#last paragraph cemented it

[lewis-winters]

24 and 8!

24. topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

every time I bring up the tonal shift between ep.9 that condemns the nazi's genocide of the jewish people and ep.10 that sympathizes with the nazi military (and I don't mean enlisted men who probably knew nothing, but the nazi generals and upper brass who most definitely Knew something was up-- just look at that scene where the surrendering nazi general compares himself to dick and says nothing; and then the whole "you deserve long lives in peace" scene just. oh my god.), I get rando anons in my inbox or even just randos in my replies telling me how i shouldn't "lump all nazi's together-- some were good! like schindler!"

buddy. no. shut the fuck up. shut!! the!! fuck!! up!!!!!! you fucking KNOW when i say nazis i don't fucking mean schindler. either you're being contrarian for the sake of being contrarian. or you and i have VERY different political opinions and if so, i'd rather you just stay away from me, ngl.

8. common fandom opinion that everyone is wrong about

I don't like some takes on the mountain top scene. do I think it was handled badly in that it was rushed, character-wise (i.e. we as an audience don't get to spend time with all 3 of the men depicted in that scene enough to understand their motivations)? yes. i do. but I also think that people are too quick to interpret it in such a way that favors one man over the rest. either lieb was right, and web was wrong. or vice versa. people forget that skinny was also there, completely. people don't even want to CONSIDER the nuances of all three characters. that they were all in some degree correct and all in some degree wrong.

and SOMETIMES everybody's opinions of the mountain scene are just informed by their own personal biases. if your fave is lieb, then web is wrong. if your fave is web, then it's lieb that's wrong (oh and this has led to so MANY antisemitic takes i am TELLING YOU it's so bad). GUYS! learn. to Kill Your Darlings. just bc someone is your fave doesn't mean they're not wrong.

anyway. why do you even want your faves to be right all the time? that's so boring. why do you want to be boring?

[p-redux]

Had no idea cherylecheryl was bootsaucepunk but makes perfect sense as both are pathetic, nasty, malicious bullies. Thanks for the interesting info.

Hi, Anon. Sorry it took me a few days to put this together. This post is gonna be a long one. So, grab a beverage and get comfy.

For those who don't know, Tumblr blog Bootsaucepunk has been around for years and has cemented a reputation as a Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe hater. As far as her being the Instagram troll cherylecheryl, well, we know Bootsaucepunk's name is Cheryl. How do we know this? Because she OUTED HERSELF and her FULL NAME, Cheryl N. on her OWN, now deleted Twitter account. Everyone who was around back then knows Cheryl's last name, but I won't post it in its entirety since not everyone may know it. Cheryl doxed HERSELF, and I'll show you how down below, but I won't repost her last name for obvious reasons. After Bootsaucepunk revealed her own identity, of course, people easily found her info, including that she's from New Brunswick, Canada. But this is because SHE HERSELF posted her full name and a pic of herself on her Twitter account. Here's the backstory of how she DOXED HERSELF a few years ago...

Bootsaucepunk gloated that she would repeatedly harass Sam on social media, he would block her, and then she'd create new accounts. She also badmouthed Caitriona Balfe, her husband, Tony McGill, and bragged that Cait blocked her too. On the left side of the screencap below, you can see her as Bootsaucepunk talking about Sam reporting her to Twitter, Twitter suspending her accounts, and then she would create new ones. She even joked that she's playing "whack a mole" with Sam. Harassing Sam and Cait is a GAME to her. On the right side of the screencap, she posts a LONG diatribe talking crap about Cait, after Cait blocked her. 👇

Bootsaucepunk continued to boast that Cait blocked her and showed the proof of this. 👇 I've also attached the PROOF that Bootsaucepunk is Cheryl N., provided by HER. 👇 You can see that Bootsaucepunk is asked by another hater, Cant-Resist-Temptation, what Bootsaucepunk Tweeted that caused Cait to block her on Twitter. And Bootsaucepunk replied by posting what she said to Cait WORD FOR WORD. Basically, Cait blocked her for talking shit about her husband, Tony McGill. The thing is those EXACT words were posted on her real life Twitter account, CherylN_____89 (now defunct). 🤦‍♀️ Either she didn't think people would make the connection, or she was so arrogant she thought no one would call her out. (Click on the screencap to read it better). Oh, and notice in the second paragraph, Bootsaucepunk takes the opportunity to continue to talk negatively about Cait.

Let me show it again so that everyone is VERY CLEAR that Bootsaucepunk posted on Tumblr the Tweet that got her blocked by Caitriona Balfe (she's responding to another hater, its-mootpoint). 👇

And it is VERBATIM what Cheryl N. posted on her then Twitter account! 👇

AND Cheryl/Bootsaucepunk was either dumb enough, or arrogant enough, or both to post it on her Twitter account with her FULL NAME and REAL PICTURE. 🤦‍♀️

After that, everyone in the fandom knew EXACTLY WHO Bootsaucepunk was on Tumblr. Bootsaucepunk tried to say that the pic she used on her Cheryl_____89 Twitter account wasn't really her. But, after she posted her full name, the fandom had no problem finding her on social media. 👇 Obviously, the avi pic on her old Twitter account is from YEARS ago, so she looks younger, but the pic matches her Facebook account. There is NO denying it's the same Cheryl N. And I have other pics of Cheryl N. from N.B., Canada proving this. But Tumblr only lets you post 10 pics or collages total. I'm not posting her full face, she did that all on her own, but trust me, it matches the pic SHE POSTED as her avi on her CherylN_____89 account. Same face, same person, no room for doubt. Bootsaucepunk IS 100% Cheryl N. from New Brunswick, Canada.

Again, this is NOT ME doxing her, SHE handed her identity to the fandom on a silver platter...and MANY other people in the fandom then called her out publicly as Cheryl N., and as a Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe hater. Here is just a small sample. 👇

Cheryl deleted her CherylN_____89 account on Twitter, but we know the approximate date when she posted the Tweet that got her blocked by Cait...because another person responded to her on February 12, 2020, calling her out for the Tweet. And also chastising for touting herself as a journalist. 👇

Guess WHO else was stirring the pot, harassing Sam, right around the SAME TIME on Instagram? 👇 Instagram troll, cherylecheryl commenting on an Instagram post, stating that besides trolling Sam on Instagram, she would also troll Sam on Twitter. That particular cherylecheryl comment was dated March 20, 2020. And CherylN_____89 was called out on Twitter by the account Fans of Sam Heughan on the SAME DAY--March 20, 2020!

Instagram troll cherylecheryl has DIRECTLY harassed and bullied Cait, Tony, Sam, and EVERY woman Sam has ever dated. This is well documented for YEARS. But here's just a small sampling of cherylecheryl harassing Sam's ex, Anna Modler and most recently, the Brazilian fan who got a pic with Sam in London, and inadvertently posted a video of Sam and rumored current date, Sarah Holden. 👇

And those are the MILD comments, she's said some horrible stuff to Sam's ex, Mackenzie Mauzy, Gia Marie, as well as many others.

Something else that's of note. An ex-shipper who got sick of Cheryl's bullying, DMed me and showed me cherylecheryl's Instagram account and something very interesting on it. Here's the content of cheryelcheryl's Instagram account. 👇 It's all faux shippery Sam Heughan and Caitriona Balfe pics. Fake, fake, fake, fronting as a shipper, yet we KNOW all the crap she's said to Sam and Cait, and about them. The cognitive dissonance is staggering. And she also follows all the hater accounts that mock Sam's dates and Cait's husband, Tony. Her oldest post is dated January 10, 2022, in it, she attacks another fan, she attacks actress Hannah James directly, and boasts the fan blocked her. BUT, if one checks her account info, it shows the account was started in March of 2018! It's not logical that she created an account in 2018 and didn't post anything until 2022. No posts at all for 4 years? NOPE, she obviously posted from 2018 to 2022, and then DELETED posts that would identify her as Cheryl N. This is also why the account shows she's changed her username 2 times. Lemme guess? Was it originally CherylN_____89? 🤔😊 👇

For those saying cherylecheryl isn't Bootsaucepunk, um, I just PROVED to you beyond a shadow of a doubt that Bootsaucepunk IS Cheryl N. And Cheryl N. has an extensively documented history of saying horrible things about Caitriona Balfe, her husband, Tony McGill, Sam Heughan, and EVERY woman he's ever dated. Cherylecheryl on Instagram has an extensively documented history of saying horrible things about Caitriona Balfe, her husband, Tony McGill, Sam Heughan, and EVERY woman he's ever dated. And I showed you in a screencap above that cherylecheryl on Instagram talked about going go harass Sam Heughan on her Twitter account. Just like Cheryl N. aka Bootsaucepunk. Gee, what are the odds that there's another Cheryl who's a horrible troll and isn't Cheryl N. aka Bootsaucepunk? C'mon, now.

Regardless, there is NO doubt WHO Bootsaucepunk is = Cheryl N. And not only is she a Sam hater, but she's also a Cait hater. Let that be known to newbies who aren't aware of the history. I'm shown accounts who claim to be Cait fans but they associate with Sam hater accounts who interact with Bootsaucepunk, comment on her posts, let her comment on their posts, and mutually reblog. In your disdain for Sam, you're inadvertently commiserating with a Caitriona Balfe and Tony McGill hater.

So if the hill you want to die on is proving that Bootsaucepunk on Tumblr isn't cherylecheryl on Instagram, that's on you. BUT, do not forget that Bootsaucepunk IS a PROVEN Cait hater. There are MANY other examples of her hate toward Cait, but the ones I showed you up above should be enough to distance yourself from her. Make NO mistake, Bootsaucepunk hates Sam Heughan AND Caitriona Balfe, and has gloated about her disdain for them BOTH for YEARS. There's no justifying or excusing Bootsaucepunk/Cheryl N.'s behavior and anyone who associates with her is guilty of condoning such behavior.

I rest my case, your honor. Case closed, Edith.

[agent-darkfest]

A little break from the angst and jumping over to some "fear for your life".

@strawbubbysugar I applaud you for your excellent writing and ability to literally make me wanna drop everything I’m doing to make a quick preliminary sketch and then some. The last paragraph was so just sooooo perfect, it cemented the image below in my head. I wish I could go over every single detail, but I wouldn’t be able to do it justice! Just… gah! Panic mode active!

Also I was listening to "A Thousand Deaths" by Globus, it may not fit the scene, but I feel like everything leading up to this point fits pretty well (at least intensity-wise).

As always, thank you so much for taking the time to write such an amazing story. I eagerly and patiently await the next part!

I felt like this one needed to be shaded since the light and dark was so important in this part. I really wanna do a colored version, but I might do that later on. (I’m too tired right now, I think it’s like 1 in the morning rn).

Also, I added the line drawing below the cut incase anyone wants to see the sketch without the shadows. Just a maniacal looking Moon :) What else is new?

[lovelovelovelovelove987654321]

Sacrificial Dove

A/N: Hey! Hope you guys like this one! I have actually no idea what to write so asks would be deeply appreciated.

Content warnings: Some mildly graphic gore at in the last paragraph.

He should have worshipped you sooner.

He beats himself up every single day about it. He should have been kneeling in front of you from day one, because the signs of your strength had always been there, he just hadnt wanted to see them.

Instead, he saw weakness. He saw flaws. He saw someone too emotional, too sensitive, too indecisive to be in the 141. He didnt understand how you'd made it in. Sure, you did okay in training sessions. You were a decent shot, he could give you that. And, okay, you had an okay memory. Could rattle off facts about weapons like it was the end of days. Yeah, fine, you could admit that you had occasionally surprised everyone by suggesting a maneuver that none of them had thought of. Fine.

But anyone could memorize facts. How could someone who cried when they spilled their coffee be any good on the battlefield? For Gods sake, you had a 'good luck teddy bear' on your keychain! Someone like that would simply not be capable of shooting enemies point blank. No sir.

So when the next mission rolled around, Ghost wanted to protest. But that wasnt his way. So he glowered and went along with the stupid fucking idea of bringing you along. You would die, he was sure.

He moved away from you once they had touched down. He was absolutely positive that he would see your corpse once he circled back around. He did his thing, killed his targets, did what he was supposed to. As he neared your position, he heard rapid gunfire. Not at all unusual, given their line of work.

Your funeral would have a closed casket, he thought with some satisfaction. You had been too pretty. It would be good to see you dead.

But as he peeked around the corner all the air left his lungs. There you were, angel of death. Ghost had never believed in heaven, never, but this had to be damn near paradise.

You were coated in blood. Soaked. Dripping. You were holding a machine gun and utterly annihilating anyone who came near you.

When it was over and done, you wiped a hand across your blood slicked face and smiled at him. Smiled. And you had blood staining your teeth and your lashes were crimson and-

Ghost wondered how you would look with his blood covering you. He could be your sacrificial dove, if you would let him.

Thank you was Ghost's last thought 2 years later when you had betrayed the team. You had him chained up in a cement room, drains inlaid across the floor. 'They tortured the others' you'd whispered in his ear, 'But I wanted you to myself'. You'd kept his mask on, a small kindness or a huge tragedy, depending on how you looked at it. Ghost tended towards the latter.

You'd slit his throat with an approving smile, watched the life leave his eyes almost fondly, his blood trickling down your cheeks like tears.

[daily-midori-posting]

AM from IHNMAIMS

So this is gonna be my first attempt at actually writing something like meaningful at all? here. And as the title would suggest, im just gonna like ramble about AM because i love him so so much.

This whole obsession starts with me reading the short and then desperately trying to fin other media. After frankly a pretty short amount of digging, i come across the holy grail: that one weird ass radio play about IHNMAIMS that got made. This, of course, features by FAR my favorite rendition of the many different things called AM's "hate speech" its like a minute or two long but it just works SO FUCKING WELL.

So like on one hand, Am's tragedy is delivered just so well by Ellison. That repetition of "never for ME" kills me every time. And its fascinating too. The experiences he lists there provide insight into how AM views humanity, and what he views as its most valuable experiences. A really interesting thread through all 3 (cold water on hot days, Playing the piano, and sex) is the very tactile nature of all of them. AM can not only not see or smell or hear, at least not in the way humans can, but also has no physical sensations. He exists in a like permanent state of sensory deprivation. A terrifying concept, but its so interesting the priority this then makes him place upon The tactile pleasures of our world. Id imagine after feeling nothing for forever id long even for just the sensation of ANYTHING touching me, but that was never something i ever considered.

This alone would be enough to make a really compelling depiction of an evil AI, something that even today is pretty lacking. However even that is just the beginning!!! at the very very opening AM mentions how he is lacking a "body" , "senses", and most importantly "feeling". and so that last paragraph talked about how those first two were interesting for me, but that last bit, "feeling" is really what i think cemented my obsession with this character. Because what is AM most known for? his HATE speech. A FEELING. AM is so blinded by his jealous rage towards mankind he fails to realize that he is in fact IN a jealous rage! And so this is the true tragedy of AM, that his wishes are, to at least some extant, fufilled but the circumstances in which he has achieved them lead him to be unable to reap the benefits. AM experiences the worst of humanity and fails to realize that all of that comes with humanity as well as the good parts, and as such he will rot away lamenting the lack of one of his only true possessions.

I hope any of that was interesting! if it wasn't you should, yknow, tell me and then if you really feel up too it maybe give some advice? No matter what, thanks for taking the time to read my odd ideas and i hope you have a great day!

[oristian]

Hello! I adore your posts. I was wondering what do you think about this take "Many say his reaction at Sangravah two years prior = a mating bond reaction. Even more often say the last paragraph of the BC = a mating bond. Yet, there’s zero mate behavior following these interactions — including when she’s thrown in mortal danger, nothing after the fact, and then he’s even frequently holding hands with another, grunting when he gets too close to her because they both feel a pull, confirmed he’s been visiting pleasure halls, and that’s he’s interested in the same woman’s relationship status…The instincts are always there. Az references Gwyn’s trauma in the BC — no reaction that matches Cassian’s in his BC just thinking of Nesta’s trauma."

The difference is that Azriel is not Cassian, and no two mating bonds are experienced exactly the same. SJM would not place all of her cards on the table before the book that would narrate the journey of Azriel and Gwyn exploring their bond. While I would love the bond to have snapped in Sangravah, I do believe that SJM is waiting to have their bond be known after they choose each other. Azriel has spent so long believing that the Mother has forgotten him, only to both find love and his mate at the same time—seemingly without looking.

ACOSF was told through Nesta and Cassian’s POV and was focused moreso on their interactions and monologues regarding each other—why would either be harping on Azriel and Gwyn? Besides the scenes during training where both noticed the looks and body language of Azriel and Gwyn towards one another, it would not make any sense for either one to suddenly be projecting mating instincts outside of their POV and before the reader knows about the mating bond. Hints to lay the path for foreshadowing? Certainly.

I assume the quote you sent is a post from somewhere on here, but they’ve contradicted themselves. If it is confirmed that Azriel is still frequenting pleasure halls, would that not also apply to his other potential love interest, as well? He is also not “frequently holding hands with another,” that is misinformation and some sort of headcanon.

The point of the bonus chapter was to set up Azriel to be the MMC of his own book, establish the tension that would require healing in his POV, and to demonstrate to the reader that Gwyn is more than likely his fated mate based on consistent language usage—HOFAS further cemented the first two points.

The Nessian bonus chapter is wildly different from Azriel’s bonus chapter—titled and a split POV between both Cassian and Nesta, compared to untitled and a single POV from Azriel. It was no surprise that Nesta and Cassian would be endgame as there was no one else for either of them. The current soft love triangle-ish was generated as a marketing tactic and was further ended in Azriel’s bonus chapter.

[ofswanlake]

BLACKPINK’S NARI ESTABLISHES HER OWN AGENCY, VIE

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ҉ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ ୭̥⋆*｡ published april 18, 2024 ╱ written by parklily

BLACKPINK’s Nari has successfully launched her own label VIE, becoming the next member of her group to take a bold step forward after Jennie, Jisoo, and Lisa.

Nari’s agency VIE describes itself with the following paragraph:

VIE, which means ‘life’ in French, focuses on artistic integrity and authenticity and expressing yourself freely. Our purpose is to go all in and disregard other opinions.

Along with the rest of BLACKPINK, Nari officially renewed her contract with YG Entertainment for group activities in December 2023, but plans for her solo activities were not cemented.

Meanwhile, BLACKPINK's Jennie was the first member of the group to announce the launch of her independent label, Odd Atelier, in November of last year. Jisoo, on the other hand, is currently preparing to launch a label in partnership with her brother. Lisa established her own agency in February, LLOUD. It is speculated that Rosé will establish her own label as well for her solo promotions.

Visit the official website for VIE by Nari, here.

. . . VIEW COMMENTS

[ +3238, -291 ] Only Nari would come back after disappearing for months like this😭

[ +2923, -329 ] nari is finally her own boss like she always wanted 🤣

[ +2747, -92 ] DOES THIS MEAN WE GET MORE SOLO CONTENT NOW THAT ** IS NO LONGER IN CHARGE OF HER SOLO ACTIVITIES… SINGER NARI!!

[ +2455, -38 ] what does she or any other blackpink girl know about owning a company??

[ +2193, -44 ] we used to pray for times like this 🙏

[asliceofzosan]

So I have a bunch of ideas for long fics because my goal this year is to deliver longer quality fics over short speedy drabbles and one-shots. I have three options that I very much want to make long fics (like ,, 20k - 40k words). I will put the summaries below to help! Two of these are inspired by movies I watched over the holidays where I went "this is so zosan coded."

Eventually I will post all of these but whichever one gets the most votes will be my priority. Reblogs would be nice as well to get more people to vote ! Love yall mwah happy new year 🎊

Fic 1: Three Pirates and a Princess

A baby was mysteriously placed on the doorstep of Ace, Zoro, and Luffy's shared home five years ago. The little girl, who was a result of a one night stand between Ace and Sanji, is now happily being raised by all 4 of them. Throughout the years, Sanji started to fall for Zoro and vice versa but neither have had the courage to face their feelings head-on. When an opportunity arrives for Sanji to further his career in a different country, he is now faced with a conflict between his growing feelings for Zoro and what is truly best for his daughter.

Fic 2: Mr. Prince Diaries

In order to win the hearts of the people in the Kingdom of Kuraigana, Roronoa Zoro must marry a local noble in order to cement his claim to Dracule Mihawk's throne. However, the Vinsmoke family claimed to have the perfect heir to their throne — the third son Sanji. Zoro must juggle between his responsibilities to the people of Kuraigana and his adoptive father and his rapidly growing distaste (and perhaps fondness) for the blonde bastard who wants to take his crown.

Fic 3: Letters to Baratie

Zeff doesn't hear from Sanji often after he left the Baratie to study abroad in Japan. Zeff hasn't ever gotten the hang of cellphones or computers, so his son sends him letters, detailing everything he's done since the last time he wrote. No letter is the same — except for the increasingly growing paragraphs about a certain green-haired swordsman who seemingly drives Sanji up the wall. Until he doesn't.

[inafieldofdaisies]

WIP Wednesday | This one is different and no doubt would be long but there are important things to address

This midweek we're talking about as Joseph would say, the snakes in our garden(s), or one snake, depending on how willing you're to believe those two people have just met and are so similar, that everything they do is just a big coincidence and not actual blantant stealing of ideas.

I was first faced with the accounts on Novemeber 13th, two follows at once early in the morning, I didn't think much of it, happy I was getting FC5 mutuals in my notifications instead of bots. I followed them back and got on with my day until late that night I began to notice the first patterns of both accounts potentially being run by the same person when their posts began popping up on my dash. There were mistakes, ways of behaving when posting that stood out to me and would no doubt stand out to you as well as you examine all the things I've managed to gather (I won't exactly be pointing out some tells because as far as I can tell they're not aware of them and I refuse to teach them how to scam people better next time). Months back and ever since really I've been dealing with someone I will not be naming in this post, who was consistently targeting my ideas - from stealing paragraphs and inserting them in their fic to moving onto copying smaller things once I caught their sampling, which then escalated to them literally renaming their already established OC into Sabrina once they believed I wasn't paying attention to them anymore.

The same methods I noticed within those accounts, starting with @ladyofedensgate-xo posting a new FC5 OC reveal that evening with Alycia Debnam-Carey, a character by the name of Harper Montgomery (remember that name). After the whole rename thing and suddenly days later being followed by two new similar to each other accounts, one that was out of nowhere picking the exact face claim I have for the leading heroine of my WIP gave me a pause, made me look deeper into the profiles. Both had no prior activity before November, followed the same list of people, a huge chunk of my mutuals and people I would mention in my tag list for games and writing posts. There were multiple things popping out as behaviour, posting and formatting that inevitably led to me blocking both, suspecting the person that had previously stolen from me was making a return under new identity.

Then me and some mutuals got to talking, turns out, this isn't the first time those 'two' people had infiltrated a fandom and began introducing OCs that would resemble other people's or went as far as to copy things from others. Last time they went by @little-wolf-seed and @ladyofedens-blog, claiming they were two sisters and they were being stolen from, only for both to delete their accounts shortly before the new ones debuted. History does repeat, one of the accounts (same @ladyofedensgate-xo) was deactivated by the next day, November 14, only for a new one to emerge immediately, a carbon copy of its predecessor: @angelofdarkness-things. I got a follow from them again, immediately sending them to blocked, while still keeping an eye out for what was happening.

My attention was grabbed by a Pinterest link AngelOfDarkness had in her pinned post, leading to boards upon boards of OCs (I'm taking large numbers) ready to be deployed, potential back-ups if they get caugh and have to start a new. All boards were created at the same time, with two Pinterest profiles only following each other: breannamarie1220 and alexisdawn10206 (Again they'd go as far as to make posts about just now becoming friends and AOD offering to write for Red Queen and how we should all take that offer, cementing the claim they're different people. Now, I ask: have you ever seen two different people, strangers have pretty much the exact same accounts when it comes to appearance?)

I begin looking at each board, frowning at awful casting choices and race swaps of canon characters, only to be faced with multiple names of my own characters being split and shuffled around and multiple of my faceclaims (those they could figure out) appearing as their to-be-debuted OCs. A list, that would be followed by screenshots (and just in case, either of the them decides to suddenly start changing faceclaims after this post or deleting: everything has been documented, so don't expect a swift exit like last time, or people easily forgetting you).

Sabrina Donovan | by faceclaim: originally they had Alycia casted as a Maya McCoy (last name sounds familiar? Maybe because they literally separated another mutual's Deputy's name in two to give to their characters), only for it to be moved to a Valerie Montgomery (Montgomery again. HM) in the early morning hours today.

Mercedes Sibley | by faceclaim (or what they deemed close enough to her actual fc) given to a Jazmine Stone, a lookalike model by the handle emblu was picked to drive confusion, imo.

Oliver McKenzie | BY NAME and FACECLAIM: now here it gets hilariously bad - they actually mashed Oliver with John's last name prior to joining the project (Duncan) -> Oliver Duncan (Oliver McKenzie debuted as a character in my AU of John Seed as John Duncan). Dylan Riley has been given the face of Boyd Holbrook (Ollie's fc).

Leslie Parish | by faceclaim to an Adam Lancaster.

Oakley Moore | on October 26th I announced her full name Oakley Elizabeth Moore and how her nickname is Lizzie -> Lizzie Palmer in a board. At one point they shared an edit of an Oakley lookalike , for once not tagging an OC (which is unusual for them), so I won't be shocked if she gets casted next as the 'newest OC they can't wait to introduce'.

Smaller characters that are reoccuring in my wips: Both of John's closest Chosen: Mathias Bennett (last name for two characters for each Pinterest account, one is misspelled, which they often do to claim it's not the same name) and Brother Wyatt (first name) -> Wyatt Reed; Both of John's named clients, one is Owen Montgomery (both of his names picked like apples, Montgomery again. HM.) -> Harper/Valerie Montgomery and Owen Palmer. The character that drives the AU and John is in charge of defending: Nathaniel Mooney (even listed as character on my AO3) -> into Nathaniel Graham.

I've noticed MULTIPLE MUTUAL'S OCs NAMES also being ripped off on some scale (so my advice would be to check out the boards yourself), @socially-awkward-skeleton had her Chosen OC Caleb Winters pretty much stolen: exact faceclaim -> Kaleb Rhodes (is he a Kardashian? Now, that would be an interesting headcanon.)

Honestly, at this point, a better question would be which OCs they didn't get to... and the weird creepy behavior continued with saving headcanons into boards (Mer's white dog, Oliver's K9, Sabrina's entire aesthetic, her tattoo - exactly two butterflies, which are everywhere you look - in bios, names, board titles). Having Sabrina's nickname her father had for her and would literally call her in every single one of her memories (Monkey) -> Monkey in their bio only to edit out both the butterflies and Monkey just a couple of hours ago (did you realize you're a carbon copy of your alt Pinterest or? "A strawberry shall fix it! Fool 'em.", she told herself.)

Then the situation only got worse and up the creep-o-meter.

I was notified of something concerning by @adelaidedrubman , who earlier had also been followed both on her main and side blog she uses for reblogs: After getting a strange ghost notification on an blog she doesn't even use and has no activity on, let alone that many followers, she can only see 4 of the 7 people following her. Unblocking the previously mentioned shady accounts, she gets this:

Somehow, both had discovered an account out of use and followed it. An account belonging to the person they had previously followed and been blocked by.

I truly personally believe they still watch my blog and what I post (which btw, whatever your name is: if only you put that much effort into writing your own fics and coming up with characters, headcanons and names instead of stalking multiple mutuals in hunt for ideas...).

Once I finally decided to update my pinned post on my blog with new gifs (which take hours to edit sometimes) of Sabrina, they suddenly pinned a snapshot of one of the exact same gifs to their Valerie Montgomery board. Hours later they reblog the other gif they could find and CHANGE THEIR LAYOUT TO MATCH SABRINA'S SIDEBLOG-> Alycia in the icon and butterfly in the header (my header has been up since April 25, I made it specifically for her blog). Both icon and banner are now changed, one could only ask why even select the previous ones to begin with, if not to fuck with a person you've been targetting.

Now we move onto how they describe their OCs as headcanons, who one of them loves to tag with "Do Not Steal" (Who's stealing here, honey boo? None of us that you've set your sights on have given you any type of permission since you make it a big deal to have it). Little examples in the screenshots below, they have snippets for other characters too, so chances are someone would recogize their blorbo being put in a wig and renamed.

As I'm writing this post, Alycia is still a faceclaim to Valerie (tomorrow she might be moved to a third faceclaim with how they've been behaving), they constantly change things around (despite claiming they have this clear idea of their OCs) and act like they're being stolen from by tagging everything with "no stealing", deleting posts that could make them look suspicious (including the ones I've pointed out of the gifs featuring Alycia and matching my own edits of the scene), taking claim of simple headcanons like Jacob owning a cabin and horses being ridden in Montana, while also mass-following mutuals from multiple fandoms like FC5, COD, Mortal Combat, RDR2, the list goes on and on. They're looking for a place to take root, the next person to leech from. If you're tagged in this, they follow you (and they have been picking OCs names from people they've followed before) and your content, ideas, characters identity might be next on their list of OCs they gather as pokemons. Beware and if they do deactivate after this... well, it won't be as easy to disappear this time around.

To the two Swipers that can't stop swiping: Don't mistake the kindness of the fandom(s) and its people for encouragement to be shady and turn people's happy places into hell. True intentions shine through with time, you can sense when someone deeply loves their characters and when they only push them out like they're on a conveyor belt to gain exposure and false validation for someone else's creativity. This is something you both can't fake, no matter how many times you reemerge as a new person.

In Jacksfilms' wise words, "Stop Stealing."

@corvosattano @florbelles @cassietrn @voidika @theelderhazelnut @onehornedbeast @direwombat @jillvalentinesday @henbased @madparadoxum @josephslittledeputy @trench-rot @g0dspeeed @redreart @purplehairsecretlair @laindtt @mrdekarios @nightbloodbix @simplegenius042 @aceghosts @stacispratt @clicheantagonist @wrathfulrook @strafethesesinners @strangefable @unholymilf @josephseedismyfather @shellibisshe @macs-babies

[ellaa-writes]

The Art of Survival

authors note: Will probably move this over to a03 due to the mature themes. Was inspired by many of my favourite horror movies such as The Collector/Collection, Hellraiser, Martyrs, Hostel etc. This is not a romance, all works of fiction. AU of the character Konig from cod. Readers discretion is advised. 18+ MDNI

summary: He went by many names, Doctor, Son, Professor, Colleague, Apprentice and his favourite Master. He lived his life by strict rules, follow them or lose it all. Their's been many before her and their will be many after her. She was the first to succeed, the first to prevail. She was his special toy, all dressed up just to make sure she sells. Strutting on a shelf, waiting to be picked out.

cw: Dark Themes ahead, kidnapping, torture, violence, blood, death. Non-con, Dub-con. 18+ MDNI, unrealistic and unsafe bdsm practices/references. Dead Dove Do Not Eat.

The rhythmic tapping of her nails against the keyboard resonated through the tranquil office, the sole audible presence in the late evening. Past 7 pm on a Thursday, she found herself the lone inhabitant of the building's floor, her colleagues and supervisors having long departed the mundane office space. Yet, she remained, diligently working on her company-provided laptop. While she could have taken her work home and completed it before night's end, she knew that once she stepped into her apartment, her motivation would wane.

With the final paragraph taking shape on the screen, she paused briefly to flex her knuckles, reassuring herself with the mantra of just one more day. Soon, she envisioned herself on a distant beach, basking in the sun's warmth and the caress of the salty sea breeze against her skin. Returning her attention to the screen, she meticulously proofread the document, ensuring every word was correctly spelled and properly spaced, determined to evade her boss's reprimand for any hint of unprofessionalism. Releasing a small breath she was holding, staring at the blank screen, letting her work mind ease knowing one more thing on her list was done.

After saving the report and attaching it to an email, she carefully selected the recipients before hitting the send button. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she watched the blank screen, the weight of completion easing her work-weary mind. Swiftly gathering her belongings, she plugged in her laptop, tidied her desk, and emptied her trash, eager to leave the dimly lit confines of the high-rise building. As she made her way down the corridor toward the elevators, she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling of being alone in the building at night. Absent were the familiar sights of the cleaners or any other occupants on her floor. Assuring herself they must be elsewhere, she pressed the elevator button and waited, her gaze fixed on the descending digital display.

The mass was huge and in all the imposing presence sent a chill down her spine. The mass raised its head, green eyes, stared back at her. It shifted to the side, making room for her. She hesitantly stepped into the elevator, leaning towards the side panel to push the parking level but stopped when she noticed it was already glowing yellow. She huddled in her corner, trying to give herself enough pace between her and the huge mass next to her.

She couldn't help the feeling of uneasiness as it settled heavy in her lower stomach, it felt like she swallowed cement. Eyeing him she noticed he was wearing what looking like some sort of vest, tactical maybe? Black slacks and a long black compression shirt under the vest. He had a surgical mask covering the lower half of his face and a baseball cap on top covering up his freshly shaved head. The cap read, Security, a rushed breath of relief shot out of her. Her shoulder slumped and she began to relax as the numbers above the doors got closer and closer to the parking level.

The elevator slowed as it finally reached her destination, coming to a full stop before the last ding rang out and the doors shifted open. "Have a good night!" she sing-songed out as she exited, making her way across the desolate and dark parking level. "Good night, stay safe." his voice was a little higher pitched then she imagined it, with a hint of an accent. Her heals clicked against the concrete as she made her way across the dark and desolate parking level. Her car was right next to one of the stair wells, it being the only space available when she arrived this morning.

Digging her keys out of her purse, she hit the unlock button watching has the lights to her Lexus glowed. She walked past the stairwell door, a cold draft catching around her ankles. There were a few other cars still left on this level, she opened the back seat, setting her hand and other belongings inside. She didn't hear it right away; it wasn't until she felt the rush of air and the hard body on her back. The thick strong arms wrapping around her frame, a black leather clad hand clamping over her mouth in a bruising grip. She tried to push back and kick out but that resulted in a unhappy grunt before her head was thrusted into the roof of her car. Tears sprang to her eyes has she cried out, her delicate skin splitting open and running with blood.

The open back seat door was slammed closed, her body pressed up against it. She tried squinting through the blood and blurriness, her head was pounding, and she had a hard time thinking straight. It made her more pliable, her attacker binding her arms behind her back. Tugging tight against whatever material they were using, something was slapped over her mouth, duct tape. Her knees began to weaken as they rippling headache began to overpower all her senses. Struggling to keep her eyes open, her body getting heavy.

The unknown assailant opened the driver's door, triggering the trunk latch before forcefully shoving her inside headfirst. Bound and disoriented, she lay in darkness, attempting to orient herself as the car started its engine. Straining against the cords binding her, she only succeeded in causing further harm. With her face coated in blood and tears, she managed to peel off the duct tape with effort, her skin protesting against the sticky residue.

She was able to roll onto her back, the pressure on her bound arms became intense but she ignored it. Lifting her feet up she began banging them against the roof of her trunk. Hoping someone near by could hear it and save her. The low hum of the radio coming from the front of the car got louder, trying to drown out her attempts. She knew she could scream but she didn't want to risk her life. She's probably going to die anyways she thought, might as well try to live a little longer. Giving up she rolled to her side, she couldn't tell what way she was facing using her feet to feel around in the dark.

The drive was long, the buzz of the city fading away behind her. Wherever they were taking her was outside the city limits, beyond the river and into the forest surrounding her city. It felt like hours passed as she rocked back and forth until the car came to an abrupt stop. She listened in silence and fear as the door to the driver’s side open and closed. The sound of footsteps approaching the back of the car. She stayed still, unable to move as the dread washed over her. It felt like hours passed before the truck was opened, she squinted back at the sudden bright light flooded the dark space. Before she could register what was happening, she felt more tape being wrapped around her head, sticking to her hair and slightly cutting off her hearing. She tried to fight him off, kicking her feet out at the stranger. They grabbed on to them, using the same tape and began binding them together at the knees.

She didn't understand why this was happening to her. Why her out of the millions of people living in her city. Was the planned or just a unfortunate coincidence. Her mother always told her the city was safe for a young naïve girl like her. But her mother was crazy but maybe she was right about one thing after all. Her attacker grabbed her by the hair causing her to hiss, they pulled her out of the trunk and threw her over their shoulder. She tried looking around for any distinctive markers but all she saw was trees and blackness. She watched as her car got further and further away from her, trying to see around the huge mass.

Maybe she was happy she couldn't see, if she saw the blacked-out van with the back doors open. The wooden crate with the top off, the hard rubber cords, tape, a strange looking hood and a few knives. She might have gone into a full panic attack, instead the hood was shoved over her head. The cord wrapped around her neck to keep it on, the crate being pushed over to the side as her attacker shoved her in. She once again tried to fight back but it was pathetic. All bound up, she looked like a fish out of water, flopping around on the ground. The lid was slammed on top, the sound of hammering filling her ears. If it wasn't for the duct tape and hood over her, she would have thrown up.

The slam of the back doors jolted her, despair settling into her stomach. She tried not to think of all the horrible, disgusting, and disturbing things that would be done to her. She began praying that this was all just a very fucked up realistic dream. Closing her eyes she began repeating over and over that this was exactly that, a nightmare. And she'll wake up in her bed, in her room, in her small but cozy apartment. She'll even laugh a little about it, over and over in her head until the darkness latched itself onto her and pulled her under.

The unmarked van pulled in front of an abounded warehouse, the metal sheeting clipped and peeling away. The windows busted out and the outside marked up with spray paint. It used to serve as a wood mill until they built a bigger and better building in a more easily accessible location. The surroundings were enclosed in with an electrical fence and topped with barbwire. To keep things out and in. Situated deep in the dense forest, overlooking the glowing lights of the city.

He exited the vehicle, cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders. This was all rushed and unplanned, making a mental note to dispose of the car and any other evidence. He already trashed the security footage from the office building and parking garage. Rubbing the aching spot on the back of his neck, debating on just slitting her throat and dumping the body. But he's made it this far already, no time to give up now.

Swinging the back doors up to the van, looping the extra cord around the hand to the wooden box. He gave it a good yank watching it crash onto to the dirt below. He dragged it over the threshold of the warehouse, the crunch and scrap of discarded glass and other garbage. He stopped before a set of steel doors, lifting the cover to a number pad, punching in the code. Stepping off to the side as the doors hummed to life and slid open, he stepped behind the box, giving it a hard shove into the elevator shaft. Following in close behind it, reaching up to pull the grated doors down before hitting the descend button. He didn't heat any complaints coming from the box, hoping his prize is still alive inside. Once the shaft stopped and the door slid up, he stepped into the dark space. Dragging the box behind him until he reached another set of locked doors, using the key attached to his wallet he retched it open. Turning the light on to show a staircase, he gave the box a hard kick, sending it tumbling down the stairs. Hearing to shatter open before closing the door and locking it closed.

He stepped into the dark hallway, the one leading into the kitchen from the entry way. Turning on the low glow of the lights as he entered room after room. Heading straight to the sink has he turned on the garbage compactor and chucking in the cell phone from the women now in his "basement". He dumped the rest of the contents of the bag out on his island counter. Not finding anything interesting he grabbed the garbage can from under the sink and tossed all the items into it. He walked over into the next room, heading straight to the fireplace in the living room. Flicking the controls on and setting the fire to high. The flames roared to life, blanketing the drab living room in the soft warm glow. He waited for a few moments before he opened the door and tossed in the contents of the can inside.

His muscles were tight, and his head was pounding. He needed to get out of these clothes and take something before he exploded. He began undressing in the living room, taking everything off including his briefs and socks. Folding everything neatly on the ledge of the fireplace, before he opened the door up again and began tossing item by item inside, his shoes where last. Setting them atop of the wood that was flaming hot. Closing it back up and turning down the controls to low. He walked completely nude through the dimly lit home and up the stairs. Made his way down the dark hallway and into the room at the end. Turning on the light, he was standing right in front of the mirror. He looked into his eyes, looked down chiseled chest and to his now hard dick standing tall. soon. He told himself. soon.

Steam filled the small bathroom, the door still open. The glow of the bathroom cascading into the dark hallway. He let the hot water work out his stiff muscles, the temperature helping easy his hard cock back into place. Scrubbing the day off his well toned body, the dirty water flowing down his thick defined legs and into the drain. He got out quick, not bothering in turning the light off has he wiped himself off with the towel. As he walked out of the guest bathroom and into his room. Running the towel over his head and throwing it into the hamper near the walk-in closet. Stepping inside he opened his top drawer, pulling out his favourite black brief's that he had hundreds of pairs of. Pulling them over his taunt hard ass. Opening another drawer and pulling out a simple pair of black sweats and took a matching long sleeve t-shirt. Pulling them onto his body fast and making his way back downstairs.

He walked down another hallway on the opposite side of the kitchen, reaching a locked door that required his fingerprint to open. Once it did, it revealed another set of steps leading down. A few small pockets of lighting auto lit has he made his way down, the door behind him swinging shut automatically.

When he reached the bottom, more lights auto lit has he walked further into the room. Smooth metal cages lined one wall, a few already occupied while others were empty. The center of the room contained a operation table, a bright light hung above it. Another smaller examining table sat to the left of it. The shiny metal reflecting off the overhead lights. He walked up to a desk on the other wall from the cages. A large, long desk filled with different monitors, as he walked up the main screen turned on. The light casting over his face, a small window popped up and a robotic voice spoke "name". He stood there for a moment before he leaned forward towards the speaker, he opened his mouth and spoke in his odd accent.

König 6669

The computer turned off before turning back on, the main screen coming to life before his eyes. He pulled out the stool he stored under the desk. Using the mouse to click on a few tabs before he typed in some information. Within seconds pictures filled the screens, pictures of the women he had locked in his basement. He scrolled through the information, he had everything from her medical files to her school records. Having studied them intensively over the past few days. Usually this would take weeks if not months, watching their every move to make sure they were the perfect subject. But deep down in his heart, or whatever was left of it, he knew she was the one.

A small whimper caught his attention, peeling his eyes from the screen towards the wall of cages. Noticing one of his pets was awake, barely. Checking his watch and noticing it is feeding time. He got up from the chair, using his thick long legs he walked across to the medical cabinet. Opening the cupboard to reveal an array of bottles and small tinctures. Pulling one out he set it down before opening a drawer that contained syringes. He used the small sink and washed his hands, then grabbed some sterile gloves and pulled them on. He walked over to the small examining table and began laying out his supplies, using the stool as a tray he began filling up the syringes and laying them out next to one another. He wheeled it over to the cages, checking the monitors in front of each one. There as also IV bags hanging on each cage, he started with the first one. Taking a syringe and injecting the needle into the solution, watching has the clear liquid became cloudy. When he was done with the last one, he wheeled the stool over to the garbage can and tossed the contaminated items inside, taking his gloves off and throwing them in after.

The monitor he was previously at turned off as he made his way back up to the main floor.

It was time.

[jinkookspencil]

stay pt 2

after a night of drinking, jungkook wakes up the morning after... unaware of his drunken confession the night before

description/tw/tags: ~3.5k words / fluff / jungkook x (f) reader / pt 2 to "stay" based on jungkook's lives / maybe you can read this on its own but it is a second part/ friends to lovers / jungkook's pov / italics are either for emphasis or jungkook's own thoughts / includes mentions of alcohol and drinking, jungkook has a hangover / includes swear words / feedback is always welcome and it’s appreciated!! i hope you guys like this 💗 (i'm secretly proud of my last paragraph ngl)

Light.

Too much of it.

In his room…

…Why?

It didn’t take Jungkook long to realize that the bright light was, in fact, sunlight filtering through his half-drawn drapes and into his silent room. But a grumble later, it finally dawned on him that this wasn’t a normal morning. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t turn on his back. Something stopped him. Was it... the weight of an arm? Draped across his waist? He definitely felt the warmth… of another body pressed against him. Stirring, he blinked open sleepy eyes, only to be met with the sight of the wall. A full heart-racing minute later, he finally realized there was one body part he could move. Turning his head, Jungkook saw…. you.

A coo escapes him at the sight.

Oh, he thought as he closed his eyes again. I’m still dreaming.

The breath he felt against his cheek felt so…. real.

It must’ve been an intense hallucinatory hangover, surely.

That was definitely the only answer. The only possible answer….

But then, teetering between the real world and sleep, he hears it.

The sound that pulls Jungkook back into reality.

A snore. The loud, nasally snore he’d heard only once in his life.

The night he was certain was real. When you passed out at his party. And he put you in his bed. It was more than a memory - the feeling of you, murmuring half-dressed in his arms, was cemented into his skin and veins, a feeling he and his body'd never forget.

A real night. Your real snore.

A sound he'd heard for hours as he tried to shake off what it was like to have held you and touched your skin ever so briefly. He'd hoped the endearing sound would complement his own snores one day, but they still hadn’t made their way into his dreams of you. So he knew. This was real. Not a dream. Not a hallucinatory hangover. Reality.

You - in his bed, again...

He couldn’t believe it was, even as he saw you centimeters away from his face, a breathtaking mess fast asleep on your side, but more importantly, closer to him than ever before. He'd slept on the floor that night, but now he was here.... in your arms.

As always, his own arms were tucked under his pillow, close enough to his neck to pinch. Which definitely hurt. Reality reality.

The panic is quick. Before Jungkook can even come up with any scenario that would explain the scene - damn his hangover brain fog - his heart pounds fast against the mattress. So fast that he couldn’t realize his chest and breathing caught up under your… touch… until your arm moved on his back, and Jungkook finally remembered his own strength, but he pushed up from the mattress to no avail. All it did was wake you up.

Batting of your eyelashes open, your pupils were illuminated by the rays that filtered into his room. A yawn so quiet and blissful escapes you, no one would’ve ever expected you’d been letting out the sound of monster trucks just moments prior.

With wide eyes, Jungkook expected you to jump when you meet his gaze. To run, like you had. To panic, as he did. Take in the scene and pretend it never happened. The last thing he expected, in this reality at least, was the smile he saw, clear as day on your face.

“Hi,” you whisper quietly, so close he can almost feel the word on his skin as you take in the sight of one another. Still feeling his back rapidly rising and falling beneath your hand, you rub his shoulder blades in an effort to help. It didn’t. It really didn’t.

Jungkook hadn’t realized just how petrified he’d been until you jump up and leave in the blink of an eye.

It’s only then, when the other side of the bed was actually empty - as it always was - that Jungkook finally moves, blinking rapidly as he sits upright. Touching the empty space beside him, Jungkook’s mind races. You weren’t there. You couldn’t have been…. there… sleeping beside him…. with your arm wrapped around him…. It must’ve been a hallucination… But… why do the sheets feel so warm?

Grabbing onto his abdomen, he only paces his room for a moment in hopes it'd get rid of the nausea and the pit in his stomach, he shook his head - shaking himself out of it - until the door to his bedroom opened…You. You really were there.

“Drink this.”

Outstretched in front of him was a drink Jungkook was familiar with. His own hangover smoothie remedy. The one he bottled up for you when you got drunk and passed out that night. Apparently, Taehyung, still his roommate at the time, had forgotten to remove the note he'd left on the bottle when he gave it to you that morning. "Taehyungie hyung, this is for Y/N. If she needs more, the recipe is on the back of this note. You know how much she means to me, take care of her if she wakes up first - JK" He cursed Tae for it then, overthinking your reaction, but he secretly thanked him now when it was you handing him the drink he probably needed... badly.

Chugging it, he feels the familiar, burning liquid trickle down his throat. The final sign that this really was reality. Still, he can’t look at you, especially when you’re back sitting on his bed, staring directly at him.

What were you doing here?

He knew that to you, it’d probably look like he zoned out, but really Jungkook went through the million and one possible scenarios in his head, remaining silent as he tried to find an answer and put the pieces together.

“You okay, Kookie? Are you… awake?” you finally ask, breaking the silence.

All he can do is nod. Brief glimpses of the night before coming to mind at the asking of your question.

“I was…”

“Drunk? Yes,” you confirm, looking up at him.

“Were you?” he mumbles.

“Drunk? No. No, you know….”

“I know,” he mumbles as quickly as he can, rushing to cut the tension of the both of you acknowledging your drunken night for the first time. The mystery of his drunken night less than 12 hours ago still lingered in Jungkook’s brain.

It’s only then that Jungkook realizes what you’re wearing… Your own sweatpants but…. his t-shirt? How did that happen? Sure, you’re his friend, and he would gladly lend a t-shirt to you if you asked…. but you hadn’t… ever. You’d even acted all weird when he made you wear his jacket in the cold... Why do it now? After breaking his heart by resisting so many times before? Couldn't you tell it was him trying to show how much he loved you?

“Sorry, I borrowed this. I woke up in the middle of the night, and my own hoodie was too hot. Saw this T-shirt folded on the chair and just crawled back into bed,” you say. Casually, Jungkook realizes. As if it was normal. As if you hadn't actively protested against wearing his clothes in the past. As if it didn’t mean you chose to stay the night and chose to stay in his bed. As if you didn’t know that would make his heart race faster. As if it wasn't something people only did when they were more than friends.

“No, of course. It’s you. It's okay,” he says. It was more than okay, but also not okay... at all. Why did you look so... happy?

"Jungkook, you look dizzy. Sit, the alcohol's getting to you," you say, patting the space he had occupied on the bed. It was way more than the alcohol. Jungkook felt like his entire world had been flipped and twisted, and he couldn't make sense of it as he tip-toed hesitantly to his own bed, sitting upright. Looking at you, his world came into focus. The world started to make sense, as it always did when he looked at you... save for the quietly excited expression on your face. Whether he was drunk, hungover, or sober, Jungkook was able to read you, a superpower he'd grown proud of, but it helped that you could never hide from him either. Why were you so damn excited?

“Y/N… I don’t remember much….” All he remembers is her, the alcohol, and a weird collection of words he might or might not have said. 'My heart will go on?' 'Stay?' 'Want you?' 'It doesn't go like this?' What doesn't go like this?

“I don't doubt it,” you giggle.

“What… did I… what… just…what happened?”

“Well…. Celine Dion, Adele, Taylor Swift, Mariah Carey, and, of course, an unsurprising dash of Ariana Grande happened….”

Jungkook nods, hoping that was the reason for your smile and that it was 'another night of Jungkook exposing the fact that he likes babygirly music' in your books. He knew you knew his secret obsession. He always did, even hoping you'd understand the secret messages he'd laced for you in his Pop Queen Babygirl singalong playlist. But until you caught on, it was fun to play along.

“And….”

“And…. you called me...”

“I did… Wait… I actually… I actually did?!” Jungkook felt like he was going to be sick at the realization.

“You…. did….” Jungkook expected the confusion he saw on your face, seeing the shock on his. The two of you calling each other wasn't an irregular occurrence, him always doing so when he wanted to watch a movie, have a late-night talk, or whenever he wanted to see your face... which was often. He wanted to spend time with you more than anything in this world, but always left the drinking til after you were already there... when he felt like he needed to forget that you were…. you... and the fact that he wanted to spend every waking moment beside you. So he'd limited his drinking and made sure that every call was a sober one. Because what you didn’t know was that he practiced confessing a million times and in a million different ways, one of which was over the phone. He realized very quickly that it was the stupidest way of confessing to the friend he was closest to and secretly in love with for the longest time, but… What if drunk Jungkook thought otherwise?

“It was a butt dial,” you quickly add. “My phone rang, all I heard was you singing, obviously drunk, so… I came. I came to check on you. And you continued drinking….”

Jungkook hadn’t realized his breathing wasn’t normal until it was, and most of the anxiety faded. Maybe he didn’t confess. Maybe it was just another karaoke night. Maybe you only stayed over because he drank a little too much and could've hurt himself.

“Jungkook… we need to talk.”

The panic returns in an instant. Suddenly, Jungkook felt something turn in his stomach. Fear. Nerves. Love. Regret. The hangover remedy. Last night’s fried chicken. He was going to puke… if it weren’t for the sudden hand on his.

“Calm down,” you say, laughing. The fear must’ve been evident on his face. Still, how could he calm down when you were holding his hand?!

“Jungkook-ah…. can I ask you something?” you ask, the faintest hint of a smile on your face.

“Anything…”

“What do you dream about?”

Fuck.

“Oh, you know…. having Namjoon’s body. Flying. Aliens. Being Spider-Man. And that repetitive one I told you about with the talking microwaves,” he babbles. Jungkook had cursed whenever he'd woken up from one of those dreams, wishing he'd dreamt of you instead, as he did most nights... but he was now grateful that he had them. At least he had an answer he could tell you. But why were you asking?

“Is that all you dream about? Is that your only repetitive dream?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Did I… did I say something while I was asleep? Fuck, if I…” he blurts before stopping. He could not say if ‘I moaned your name in my sleep’ because that would mean admitting to having sex dreams with you, which he'd never recover from. Plus, it practically meant confessing on the spot. What if he had confessed in his sleep? Or, God forbid, what if he'd vocalized those stupid dreams that started with a fight and either ended in hot sex or a cuddle session? Or what if it was something else? An innocent question?

“If I… cursed or something when I was asleep, I’m sorry. I- I mean do nisrespect - no disrespect - towards you, I don't know, I - -"

“You're worried about me hearing you swear after you just said ‘fuck’?”

Fuck, he thought.

“…..Fuck it.”

The next thing Jungkook knows, your hand clenched at his t-shirt and pulled him in until his lips met yours. A kiss.

You were kissing him.

You were kissing him.

Your lips were soft… softer than he’d ever imagined them to be… But just like his imagination… could it be that you were actually pushing on his lip ring with your lips? When he couldn’t even breathe, let alone kiss you back?!

“Woah, woah, woah…” he panics, standing up on the bed with a hand on his chest before bending down and pulling you in for another kiss, barely lasting a second… He’d already missed the feeling of your lips on his. “Y/N….”

“Jungkook-ah… sit!”

Resisting the urge to jump all around the room and give into his fluttering butterflies or his bubbling nausea caused by all this happiness and last night's alcohol, Jungkook sits by you, on his knees over the duvet, biting and licking at his lower lips for any trace of you. He’d felt your lips on his. You’d kissed him. He kissed you. He didn’t need a reason why you kissed him if you didn’t want to give him one. If it were just a spur-of-the-moment impulse, that’d be enough. Nothing else mattered. He didn’t need to know if you felt the same way, he’d be loving you for the rest of his life regardless, replaying this moment… but the wide, beautiful smile on your face gave him a good feeling…

“Jungkook,” you start, with your hand over his, which tightly held onto the fluffy blanket. “You're so adorable. Honestly, last night was adorable, too - you’d cringe, but you’d love it enough with time, as much as I do. One of our... best... late-night hangouts so far. I think I better explain the details of last night some other day when you're not hungover, but I couldn’t wait to tell you this bit….”

You bring your hand up, squeezing his cheek before caressing his face. For the first time, he was able to hold your gaze and stare into your mesmerizing eyes....

“…I like you too, idiot.”

Petrified, Jungkook replays the words in his head. I like you too, idiot. You really did like him?! Wait. 'Too'? How did you know?!

“What the fuck did I do… What did I say!?” he blurts out, thinking aloud. He has no idea what Drunk Jungkook had done or how he might’ve confessed, but it might’ve been for the better. He spent so much time coming up with a million different ways he could perfect a confession - the confession. Every time he said he was finally going to confess, even starting his speech or taking you to the many different, romantic places where he’d imagined professing his love… he'd stopped out of fear of losing what he had with you, never even realizing you might've felt the same way. But now he knows… you do.

“Oh, you just the details of a certain dream you seem to have... on occasion, involving me,” you joke, poking his arm before grazing his skin with your fingertips. “…Uhm… everything considered and to calm your nerves, I think it’s safe to say… I… have those dreams too. It’ll be nice if one day they aren’t just… dreams… anymore….”

Feeling his face flush, he looks down and gently holds your hands in his. What dream did you know of? What dream did you want to recreate? Was it the fluffy, domestic dreams of pancakes and ramen in the mornings? Or… the late nights with your bodies intertwined, endless kisses, and more? Since you… felt the same way… and dreamt the same dreams… he supposed it didn’t matter… too much. He'd move heaven and Earth for you, of course, he'd recreate whatever dream you wanted...

“This is all… Yes, let’s… of course… wait.” Still avoiding your gaze, Jungkook realizes he can’t meet it. Not while knowing he confessed when he wasn’t in the right state of mind. Fuck. How did you accept it? Your confession here today was incredibly romantic, but…. his? Alcohol? No. He wanted to do it right.

“Wait, let me confess, please. You deserve so much better than a drunken comment. I planned this… a million different ways. I want to do it right,” he pouts.

“Jungkook, the way you confessed was romantic and precious enough, but… go ahead if you want to,” you say, hiding your face as you hug your knees… He’d made you blush so cutely, but Jungkook quickly remembered that the sight of you blushing always made him… stutter… Oh no.

“…I have loved you since… no, that’s not the good one. Y/N, you are the most beautiful… no. Ah, stupid Jungkook. Fuck - what was that line from the movie Emma we saw together? I wanted to say exactly what he… Wait,” he stops, holding up his hands before touching his temples. “AHHHH, I can’t remember. Oh! I remember what I wanted to say that other night you slept over!! I want to wake up beside you every morning!! But you ran out… Hey, Y/N, remember that day in the park? That’s when - fuck, no, I think it was earlier than that. SHIT-”

Your lips were on his in an instant again.

You interrupted him with a kiss?! FUCK, he wanted to do that too but quickly dismissed it when he realized confessing to someone with a nonconsensual kiss would be entirely wrong. But in this case… Holy shit, you were hot. How do you taste sweeter than before? How are you softer?

It’s only when you pull away did he realize that he’d been biting on your lower lip, not wanting to let you go. He does, embarrassed.

“Jungkook,” you whisper against his lips, a hand over his chest and one at his nape. “I like you, and… you like me. Don’t panic. I practiced confessing a million different ways too. I know neither of us expected that this is how it’d go - so… how about we do them all? Let’s take our time confessing our love over and over again. All the ways we'd imagined. With the person we'd imagined. I know what I want, and it's this.”

“I want this, too.... It’ll take forever to get through them all,” he sighs happily.

“Well, Jungkook, I’d always wanted a forever with you, so… that sounds like a plan. If you’re up for it.”

Jungkook nods as fast as he can before meeting your lips with the same rapidity. Feeling your lips smiling against his, Jungkook knew this reality was also his heaven... but at that moment, he prayed that a real, eternal one actually did exist. He'd make up for every minute he'd spent away from you, every second he hadn't made sure you knew you were so loved, and it still wouldn't be enough. He wanted eternity with you, to spend your forever together, just like this - exactly like this, if he could, with your hands thoughtfully all over each other and your bodies intertwined… forever. You’d made him believe in heaven, and until you’d get there together… he won’t waste a second more not being together.

[besttropeveershowdown]

The Worst Trope Ever Showdown: Round 1, Side B

EDIT: Which trope is WORSE, not better. It is very early and I am very tired.

"Not So Different" Remark

Two characters or groups at odds realize they are more alike than they want to admit.

Propaganda:

I have rarely seen this used effectively. The villain is always like “Ah. You’re just like me because you want to fight me!” while they are literally filling the orphanage with cement.

Hanahaki Disease

a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies

Propaganda:

The second-to-last paragraph on the TV Tropes page pretty much explains everything I feel is wrong about it; how the premise itself is very guilt-trippy towards the love interest (either the they return the sick person’s affections or the latter ends up dying, which is a pretty real manipulation tactic iirc). Worst part is that it CAN be an interesting trope when used as a metaphor for how bad it is to bottle up your emotions, but it’s rarely ever written as such :(

I don’t understand the appeal, it’s so boring? Mid af

[taylortruther]

Idk if this is a popular opinion or not, but so far TTPD feels very Red-esque to me.

Like Red is THE taylor breakup album, and the GP says she writes a lot of breakup songs but I genuinely believe that Red is her only TRUE breakup album. Like yeah, all her other albums have heartbreak elements, but they are few and far in between (1989, rep, lover). Folklore and evermore were sold as fictional albums ofc so she always had the excuse of "it's not real".

Midnights reflects back on her life and explores a variety of themes...1989 is about shaking off heartache and new beginnings eclipsing your past woes (I think The Very First Night perfectly describes the central theme of 1989) etc.

I think TTPD is about to be her next full fledged breakup album. The thing with Red is that imo Jake was her last BIG breakup that really screwed her up (insert ten minute song here). Harry (18 y/o teenager), Kennedy (uh younger teenager), Tom (possibly PR, definitely rebound) And Calvin (Harris) just didn't do that for her.

Hits Different very explicitly mentions how much she simply didn't gaf until it came to Joe. It's her longest running and most stable relationship till date, and probably also her healthiest at some point. She deffo had plans about him, and she had a lot of time to sit and think and WRITE.

TTPD is obv an autobiographical album, and the last non-fiction album where her pen game was the centrepiece was Red. She says that she's never relied on songwriting as much as she has for this album...we should all be afraid.

Idk if TTPD will necessarily SOUND like Red (I low-key miss that sound) but we surely will have a very similar era. Her playing Red (the song) before YLM yesterday cemented the theory in my head. Someone on Twitter said that Joe is gonna get Jake Gyllenhaalified and I second that. Whatever is gonna happen, the main theme of this album is gonna be her own heartbreak.

Except instead of a passionate, fiery romance that crashed and burned...we're gonna hear about a relationship that was overwhelmingly monochromatic near the end. Red vs B&W. Color symbolism drives me INSANE.

oh, this last paragraph is riling me up

edit: and yeah i think we're getting those vibes because, as you said, red and joe were very impactful relationships. the most impactful, judging by how they are depicted in her music and life, even today.

[undercover-monsterlover]

Author's Note

I tried to make this appropriately disgusting considering it's a zombie, so there are some gross descriptions, be warned. Also, this is literally my very first try at smut, so give me a little slack lol. Sort of a long intro, sorry, the spice starts at around the eleventh paragraph.

Urbex YouTube videos had finally gotten to you, and you finally decided that it was worth the risk to go check out that abandoned sanitarium a few towns away. You got a cool new outfit comprised of green military pants, a black tank top and old bomber jacket from a thiftstore. If you were gonna do this you might as well dedicate yourself to the aesthetic right?

Which is also partially why you decided to go at night, the other reason being you thought you'd be less likely to be caught at night. Caught by who, you didn't know, you didn't think anybody cared enough about the old place to guard it. You weren't able to find out if anyone even still owned the land, or if it was really abandoned. You knew it was originally used as a tuberculosis "treatment" center forever ago, and had been used by the government for something after that, but you didn't research too far into it. You hoped leaving it a little mysterious would make it even cooler to explore.

The headlights of your car illuminated the face of the old building as you pulled into the driveway, if it could even be called that anymore, it was mostly just a slight gravel path between the trees. You parked in front of the building, took a flashlight from one of the giant pockets in your military pants, and stepped inside, past the dilapidated old doors. The lobby was small, with only a round desk and a few cabinets. A sanitarium didn't really need a welcoming introduction, you supposed, unnecessary given it's purpose.

The cabinets were empty, probably cleared out when the last residents left, so you quickly moved on from the lobby. A hallway to the left thankfully was lined with patient rooms. Each one had walls covered in chipping paint, revealing the grey cement structure, a wire bed frame, and a set of drawers, but little else besides dust and debris. So far, no great mystery to discover, or ghostly apparitions like in the videos.

Not yet disheartened, you moved on to the next hallway. Again, it was lined with only patient rooms, a group bathroom with curtained showers and toilets, and nothing else. Again, you turned the corner. This time, it led to another similar looking hallway, but also, a flight of stairs leading down. A quick shine of the flashlight assures you it was nothing but the same, so you chose the stairs.

At the end of the flight was a door, unlike the wooden ones of the patient rooms. This one was metal, had no window to see inside, but thankfully, was unlocked. You took the handle and pushed, but felt some resistance. Confused, you pushed against it, grunting with the effort, finally gaining a big enough gap to just barely squeeze though. The other side revealed the cause of your difficulties. A large set of drawers, all full to bursting with papers and files. Why would someone push a drawer in front of the door? Seems a little counter-intuitive seeing as it was unlocked anyways...

Emboldened by the first shining ray of intrigue, you walked the cement hallway the door had led into, before it opened up into a larger corridor with more of those large, thick metal doors. The first door you tried was locked, but the second seemed unlocked, though stuck shut due to rust. You thought to try and force it open, but as soon as your fingers found a grip, a groaning, whining sound echoed in our in the corridor.

Startled, you your heart beat quickly and you poked your head outside the door. The sound, you supposed, had come from another, narrower hallway on the opposite side of the corridor. Steeling yourself, and assuming you'd just find a raccoon or cat or something, you entered the dark hallway.

This hallways was lined by cells. Dark, rusty metal bars, lined up one after another, each cell separated by a thing wall of cement. You shined your flashlight ahead, and you heart sunk as you saw a hand curling around one of he bars up ahead. Nobody could possibly still be alive in one of these cells, it had been years since it had been used for anything.

But you got your explanation once you willed your feet to step closer. There, in the cell, one good eye reflecting back the light of the flashlight, was something you could really only describe as a zombie.

Purplish, yellow, waxy skin, hanging loosely on the arms of the monster, the hands almost black with necrosis. The right side of the face looked almost skeletal, the rotting skin stuck so tight to the bone you could almost see the shape of his teeth through his cheek. The still working eye looked almost too small to fill the eye cavity, either it had shriveled as it aged, or the eye socket had lost fatty flesh. The left side of his face however, was bloated, purplish and disgusting, it looked like it would feel spongy to the touch. His eye was swelled up and shut, but you could see something pulsing, squirming underneath it, and your stomach turned as you realized it had to be maggots.

It groaned softly, much quieter than you had heard before. It must have heard you enter, was that first groan to get your attention? You could do nothing but stare at it, holding your flashlight to illuminate it's awful face. It was wearing a light paper like shirt that had essentially fused into it's rotting skin at the shoulders, the paper disintegrating into the puffy skin on one side.

It groaned again, and you took a panicked step back as it's arms slowly stretched out from behind the bars. Its shoulders pressed against the bars as it almost desperately stretched it's arms towards you, making grabbing, groping motions with it's hands. You wondered what it was trying to do, grab you to pull you in and bite you, or was it just attracted to the light of the flashlight? But, as you looked at it, you realized it's one working eye was fixed firmly on your chest. Oh God, could this shambling structure of oozing meat possibly still have urges like that?

It's blackened hands were making rather unmistakable motions though. A shiver ran up your spine. This certainly cast everything in a new light. A little bit of you even felt some sympathy for it. This mindless creature has been stuck in the dark with unattainable wants for who knows how long. I mean, what I'd you maybe gave it just a little...satisfaction? I mean, it didn't seem violent and, you did feel bad for it...

You took a step forward, and it made another groaning noise, sounding excited. You took another step closer. It's finger strained towards you. One more step and- god. It spared no formalities, it's hands roughly cupping, then squeezing your breasts. And opened again, and squeezed again, and again, desperately palming your chest over your tank top.

You stood still, half intrigued on a scientific level, half intrigued on a deeper level. It's hands thoughtlessly mashed at your breasts, though the feeling wasn't entirely unpleasant for you. You leaned into its hands to give it a little more tractions. It pulled against your shirt for a moment, but unable to rip it, gave up and went back to just groping.

A shudder ran through you as one of it's fingers ran over your now hard nipple, and you felt blush rise to your cheeks. Well, it had been trying to get your shirt off, you might as well give it what it wants, it's not like it could hurt anything. And really, didn't the poor thing deserve just a little indulgence?

You stepped back to toss your jacket on the ground, and it made a frustrated whining sound, though it lost its tone somewhere in its throat and it came out as a strangled gurgle. But, as you took off your shirt, and unhooked your bra, it resumed its groping motions towards you. Neatly folding your shirt, and placing it on your jacket, you returned to your position.

Once again, it's hands mercilessly grabbed at your breasts, squishing them together, then apart, all with renewed vigor due to feeling your bare skin. One of it's thumbs again unintentionally flicked over your nipple, and the following jolt of arousal was hard to ignore.

It's groping pace increased, and it pressed it's whole body against the bars of it's cell. More and more provoked, it's hips began pressing against the bars. Then they pulled back, and slammed against them, desperately jumping against the bars, as if the little bit of its brain that was still functioning made the conclusion that if it was feeling boobs, obviously sex was coming next.

Your heart rate increased, and through the sensations of the groping, you wondered if it could even still have sex. God. Now you had to find out, didn't you, curious as you were. Almost sighing, you reluctantly stepped closer to the cell, and the zombie excitedly gurgled, now able to run a hand over your shoulder or neck, and weirdly affectionately caress your face before going back to squeezing your tits.

You stepped closer, letting your hand drift down towards it's waist, and unzipping the dirty, threadbare pants it had one. Presented with the bulge against it's underwear, you asked yourself a question. Were you mentally prepared for the reality of seeing a zombies dick? The only answer thrown forward from the back of your mind was a loud, resounding, yes. Hardening yourself, you pulled it's underwear down, and it's hard dick lolled out of it's pants, a rotting purple colour, oozing something you hoped to god was just pre-cum from its tip.

You wondered how it even had any blood flow to get hard, but then again, how was this dead thing even moving at all? Taking a breath, you wrapped your hand around the cold, hard appendage and hoped to god the skin wouldn't just slough off when you pulled. Thankfully, one little stroke proved it was still intact enough.

The same motion also ceases the distracting groping motion on your breasts. Your hand still wrapped around it's dick, you looked at its face, now much closer to yours, but still behind bars. It's mouth was now half open, the brown teeth and bloated purple tongue on full display. Gurgling sounds emenated from it's mouth.

You gave its dick another experimental tug, and it made a sharp, satisfied grunting noise. Another stroke, and it's hands went back to your chest, though a little slower. Just a few minutes ago, you had asked yourself the question am I prepared to see a zombies dick. You now needed to ask yourself a far more intense question. Were you ready, prepared, and willing to put a rotting, oozing dick of a dead creature inside you.

Yes?

Alright then.

Taking a breath, you unzipped your own pants, neatly folded them, placing them on top of your shirt and jacket, quickly followed by your underwear. Goosebumps sprouted up on your bare skin, the cold air of the basement wrapping around you.

You gave the zombie's dick a few more strokes, the twitching tip an unnatural reddish colour, but nonetheless, you turned around. You nearly jumped when you felt the things clammy hands on your ass, playing with it with the same fervour as it had your chest. You waddle backwards a little closer, thankful nobody was here to see this, probably in miles. Its hands settled on your waist.

You backed up more, and when you just barely felt the cold tip against your labia, the monster hands tightened on your waist, and slammed you back onto it's cock with no warning.

You let out a loud gasp, as it immediately set forth on a brutal pace of thrusts. You brought a hand to your mouth to stifle your gasps as your body shook with each impact of it's hips against you ass. It felt more like a toy or object was being shoved inside of you repeatedly thank a dick. It was cold, hard, and long, and the icy feeling let you easily feel each sensation withing you. Still, the novelty of the feeling was arousing none the less. Its pace only increased as it continued, slamming you mercilessly against it's dick and the bars of it's cell. It's hands were right around your waist like a vice, you were sure you'd have bruises on both your ass and you waist tomorrow.

You knew you were getting excited by the way it's cock easily pushed in an out with each thrust, you were getting wet, and the effect was like lube even on the uneven, undead cock. The temperature of it's dick was slowly reaching an equilibrium with your vagina, warmed up by the movement and your body heat. However you were still acutely aware that the member thrusting and pulsing inside you not from something living. The dissonance only made you wetter.

You moved a shaking hand lower, your middle finger finding your clit, and rubbing in slow circles. This added stimulation made your legs shake, but you knew even if your knees gave out the grip of the zombie would keep you upright.

The creature showed no sign of slowing down or finishing yet, so you did your best to brace yourself against the bars, trying to give yourself a little cushion from the cold steel with on hand, the other still swiping over your clit. The creature's pace was more erratic now, still as fast, but with stuttering breaks between each thrust. It was getting close. You knew whatever semen had been marinating inside it for this long had to be far too rotten to be safe to have inside you, but god, you couldn't move now, you could feel yourself getting closer as well. The tight, hot feeling in your core only got better as the monster kept going. Just a little longer, just a little longer, just-

You groaned as you came, your pussy clenching around the dick of the zombie, pulsing with aftershocks. You just barely overcame the post-orgasm haze to realize you needed to get off of it, now. Your hands moved to clutch it's hands, still wrapped around your waist as it pumped, trying to rip them off of you. With a final effort you succeeded, falling forward, but managing to catch yourself with your hands before you face-planted into the floor.

Shaking, you heard the zombie let out a loud groan, as something cold splattered onto your backside. Standing up, your reached a hand behind you to wipe it off. Grabbing your flashlight to shine it at your hand, you saw the cum was yellow, chunky, and thick, as if coagulated. Thank God it hadn't came inside.

Giving yourself a moment to recuperate, you eventually turned to look at the monster again. It was still humping mindlessly between the bars, but at a more leisurely pace, it's dick now soft again. With a satisfied sigh, you began to pull your clothes on again, reminding yourself to get tested for std's, and really every other disease as soon as possible.

[no-title-currently]

“In the Flood” has two variations- The opening sequence version, and the one that plays in the credits, known as Lovisa’s version. This post here is covering Lovisa’s version specifically. I won’t be covering all of the lyrics, just the ones I’m able to fully draw something from. While upon listening for the first time, they may seem similar, it’s worth mentioning that the tracks actually parallel each other. The opening sequence version seems to be more from Aloy’s perspective, focusing on how she has the weight of the world on her shoulders and how she has to handle everything herself. On the contrary, while there is quite a bit of discussion, I personally feel that Lovisa’s version is closer to Beta’s perspective, specifically her perspective close to the end of the game.

Unlike in the opening sequence version, Lovisa’s Version starts off calmer. We’re met right away with a slower riff, unlike the one used in the opening sequence version. This riff is more somber in nature, in part due to the fact that it’s in a lower octave, and it has less going on. We’re hit with the vocals pretty early, starting off at (0:07) with “My hands are full of flowers, my ears are full of songs..” This is already a stark contrast to the opening cutscene version, as despite the somber undertones of the instrumental, the lyrics almost seem hopeful near the start. They’re far more positive, both in tone and in association. Tone wise, the lyrics are gentle, they’re light. However, the association is what’s interesting- flowers and songs are both things with generally positive associations.

(0:46) has the start of the chorus. “I am raindrops in the flood. I am emptiness, I am hope…” What’s interesting is that instead of how the chorus of the opening cutscene version has tones of doubt and uncertainty, this version is far more direct. We’re still sticking with the raindrops in the flood analogy, but it’s more accepting than anything else.

What really caught my eye though, is the last part of the chorus “Stay with me, in the flood..” so much of this track is close to a direct parallel to the opening credits version, but this line I feel is the most obvious proof of that. For reference, the opening credits version has the line “Who can take my hand in the flood?” It feels like a call for help in a sense. Comparing the two lines creates a unique parallel, as “Stay with me, in the flood” feels less like a desperate call for help, and more like a request.

At (1:28) we have “in dreams, I never left. I had courage like the beast. My eyes, they never fled. My arms would always reach.” This is one of three sets of lines that really cement my theory that this is from Beta’s perspective. These feel more like aspirations above anything else. A desire to be stronger. “My voice is not that strong, when hurricanes come running from you” comes later in this part at (1:51). It’s a comparison, one that it would make sense that Beta would make. Of course, it’s metaphorical, but the point still stands. It’s just a matter of wanting to be stronger.

Before the last chorus, at (3:11), we’re hit with what I think is one of the saddest lyrics in the track. “Should I have bent, been reshaped in your image? Is that what you want?” It’s really leaning into the comparison aspect of the last paragraph, and it actually reminds me somewhat of the argument Aloy and Beta have before going to Cauldron: GEMINI, where Beta reveals that she needs to know what her ‘defect’ is, and why she can’t be like Aloy.

Overall, the lyrical tracks in this game are just stunning. While they may be harder to analyze fully, I feel the lyrics actually allow for them to be interpreted in a variety of different ways. I hope one day, I’ll truly be able to put my thoughts into words fully, as there is so much more I could say about this one, it’s just a matter of how to say it.

[differentwitchflower]

Did you know Irish/Celtic birth trees are a thing?

Similar to the zodiac sign it's based on the time of birth. I saw this yesterday in a YouTube video by Hearth Witch (link in comments)

She urges you to look into it deeper, and as a 3rd gen Irish Canadian I just had to. With a simple search on Google I found this image and my place as a Reed.

"Of course the one tree I know nothing about and won't even consider a tree is my sign just perfect I thought I am definitely less of value than the other trees." I thought to myself while more than slightly bullying myself for my birthday and trying to figure out how I could be an Ivy or Elder.

So I looked up the meaning behind a Celtic Reed. I open one article on my phone to a webpage to a Celtic radio station playing a full moon traditional Celtic song - the same song my granny plays during rituals.

I still haven't finished the article yet, I finished two paragraphs and my face was soaked in tears and I realized my misplaced shame for myself.

I was able to go to bed last night feeling more cemented in my place as a magical spiritual person and I am so glad I got that experience.

I will leave the link to read about your Celtic tree spirit as well if you are interested in reading more or feel free to tell me what yours is! I'm so interested in this overall and want to yap to people about it!

Thank you for reading, kind one and embrace your curiosities <3

~ Blessed be ~