for a rainy day that's okay too

-I WAS JOKING its a joke I'm sorry I'm sorry

You groan, throwing your head back against the backrest of your office chair.

He's done this on occasion. Flirt. Compliment you on your hair, your outfit (despite it being the team uniform), your smile, even. You brushed it off as typical driver behavior. Nearly all of them had that kind of nerve about them, a confidence that only comes with driving cars that are closer to rockets than actual cars on the street.

Bringing the phone up to your face, you gingerly scroll back up to the photos Paul sent, opening the accursed photo. Your breath hitches as you take it in more carefully, the light cutting sharply between the shadows of whatever hotel room Paul was in. Your eyes trail down and your fingers pinch at the screen, zooming in.

"No! No, no, absolutely not," you admonish yourself, swiping the photo away and typing back a slightly crazed reply.

-Whoever that photo was meant for might not like it if I do

-

"________!"

You freeze on your way out the door from the conference room, Paul's figure jogging toward you from the other end of the hall. The presence of some execs and the head of comms looms from behind you and you quickly shuffle out of the way to let them pass, all of them greeting Paul as he sidles up to you.

"Hi!" You say a little too brightly, turning to Paul, arms coming up mechanically then stopping, your brain reminding you that a hug might be too awkward but standing around without greeting him in some way would be just as weird. A flurry of butterflies erupt in your stomach as Paul stops in front of you, his cologne coming off strong as always. Just the way you liked it.

"How's the meeting?" Paul asks, gesturing to the room. He's bouncing on the balls of his feet, a nervous habit he has that you've observed over the time you've worked with him. He has his hands shoved deep in his jeans, too.

You shrug, forcing out a laugh. "Same old, just going over social media plans and PR."

Paul nods, a little too eagerly perhaps. His eyes shift to the retreating personnel, all of them turning a corner, leaving you and Paul alone in the vicinity.

"Were you waiting for me?" You ask before he can say anything else.

Paul swallows. "Yeah. Look–"

"Paul," you cut him off, raising a hand between the two of you. "It's okay. It's no big deal. Happens to the best of us."

He raises an eyebrow at that. "Have you ever sent a nude to the wrong person before?"

Your cheeks flare up in a violent blush.

"Well, no. And keep your voice down," you berate lightly. Paul looks around and shrugs as if to say, 'Nobody's here'.

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. "But what I meant was, like, messages are sent to the wrong people all the time, I'm sure you didn't mean any harm, and besides, no one else knows. I promise I haven't told anyo–"

"Okay." It was Paul's turn to cut you off. "Okay, I believe you."

He smiles at you good-naturedly, opening his arms and coaxing you into a hug. It takes you a second, but eventually, you let yourself laugh in relief, wrapping your arms around his strong frame.

"I missed you over the break," Paul admits, pulling away and holding you at arm's length. You blush again, masking it with a chuckle.

"Well, the break isn't over yet. We still have three weeks to go," you remind, your own hands coming up to settle on Paul's outstretched arms, making it look as if you're holding him in place. To anyone who didn't know, you two would look like a couple deep in discussion.

"At least you get to see me more," Paul offers with an easy smile. nudging you lightly.

You scoff. "I think I've seen enough of you, thank you very much."

A heavy silence settles over the two of you as you realize what you just said. Paul lets his arms drop from where they held you, an apology ready at your lips but Paul gets to it first. He runs a hand through his unkempt hair, blonde strands tugged between his fingers.

"You haven't deleted it, have you?"

No, you haven't.

"I was going to, but I got distracted with other things." Not entirely a lie. You really meant to do so, but thoughts you'd rather not share took hold and there were matters you needed to attend to. Matters that could only be solved with your fingers and a vibrator.

You should feel guilty, getting off to a picture of a coworker that wasn't even meant to be sent to you in the first place. Maybe you're terrible, maybe you should be fired, sued by the Aron family.

Memories of you gasping out Paul's name in the quiet of your room come flooding back and you pray that Paul doesn't notice the irregularity in your breathing.

"I'll delete it now, in front of you, so you can see that I did," you offer, fishing your phone out of your pocket.

Paul shakes his head, catching you by the wrist, his hand large and warm against your own skin.

"I mean if I was going to send it to anyone, it would have been you," Paul says lowly, as if afraid someone would hear him, despite the entire expanse of the hallway void of any people other than yourselves.

"Consensually, of course," Paul adds in a hurry, eyes widening. "If you wanted to receive them. It. Receive it."

Your eyebrows shoot up, your mouth curling into a smirk. "You have more you want to send?"

Paul's lower lip slips between his teeth and it seems the two of you are finally on the same page. You try to suppress the smile threatening to break out, clearing your throat and avoiding his eyes.

"Until when are you staying here?" You ask casually. You didn't mean 'here' as HQ. Here as in, in town, close to you.

"Next week," Paul replies, stepping closer. "I won't see you until Qatar after that."

"Shame," you mutter, tilting your head as you meet his gaze once more.

"Maybe," Paul begins, slipping his hand into yours and twining your fingers together. "I can add one more thing to my break to-do list."

"Now?" You ask incredulously. Paul nods immediately.

"You know that one storage closet inside the sim room?" He asks, winking at you.

"What? Paul!" You whisper-shout, but he's already leading you down the hallway. The two of you make a sharp turn to the right where big blocky letters spell out 'SIMULATOR' on the large double doors of the sim room.

You squint, immediately plunged into darkness as the only source of light inside is the curved screen, dimmed as well as it sits on standby.

"What if your engineer walks in? Your teammate? Doesn't he have a session soon?" You continue to protest, even when Paul gently pushes you toward the storage room door at the very corner. He flings the door open and you see that it's filled mostly with spare sim components and monitors.

"Babe, that's why they call it a quickie," Paul reasons, flipping the light switch on inside. The lightbulb offers little respite in the darkness and shadows still play along the lines of Paul's face. He shuts the door behind him.

"It doesn't lock? Paul, I swear–"

You gasp but barely any sound comes out as Paul presses his lips to yours, hands settling on your hips. He maneuvers you toward a shelf, pushing you against it and pressing himself fully on you.

You can feel how hard he is through his jeans.

"Did you like it?" Paul asks as he breaks away for a second. He kisses your jaw, tracing its outline as you sigh, your head falling back. He takes his opportunity to kiss along the column of your neck, his tongue smoothing over your skin.

"Did you get off to it?" Paul asks again and your breath catches in your throat. It's as if he knew all the dirty, deplorable things you did over that one picture.

"I know you did," Paul concludes with a breathy laugh, reclaiming your lips and driving a knee between your legs. You groan in response, grinding against his thigh while your fingers tug at his belt.

Paul pulls away and takes over for you, undoing his jeans and slipping them down to his knees. You silently thank whatever god is listening for the fact that you so conveniently decided to wear those easy cotton office pants, slipping them off in one quick swoop along with your underwear.

"I'm tempted to get on my knees right now so I can eat you out," Paul teases, hiking your shirt up and exposing your chest.

A snide remark forms in your brain but it's cut off when you feel the cold press of fingers on your clit. You clamp a hand down on your mouth as Paul gently flicks at it, feeling yourself getting wetter by the second.

"Maybe later after work," Paul says, rubbing harder. Your elbow spasms at the sensation, hitting the shelf behind you.

"Ow, fuck," you curse, meeting Paul's eyes. You two burst into muffled laughter just as Paul slips a finger in.

"What happened to a quickie?" You demand, hips moving along with Paul's hand. He adds a second finger and you whine, fingers digging into Paul's shoulders.

"I have manners," Paul informs with an easy smile, face impossibly close to yours. You can see the shift in his bright blue eyes. "I need you wet and ready for me, no?"

You bite down on your lip, eyes rolling into the back of your head as Paul curls his fingers inside you. A shiver runs through you and you feel yourself clenching down and around his digits.

Paul retracts his hand, much to your dismay, but you don't get to complain before Paul kisses you again, rough and heated. His tongue dances against yours and you grip at his Hitech team kit for purchase.

"Bend over," Paul commands and you're more than happy to oblige, turning around to do just that.

You brace yourself against the shelf behind you, gripping at the wood as you lower the front of your body. Paul grabs your hips and your back arches almost automatically. You can feel him pressing up against you and you sneak a peek behind you to see Paul with his phone in hand.

"So I can 'accidentally' send you another one," Paul jests before slowly sinking in. You whine, head dropping down between your shoulders. The thought of him documenting your little tryst sends a shiver up your spine which only intensifies as Paul grabs one side of your hips. He sets up a hard, steady pace that has the shelf in front of you creaking.

"Paul," you gasp out, your whole body shuddering at the force of how hard he's fucking you.

Both of his hands grip at your sides now so you can assume his phone has been put away. You try to stay upright which proves challenging considering Paul is ramming into you ferociously.

Contradictory to it all, you feel the soft touch of fingers through your scalp, smoothing over your hair. In a moment's turn, your head is yanked back as Paul tugs at your hair, arching your back even more.

A garbled sound escapes you, part moan, part sob as the sting in your scalp shoots straight down to your core, pushing you ever so closer to your release.

"The social media person," Paul begins through gritted teeth. "Always so pretty behind the camera. Making me do trend after trend. I'd do anything for you, baby."

You mewl in response, reaching back to grip at Paul's wrist, pushing back against him, urging him to go faster. Paul gets the memo.

"Funny how that photo was taken only because I was about to jack off to the thought of you," Paul continues. "You sent me a message and I was missing that pretty face of yours so I went through your Instagram. Looks like you had fun in Mallorca, tiny swimsuit and all."

"Sorry, baby," Paul says close to your ear. "Couldn't help it."

"Inside," you plead. "P-Please, I'm close. N-Need you to cum inside me."

Paul merely grunts, letting go of your hair so he can pull you flush against him. His thrusts grow erratic, barely pulling out of you each time. He pulls you back to him, your back against his front as he bites down on your shoulder.

"Yes, yes, right there." Your voice comes out raspy, walls squeezing around Paul's throbbing cock. He reaches over and resumes his movements from a while ago on your clit and you yelp, hips spasming pathetically.

You cum with Paul deep inside you, his groans filling your ear as he follows soon after. He stills and pulls you even closer to him, arms encircling your torso. He kisses the spot where he had bitten you, pressing his lips almost reverently to the indented skin.

You're both breathing hard and you're perfectly content to stand around while the two of you gather your bearings. But Paul momentarily disentangles himself from you and reaches down. You see him pull his phone out from his jeans from where they've presumably fallen down to his ankles.

"Smile," Paul prompts, his lips planting a soft kiss behind your ear as he angles the camera toward the two of you.

He snaps a blurry photo, just in time to capture your hand coming up to rest against his cheek as he grins into your skin. Emboldened by the somewhat artsy, flirtatious nature of the photo, you turn around and land a proper kiss on Paul's lips, savoring each second his tongue passes over your mouth.

"Send all the photos you want," you whisper, smiling up at him.

"Or we could just take them together," Paul offers, kissing the tip of your nose.

[ak4e7a]

i hate valentine’s day — boyfriend!hoon x reader

It's pretty self-explanatory. But one person is determined to change your mind.

wc: 2.1k (this was supposed to be short and then i blinked and now i’m here)

cw: fluff, slight angst if you read it sideways i guess, smut, virgin!reader, unprotected sex, lots of pet names bc hoon is a loverboy end of story

author's note: WHEEWWW my first full drabble on here! i hope y'all enjoy and please please please let me know if you do <3 likes and comments and reblogs are super appreciated ♡ happy Valentine's Day!

It’s just a capitalist holiday designed to sell flowers and chocolates and give people a reason to start a fight in their already unhappy relationship. Your friends had heard you say that time and time again, year after year, and they were almost wholeheartedly convinced that you really did not enjoy a holiday centered around love.

The truth, however, was the opposite. You loved it—the pink hearts, the stuffed animals, the candy, the red roses, the romantic gestures. You were just… bitter that you’d been spending all of the past Valentine’s days with a card and a bar of your favorite chocolate that your mom would either give to you in person or mail to your apartment once you’d moved out for college. 

You didn’t want to be one of those people that liked Valentine’s Day with a nonchalance about themselves and droned on and on about how it could also be interpreted as a day of “self-love”. You could do a lot of self-love with a rose toy and an hour of uninterrupted time locked in your room. But a rose toy wouldn’t be able to laugh at a rom-com with you, and you’d probably get looked at funny if you walked around the mall holding it in your hand for everyone to gawk at.

Did you hate seeing happy couples? Maybe.

Did that hate go away once you found yourself somehow in a relationship with the quiet boy from your statistics class? The boy who you, at first, thought seemed cold and uninterested in anything but the assignments? Just a little bit.

You told Sunghoon last week that he didn’t have to do anything, that he shouldn’t waste his paycheck from his part-time campus job on gifts when it wasn’t even Christmas or your birthday, and he’d already gotten you something for your 100 day anniversary a month ago, anyways. You hammered it home with the same speech that you’d given your friends since you learned what capitalism was.

And all he did was nod his head with a thoughtful, “Hmm,” and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose before you turned as red as the roses you’d hope he’d still get you anyways and went back to typing away at your laptop, allowing the white noise of the library to drown out your racing thoughts.

Now it’s the morning of the 14th, and you wake up in your bed, alone. You sigh, maybe Sunghoon had gone home already even though neither of you have a class today. Trudging to the bathroom, you brush your teeth and wash your face before returning to bed to sulk and stare at the wall. 

You mentally kicked yourself, this was your fault, why did you tell your first and only boyfriend you didn’t give a shit about Valentine’s Day—a holiday primarily meant for couples? Now, if you were lucky and your relationship happens to last until next year, would the next Valentine’s Day also go uncelebrated? What about your one-year anniversary? What about—

And then your door creaks open. And you scream.

Sunghoon screams, too, almost dropping the mountain of bags he’s holding.

“Why are you screaming?” Sunghoon yells, stumbling to regain his balance as he walks towards the bed. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Because I was under the assumption that I was alone in the house!” you exclaim, although now your fear is mixed with excitement as you scan his muscled arms wrapped around all the stuff he’s carrying.

“Oh,” he says, more quiet now. “You thought I left and wouldn’t come back?”

“Yeah,” you reply sheepishly. “I thought… I thought…”

“That I wouldn’t do anything for Valentine’s Day just because you went on that long-ass tirade in the library last week?”

You frown, eyebrows knitted together. But you’re not upset at him, no, the entire reason you let yourself fall for him was because he was always so understanding. You could feel yourself falling even more because he didn’t fall for your pathetic attempt at being a “chill, low-maintenance” girlfriend. “I don’t deserve you,” you say.

Sunghoon sets the bags on the rug beside your bed and sits beside you, immediately pulling you into his embrace. “That’s not true. You put up with a loser like me.”

“Hey,” you sniffle. “You’re my loser. Which makes you not-a-loser.”

“Alright,” he chuckles. “Whatever you say.”

You like him. You like him so much. You like the way he dresses (including his glasses), you like every single different cologne he uses, you like the way his hair falls in his face, you like the way he scrunches his nose when you offer him a bite of your mint choco ice cream, you like the way he accepts the chocolate toothpaste taste because it makes you happy to share snacks with him. You like the way he switches to his wired earphones instead of his big headphones when he studies with you so you can listen to music with him when you study. You like him. You like him a lot. In fact, you—

“I love you,” you blurt out, and the wide-eyed look he gives you makes you slap your hand over your mouth in some sort of vain attempt to get the words back in where they came from.

But just like toothpaste, once it’s squeezed out of the tube, you can’t put it back in.

Unless, of course, you had a syringe or a pipette or something but that’s neither here nor there, because you just told Park Sunghoon, your former statistics partner, Park Sunghoon, the best part-time barista on campus, Park Sunghoon, your (somewhat) new boyfriend, that you love him for the first time.

And to make it extra corny, you’ve told him on Valentine’s Day, the day you’ve adamantly lied about hating.

Sunghoon finally grins, his pearly white teeth (that you also like so much) on full display. “I knew it.”

“What?”

“I knew you liked Valentine’s Day, you little liar,” he teases, playfully flicking your forehead.

“Ugh,” you groan, falling back on your pillows. “Go home for real this time if you’re going to gloat.”

Sunghoon crawls over you, his face inches away from yours. “For the record, though, I love you, too. Lies and all.”

“Sunghoon,” you whine, trying to push at his chest. “Stop embarrassing me!”

“Sorry, sorry.” As he presses apologetic kisses to your cheek, you feel something else press against your leg.

“Hoon,” you repeat. “Are you seriously hard right now?”

“Yeah, ‘cause my girlfriend just told me she loves me.”

You smile. “Really? You’re easier than I—”

He shuts you up with a kiss. Then two. Then three. Then four. Then finally it evolves into a full-on makeout session, with your hands tangled in his hair and his hips nestled between your thighs. His glasses are on your nightstand; he’d taken them off after they were getting in his way of kissing you.

“Want it,” you murmur, as if you didn’t just tease your boyfriend for being easy to turn on. “Wanna do it...”

You figure since you’ve already confessed your feelings, losing your virginity to your boyfriend who you’re definitely madly in love with is a good idea. (Spoiler: it is.)

Now he hovers over you, looking at you with hearts in his eyes. "Relax for me, okay, baby? It's gonna hurt a little bit. Just say the word and I'll stop."

"O-okay, Hoonie."

He plants a soft kiss on your forehead before taking his shaft in his hand, pumping it twice before lining it up with your entrance. "Gonna put my cock in you now, baby... oh... ah, fuck... 's better than I imagined... So tight, even after I've prepped you... You're squeezing around my tip, you okay, sweetheart?"

You nod, biting your lip as he stretches you with his thick girth. "'M okay, Hoonie, 's just big, so big..."

"You're being such a good girl for me, baby. 'M gonna push it all the way inside you now, okay? Just breathe." One of his hands skims down your body, reaching in between you two to stroke at your clit. The pleasurable friction against your nerves dulls out the pain of him breaking your hymen, but you cry out nonetheless.

"Ah! Hoonie, it hurts," you whimper, your chest heaving and nails digging into his back. 

"'M sorry, baby, we can stop now if you want. I don't mind—"

"No!! No, please, just... don't move yet, please? Need t'get used to—fuck—you inside..."

"Alright, baby. I'll keep still." He kisses your cheek, petting your hair gently. Then he looks down at you, straight into your eyes. He's so beautiful, it's mesmerizing. "You're such a good girl, aren't you? So pretty and perfect for me... you're getting my cock so wet, baby. Want me to make you cum like this? Make you feel better?"

"Y-yes please!"

He leans back until his head is just above where you’re connected, and you watch his abs flex in that position. He spits on your clit, rubbing it in slow, languid circles. Softly, he asks, "you're such a sweet little girl, anything else you want, love?"

You clench around him at the pet name, your entire body flushing with warmth. "Um... can you... um..."

"Oh, I know," he smirks, his free hand moving up to toy with your nipples. "Does it feel good with my cock inside you, baby? Gonna cum while you're stuffed full of me?"

"Yes, so good, Hoonie, thank you!" You squirm a little, unintentionally grinding yourself against his dick, and the movement makes him groan. 

"Fuck," he says under his breath. "You're so cute... and you're so hot, you don't even know it... that's it, pretty girl, cum whenever you want. you earned it."

"Hoonie," you keen, back arching off the bed as you orgasm around him. "can you m-move, please?"

"Yeah, baby, you like being stretched by me? Gonna let me fuck you open, sweetheart?"

"Y-yeah... y'can move now, Hoonie."

"God," he chokes out, thrusting shallowly. "You're sucking me in so good, baby." He puts a hand over your lower abdomen, pressing down. "Can you feel me right there?"

You squeal as the tip of his dick rubs firmly against your g-spot. "Y-yes! 'S big, so big, hoonie!"

“You're so tight, princess, gonna make me cum so soon already, fuck, pussy feels like heaven..."

"So... big," you gasp, staring up at him in adoration. He's so handsome. 

He reaches down and tenderly cups your cheek before leaning in and kissing you softly. "Taking me like a good girl, baby... 'm I making you feel good?"

“Yes, yes,” you manage to stutter out, legs wrapping around his slender waist.

"Gonna cum... need to pull out, baby, can I cum—fuck! Can I cum on you, baby, please?"

"Yes! Yesyesyes! Cum on me, Hoonie, wanna feel it!"

"Where... where do you want my cum, princess?" he pants, sliding his cock out of you and stroking himself.

"Cum on my pussy, Hoonie!"

He groans, and the two of you look down and watch as he cums right over your core, the milky essence dripping down onto the bed. Despite the mess, he immediately lies down beside you, pulling you into his arms like you’re about to go back to sleep.

You feel good. Maybe better than good. Definitely better than good. You can hear his heartbeat when you rest your head on his chest.

“Aw, fuck,” Sunghoon mutters into the crown of your head. “I think the ice in your drink melted.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I went out to get your gifts from my apartment, and I got you an iced matcha from that one place you like on the way back.”

“I’ll drink it anyways… but you didn’t have to get me any gifts,” you mumble, still trying to stay true to your lie, even though Sunghoon has already seen right through it. But you definitely mean the next sentence. “Just spending the day with you is enough for me.”

“I know, I know. But I wanted to. I never want you to feel like I only do things for you because you ask me to. I want you to know that I do them because I love you.”

Okay. Maybe you really did hate Valentine’s Day before.

But not anymore. You feel good. You feel great. You’re loved, and you’re in love.

You look up at him and he kisses you on the forehead before you repeat, “I love you, too.”

[vaguely-concerned]

listen I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore but on this playthrough of DA2 I found myself once more entranced and heartbroken to see hawke reenact their relationship with their mother with the entire cursed city of kirkwall. you can never do enough for leandra, and you can never do enough for kirkwall. leandra is proud of you, and kirkwall uplifts its champion, but no matter how hard you try for them you can't fix everything there that's broken, no one could, and even the fact that anyone would feel the burning responsibility to take that task on is a huge warning sign on its own. leandra will easily allow you to sacrifice yourself on the altar of the family's continued well-being again and again, even when she'll beg you to spare the twins from the same thing. it's such a sad, painfully realistic thing because I truly don't think leandra meant to fuck up her kids, and yet she primed her oldest for an abusive toxic codependent relationship with an entire ongoing dumpster fire of a city state better than she ever could have if she had meant to.

I think what leandra actually, deep down wants from you is something you can never ever give her and that is cruel to ask of anyone, but especially your kid -- to bring her back to a time when she was happy. to reclaim when you were all happy, when nothing was broken that couldn't be fixed, before malcolm died, before you had to leave behind bethany or carver's broken body on the ground. to get her childhood back from where she left it and found it all gone and in ruins when she returned. 'this is all your fault'. this is the tragedy of parenthood sometimes I think, that capacity to define a life: she said that once, in a moment of profound pain, and she probably wouldn't have said it under other circumstances and she apologizes later, but now hawke has to live with that forever. leandra can't bear her own emotions without letting them spill over onto someone else so she won't have to hold the discomfort of them anymore, and hawke is left to shoulder that burden and responsibility again and again, handed the impossible task of making it all okay again, somehow -- of stopping anything bad from ever happening again in the Nr 1 Bad Things Constantly Happening capital of thedas.

and then at the same time there's the mirror of how varric's whole family wants orzammar back (and to him orzammar is just a ghost he's seen in their eyes -- there's something in his voice when he says 'That stupid plate was the whole city of Orzammar to him' that gets me every time, how much he understands that he doesn't understand and how lonely that makes him among them, and on top of it all he's frustrated and ashamed and sad that he just doesn't get it and can't meet them on it -- like it's a betrayal that he actually belongs up here, when varric wants so badly to be loyal), just as the hawkes want happiness back. (I don't think it's Lothering in itself that longing is for, it's for being together. Lothering was just the place they stayed the longest.) they're all in exile, even as they try to make a new home out of that exile.

(varric and hawke's real 🤝 quality across all personalities, affinities and choices is 'parentified child' lmao. so much of varric's character makes perfect sense once you know he grew up supporting a mother who was an emotionally volatile alcoholic, honestly. between varric, the hawkes, isabela, seb if you have him and merrill's whole Situation with marethari I feel like DA2 covertly is to mommy issues what ME2 is to daddy issues fjsdjfa)

basically I think I'm trying to pick apart exactly why the fact that leandra is clearly proud of hawke and tells them so several times doesn't feel like it helps at all, almost feels more like a cage even though it's clearly meant well? and what I'm getting is that it's because my sense of what hawke actually needs, in general but especially from a parent, isn't admiration or approval but to be loved and supported and understood. I don't believe leandra ever quite understands them, and it scares her because it makes her think she maybe never even understood malcolm. (that's the subtext of a lot of what leandra will say about him in legacy, at least. he's slipping away from her as the years pass after his death and she fears she never really had him in the first place, if he had secrets like these.) she consistently treats her oldest more like a partner or peer than as her child, which considering hawke is always described as being very similar to their father… I mean I totally see how that could be easy to slip into for her after he died especially, but it doesn't make it any less fucked up or unfair.

the real leandra in legacy is. she is SO absurdly self-centered, if you really pay attention. I don't want to keep dunking on her because I don't think she's like this on purpose, but it boggles my mind. if you do the quest in act 1 she gets so upset and overwhelmed that the kids just sort of sit there like :( at the end, which adds to the trend that through the game you constantly see hawke comforting leandra, and you pretty much never see leandra comforting hawke, beyond some light vaguely encouraging comments in passing. if you do legacy in act 2 while she's still alive hawke comes to her, tentatively asking if malcolm ever spoke to her about any of it -- clearly requesting some sort of emotional support or help to make sense of it. she then expresses her side of it, but never once does she say anything to the effect of 'hey that was a lot to go through, are you okay after all that?'.

instead she essentially hands them the responsibility of having a good life, to repay what malcolm did for all of them. and in theory that's not the worst takeaway I suppose, malcolm probably would want them all to be happy, but in the moment it only feels like more expectation heaped upon you somehow? especially since you don't really get to express anything about how it made you feel before she goes to the 'ah no use complaining' zone (after SHE got to express her grief at feeling like she's losing more and more of that old life, and hawke barely got to say anything fhsfalkjfs). in general she really doesn't do much like. parenting, does she haha. there is so much love there in that relationship, and yet so little comfort. Oh, those days. All of us, in that simple place. Well, that's neither here nor there, is it. This life, we have to make the best of it. And thanks to you, and him, I will. Oh well, mum, I'm uh. I'm glad you feel better after that, at least. Nice to be of service.

it's varric's ghost-leandra who actually acknowledges what a burden hawke has taken on, that shows an understanding of why they're doing it, acknowledges the loss they've been through and also reassures them in their sense of belonging that still can't be taken from them, despite it all -- The best of him is still with you. The best of all of us. It's what makes you try so hard. You'll always have that. We'll always be family. (you can't take 'loved' away, huh.) you get a bit more of a reconciliation/reconnection between hawke and their dad's memory by being reminded he got like this too, you know (implicitly you're not alone). varric through leandra is the one who tells them what they probably would have wanted and needed to hear from a parent right then -- It's going to be alright. that's what Hawke, The Champion means to everyone else, and for once they get to be the one to hear it. except only in a kind dream that never really happened. I. it. hmmmmmm. crushing. that is crushing. but also so incredibly tender from varric's side, and so moving to me that he's seen all this stuff and so desperately wants to give them that comfort. anyway DA2 is about love in some of the realest and thus messiest and most human ways I've ever seen and it makes my brain go wild it's my favorite game of all time goodnight

[somelazyassartist]

To go with my last post about Thistle acting capital-W Weird™ around Laios, it really does make perfect sense when you think about their history from Thistle's perspective instead of through Laios' like we actually see.

Imagine being Thistle, and you're like, I don't know, 14, and you're the royal court jester and adoptive son of your King. And you just got a baby brother and you're so excited about it. It is, without doubt, the happiest day of your life so far. While you're celebrating a few of your family's servants and guards come in to help. One seems somewhat confused about the situation but you probably assume he's just a new hire, it makes sense to bring in added security when there's a new prince around. You don't see this knight again anytime afterwards, but you're not exactly in charge of hiring or firing guards, so it's not really any of your business where he wandered off to.

You are Thistle, and you're now probably around 40 or so, still rather young for an Elf but a fine young man nonetheless. You're all dressed up to the nines and eager to perform your newest flute composition in honor of your little brother's wedding, and you're so, so proud of how far he's come. You helped your father raise him well. And just as the ceremony's about to kick up, and the people are starting to get drunk and make merry and dance, the King, your father, collapses. Poison, assassination, you hear people cry out. But as you run towards him you slam right into one of your guards- and have the extremely fleeting thought of "WAS that one of our guards? I haven't seen them around but they seem so familiar somehow"- but as soon as the thought occurs you're snapped right back into the present, and the fact that your father was murdered right in front of your eyes, and that you couldn't do a thing to stop it.

It's been a small time now, enough that you've had time to lay your King to rest, and to prepare your brother for the throne. It's his coronation day. You should be happy- you are PROUD, of course, of how far your little brother has come- but it is not the joyous day that you would have hoped for, and instead one of mourning for you. And looking around the room as the Kingdom's crown changes bearers, you see a guard, rather out of place. And this time, you have time to process why he feels so strange here. You've seen this man before. You KNOW you've seen this man before. This is the man who you have seen exclusively on the best day of your life and the worst, with no trace of him elsewhere in your life, and he is here, now, again. And for one who is clearly a Tallman, he hasn't aged a single day. There is something wrong with him, and with you, and you feel that if you keep crossing paths it will only end in disaster for you. So you try to kill him. And he disappears, right in front of your eyes. You don't see him around after this. You pray you never will again.

You are now The Mad Sorcerer- no longer, even, the false name given to you by your King. Only the title used by those who want to kill you remains in people's minds. It's been so long now. You can't even count how many years it's been, but you know your life has reached centuries upon centuries past what you were meant to live. And so has everyone you've ever cared about. In these years you have done everything you can to preserve the last bit of what you can call home, trapping yourself and your entire kingdom in an oasis of immortality. So what if the people may grow to resent you? You're protecting them. It's not your fault people may mistake your kindness for cruelty. Though many adventuring parties have tried, none have gotten through your defenses, so as long as you keep focused on your goal things will be fine. Except for this last week or so, where one particularly troublesome party has been making their way further than most would dare venture. And you swear on your Kingdom's throne, if this party includes who you think it includes, you are going to have a fucking aneurysm.

You are the Lord of this Dungeon, and unfortunately for you, your house has just been broken into. Even more unfortunately for you, you know exactly who did it. When you step through your front door, everything is unsettlingly clean. You wonder why in the world the man following you for your entire life would take the time to tidy your house if he's here to psychologically torture you. And then a thought hits you like a punch to the gut, and you rush upstairs, and you see all of your diaries taken out of their hiding spots. And you know that if they took a look through them they would find roughly 200 pages of glittery pink gel pen writing out repeatedly,

✨ This motherfucker again ✨

[thyfleshc0nsumed]

I agree with you about your stances on punishment, and I think it's so important to see that perspective instead of the more common one. I do not want to live in a world with the death penalty or prison.

But I'm very curious how you got to the point where you want your abuser to be happy. Capital H happy. I've never seen that before. I think it's great, and it must've taken a lot of time, and if it's not too personal, I'd like to hear about the process. If not to help myself, to help someone else. I'm personally very very jaded to the whole "forgiveness" mentality (it seems very catholic to me somehow? I forgive you so I'm better than you?) But the way you put it feels different somehow. Sorry for picking your brain, and if it's too personal I totally get it. Thanks for your time.

Thank you for this question.

Hm, it's a tough one. It may be informed by my lack of any singular capital-A Abuser. Certainly, I have had people who were abusive to me longer term (my mother especially), but for the most part it was many dozens of adults in single instances or shorter term situations during my childhood and teenage years that raped or otherwise harmed me. That lack of any singular individual to act as a locus for all the damage may have made it easier for me to come to a point where I wish them well.

I remember being 19, face in my toilet bowl, puking my guts up after downing a fifth of rum in an hour or two. I think it was a Thursday. I understood my mother for the first time. I wanted to stop drinking, and I didn't know why I couldn't.

My roommate at the time slept on a mattress on the floor in the living room. He left his family the day he turned 18 and took the Greyhound across the country to crash with me. We were good friends when he got here, but my negligence and failure to control my drug use ruined that relationship within a few months. He stayed with me for two years. He didn't have other options.

I don't remember those years well at all. Besides various temp jobs, all I did was drink, get fucked up, and make messes I never cleaned up. It was a one bedroom apartment and I had the bedroom, he couldn't really go anywhere. He didn't really know anyone. I was a fucking terror to live with, and a terror he couldn't even really get away from.

And I didn't mean to be that way. I didn't mean to hurt him with my dereliction. But it doesn't matter, y'know, impact is more important than intent. I fucked up bad.

Eventually he left. I was and still am filled with remorse for putting him through what I did. Maybe this perspective is the christian upbringing, maybe it's twelve step bullshit, but often I see my feelings as very self serving. I can justify just about anything, as long as I use enough self pity. But this feeling was different. It was just... remorse, pure and unfiltered. No rationalizations as to how it wasn't really my fault, no equivocations, no blaming outside factors, just acknowledgement that I fucked up and I hurt someone I loved. I was sorry that I had done that.

Humility does not come naturally to me. This was a humbling experience.

I--and everyone I've ever met, everyone who ever harmed me--am a human being. No more, no less. In each of us is potential both to love deeply and to do great harm to others. No one is without both these potentials.

It comes down to this: what I wish for myself, I must wish for all.

Do not mistake me here--this does not neatly translate into a pragmatic political position. For me, this is simply some sort of spirituality, that is to say, how I strive to navigate my life, day at a time, in the world as I find it. This is as small scale as it can get.

I understand that feeling about forgiveness you mention. What I have to say about it probably won't help the christian connotation; I am an atheist and a subjectivist, though obviously culturally evangelical. Maybe it is that last part that influences this next, but I don't feel I have the authority to forgive anyone. Or, in another word, 'let he who is without sin cast the first stone.'

Now, of course, I believe in neither god nor sin, but I do believe in harm. 'Let he who is not capable of such harm cast the first stone,' perhaps. Not all harm is equivalent, certainly, but no one is innately capable or incapable of greater harm than others. The ability to actually do harm is relative to relations to power, no doubt, but a given power relation is not innate.

So yeah I end up back at 'i have no moral high ground over or under anyone else, the forgiveness is neither mine to give nor withhold,' which frankly is a rather christian viewpoint.

There's this idea in Judaism that has stuck with me for the last few years: tikkun olam. To repair the world. What must I do to ensure my part in that repair happens?

There is so little I have control of. The only thing I can change is what I do. If the world around me is hardened and cruel, why must I adopt that cruelty into myself? Will it get me better outcomes in life? Perhaps, perhaps not. I have found it hasn't, but others may find it has. But that's talking about results. And I don't have power over results.

I cannot change the world, cannot repair it alone. But I think I can work to repair myself, and in the process, the smallest portion of the world may be repaired alongside me. Maybe, maybe not. It becomes a matter of faith. Or to put it in a therapeutic framing, it's an 'even if.'

I'll end with this, an old twelve step saying: "resentments are like drinking a bottle of poison and expecting the other person to die."

What is a resentment? Re- as in once more. -sent, as in sentiment. Feeling something once more. It is the reanimated corpse of a feeling, not the feeling itself. It looks like the feeling you know, maybe walks and talks like it too. But it's rotting away. It died long ago. So why should you pretend the corpse is alive? It moves, it rasps, but it's something else now; it only shares a body with the original, nothing else. So maybe it's time to let go, and begin to move forward.

[lucysarah-c]

Tea time

Paring: Levi x reader

Words: 1764

Warnings: none, there is some subtle sexual mentions but not much.

Summary: Levi is deep down a huge gossip old lady.

Inspired by this "snk incorrect quote" of mine that plenty of you liked a lot!

“My friend Sarah, she’s having some arrangements done at her house and can’t host. I was wondering if you would mind it if we hang out at the office.” Your voice pierced the room like a cannonball. Levi had known that something was off since you came back from the capital, you were suspiciously quiet. Not the kind of silence that you two shared in the privacy of the office. He had been cleaning the shelf, giving you his back. When he turned around you were shyly smiling.

“I’ve not said anything to them yet, wanted to check on you first,”

Levi thought that it was both, his and yours, office and therefore you had as much right to hang out with your friends there as he to say that he wouldn’t like it. He was, somehow, touched that you inquired first. You knew, by heart, that Levi wasn't a social person by nature and that he cherished his “me time” deeply. Especially Sundays that were his only day off.

However, he also understood that Sarah and you were the only two members of your friends group who had private chambers. Neglecting your hang out would mean that you wouldn’t see your friends if Sarah couldn’t host, and Levi valued that you spend time with your own group, he valued your independence.

On the other hand, Levi had to hold back an unpleasant grim thinking of the group of 10 women hanging out at his place on Sundays. Of course it wouldn’t be all day long, only the tea time but … it was tea time, Levi adored having one day to relax, not wear the uniform, maybe not wearing clothes at all, reading and drinking tea.

But how could he say no to those doe eyes of yours looking at him? begging him to allow it. You knew Sundays were his days and if you could have come up with another option, you would have done it.

Then.. “Yeah, why not.”

He almost forgot it. He was an extremely busy man with an extremely busy week. But when he woke up early on Sunday, with the intention to just put some random shirt on and stay in sweatpants all day, he noticed that you got up early too. Something unusual.

“Will you help me to move the couch so we all fit before I get in the shower?”

‘Ah… right… I agreed to this’ Levi thought as the penny dropped, your friends were coming over. That already disturbed his mood, but he didn’t want to let you know. He had to remind himself that this was all part of the sacrifices that you make during convenience.

Quickly he realised that he had been mixing your friends since forever, and suddenly he discovered that Mary and Anne weren’t the same person he had in his mind. All the opposite, the deep brunette girl was actually called Carol. Each of them were eager to give him a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug as a greeting, as if they had known each other for years. Levi had to gather all his acting skills, which weren’t actually good, to pretend he remembered each girl as much as they seemed to know him.

‘Not my fault!’ he would scream inside his head ‘The only closed group of people that I tolerate work and live in the scouts. Plus, they are also YN’s friends,’

You knew them from training days and they chose other military divisions, some of them from the medical field, etc. Everybody knew who was the social person of the relationship and, without intentions to point fingers out, Levi wasn’t the one.

At first, he decided to go and bother Erwin for a little while. But Erwin also took the upper hand of his, sometimes, free Sundays to go and meet up with ex comrades from his trainee days. Mike would have gone out with Nanaba. Meeting with Hange would probably mean Levi working his ass off to clean their place. Which Levi was eager to do on other occasions but the last thing he wanted to do on a Sunday was more work, even if that implied cleaning.

When he returned to his chambers, they all had left and you were already putting things back in their place. You greeted him with a sweet smile.

“Hey”

“Hey” He greeted back less enthusiastically.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as your lips softly landed a peak on his lips.

“Thank you for allowing this, I had a great time,”

Oh your smile, your loving eyes made him weak. How could he say no to the next Sunday?

The table was crowded with packages.

“Do I throw those?”

“No! They are gifts and what was left behind,”

Pastries, pastries everywhere. Great quality tea leaves that her friends from the capital had brought. Croissants, fresh made bread, sandwiches, scons, cookies. Levi was already starting to see the upperhand of all this.

However, it wasn’t until the next upcoming Sunday. This time he decided to close himself up in the attached room and read there. He only went out once to greet everybody and pour himself the tea that the girls were having. He heard everything, every little detail. Suddenly his book wasn’t that interesting.

“Do you remember Jonny? We met last Wednesday and can you believe it, he couldn’t get it up.”

“Let me guess, he said the usual “it's the first time that this happens!””

Laughters filling the room.

“Well I heard that Roger and Isabel made up again and they are not divorcing. He literally begged her on his knees,”

“Well, Edward is in this huge debt because of gambling and they took his house away. The poor Abi doesn’t know what they would do with the kids but she took them with her back to her mother’s house. But technically the government can take them away because he has de custody,”

“Guess who is pregnant and doesn’t know who the father is?”

“Robert is cheating on his wife with the kindergarten teacher of his kids,”

Then again, they left and Levi loomed up from the bedroom. Table full of Tea leaves for him to enjoy and pastries.

“Sorry, did we bother you that much?” You softly question back.

“Tolerable,”

He felt almost ashamed of how much he waited for Sundays now, ALMOST. But it was hilarious to go to the capital with Erwin for meetings with the military board and the only thing his mind could replay in loop was. “That one is getting cheated on, that one is cheating, that one couldn’t find the only place a man needs to find in bed, that one couldn’t perform. This one has a child with another woman, this one’s marriage was a cover for having relationships not allowed by the church, that one has gambling problems, that one is a mommy boy, that one is about to lose his job if his wife ask for a divorce so he’s begging on his knees,”

And if any of them decided to get cocky, it was a matter of Levi slyly implying what he knew something just for the colours of their face to drop and the panic taking over. He suddenly knew everything about everybody and he found out about it while drinking high quality tea and eating scons? Why were men's hangs outs not this fun? It was like reading a book, women knew everything and with heavy details.

“Do you remember John?” Erwin questioned as they waited for the next meeting to come, “John the blonde dude from Nile’s squad?” Erwin clarified, used to Levi don’t remembering a single person “He’s been acting odd,”

“Yeah, that asshole has been sleeping with Grace from the bar that's at the intersection of the streets "the king's pride and Saint Michel" at the third district of Stohess. She works there from 8am to 3pm as a waitress and apparently they saw her talking to his wife, because some nurses from the orthodox church of Mitras said that she went with a 3 weeks old pregnancy. Now Nile is asking him to solve the issue because he's damaging the image of the team. His wife has papers and prof for divorce but that's a big fucking no no for the MPs.”

Levi's sudden rambling got Erwin looking back at him in shock and confusion. The captain got a momentary feeling of embarrassment as he realised how out of character he had been.

“Y/N’s friends have tea at my office on Sundays,”

Erwin couldn’t help but chuckle, “Yeah, that explains a lot,”

Then, out of nowhere one Sunday he woke up and you were quietly laying on the couch, not rushing to get ready or organise the office so all could fit.

“Do you need the bathroom free?” Levi inquired to either rush a quick shower or wait for later on in the day.

“No, it’s alright, I’ve time to leave until four,” you quietly replied.

He frowned in confusion and you looked up “Sarah’s house is ready, I’ll take the ferry to there at four.”

His acting skills came up in the game again as he tried to hide the sudden disappointment. Goodbye to the free tea, goodbye to the pastries.

He was in no position to lie, he enjoyed reading next to the chimney of his office. Only the cracking of the fire, the pages turning and his sipping sounds filled up the death silence. It was nice… but, voluntarily or not, he found himself brewing another kettle of tea right on time. He would also be lying if he said he hadn’t been checking the clock all day to make sure to be ready for your comeback.

Then, finally, you appeared through the door. Coat on as you took off the purse from your shoulder and scarf hanging on your neck. Locking eyes, as Levi was across the toasty room with a kettle between his hands as he was almost done.

“Hey” You greeted closing the door behind you.

“Hey” Levi replied less enthusiastically but there was a certain type of hang on that made you crock an eyebrow.

“How was it?” Levi wondered and you hummed a positive reply as you took the shoes off and let them at the door.

“I was about to have a cup…” the comment was done with doubts “I was wondering if you wanted one…”

A cheeky smile slowly rising in your features.

“You won’t believe what I heard today”

“Wait until I get the tea ready”

[mrsnancywheeler]

More Finnick brainrot because that one line I wrote about how Finnick and his sweet girl would be wanted at the same time got me thinking.

Imagine Finnick who has to sit on some leather chair, watching as his sweet girl is taken by some capital man. He knew how rough the capital men were, he’s seen it, he’s experienced it, he’s felt the pain. And yet…seeing his sweet girl, the girl who should only ever be treated gently, be treated with such violence. A rock sat in his stomach as he was forced to watch the man defile her, pull her hair till it stung, slap her, choke her, laugh and moan as she cried.

And he couldn’t do anything. He failed her. He failed her again. He couldn’t stop this. He as forced to watch, if he looked away she’d be treated rougher, that’s what the client said.

He guessed it was some sort of sick pleasure the man took. Two victors at once. A way to prove his masculinity. He would be able to fuck the beautiful girl as her lover, the embodiment of masculine beauty was forced to watch.

Finnick never knew what he hated more, watching his sweet girl be taken in such a way or be forced to act that way to her as people lined up to watch…

heart breaking rn

triggers for nsfw talks, trafficking, violence

but like in chapter 6 of the lakes when there's that smut scene, finnick is literally always asking if she's okay, always making sure he's not crossing boundaries, always ready to stop at any point because she's his sweet girl, he only wants what you want

so to have to watch someone treat you like an object for abuse makes his soul wilt away. because he's so close and so helpless, when your cry, when your hurt, he can't do a thing until the client is gone. maybe that's the blessing, you're not stuck up here alone in the Capitol trying to deal with it yourself, when it's all over he can take care of you. but it's so hard to not look away, to have to watch his sweet girl like that.

and he blames himself because this is the sacrifice he made by getting you so many sponsors, they expected you both to pay them back for their 'generosity' in the arena. if he tried to do anything snow would probably make things worse somehow, so you'd both decide to take it without a complaint. when you were in the Capitol there was makeup artists so you could keep up appearances if there was something off, bruises, a split lip, a hickey, nobody but the elite and other victors had to privy to it.

maybe the worst nights were when he had to do what they did to you. how was he supposed to hurt his sweet girl? even if you said it was okay, that you didn't blame him, that you weren't upset, that it wasn't his fault it would weigh on him constantly. it's not like he dissociate either when they wanted him to spew the most hateful things to you. it was better if they wanted him to take you from behind, so he wouldn't have to look into your eyes, watch you wince, and cry, and dissociate when you could.

and he hated how he felt like you were being so strong about it, finnick ached to protect you, and you tried to hide the hurt most of the time. his sweet girl putting on such a brave face for him.

"you're gonna have to hit me harder this time, they weren't buying it last time." you were putting in more mascara, it was better if it ran down your face and people could see the evidence of tears.

"angel, I can't do that."

"finn, we don't have a choice." you'd cradle his face, so comforting when your fingertips played with his hair. "I'm not gonna be upset with you, promise. I'll be okay, I can handle it."

his sweet girl loved to try and act like she was okay so she could focus on him, but he needed her to know how much she was valued so much and couldn't. so when you flinched away from his touch after and apologized each time or didn't want to be touched at all for a few days he was drowned in guilt. you'd take care of him and try to close off, it broke him

[infinizero]

Cale Henituse and Bruce Wayne differences popped into my head recently

They both,, very much cherish life but

Bruce would never kill anyone because he wants to save everyone

While Cale wants to preserve all the (relatively) innocent lives he possibly can

That is not to say that one of these things are wrong. I think that choosing to confront the worse society has to offer and deciding that their lives are worth enough to try saving is quite noble. I also think that choosing to get rid of the people who are simply irredeemable, who wouldn't live very happily even if they were somehow redeemed, is also noble.

The biggest difference between them in this aspect, is probably how much they enforce this rule on others and to what lengths they would go for this.

Bruce would choose to save the person in front of him if he could, even if it meant they would kill many others in the future. Cale would choose to let a victim of theirs dole out revenge even if it meant they died. (Raon choosing not to kill Venion v Ron and Beacrox and the assassin families that joined WS)

Which comes to my biggest gripe about Bruce

I got so annoyed thinking of this while writing that crossover I think Cale will probably embody this in it oops

Bruce doesn't kill people, that's fine, but why the hell did he save Joker from dying? Because he doesn't want his son to have blood on his hands?

So he won't stop killing when he starts? What kinda bullshit excuse is that, is self-control a myth to men? He realizes he won't be able to stop himself from murdering someone? Hang up the cowl. Cass is literally right there.

So Batman loses if he kills the Joker? So what? It's not a game. It's not a game. It's not a game. Important things need to be said thrice. So you lose the fight. So you end the single person who could not be redeemed if anyone tried, the person who killed your son specifically to get at you. Retire. Get therapy. Get better.

So his tragedy shaped him, so his ambition of helping people motivates him, then help in other ways. Hasn't this taken enough from you already? Aren't you tired? He is quite literally a billionaire. This money could be used for so many other things, just as or more helpful as his vigilantism has proved to be.

This post has derailed quite a bit whoopsie

Cale's faults, to me at least, are entirely rooted in his emotional constipation, something he shares with Bruce. I can't even blame him for it because *gestures at his life as KRS, then at his very busy life in Roan*

Anyways MOVING ON

A slight elaboration on all that would be that Bruce has contingencies in place should he die. He has successors and an entire system. Cale... Does not and the closest thing to a successor he has is Raon/On who are 6/12 as of the current canon and one is an op dragon who would destroy worlds if he dies. Bruce can die, but the repercussions wouldn't destroy the world. Cale, on the other hand...

Which takes me to how willing they are to break the law. Obv Bruce has vigilantism under his belt while Cale is a certified Scammer (exhibit... Everything), Arsonist (sea of fire anyone?), Terrorist (that time he kidnapped a king), has destroyed public property (an entire fucking island x2), has stolen items of great religious and historic significance (all the divine items, but is it really theft if it was just laying there?), led a civil revolution (elisneh and jopis), smuggling (cage and taylor into capital), and this post will be way too long if I continue.

The way they treat their subordinates/partners/kids!!!

Different versions of batman have different ways of doing it, but for the purpose of this post he is trying dad bruce (aka not the best but he is trying)

I think this is the biggest difference between them, actually, because Cale acts and tells the people around him the things they need and Bruce just... Doesn't communicate much. Somehow, they have the same communication issues and somehow they have the same emotional constipation. Somehow Cale still properly motivates his people better than Bruce does.

I feel like I've been shitting on Bruce this entire post but I genuinely can't think of anything he does that is better than Cale. Um. Oh yeah I guess his cause is technically more noble than Cale, do I think his methods are stupid? Yes. Do I like the stories that spring up from this anyways? Also yes.

This may or may not feel rushed because for some reason it posted while in draft stage but feel free to add

[skyeslittlecorner]

Promised Land - Andrealphus

You know what, I'm sorry. It was supposed to be three times shorter. I swear. My hand slipped. I have no idea how it got so big. No proofreading, plus I'm sure there will be some awkwardness because English is not my native language. SFW.

I wish everyone who is brave enough to read it to have a nice time!

Words: ~5365

Part one summary: You, the reader, managed to talk to Andrea through the game. He realized that apart from the MC, there was someone behind the screen.

Other parts: On the other side | Promised Land | Point to point | Love is blind (18+)

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

First, you were fired from a job. Then you tripped on a walker, cracked the head, and ended up in the hospital. But the worst of it all was that you destroyed your phone. Everything was gone. With barely enough savings to pay your rent, you couldn't afford a new one. Drunk with desperation, you even asked a friend to install the game on her phone just to see if the account was saved. Account - yes. But what you valued most is gone.

Andrealphus didn't hear you.

You couldn't even tell anyone about it. Crazy, that's what they'd say. They thought work was your biggest worry, but it was only almost biggest. For two weeks, the longing had been so overwhelming that you could do nothing but cry into your pillow. Stupid? Maybe. Stupid was that you lost him through your own fault and in such a simple way. You would love to get rid of these feelings. The problem was that you couldn't.

The Promised Land was a three-hour drive from the city and at first glance looked like a combination of Disneyland and a shamanic capital. All you could see were the outlines of high roller coasters, a barrel, and other strange death apparatuses that you had only agreed to visit to ease your’s friend remorse. She suddenly realized that she had been ignoring you because of her new boyfriend and wanted to make it up to you. At first, you were excited. Then it turned out that all three of you were going. Apparently, her car broke down. What a sad coincidence, her boyfriend’s car remains.

Watching the amusement park from the backseat of the SUV, Liminal Land came to your mind. You have always been interested in AR. Parallel worlds, virtual reality, interconnections, such nonsense. Nonsense… That's probably why you had the impression for a few weeks that the guy from the game talked with you. Maybe it was all a dream? You must have imagined it out while you were having a bad time, drinking coffee with energy drinks, trying to keep up with work that you got fired anyway. A defensive reaction of the brain or something.

And yet you still felt like you had lost somebody close.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

It was exactly as you thought. The couple in love disappeared from sight about half an hour after buying tickets and walking through the gate. They probably followed the cashier's advice and visited Stargrazer, a large building that reminded you of the Avisos casino. Apparently you got tokens there. They could be exchanged for prizes, rides, and more. You preferred to go to the other attractions first so as not to run into the lovebirds. Tall garden clocks that resembled lamps showed ten o'clock. Armed with a VIP pass, you promised yourself to have fun, at least for today. Despite this, you involuntarily returned your hand to your purse to touch the damaged phone. Somehow it felt warm. That hit on the head must have been really hard to still have effects.

After all, throwing yourself into the attractions and completing half of them, ending with three rounds of a sick water rollercoaster in a row… was not the best idea. It was almost lunchtime. Or at least it should be, because you were getting hungry even though the time on the watches had barely moved. That was weird. You could clearly see the hands moving, but when you looked away and returned, it showed ten o'clock again.

To calm your stomach, you sat on a bench and looked at the people around you. They also were weird, but positively weird. Freaks of all designs and colors, cosplayers, but also amateurs. Somewhere you saw One Piece and Dragon Ball, and now crossdressed Elsa in a fur cape was talking to a biblically accurate angel. They moved away towards the administration, probably belonged to the staff. Extraordinary craftsmanship.

The park was mostly for adults, but a lot of them were with children. Too bad, they could have left them in the mini-park that was apparently set aside somewhere at the other end of the place. Their running only made you more dizzy. The smell of pizza from the stand next door didn't help either.

Evacuating yourself from all the stimuli, you stood in front of a large block, which was apparently the biggest attraction. Stargrazer was a gigantic, purple and blue structure that looked like a club from the outside. Through the arch with neon lights in the shapes of comets and planets, dozens of people entered the huge hall. The whole place was enormous. There seemed to be no walls or even a ceiling. People on other levels walked on balconies, and at the top - on a dark glass surface that lit up with every step, making the "ceiling" look like a sky with shining stars. Dozens of stands were scattered on the left and right. People occupied lanes that looked like some kind of bowling pins, glass mini-mazes, and slot machines. Walking through the middle, you moved further and further away from the sunlight, guided by the dim light of LED lights and games that you had never really seen in your life. Everyone seemed to know the rules.

Something crashed into you with full force.

"I'm sorry, ma'am!"

"It’s okay…"

A short teenager gave you an apologetic smile and ran away, holding a white thistle in his hands. It looked like a many-pointed star or a sharp spike. Many people won the same objects. When unfolded, they resembled stars and gave off light, but they could be twisted, folded into a cube the size of a thumb, and placed in a pocket. They appeared to be tokens that could be redeemed for prizes. When you looked behind the boy, you saw him lining up at the checkout at the entrance.

"Are you sure everything is fine?"

This time, the little girl stood in front of you, watching intently. She had fair skin and golden hair, and with blue eyes she looked like an angel. There was a badge on her chest. It resembled employee ID badges, but was clearly written in a child's handwriting: "Hi! My name is Mia and I work here with dad!"

It seemed that her parent took her to work here often enough that she felt the need to help customers herself, because she started explaining the rules of the games. She was nicer company than you thought, as you slowly walked deeper and deeper into the building. You weren't having much luck with games and didn't care about tokens, just wanted to try out the games. When the star finally rolled out of the slot, you turned to Mia.

"It's for you." You gave her a star.

"For me…"

She looked shocked, turned the item over in her hands like a treasure. You didn't know she would be so happy; with VIP pass you didn't need tokens anyway, just came to calm down a bit. Despite the multitude of people, the place seemed calmer and the voices were muffled. Maybe it was some space special effects.

As you were walking to the next stand, the explosion blew you off your feet.

Everything happened at once. Thrown against the wall like a rag doll, you felt every part of the body being torn apart by pain. You've gone deaf. Breathless. Shards of glass fell from the sky like rain, beautifully shining, deadly raindrops. Conscious enough to cover your eyes, you raised hands. The skin was cut by sharp edges.

The ringing in the ears turned into a wailing alarm. You felt torn apart, but all your limbs were in place. Not everyone was so lucky. Dozens of people, scattered on the floor and against the walls, lay motionless. Some bloody. Not everything was visible through the thick layer of dust. Also, images reached your eyes, but not mind. What happened?

You don't know if it was a second or an hour before you regained some sort of consciousness. To your left, a pair of men weren't getting up, but to your right, a girl who stood next to you earlier was clinging and shaking. Her eyes were as big as cup saucers, and blood and tears were mixing on a dainty face.

"Hey, your head. This looks bad." You heard your own voice, although you still felt unreal, as if everything around you didn't exist. Ultra-real VR. Especially the pain.

She flinched as you took the torn piece of her shirt and tied it around her temple.

"Th-these…are they terrorists?" She uttered, sobbing.

You looked around. The explosion threw you behind the games, away from the center of the hall. She had a better view, as two gaming machines fell in front of you, effectively blocking the view. When you looked out from behind them, sure enough, there were some people walking around… with guns. White uniforms and fur coats. They seemed to be combing the gigantic place starting from the other end. Not many of them, but would there be many terrorists? They chased away the rest of the people, took the conscious ones inside the destroyed building, and the unconscious ones…

You didn't want to see this. You didn't want to end up like that, either. Until they haven't found you, you had a chance. Whoever it was had bad intentions.

"Let's go." As you sat up, dizziness hit you, but luckily the legs worked. It's worse with the hands. The left one you covered yourself with was bleeding so profusely that all your clothes on your chest and stomach were red. Luckily, the blood was only leaking lazily now, not as heavily, but you still felt sick watching it.

The girl wasn't lucky either. Her leg was bent at an odd angle, at best it was broken. She whimpered as you helped her up. Someone turned off the alarm. Now the only sounds were the shifting of rubble. The soldiers were unnaturally quiet, as if they did not need words to communicate. It scared you. Despite everything, Mia had more courage, she bit her lip to keep quiet.

There were many alcoves with doors along the wall, and every other one had an "exit" sign above it. Fire exits. In some, you could hear the sound of sprinklers firing through the thick smoke following the explosion. The air was hard to breathe. You glided slowly, leaning against the wall, helping the girl bounce forward. Every step took forever. Only the adrenaline in the veins kept you running.

Strange soldiers were getting closer. As you trudged through the alley, you could hear machines moving nearby. Cleaned rubble. Whistle of the blade that will stay with you forever. You had two final turns to get out of the trap when someone ran right into you.

"R-run!" A distressed woman in bloody clothes squealed. She grabbed your hand. You screamed in pain and jumped back. "There's their boss over there! He kills! He’ll kill you!"

She ran further down the corridor. Your hand, torn by the glass and moved by her, burst out with a fresh dose of blood. Pain was awful. Black spots danced before the eyes, if only you could take a breath… The little girl leaning on your shoulder began to sob. It brought you back to life. The strange woman run again, and must have bumped into the soldiers because you heard her scream.

Boss. Angelic boss. The best options you could think of were immediate death from Gabriel's scythe. As for the others, maybe Michael would take pity and cut your head off quickly. Raphael… Well… Fortunately, there was no time to think about it.

In front of you was a bend in the hall and on your left was the door to the bathroom. You pressed the doorknob, they gave way. The intact, white room smelling of lavender, that would have been completely normal half an hour ago, looked like science fiction when you were surrounded by chaos and destruction. Behind a series of sinks and mirrors, the only ones that were cracked, there was a second door leading to an outside corridor. You hid in one of the cabins.

"Listen." You crawled together and helped her lean against the wall. "I'll check if it's still safe and come get you, okay? This "boss" doesn’t sound good."

You had no other choice, and you both knew it.

"But promise you'll come back." The little one tried to hold on, but it didn't work out well. "Promise…"

"I swear."

You felt sorry for her. Alone. Little. She didn't even have a way to escape with her crushed leg. But if there really was another danger ahead of you, you wouldn't stand a chance anyway. You didn't even have a place to hide and wait, because the storage compartment in the cabin where you left Mia was too small for the two of you.

But why were the Seraphim here? Didn't they have better things to do? You already guessed why the clocks weren't working. It is a space like the "New Heaven" in Gehenna created by the Cherubim. Here, a lot of innocent people were caught in angelic inner games.

Carefully, you poked your head out. The last corridor left to exit was long and wide. Debris was falling from the stairwells at regular intervals, but it was possible to walk through them. Two people ran down and towards the exit, or at least they tried to, before someone got in their way.

Now you knew the woman wasn't lying, and realized what the strange fur coats were. It's not fur. They're feathers. A chill ran down your spine because what you saw before the eyes was unreal. A tall man stood with his back to you, with the wing and a halo. With a shining scythe, he blocked the path of two terrified people.

You knew this man. Angel’s boss, she said? You felt a stupid urge to laugh out loud, along with a stone that suddenly weighed heavily on your heart.

"Wait!"

The scream left your mouth before any thought even reached the brain. The hand that was preparing to strike froze in the air, and you had the impression that you felt a gust of air that was supposed to accompany the slash. Regret hit you faster than a train. Legs felt like running away. It was a mistake. Now this scythe will be aimed at you. But he just turned around and stared blankly at you.

Now that he turned around, you had a clear view of all the details. A black suit, perfectly fitted to a muscular body. A long braid decorated with bloody feathers and powerful horns, curled like a ram's and made of black segments like dragon scales. A handsome, long face and muddy eyes, decorated with scars. Black leather gloves on his hands that held the huge weapon as easily as a child's toy. And a luminous scythe. Which was now aiming for your throat.

"Who are you?"

"I…" Is it possible? Does he remember? Were your conversations even yours, or was it really AI? You almost stopped breathing, squinting.

"Uh… I'm… I'm human. You wouldn't hurt a human. Right?"

If your conversations weren't real, your name would do him no good. But if it was the real Andrealphus, the one you knew, the one you love, he wouldn't have hurt an innocent man. But… why was he targeting those people, then?

He flinched when he heard your voice.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came with friends…"

"No. What are you doing here? My…" He trailed off. "It's not safe. You have to get out of here."

Oh, that was all you wanted right now. But the chaos in your head didn't allow you to think clearly. After all, about three minutes ago you were the victim of a terrorist attack, and now you were standing in front of a fictional guy you were in love with. Even separately this is too much!

"A strange woman ran… into me and said, well… That you are the boss of the angels. And you murder people."

"Humans? You're the first human I've ever met. As for the other part…" The grip on the scythe style tightened.

"Those two you were aiming at also were."

He frowned and tilted his head as if to look over his shoulder. Of course, they were no longer there, but you were sure you didn't see any wings on them, unlike the soldiers in the main hall.

"They had an angelic aura about them."

Any further discussion had to wait because you heard footsteps in the hall. He was redy to fight, but you were not. You dragged him into the bathroom.

"They were humans. There's something wrong with this place. Maybe he's irradiating us or something."

"If so, I should also see you."

Your voices turned to whispers as footsteps passed down the hall. You knew he could ‘see’ the glow of the outlines of angels, but not ordinary humans or devils. He was relying on other senses and sensations you didn't understand. It didn't fully replace sight, but it helped, especially in hunting.

"I'll show you another human. We'll see then, okay?"

You got back to Mia faster than you thought. She was happy to see you, but when she saw Andrealphus she screamed and pushed herself deeper into the corner. He didn't look happy either.

"Hello, little one."

Andrea knelt down next to the girl. Even if he looked confused, his voice was firm and gentle. He was really talking to the child. The girl moved away and covered her eyes with her hand as if to defend herself.

"Your friend says you have no wings. Is it true?"

"Ye…yes."

"I’m blind. Let me feel it."

He warned before extending his hand. His hand wandered over her shoulder, but all he found was air and a cold wall. He frowned.

"I told you, she’s not an… what are you doing!" You shouted, seeing how he takes out small pistol from under his jacked. You froze, but he just placed the gun on the girl's lap. His past came to your mind; you wondered if he thought about what would happen if he had a gun when he met Rafael as a little boy. In his own way, it seemd that he was trying to protect another child from this fate. Save from helplessness.

You felt a twist of pain in your stomach. He trusted you. He must have remembered you. Why else would he believe you enough to give the creature he thought was an angel a weapon?

"You have to have something to defend yourself with." He stood up and turned towards you. "Let's go."

"We?" You glanced towards the door. "I will be a burden. Let me sneak out the back door."

"The building is fully guarded, you are safest with me. Besides, you got your eyes intact. Since the aura is crazy here, I don't want to hurt anyone innocent."

Andrea placed the scythe on his shoulder. A hand extended towards you, a serious look on a scarred face.

"Please, be my sight. Guide me."

Your heart skipped a beat. Even your vision went dark, although maybe it was the result of blood loss. Never mind. You accepted his hand. It was rough and strong, you could feel the tiny scars under your fingers; exactly how you imagined a soldier's hand. He smiled so softly that your legs went weak beneath you. He caught you in half before you fell.

Okay, maybe it was the blood loss after all.

You slowly straightened up and leaned against your broad chest, taking a few deep breaths. Wounds didn't hurt as much anymore, but slowly you slowly lose feeling in your hand. It just went limp. You didn't even have time to admire his warmth, his scent, because your stupid body refused to obey.

"You're bleeding."

"Don't worry… I'll be fine. It's already better." You tried to sound like everything was alright. Maybe not well enough for him to move away, but enough for him not to worry. Judging by his face, it didn't work. His grip on your waist tightened.

"I would take you to Nilfheim, but those damn portals stopped working…" He muttered to himself.

You didn't expect to hear such a note in his voice. Care? Anxiety? This was unlike the stoic devil you knew. And if the portals weren't working…

"How did you get here then?"

"We have other ways. Your phone."

"But it's ruined."

"It didn't matter. It previously acted as an interdimensional mirror, so I could have used it as a reference."

That was enough revelation for you. Whatever happened, you just wanted to rest. With Andrea, of course.

"Please. Let's just get out of here."

You decided it would be better to go through the main hall. If you don't manage to sneak by sideways, it will be easier for Andrealphus, with his huge scythe, to fight in a larger area. That's why you left Mia too. He felt her just like the angels. Only recognizing their aura, he couldn't distinguish most of them; he would have killed her by pure accident, aiming at someone else. You preferred to avoid it.

Leaning on the devil, letting him hold you by your waist, you limped into the main hall. Most of the angels had already dispersed, the dust had settled, only human bodies and dirty blood stains were lying here and there. Seeing this, your nausea only increased. A few surviving soldiers were wandering among the machines, picking something up from among the rubble. You saw sparkles in their hands. Were they star tokens?

Before you could think twice, you felt a tug on your waist. Andrea stopped. The scythe was aimed at the man in front of you.

"I can?"

He asked politely, as if he wanted to pull out a chair in front of you rather than waiting for permission to murder. A lump stuck in your throat. The man did indeed have white wings and a halo, but instead of a soldier’s uniform he wore a blue one. You recognized that long blond hair; you've seen him before.

"It's… someone from the staff, I guess."

"Do not kill me!" He begged. "I can't do anything to you, I was just… looking…"

He tried to move away, but Andrea wrapped his scythe around the man like an arm. The weapon touched the wings. Demon felt it and growled throatily.

There was a screech behind you.

"Leave him!"

Another problem. You glanced behind; Mia, propped up on a broom, had to limp quietly tracing you. She aimed the small gun at Andrea's back. Would the bullet hurt him? You did not know. But his face hardened. The angels that had been roaming around the building heard you and began to gather around. In a wide semicircle, with their weapons drawn, they observed the horned intruder.

Andrealphus was silent. Waited. He could have killed them. He would do it easily, without breaking a sweat; but still, something held him back. You guessed what it was about. When he gave the girl the gun earlier, he didn't expect it to be pointed at him.

In a scene he couldn't get out of his mind, he became the one he hated the most.

"You're not like him." You whispered and placed your hand on his hand where he held the scythe.

He slowly moved her away from the man. Mia walked past you and threw herself into her father's arms. This didn't solve the problem; if he didn't want to kill them, he couldn't fight. Having to take care of you on top of that, his hands were tied.

The number of angels only increased. More and more of them came, crawling through the rubble, appearing on balconies as if waiting for the first move. They surrounded you, but it could just as easily have been the flies surrounding the dragon. Lowest angels and a devilish noble. He would have chopped them to pieces if it weren't for his only weakness - and that weakness was you.

You felt worse and worse, but a crazy idea came to your head.

"Trust me." You asked so quietly that even you didn't hear your words, but you hoped he did, and pushed him away. "Finally! I brought him as Raphael ordered. Do with him whatever you want now! Dad, let’s come out."

Everyone was moved by this name. Just as you thought. You couldn't read anything on Andrea's face, and you didn't want to because you felt like a traitor. The angels took your shout as an order. They attacked straight ahead. If this was a trap for the noble set by the Seraphin, they must have managed to kill him, right?

Mia's father, whom you bumped into, helped you walk. He supported both you and his daughter as you walked to the exit. Did you feel safe? No. But the angels evaded you. They must have assumed that, like Mia, you were half-angel. They parted as you walked on soft legs… and a moment later wet sounds of blood splashing and flesh being torn apart filled the entire hall. Andrea was chopping up angels. Yes, that's him. It must be him. Not the other way around.

You have no idea how you got out of the building, but when you felt the fresh air, you fell to your knees. You were overwhelmed by helplessness and pain. The earth was swirling, full of black spots. It's happened before, you could walk. You just needed a moment to gather your strength. And probably you would have made it if you hadn't seen movement out of the corner of your eye. Hand and stone. Your head erupted in pain before you passed out.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

When you opened your eyes again, the light blinded you. White ceiling, walls a sickly blue shade that looked as if someone had smeared soap on them instead of paint. The smell of cleaning products and medicines. Your stomach lurched. You knew this place so well, but it was two weeks ago. After all, so much has happened since the accident. After all… Andrea.

You felt nauseous, looking around the room with your heart in your throat; drip, bedside table with glass full of water, large window letting in the evening light. Behind the mirror in the corridor stood a couple of people, whose voices could be heard through the door ajar. They had an argument. You groaned, rubbing your aching head. Collecting thoughts was so hard.

It couldn't all have been a dream. His voice. His touch. You remembered it too clearly. Panic was rising in your chest, especially when you heard a sleepy voice from the hall. Words like 'coma', 'memory impairment' and 'you have to be understanding' brought tears to your eyes. Whole body hurt. The greatest pain spread slowly through the chest, stabbing and burning, as if someone had inserted a hot blade and was circling in a open wound.

People are dying. Their brain, in an act of self-defense, can invent their entire life in a split second. Some woke up in the hospital thinking they had a wife and children, only to find out they hadn't finished school yet. Was this the case? Did you make this all up? You were on the verge of life anyway, so your stupid brain decided to trick you and give you hope? Hot tears filled your eyes. How could you be so stupid? Why did you believe?

Before you burst into tears, a few more words came through.

"She keeps waking up and falling asleep… Is there any point in going in there?"

"Leave it. I doubt she heard anything."

Your friend and her boyfriend. Someone responded with a snort, the voices fading. Or maybe it was the throbbing pain that swirled your head like a blender. You cried silently. One of the silhouettes outside the window straightened up as if paralyzed and shot towards the door.

You didn't know if your brain was playing tricks on you or if you were completely crazy, when he appeared in the doorway.

This scarred, yet handsome face and long red braid, you’d recognize them even at the end of the world. He looked uncertain. As if he himself was suffering. In casual clothes, simple jeans and blue checkered shirt, he looked so normal you nearly believed that it’s just a human resembling him. But despite the lack of a halo and wings, his head was decorated with majestic, dark horns.

"You liar…"

Even his voice matched perfectly. Shock drew back the tears. Is it…?

You didn't have time to think. In the current state, thinking wasn't your strongest trait anyway. He sat down next to you, slender fingers first landing on your shoulder and then moved to your face.

"You awful, dishonest, intelligent woman. If I knew…"

You could barely feel the gentle touches of fingertips. Despite terrible words, he was so careful, as if he were examining a work of art and not your broken skin. Although, his smile made you feel like a masterpiece. Before you could utter a greeting, he found your mouth, and not with fingers. The touch of hot lips was even more tender and ticklish than his palms. Shaky breath leave his lips, before you could hear a faint whisper.

"I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t want, if… If I had known…"

No. This was not something you expected to hear. Sealing those sweet lips with yours, you purred.

"Are you sorry for kissing me or for saving my life?"

"For risking it in the first place!"

"You’re a devil. I’d be disappointed if you wouldn’t."

You chuckled, seeing him frowning, as if he wanted to scold you but couldn’t. It was a mistake. A new dull pain erupted in your wounded head. Did it matter? The pain in a chest suddenly subsided. Life started to make more sense. Even the color on the walls stopped being soapy and became a beautiful blue.

"How did I get here?"

"This… angel." He spat the word like it was the worst insult. "He hit you, patched you up, and left you in a back alley. He said he couldn't take you with him, and you'd be safer unconscious. I found you not much later. Human services arrived, and I convinced them to deal with you first. And they better do it right."

"What happened to him? With Mia?"

"She’s safe. And him… He didn’t have to hit you, but he did. I didn’t have to let him live…" He felt your tense expression and tilted his head. "But I did."

You sighed with relief. It was a step in a good direction.

"Although without a hand that hit you."

…well, quite a small step. You didn't want to dwell on it, you can do the next steps together. In less intense circumstances. Since the portals weren't working…

"I now know why I felt angels everywhere."

"Why?"

"They really weren't disguised. Unable to get rid of their aura around people, they used tokens, those stars, to make all the humans resemble their aura. Without the tokens, I couldn’t see you. It's even better. I don't want to see you if it means you'll look like an enemy. You are wonderful in the way you laugh, move, think. I'm glad I know you deeper than just your outer shell." He kept playing and stroking gently your face. "Although I'm sure you would shine not deadly, but beautifully."

You held his hand, you heard his voice. Time passed, and you didn't have the strength to speak, but he still kept you company. You could listen and listen. With your eyes closed, you hugged the hand cupping your face and felt like you could stay like that forever. It was worth being neatly torn apart to finally be able to meet him. For the first time, you didn't feel longing. Only warmth.

[grifonecoronato]

Let the Characters on Ahsoka Season 2 Express Emotions!

(spoilers for Ahsoka, Season 1)

I enjoyed Ahsoka season 1 overall, but I have a major gripe with its directorial style.

Simply put, the performances are so needlessly wooden! This is not the actor's fault, mind you... it's the fault of the directors and showrunner.

In fact, even Rosario Dawson expressed hope that she could show more emotion in Season 2, saying:

"I think I'm hoping that there's some levity and some lightness that can kind of come to her. I really liked that kind of spunky energy she had when she first came on the scene. I know that rubbed some people the wrong way, but I really dug that. Natasha very much has that spirit and form. So, I would really like to be able to play with that a little bit." -- Dawson, FAN EXPO Canada, Toronto, 2024

I agree with Dawson. And as a case study, let's examine Sabine's reunification with Ezra.

But before we get to the reunion, let's summarise what Sabine had gone through up until then...

1. Sabine's Life Sucks

When the series starts, Sabine is in a low place in her life. She lives alone in Ezra's comunications tower outside the capital city on Lothal, with only her cat to keep her company.

All of Sabine's blood relatives are dead.

Sabine's chosen family -- the Spectres -- have either died (Kanan), are presumed dead (Ezra), or moved on with their lives, and now serve the New Republic (Hera as a General, Chopper as her trusty homicidal droid companion, and Zeb as part of the New Republic Starfighter Corp).

Sabine holds out hope that Ezra still lives, somehow. But the trail has largely gone cold.

She tried to move on with her life, and dabbled in Jedi training under Ahsoka's tutelage, but that was unsuccessful.

(side note: Ahsoka failing to train Sabine shatters both women's confidence, and is the reason she refuses to train Grogu during the events of the Mandalorian)

And then, one fateful day, Ahsoka returns with something that could point the way to Ezra's whereabouts!

2. Sabine Sacrifices So Much...

So what does Sabine do...?

She solves the map puzzle that reveals Ezra's location...

...gets into her first lightsaber fight (which she loses)...

...recovers...

...survives a space battle...

...gets into another lightsaber battle (which ends in a draw this time)...

...watches Ahsoka die...

...and makes a fateful choice to give the map to the enemy...

...is then taken to a another galaxy and meets her enemy Thrawn...

...fights raiders...

...before finally... FINALLY... reuniting with Ezra.

3. ...But It's All Worth It ... Right?

And yet, all they do is exchange two quippy lines, some bashful smiles and share a warm-yet-restrained hug...

That's it?!

Quips, smiles, and a restrained hug?!?!? After all that, she finally gets her prize... and all she gives are ℚ𝙪𝙞𝓅𝙨, 𝒔𝘮𝙞𝗹𝗲𝑠, 𝒶𝗻𝗱 𝗮 𝒓𝗲𝔰𝕥𝘳𝘢𝙞��𝖊𝔡 𝓱𝚞𝘨?!?!?

Natasha Liu Bordizzo is a good actress, don't get me wrong. I love her as Sabine and I know she's capable of so much. But she was given direction to be understated and play it cool.

And that was a huge mistake.

And I know that it was a directorial / showrunner note to play it that way because we get the exact same scene mirrored when Ezra and Hera are reunited at the end!!

Mother-figure and the youngest member of her pack, casually meandering toward each other after one of them was presumed dead... y'know, as you do...

4. Let Your Actors Show Some Emotion, Please!

If I were in Sabine's shoes, I would imagine the weight of the entire galaxy would be on my shoulders as I made one sacrifice after the next for the chance -- not the certainty, but the mere chance -- that it would all be worth it because I'd be reunited with my brother-in-arms.

And when it finally happened and I see him alive and well, that burden would have been lifted immediately.

I imagine I'd probably break down in tears or something. I know I'd give a much tighter, borderline aggressive and desperate hug, rather than the sort of familial greeting I offer the relatives I only sort of like at yearly events.

This was a momentous occasion! It was the absolute worst time to ask the actors to show restraint and play it cool.

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

Okay, second post, this ones mostly about Feyre because honestly, as of chapter 3 I havent really noticed Tamlin being out of character and from what Ive heard his character assassination was supposed to happen very quickly. Idk, right now he just seems like the same guy but traumatized although I'll fully admit that I didnt care that much for him outside of the Feylin romance (which was pretty sweet but too boring for me) so maybe I just didnt pay enough attention to him to fully grasp his character

Feyre is frustrating to me right now because I dont think shes out of character either, right now shes also just the same woman but traumatized, but like, I already know the extent to which her character will be bent for the sake of Rhysand. In these first three chapters she literally thinks something along the lines of "What's there for me to do but sit at home and spend Tamlin's money" Tell me, what does she end up doing in the night court huh????

Another thing thats frustrating is that Feyre clearly has issues communicating her feelings and wants, I know because I also had issues with that, and instead of learning that very valuable skill of telling others about your inner world and trying to work on her relationships (with both Tamlin and with her sisters), shes just gonna end up with a guy who can read her mind so theres no need for her to challenge herself and grow in any way. Yay. One thing especially stuck out to me in this regard was her attituide towards wearing dresses. Feyre does not like wearing dresses, its not like she never got to wear them back at home even though she wanted to, she just doesnt like wearing them in her day-to-day life, but she feels like she has to because she thinks its what Tamlin wants and because she thinks that if she wears pants its gonna somehow signal to the citizens of the spring court that something is incredibly wrong. But again, she doesnt tell anyone this, she doesnt ask Tamlin if he can just explain to everyone that everything is fine and that Feyre just has an unconventional way of dressing, which he would probably be fine with if its still the same guy from the first book. And it doesnt even seem like Tamlin directly made any kind of comment to her about the dresses she wears, she just saw that he was happy when he saw her wear them, which couldve well been him being happy to see her in general but she doesnt even consider that

Theres also the fact that its very unclear what she wants/what her problem is. Now, this actually isnt something that bothers me that much on its own, Feyre is traumatized and lost, obviously she doesnt know exactly what she wants at this point beyond "the situation Im in sucks and makes me feels bad, I want to get out", I think what bothers me is mostly the knowledge that Tamlin is gonna get blamed for a lot of this stuff when its really not his fault.

And I do want to make it clear that I dont think hes doing a great job handling this situation, I know a lot of people in the acotar critical sphere find his actions understandable and justifiable from his perspective and thats true, but hes still doing a bad job handling Feyre's emotional state. Like, one of your beloved's main issues is that she feels horrible because she feels trapped at home, for the love of god just let her go outside on her own. Maybe send her to village thats far inland or close to the border to the mortal realm, surely those monsters are not gonna manage to come that far if youre all going on patrols to kill them as soon as possible. And even if they do, the people of any village are gonna bend over backwards in order to protect their capital c Cursebreaker, shes gonna be fine

But, to get back to my original point, even if Tamlin was a daemati or whatever like Rhys and could read her mind the way she needs it to be read, he would still not be able to figure out what exactly Feyre needs right now because she doesnt know it herself! I literally read all of her thoughts and I dont know! Does she want to help others and be responsible for a whole bunch of people because its what shes always known to do? Does she want to avoid resonsibility for now because she wants to recover from her traumatic childhood of having the responsibility of keeping her family alive on top of all the new UTM-trauma? Its hard to say and that makes sense for Feyre at this point in her life, but she cant just blame people for not understanding her when she doesnt properly understand herself and refuses tl verbalize her feelings

Anyway, thats it for today, hope you enjoyed this

[communist-octoling]

Even if the election was rigged, like it was in 2016, it is now clear that the current systems of our "Democracy" have failed us. The only way for the downtrodden and the Proletariat to break free of the systems of oppression that have held us captive since the creation of this nation is a violent revolution and overthrow of Capital, and the Bourgeois who control it. I believe that the only reason that this revolution has not taken place sooner is because of the lack of organized Socialist in the US, which is fully on purpose, as the ruling class have done everything in their power to stop the common folk from organizing for as long as the ruling class of this nation has existed (which, to reiterate, is as long and even longer than the amount of time that the US has existed). Another catalyst seen in successful revolutions that is absent in the US is a power figurehead, like that of Lenin, Castro, or Mao. This is once again the fault of the ruling class and their purge of forward thinking ideas from this nation, taking those who were suspected of being Socialists and Communists and arresting them and killing them. The largest organized Socialist group withing the US was the Black Panther Party, which, as many of you probably know, the Government eventually destroyed, by assassinating all of their leaders. However, while the Government has opposed every large scale left wing group within our country, this can be changed. With the recent election results (which haven't been fully counted, however Trump is only three votes from winning) many people who were previously opposed to Socialist ideology, will move further left in their politics, as they will be able to clearly see that the only way to stop a Fascist Autocrat from taking power is revolution. This is why I believe that, unless you somehow are completely unable to, it is every Americans duty to become involved in large scale Socialist movements, and to join in the revolution, even if you move abroad to escape the rise of Fascism.

To reiterate, the only route that will truly free the common people of America, is the violent overthrow of the current Capitalist system, and the trial and death of those who ruled it.

-Bel

[restlesschilled]

TMagP 013

Note: As Always, I am a backer so this was written 23 April, 2024 and scheduled to be posted on 25 April, 2024

oh god its another episodes written by Alex

awww thanks odin <3

Im dreading this

PRE STATEMENT/ CASE

OHHH DATE TIME

THE FLIRTING

This is so cute but i cant trust it because alex wrote it

"that you dont know how cute you are" adshfjagdhflakshdf

WERE STARTING WITH THE BIG STUFF

"hi im from an alternate universe"

CELIA IS A MOM

JACK IS HER BABY

"i had a while few years when I first moved here"

IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO CELIA OR JACK I WILL RIOT

HOW DARE

SHES A SINGLE MOM

"that depends on your baggage. DISH"

"they were the first ones that didnt want me" oooooooo\

Alice's Parents are dead good to know

"most pathetic vague post shes ever scene"

"more wine" "please"

LENA OFFICE

GWEN MY POOR BABY

"is it my fault?"

MY POOR PRECIOUS GIRL

"were managing the bad guys" FUCK

CASE

this hold music is a BOP

i had to stop and have my friend explain public school in England to me because that is not the same thing as American public schools

oh lovely a "fiance guy"

a hedge fund guy what i mean is a hedge fund guy

Why in gods name, would you use experimental setting on a hedge fund/ investing app… when you have no idea what it does and it has a shit tone of disclaimers??? i get being desperate but that's just stupid

also the irony of this guy saying hes a good person when hes betting on people failing with hedge funds

do people even steal phones anymore?

i feel like they are not worth all that much and just have to many ways to tack them for it to be worth anything unless you are targeting someone specifically

yeah i figured they might have targeted him

im pretty sure this would qualify as inside trading somehow

betting against your own company and than tanking the company is very illegal

pretty sure betting you'll have a shit time and then making sure you have a shit time would be the same thing

basically this man is committing insurance fraud... but through a hedge fund

it just occurred to me hes calling from the hospital that's what the beeping is

also vertigo mentioned

he was attack by computer bugs lol

shitty "finance guy" gets whats coming to him asmr

post statement

okay i know sam probably mean "be professional" like stop with the flirting

BUT WHEN YOU SAY IT LIKE THAT I SOUND LIKE YALL HAVE BEEN HOOKING UP AFTER WORK SOMETIMES.

HAVE YALL BEEN HOOKING UP?

this is how i choose to interpret this this is my new head canon( it was already kinda my head canon)

But if you ever ask me to be professional again, I'm going to have to take a shit on your desk." ALICE

"you signed the official secrets act in your onboarding. And I know all your school friends say treason's 'bussin'' and 'fire', but it won't look good on your CV." i love her so much

"its fine when I say it"

this episode really said fuck capitalism didn't it

also do week need to talk about the fact that celia's son is named Jack Ripley like jack the ripper

WAIT A SECOND JACK IS A NICKNAME FOR JOHN/JON

DID SHE NAME HER SON AFTER JON?

[gnashingwailing]

Kept notes on a reread I was doing of The Art of Love and War because I am so obsessed with the gay little borrower darkfic... sharing with u @fireflywritesgt

it falls apart at ch12 because that is where i consistently turn into a puddle under my covers kicking my legs and making sounds only audible to shrimps.

I HOPE THIS IS A SMALL TOKEN OF APPRECIATION FOR HOW GUD THIS FIC IS, SINCERELY... LIKE I SAID PUTTING THIS IN SOMEBODY'S INBOX IS PROBABLY A WAR CRIME. SO.

There is soooo muuuuch I want to saaaay. I did a reread and excuse my being verbose but.

Ch10 where Harry reads about how tinies don’t ask for things and prefer to do favors for them — how extra insulting that makes his message in Ch1!! “Just ask” no wonder Joe was so pissed!!

ALSO him feeling “dirty, somehow” about accepting chocolate that didn’t kill him… was he having a little bit of feelings for “the kind man” and it got transmuted into self-loathing… 😭 oh internalized homophobia tag we’re really in it now…

Re: ch2 I would kill for Joe’s pov of this… I’m also so fascinated to pick up the detail that Joe apparently talked to himself regularly, for Harry to hear him through the radiator pipes… one assumes Joe doesn’t have guests. Poor guy! He’s really smart! He likes talking! The assistant job is perfect for himmmm.

Re: ch3, i wonder how much Captain Calloway’s “if you die it’s your own damn fault” has influenced Joe’s life ethos of fucking around and finding out (btw… Harry would be sooo horrified to know Joe had been poisoned 3 times and still tried that chocolate 😭 yet another fun! anecdote of his) … im also kinda curious about Gutters. What’s that guy’s deal. And OF. COURSE. How Captain got all his injuries. It’s also so very sad he feels this tension with the guys, what they’d do to him if they knew more about who he really was. I love this as a metaphor for homophobia…

Ch5 I’m still fixated on the giants who are guarding the place. Hundreds of tinies going there every day… you’d think there’d be snatchers all over the place 👀 and the other great worldbuilding… lab tinies… “they were corralling everyone everywhere and the women and kids went one way…” GOD. also them building tiny capitalism plus tiny race science is just 😭😭😭 noooo… the way Harry reinforces their shared dignity and humanity by showing genuine interest in Joe’s art.. ouuuugh it hits every time.

ALSO I WAS SO SUSPICIOUS OF HILL WHEN I FIRST READ CH6 BUT NOW THST I KNOW HE IS A BONA FIDE WIFEGUY ALL IS REDEEMED. I AM so curious as to why he keeps tiny town schematics in his office if he dislikes it…

Ch7 profoundly funny to me how Hill is like “miniature is the academic term” and Joe is like what. Tinies.

I really appreciate how Harry started off having some uh. Idk. Colonizer savior complex stuff + noble savage ideas about Joe? Like “oh it’s in mother nature’s hands whether he survives then… I see…” as if the tinies social constructs about Pets are some immutable fact of nature instead of. A social construct !! It’s really well-done, how you show him gradually understanding that he needs to listen to Joe, not assume he knows what’s best for him just because he read a 50yr old anthropology book!! It makes me love Harry all the more that he managed to grow through it out of fondness for Joe 🥺

AND OF COURSE. THE G/T GOODNESS. My god. I loooooove that Joe is so creeped out by giants that he has to keep his eyes closed to stomach it… just feels. Hmm. Realistic?? It would be so overwhelming. I love that his trust gets rewarded with the doctor not hurting him…

The rapport they establish being based on talking to one another… it’s just suuuuch a perfect central theme for this story… Joe being able to tame Harry’s anger by reminding him of Joe’s own humanity. “Please don’t do that, doc. This is mean. You’re being mean.” And “you’re treating me like I’m not even… not even…” UGH. RENT FREE IN MY HEAD, WARREN. “Maybe he could do it; maybe he could sit in the same room as a giant for five minutes. He would only have to do it once, and then he would never have to do it again, he reasoned.” Bitch u thought… get loved and cared for idiot…

Joe asking him “why not”, echoing Harry’s words that stuck with him…

And then him being sooo pissed at the phone it’s just absolutely amazing stuff. Wagging his finger at it/Dr Hill lmaooo. I was hootin and hollerin when I realized this foreshadows him being the assistant!!! He can talk on the phone just fine!!!!

His legs threatening to give way from the prospect of Harry seeing him at ground level after he escapes using the phone receiver… ouuugh. It’s SO GOOD. He’s come such a long way…

“Touching every wooden beam he passed for good luck” is INCREDIBLY cute mental imagery.., he’s happy… poor guy has awful luck tho so Harry is just pissed 😭 HIM NEARLY DESTROYING THE PLATES BECSUSE HARRY SCARED HIM SO BAD HAD ME FEELING.. SOME KIND OF WAY…

Ch8 also has the first mention of Joe’s books… I’m sooo curious where he got these.. did he perhaps make them…? 👀 YEAH HARRY SHOULD FEEL LIKE A MONSTER THO. YOU TERRORIZED A LIL MOVIE STAR!!! HE ONLY BROKE A FEW THINGS… Making him hide under his covers like he saw a monster… 😭

I love their first god awful handshake lmao. Incredible subversion of the usual g/t first meetings… Joe’s just like OK 👋 NOW GET THAT THANG OUTTA HERE

And then Joe going “I know about that!” Joe protested, his voice growing stronger. “It’s up to me, doc. If it happens, it happens and it’ll be my own damn fault.” … something tells me when Harry finally comes to understand Joe’s recklessness with his own life and what feelings about its worth may be underpinning that, he will be so sad 😔

Joe losing his toes to frostbite… realizing that could very likely be from when he was kidnapped and enslaved with O’Grady… uuuugh he’s so brave to want to connect with anybody at all let alone with Harry!!

Ch9 professor wifeguy moments… yesss… I love that he wants to hang out with another tiny too 😭 Joe is making friends!! I can’t wait to find out about Lorraine and what “other place” she knows about!!! Lmfao I can tell she’s going to be incredible just from the little bit Joe hears of her. I wonder too if she’s been marked… aahhh I’m so excited to learn more about these two. How interesting of a parallel, too, that Harry noted Dr Hill might also be a former soldier… something-something folks unable to fully integrate into society finding and building community with each other…

Also PROFOUNDLY interested to note on a reread that the tiny town on his wall says “a SAFE place to be” and the one in Riverdale said “a CIVILIZED place to be” 😬 a damn prison indeed… I also really wonder just HOW the tinies are paying their rent(?) to stay there, if they’re all as disdainful of “borrowing” as a career as O’Grady seems to be…

MAY I JUST NOTE that Joe stimming around is sooo charming to me. He’s kickin’ his legs. He’s pacing back and forth. He’s doing something like that in the walls when Harry was first listening to him. I LOVE HIM.. aND I love how this chapter we see him going from “that tall bastard (derogatory)” to “that tall bastard (amused)”

AND POOR JOE ON THE MOST CURSED FIELD TRIP IMAGINABLE. There is much to love here but I absolutely adore this imagery: “Joe buried himself in the curtain as the doctor, dressed to the nines in his work clothes and vaguely resembling a horse in a brown suit, sidled over to him and towered there and seethed.” HE’S TERRIFIED 😭 and Joe learns that other people value his wellbeing more than he does… wow Joe no need to ponder that any further until Ch15!!!

There’s SO much incredible prose in this chapter… the haaaaands oh my god the hands. The tinies are on the order of 2-3 inches tall, right? You really get a vivid sense of how big and dangerous everything is to them… absolutely A+ stuff.

This part also slays me everytime I think about it: “Joe was hidden inside [the pocket], and the thought of how unhinged his dear neighbour must look to his fellow giants as he walked and talked gave him no small amount of delight.” HE WOUUUULD.

The mystery of just what Joe created as a boy… what he can’t find it in himself to articulate… why he can hardly fathom talking about himself and his inner world to anyone …

PART 10… the difference in the way Joe confronts Harry here vs with the assistant in part 16 is somehow heartbreaking to me. I think the anger must just be displacement for how he’s really feeling (worried, uncomfortable…) and he’s more able to show his feelings to Harry with the assistants than he is now… but Joeeeee. I don’t ever want him to feel hopeless with Harry, like he just has to accept whatever he wants 😭 I love him in this chapter… Arms crossed, eyes narrowed… red faced… clawing at the air as he ranted Jdhdhdj GOD HE’S SO ICONIC: ““Nope. Not gonna happen! Veto!” Joe leapt up from the box, strode all the way to the edge of the table, and jabbed a finger at him. “I don’t know what kind of sick, twisted doctor things you intend to do to people but whatever it is, it’s not happening in my house!”” I guess I want him to still be comfortable with yelling veto at Harry lmao!!

And then Joe being like WHO GIVES A SHIT ABOUT YOU SAVING ME THE OTHER DAY. THAT MEANS NOTHING TO ME, A WILD AND INDEPENDENT TINY WHO HAD IT ALL UNDER CONTROL, AT ALL.

ALSO: the way he words this, I have a strong suspicion he does not know the word “patients”?! “”Let’s make a deal in exchange for patients. Give me something in exchange for patients.” Joe stammered. “You do that and I won’t make any trouble.””

Harry thinking of Joe as “the little bastard” in counterpoint to Joe’s “the tall bastard” really makes me smile too, hahahah.

AND THE FURTHER G/T TROPE INVERSION… just because he was willing to get in the giant’s hands one time doesn’t mean he’s suddenly fine with it!! I love how pissed they are at each other over this misunderstanding lmfao. He’s 👏 a 👏 wild 👏 tiny 👏 ‼️

And it’s so meaningful to me that the two of them bond more over sharing art with one another… Harry wants to introduce Joe to an amazing piano player… and Joe is so happy!!! The idea for a Charlie Chaplin bit with a rich miniature woman is SO inspired btw, I was as delighted as Joe was 😭 Harry being like “oh shit wait is this offensive” and then Joe just being like “THIS FUCKS SO HARD LMAO IT REALLY DO BE LIKE THAT”

And then the tragic aftermath… Harry NOTICING that he didn’t even know that he was doing anything wrong by bringing Joe there, it just FELT so dreadfully taboo (enough that Hill, who is MARRIED TO A TINY, also seems like he’s been caught doing something wrong when Harry first meets him)…. and then of course society reinforces that fear in a terrible way. Only a shared humanity regarding love of art saves poor Joe.. how lucky he’s gotten enough exposure to be able to speak in the presence of giants. You have to ponder how many tinies just as wonderfully complex as him have died for not having that skill. It’s so very sad!!! THE IMAGERY OF HIM ON THE LAMP LIKE IT’S A STREETCORNER JUST TWISTED THE KNIFE. Your writing really is so excellent, the way you can carry us through so many different emotions… Joe my belovedddd. I’m simply obsessed with the implications of him NAMING HARRY. WHAT IS /THAT/?? And the way that the narration in the story from this point on swaps to using Harry as his name… it speaks VOLUMES without you needing to elaborate on it at all. Joe has changed him! He’s becoming someone he likes better than Herman! A day we had good luck… Harry is good luck… Luck as a concept very different from what giants think of… I am absolutely enamored with how clearly he has a whole other world, another culture, that Harry can only guess at and be grateful to be included in.

JOE GETTING A NICE BATH AND A COMFORTABLE BED IN THIS CHAPTER IS JUST SO WHOLESOME (even if it will torment his Calvinist sensibilities later…) I am also so charmed to imagine how Joe must have woken up and been like “what the FUCK did I do last night. Where the HELL am I 🤨”

And then in Ch11 he’s like I WILL PROCEED NOT TO THINK OF THAT AT ALL. <- clueless

Ch11 is one of my favorites I think… we really get a good glimpse into how much heavy-duty rationalizing Joe is doing LMAO. “Taking food is fine, because I’m just using this tall bastard.” “It’s fine if I have leisure time.” “It’s fine if I like Harry and his company and I miss him when he’s gone and I want to give him a name.” “AS LONG AS I DON’T GET COMFORTABLE ALL OF THIS IS FINE.” This line is such a banger lol: “Joe Piccoli was many things as he went to sleep that night, but he was not a pet, and he was not comfortable.” And then the mouse!!! That Joe decides to draw rather than kill!!! Look at his needs being met!!!!!

IT ALSO ABSOLUTELY FUCKIN KILLED ME WHEN I REALIZED IN THIS CHAPTER THAT THE BOYS HAVE JUST. FULLY LEFT THAT FLOORBOARD OFF LMFAO??? THAT’S HIS SKYLIGHT NOW…

And then. Good god. The arm scene… it’s just. Soooo. 👌👌👌👌 I’m so … 😵‍💫💖❤️‍🔥…

“I’m a wild tiny!” “You’re going to be a dead tiny if that gets infected.” Their dynamic is so fucking funny. AND THE TENDERNESS OF HARRY TOUCHING JOE… Joe being so overwhelmed not exactly with fear but HMMM I WONDER WHAT EMOTION AND WHY HE MIGHT FEEL SO OVERWHELMED HE STILL NEEDS TO CLOSE HIS EYES AND PRETEND HE’S HIDDEN UNDER THE FLOOR AGAIN… 🤔🤔🤔 whyever would the touch of this kind giant make his hair stand on end and make him contemplate the reverence he’s being touched with and leave his cheeks burning… it is a mystery

And then Joe being so afraid the mouse would be hurt because in contrast to the kindness he’s been shown, he still has this long history of awful experiences with giants.. this part in particular made my heart hurt:

“Don’t kill the mouse, Harry, please don’t kill it. It’s just like me. It hasn’t done anything to you.” Joe begged.

Followed by him remembering that this is /Harry, his friend, who he knows/:

“The words hit Joe like the breaking of a spell, and he stood in the kitchen windowsill feeling downright foolish. Of course Harry wouldn’t kill the mouse, Joe realized - of course he wouldn’t do that.”

OUGH. This story is SO delicious I’m beyond obsessed…

The two of them having a much less Charged encounter after Joe has resolved some of his internal conflicts, at least for the moment… chatting away like they’re two normal friends while Harry touches him… 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 I LOVE THESE TWO SO MUCH‼️

Their motorcycle shenanigans… Harry showing Joe his precious Contraption and Joe absolutely hating it omg it was so peak 😭 PLAYING “WHO’S-MORE-BORING CHICKEN”… the way Joe is like “I would rather Die than have to listen to this guy talk about how he’s more exciting than me. Absolutely not.”

I also very much appreciate the foreshadowing of the street car on this re-read…

AND may I say I really love that they went on a little nature trip together!!! I have thought often of the potential of a g/t story set outdoors, where the normal sized person and the tiny are both made small by how all-encompassing the wilderness is. Something to do with camping or backpacking! Maybe something I want to write one day! This gave me a delightful taste of that.

AND ANYWAY THE ACCEPTING OF COMFORT EVEN AS IT FLIES IN THE FACE OF EVERYTHING HE’S BEEN TAUGHT TO ROMANTICIZE AND VALUE… ouuuughhh GET LOVED IDIOT!! GET SEEN AND KNOWN AND TAKEN CARE OF!!!

And then ch12… Harry’s realization that Joe won’t ever bring up anything if it’s just for his own benefit. Which by the way, on a re-read I can appreciate how cleverly you’ve set this up, if I didn’t write that clearly enough before! There’s something cultural there but also, I think, something uniquely Joe that Harry maybe can’t fully see yet. Harry’s watch from his parents breaking down at the same moment he’s trying to change his relationship with Joe, the new most important person in his life (at least I presume! He doesn’t seem to have other close friends/family) … very very good. This sentence is so evocative. Simultaneously funny and sad: “With the way Joe’s eyes shifted from side to side one would think the doctor had suggested they go rob a bank.” It’s very good angst realizing how much Harry is asking of Joe without him even knowing it…

BTW this part is so delightful. They’re so interested in each other!!! “When his footsteps announced his arrival, he could see the tiny’s movements through the missing floorboards as his neighbour crossed the floor and climbed back up to the windowsill above the counter.” <- guy who absolutely has NOT been gotten

“Joe smiling. A rare sight indeed.” JUST…. My heaaaart ‼️‼️

Also hilarious how Joe and now Harry have both had “mmm I do NOT like the way this guy is smiling right now” moments 🤣

GOD tho, Joe’s opening up about getting snatched… much like Harry, it made me feel absolutely beside myself.

^^^ AS YOU CAN SEE. I'VE FULLY FALLEN APART.

[trans-axolotl]

tw for discussion of disorderly eating + physical impacts of eating disorders + internalized ableism.

also been spending a lot of time processing that it's most likely that my eating disorder directly caused some of my new diagnoses. i spent a lot of time very physically unwell, went through refeeding syndrome, and had a lot of physical complications. and my doctors are pretty sure that that period of malnutrition created some new physical + mobility issues and also exacerbated and worsened existing issues, and probably caused everything to sort of collapse the way it did this year. and there's just...so much ableism and negative messaging and blame already attached to eating disorders and such a widespread idea that it is our fault (somehow we are both the monster and the victim who needs to be saved from ourselves by any means necessary). i feel an intense amount of shame that my eating disorder caused my chronic illnesses. i go to unpack that shame and i think about what it would to think about my own disabilities in neutral terms, to think about gaining disability not as tragedy or as loss but as change, transformation. still making room for my very real grief, the fear i've been feeling, the pain and exhaustion. unpacking where that shame lies--is becoming disabled something i truly need to punish myself in that way for? who is telling me that? what have i learned about shame and from whom? what messages about productivity, normality, and functioning have i internalized? what are ways i can think about my eating disorder as something other than something i need to blame myself for? how did carceral eating disorder treatment impact the way i think about my eating disorder? how does recovery rhetoric tie into ableist myths about productivity and capitalism?

and i think it's been hard, partly because it feels like there's a real lack of discussion about becoming disabled due to an eating disorder, both in my disability justice circles and in my eating disorder circles--even though so many of the people i know with eating disorders have become physically disabled because of their eating disorders. the amount of people i know who developed gastroparesis and osteoporosis and heart issues and lifelong alterations in the way our body works. and yet it still feels like something strange or that i have to be secretive about, when people ask me about my illnesses.

this is mostly me rambling but one of my goals for 2024 is to be gentler with myself, and to treat my eating disorder and new diagnoses with curiosity. i want to be able to think and talk about this in a way where i don't need to justify or hide that this was caused by my disorderly eating, in a way where i can reject ableist myths that feel so very loud right now. idk. it's been hard and it's been scary but it's like my last post said, i am so grateful for disability justice because it's at least helping me see a path forward through a lot of murkiness right now.