#like i shouldn't be a part of that grieving process

[leghorned]

jesus christ today was rough

[ourceliumnetwork]

pardon me while i emotionally process all over everything

Monday's just decided to kick off really hard - it's only the one thing, and it's just stewing in the back of my mind really hard and has been for *checks time stamps* 2.5 hours.

the important thing for me to remember is my dad (and my mom too) is not owed nor does he deserve an explanation for why i cut him and mom off. They truly honestly probably do not understand why I made that choice and frankly i think the fact that that hasn't changed over the past year is telling about how little they truly look at their own actions.

I want to explain but as soon as I put it into words, I can immediately strike myself down with the things that I know they will say. Any attempt at giving any explanation will be met with denial and that's just not a battle I feel like participating in.

I spent my whole life doing the emotional heavy lifting for my family of origin and I got tired of it. I'm struggling with the way my brain is wired because of it on a daily basis. This effects my whole life and my loved ones. And it didn't even do what it was supposed to when i developed the coping mechanisms.

I am really really cognizant of it because we've added a 4th person to our home and I'm scrambling to learn them and their tells and their moods quickly so I can be The Best At Helping in any situation. And I'm running into the wall of "that's not my job and is generally unwelcome unless asked for specifically" and so I am sat here taking in footsteps and movement styles and tones of voice trying to catalog them for future reference and not being able to do anything with that and knowing it's a flawed coping skill to deal with an unstable and volatile home life in my early childhood and I just want more than ANYTHING to be able to backsass and confront my parents about the way they've fucked me up and I can't.

i will type it all out and immediately change my mind - the words aren't correct, they can never be correct because the words don't matter. I could say everything perfectly and it wouldn't make any difference because my parents are dead set on invalidating any stance I make for myself and myself alone.

And also guilt tripping at the end of truly bad news (but like, neutral truly bad news) is not the way to get an explanation. It's a way to make me angry that I cannot begin the proper grieving process ahead of time because you're making a last ditch attempt to dig into me and not let me get away without an answer to the question you do not deserve to have answered. There was no indication they have looked at themselves and seen the way that they treated me was bad enough to cause my brain to splinter into multiple different people just in order to get by. They do not understand how much i wanted to die when I was trying to be a good kid for them. And they can't understand because they didn't pay attention then so me telling them about it now will look like i'm making things up.

They also have in the past given me large sums of money that I didn't have to work for dad to get, but it always came with other - more fraught - strings to deal with. and knowing that they bailed me out makes me feel super guilty for not giving them an explanation but it also really hammers home how much I just cannot say "you treated me badly" because they will throw that money in my face and say "we did everything for you, we deserve your love for the bare minimum of affection!" and money, btw, is not affection but they don't know that and now I have to figure that shit out.

and also we never repaired our relationship after I stopped working for him. I'm pretty sure he took my leaving the company personally - and he should, it was because of him I couldn't work for him anymore - but i know it's been worked around in their minds as my choice for completely unfathomable reasons that they clearly just cannot wrap their heads around because it doesn't make sense. why would i just cut them off, they've been good parents! why would I just leave the company, he was a great boss!

but they weren't, and he wasn't, and I suffered for it and I hid my suffering and because i hid my pain (as i was taught to do from VERY early on because i have been in pain MY WHOLE LIFE) they will never believe i was in it in the first place. because they don't believe me about my physical pains either and never have. why would they care about the mental and emotional pains?

they'd probably also come back with "Everyone's messed up by their parents, you need to just get over it" if I did bring up that their behavior towards me fucked me over. Because that's what they've said in the past - maybe not directly to me but in general.

a lot of my assumptions of their responses are based on what they used to just say. or continue to say. or how they'd say it. or how they'd talk about specific other people who i didn't think were bad people but boy did the way they talk about them make me go "well i guess i can't like that person now" and it isolated me from everyone. I had no way out, I had no escape i had no one but myself.

well and my internet friends but for a very long time I had a hard time remembering those were real fucking people on the other end of the internet connection, because i didn't have anyone else but the computer and those who i had a connection to through said computer.

oh and the reason this all came up?

my grandpa's going into hospice - he was in the hospital all weekend. he's the one with cancer that he stopped treating because the treatments were taking too much of a toll on his body. They had to cut their vacation short to take my grandparents back home and that same day my grandpa went into the hospital - dad made sure to mention the vacation to me, because i guess that's important. Didn't tell me any details on how the hospice thing is going to work (maybe he didn't know, maybe he didn't think that's important for me coordinating how to contact my grandparents to check in but whatever), but it was imperative that i know that their vacation ended early so they could take him home. And it was important to guilt trip me at the end to try and reopen communication with me on the email i deliberately did not give out to them, and they had to circumvent my blocks elsewhere in order to acquire because they didn't ask me for it.

I don't know how many people in my family know I'm not talking to my parents. I don't know how far that information has spread I don't know who leaked my email to them (that's a strong way of phrasing it but it feels about as violating, since i rock up into my inbox today and get jumpscared by my fucking dad's name and his absolutely abysmal choice in subject lines. literally could have said "grandpa update" or something similar. no he just said "Stuff" and then opens with "Hope you're doing well. Grandpa's in the hospital" and like????

he got lucky i opened it because i can see the message preview and knew it had important information. I might have seen it and gone "y'know, I don't care what he has to say about "stuff"" and hit delete and not known.

but like WTF dad. wtf.

go to hell, my dude. go to the absolute eebiest of deebies you cuntwaffle.

and take mom with you.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Dolly IV

~ part 4 of the Dolly series

pairing: lee know x afab!reader

genre: smut, fluff, horror/sci-fi

synopsis: the human body is the most fascinating thing and you know all about the intricate anatomy of it. ever so curious you purchase a human-looking doll and your life changes forever.

wc: 7.9k

warnings: death & dead bodies, reader is a mortician, mentions of needles and scalpels, sorry if there are any mistakes

nsfw warnings: multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, blood play, knife play, creampies, spanking, oral (m)

~ divider by @bunnysrph

It's eerily quiet around you but that doesn't bother you. Not tonight, not ever. Sometimes the silence is comforting and helps you concentrate on the intricate work you do.

You've always been fascinated with death, ever since you were a child. You weren't scared of it, you welcomed it with your arms wide open and it was your father who exposed you to it since you were young.

It wasn't really on purpose, but having a funeral home inside your house and a curious child was not a good combination.

Your father was a good and warm man, offering a friendly tap on the shoulder and a few consoling words to grieving family members, the ones who sat in his office discussing details about funerals, their noses runny and eyes red from crying.

Not all of them were like that; some just sat there with a numb look on their face, a kind of silent sorrow etched inside their features while there were those that seemed completely emotionless.

You'd always lean behind the wall and listen to them discuss until your father would notice you and send you back to your room. The only room in the house that looked somewhat... alive.

Your father was pretty fascinated with death and any art that surrounded it, prints of Francisco Goya's black paintings adorned the walls in your house; Saturn Devouring his Son, Witches' Sabbath, Two Old Men, Judith and Holofernes, Two Old Ones Eating Soup, Atropos...

They captivated you in a way you couldn't put into words and sometimes they gave you torturous nightmares, but you weren't scared.

You welcomed the darkness into your heart completely; in fact you thrived off of it.

It was one quiet and calm evening when you tiptoed down to your basement. The moonlight cast a glow through the windows as your shadow passed by the paintings staring at you with their freakish eyes.

The door was ajar and you pushed it, the creaking sound cutting the silence of the dark night as your heart started beating in your ears.

There they were on the table. A person who had succumbed to Death itself.

Silently, you treaded towards the sheet-covered body but before your little hand could reach it, your father grabbed your wrist gently, scaring you out of your wits.

"What are you doing here, y/n? You know you shouldn't be here." he said, taking you away from your curiosities.

"I- I just wanted to see."

"I know, sweetheart but it's not the time yet. One day, hopefully, you will take over this business just like I took over from your grandfather. Now, go back to sleep."

"Okay." you nodded, albeit feeling a bit sullen that you didn't get to see the person under the sheet.

It's been years since that night, and now you were the one who offered consoling words and friendly pats on the shoulders of grieving family members.

Your father had succumbed to his illness, leaving you alone in this world, alone with all the darkness and death. Of course, you missed him dearly but he suffered so much in his last years that you were somewhat thankful to Death for taking him.

Wherever he was, you knew he was at peace and watching over you.

Taking over his business was the natural step for you, death was just a part of life, and preparing someone's loved one for their funeral felt honorable and you viewed the entire process as a kind of art. When you were old enough, your father started teaching you bits and pieces about preparation and the embalming process, and of course it was only natural for you to develop even more interest for it and get the needed education.

You worked as his assistant at first and when he got sick you became the caretaker and the mortician.

Of course, you couldn't be the one to prepare your father for his burial, it was too much as you watched him disappear more and more every day while he was sick and you wanted your last memory of him to be as peaceful as it can be.

It's been a few years since then, and you were now one of the most respected morticians in your small town. You kept to yourself mostly, only having one close friend since you were kids, Emily.

But you weren't lonely, you focused on your work and your hobbies, like reading, painting and writing poetry, all in the company of your fur baby, your cat named Shadow. You had rescued the elegant black cat off the street when she was just a small lost kitty and ever since then you became inseparable.

Though, even you weren't immune to the troubles of dating. Most of your partners were a bit put off by your work, to say the least, especially if they'd come around to your house which you had repainted black, the decoration was halloween all year around coupled with the creepy paintings on your walls and the fact that there are dead bodies in your basement wasn't really an aphrodisiac.

It was frustrating because you wished you could share your life with someone who'd be genuinely into the things that interest you.

That's why when you found yourself mindlessly scrolling through social media, an ad caught your eye.

Sex dolls.

You chuckled to yourself as you got more comfy under your blanket, Shadow cracking one eye open to look at you from where she was curled up.

You clicked on it.

One doll in particular pulled you in.

Minho, the dark dolly.

He was beautiful, his hair black and shaggy, falling over his eyes, his features were sharp and perfect, somewhat feline-like and his lips seemed sweet and plump.

You liked the outfit they chose for him, all black like you dressed 99% of the time completed with a choker around his neck.

He was perfect.

You scrolled around looking at the other dolls, they all seemed intriguing but Minho was the one you wanted the most.

Besides, some of them already sold so you decided not to wait and jumped on it, ordering yourself the dark dolly. And it didn't take long for him to be delivered to your house, in a big black box reminiscent of a casket. Shadow inspected the box immediately, sniffing and rubbing against it, she seemed to approve of it.

You opened it up eagerly, finally taking a look at your beautiful Minho and he was even more perfect in real life than all the pictures they had posted.

There was a letter inside the box and you opened it up.

Hello,

my name is Minho and I am your dark dolly.

I love cats, horror movies, yummy food and staying inside.

Please treat me with kindness, even though I like scary things, I have a soft soul so never forget to pat my head.

Hope you'll love me as much as I love you.

"I'm glad you love cats, otherwise I'd have to send you back." you joked, as Shadow put her paws on the box, sniffing around before meowing at you.

"You approve, I suppose?" you asked and your cat meowed once again so you were satisfied.

"I guess you do." you ripped off the rest of the bubble wrap, scaring your cat with your movements as she scurried away to her place on the sofa.

Your doll was dressed in a black button up shirt that was almost see-through, coupled with black leather pants and some fine shoes. He looked so alive, it would've been eerie if you weren't already used to looking at people lying down lifelessly before you.

You noticed a little note sticking out of his pocket so you pulled it out and opened it.

My kitten!

I got ready for our rendezvous.

I hope you like the outfit I chose and I hope you'll enjoy our first night together.

"Kitten, huh? Interesting." you smirked as you grabbed the manual, ready to read it from top to bottom but your curiosity got the better of you so you reached your hand to touch Minho.

"Oh." that definitely felt like human skin.

Something was wrong here and you felt it from the moment you laid eyes on his still body. But of course, you weren't afraid, in fact you were determined to find out the truth.

You read the entire manual carefully, going over it a few times, specifically the part where it said the doll can bruise.

How can the doll bruise if there's no blood inside its body?

"Hm." you threw the manual aside and finally lifted the doll out of its little casket, setting it down on the couch in the sitting position.

It took some time to adjust him but Shadow came to sniff Minho and rub against him, seemingly she liked him very much and you trusted your cat's intuition.

"Give me a moment." you said to the doll before running to get some stuff you needed from the basement.

"I'm sorry for this." you grimaced as you sat down next to Minho.

Just a little prick on the skin is what you needed so you grabbed his hand and brought it closer to you as you held the little needle in your other hand. Quickly, you pricked him and waited for a moment.

Nothing was happening so you sighed putting the needle on a tray you brought. You were just about to get up when you noticed it; a tiny droplet of blood oozing out of your doll's finger. With a gasp you stared at the red liquid.

Your mind was reeling and before you could stop yourself, you brought his finger to your lips, licking at the droplet, the metallic taste of blood was unmistakable. Your doll had real blood inside its body. Something about that frightened you, but that fear ignited a flame within you and you wrapped your lips around his finger, lightly sucking on it, the blood coming out slowly as you lapped at it.

"Oh. Looks like I'm not the only one enjoying this." Minho's eyes were shining and his pants were filling up, the button almost popping off.

He was big and usually you weren't this impatient but it's been some time. Your hand explored his muscular thigh, running up to cup his erection and you swore you could feel him twitch in your hand.

You scooted closer to him, hand tangling in his hair and it was surprisingly soft and it smelled of shampoo like he had just washed it. You leaned in to take a whiff before pressing kisses there all the way down to his cheeks. His soft skin under your lips felt heavenly and you were already getting addicted to him.

You pressed your lips into his softly, then pressed them again a bit harder as your hands roamed on his chest. He was muscle everywhere and you were fluttering on the inside, your arousal increasing the more you touched him.

A loud pop scared you as you jolted looking down to find the source. A small laugh escaped your lips when you realized that the button on his pants had actually popped off.

"Fine, you're eager." you chuckled, sliding his pants down, your eyes on his prominent bulge instantly. Your nimble fingers unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his broad shoulders and strong biceps that were visible in the tanktop he wore.

"Wait. I should undress too." you said and Shadow perked up from her spot before standing up and rushing out of the living room like she had understood what was about to happen.

You took your robe off, letting it fall on the floor, you were left only in the silky black nightgown so slowly you slid that off too, the material pooling around your feet.

Minho seemed to have some kind of reaction, at least his neck flushed a little and you were wondering how it does that. How is any of this real?

That didn't matter after you stripped him completely, your eyes admiring the work of art before you. Hands touching and lips exploring, you didn't care about how freaky all this was.

Somewhere along the way you lost your panties, so you straddled Minho's lap, your hands grabbing his face. He was absolutely stunning and your pussy clenched at the look in his eyes. It seemed like there was a fire inside them, a passion burning wild.

Your hand wrapped around his cock, big and heavy in your hand, making you whimper at the thought of it being inside you. You ran the throbbing tip against your wet folds before slowly sinking down on him.

The stretch was delicious as you took him in, wrapping your arms around his shoulders for support, your hands splayed on his muscular back. When you adjusted, you slowly started to move up and down on his length, the squelching sounds filling up the room as you dripped on him.

It seemed as if Minho was looking at you and you sped up, bouncing on him faster, your moans getting louder as you neared your high.

Your nails dug into his flesh as you exploded around him, your hand running down to cup his ass which made him cum too, the warm liquid filling you up and making your eyes roll back.

"Wow." you gasped. Only when you lifted up and circled the couch, you saw that his back had angry red scratch marks.

"Shit, I'm sorry." you leaned over to look at Minho's face.

He seemed to be smirking just a tiny bit?

"I hope it doesn't hurt." you said, not forgetting to pat and caress your dolly's head. You pressed a few small kisses on his cheek before leaving to get cleaned up.

When you came back, Minho was waiting for you in the same position so you cleaned him too and put some of his clothes back on, the pants definitely needed some mending.

"A sex doll?" Emily looked at you in disbelief, holding Shadow in her arms like a baby, moving the cat left and right.

"Yes, isn't he beautiful?" you smirked, patting Minho's head as he sat in your kitchen, company to you and your friend.

"I mean, he is. It's just a little creepy." she said and you gave her a pointed look which made her laugh. "But I shouldn't be surprised when it comes to you. He really looks human though." Emily added, coming closer to the doll as Shadow jumped out of her arms.

"Here's the thing. I pricked his finger the other day and he bled." you told her, adjusting on your chair as you picked up your cup of tea.

"He what? Now, that's creepy. Are you sure it was blood? Maybe it's some kind of trick?"

"Nope, it was definitely blood." you shook your head.

"Hm. Can you like open him up?" Emily asked, making you chuckle.

"Do you know how much I paid for him? I'm not about to cut him up, besides the manual said not to mutilate the doll."

"And why is that? Because they don't want you to know the doll's secrets? Just think about it." Emily shrugged. "Anyways, I have to go. Call me if you find anything out." she added, wiggling her brows.

You took a look at Minho, it hasn't even been a week since he was in your house, but he blended in perfectly with the rest of the decor, even when he was more than that. Shadow seemed to love him, always rubbing against his legs and sleeping on his lap. Animals had a sixth sense when it came to things like this so you trusted that you weren't in any danger. Still, you were so curious.

-

Come evening, you were in a mood.

There was music blasting from your speakers, the lights were all out except the dimmed moody ones and a few candles here and there. The tv was on too, a silent horror film playing on it. Outside, it was raining hard, almost drowning out any other sounds as big droplets kept hitting your window.

Shadow was tucked away in her room and you were wearing lingerie.

Minho was sat on your couch, you turned him to look directly at you as you downed a glass of wine before you started swinging your hips seductively.

The music took you over and you danced, forgetting about everything around you, including your companion Minho whose eyes were following every single movement, unbeknown to you.

"Oh!" you spun a little too fast, colliding with the side of the sofa and chuckling to yourself.

Your eyes fell to Minho, then the coffee table where you had left some cake and knife to cut it with. You bit on your lip as you made your way towards him slowly.

You picked up the knife, twirling the handle once, twice as you smirked at the dolly.

"Are you scared, doll?" you leaned towards him, your tits almost falling out of your skimpy bra as you pointed the knife at Minho.

He didn't seem to react at all.

"No? How about now?" you asked, leaning the knife on his cheek gently. "Or now?" you added, sliding it down his chest and abdomen slowly all the way towards the bulge that appeared in his boxers.

"Enjoying this? I'm glad." you smirked, putting the knife aside for a moment to unhook your bra and slide down your panties.

You undressed Minho too, spreading his legs a little and adjusting him before you turned your back to him.

"Like what you see?" you ran your hands up your hips to your waist as you looked back at him.

The reflection of the candlelight burned in his eyes as you slowly sat in his lap, his length filling your pussy up perfectly, your feet planted on the floor. A moan escaped your lips when you found purchase on his thighs, bracing yourself as you started to bounce on him. The sound of your ass slapping against his abdomen filled up the room and you threw your head back, enjoying the feeling of his tip brushing against your sweet spot.

"Ah! Fuck, Minho!" you moaned his name, feeling him twitch inside you instantly and you gasped as you came, lifting off of him and squirting all over his thighs. What a sweet mess.

"Oh." you moaned, taking him in once again as you sat down and started moving up and down, your thighs burning from exertion. You reached back to grab a handful of his ass, making the doll fill you up.

You leaned on him, your back flush against his chest as you grabbed his arms and wrapped them around you.

"I kinda wish you would come to life but at the same time I don't know if you'd like me. Right now, you have no choice. Isn't that kinda fucked up?" you looked up at Minho but there was no sign of reaction or movement. "Well, don't move. I'll be right back." you joked as you stood up.

You prepared a bath for the both of you, struggling a little to get him in but as soon as you did, you sat between his legs and relaxed in the warm water.

Shadow appeared in your bathroom, meowing at you.

"What is it?" you chuckled, leaning a little to the side to look at her.

Your cat's tail twitched a few times as she stared at Minho, releasing a few more meows before sitting down and continuing to stare at him. You looked back at your doll but he was chilling, looking straight ahead like he always does.

Eventually, Shadow gave up the staring and left the bathroom. Huh, that was weird, you thought but brushed it off as cat behavior.

After drying yourself and the dolly, you got dressed and tucked him in your bed. After years of sharing your bed only with your cat, it was nice to also have someone fill up the empty side of it. And Minho was warm and soft in a way, you had no idea how they made him like that but in the tired and lonely moments, you didn't care.

It's been almost a month since Minho entered your life and you shared almost every moment with him. He had watched you cook and clean, do your hobbies, play with your cat. But, you had yet to take him downstairs.

You weren't even sure if you wanted to. But you were dragging him around the house all the time like a kid drags their favorite teddy bear so you didn't see the harm in it.

Whenever a grieving family came to talk to you, Minho was tucked away in the safety of your room. Today, a particularly loud widow came in to cry to you about her husband who was now in your basement, waiting to be prepared for his funeral.

You reassured her he was in best hands and that you'll make him look as wonderful as you can, since the accident he passed away in had ruined his face.

You just needed to get some things from a few shops before starting, and as soon as the widow left you went to your room to see Minho.

"I'm going to town. I'll be back soon, honey." you chuckled, giving him a peck and a few pats on his soft hair.

You were done with shopping quickly and as the sun was setting you decided to walk across the main square and have a short stroll since you weren't carrying many things.

You saw a little crowd gathered there around someone so naturally curious, you made your way towards it.

An artist was sitting on a little stool, painting a portrait of one of the onlookers. You peered down to look at the canvas, hypnotized by the brush strokes and the movement of this person's hand.

Your eyes followed his arm to his face and your brows furrowed. He looked somewhat familiar. You were trying to think where you had seen him before but kept coming up blank.

"Do you want a portrait?" his voice broke you out of your thoughts.

"Ah, yes sure." you nodded and he started working on it immediately.

He was talented and quick and you kept observing him as he worked, still trying to think where he was familiar from.

"Here. Done." he smiled proudly and you chuckled.

"Thank you, it's really good." you took out your wallet. "Here." you gave him a 100, and his eyes widened slightly.

"Oh, thank you! T-this is a lot! Thank you so much!" he bowed a little as he took the bill from you.

"What's your name?" you asked.

"H-Hyunjin, miss." he looked a little panicked and you gave him a reassuring smile.

"Have I seen you somewhere?" you asked and he chuckled nervously, and you noticed a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"Maybe you've seen me paint here." he said but you still weren't convinced.

"Maybe. You come here often?"

"I'm trying to make some money to buy a gift for my lover." Hyunjin smiled fondly and you smiled back.

"That's sweet."

"Thank you. Your portrait." he said as you stood up.

"Oh, thanks for that again. Bye, Hyunjin." you said as you grabbed it.

"Bye, miss." he yelled behind you as you walked away.

-

Finally, you took Minho down to your basement. You put him in safe distance from all the chemicals as you got ready to begin your work.

Minho sat in the corner, his eyes twitching a few times as he stared at your skilful hands. You worked almost on autopilot as you have done this a hundred times, rinse and repeat.

It took a few hours but the man finally looked at peace, you had reconstructed his face as much as you could for an open casket, the embalming process taking up most of the time after that.

After putting the body away and cleaning everything up, your eyes fell to Minho and you friend's words rang inside your mind.

Maybe you could take a little peak inside him? You stood there contemplating, remembering that he did in fact bleed when you pricked him, so if you cut him it might be even messier. You didn't want to hurt him but as always, you were too curious for your own good.

Minutes later, your dolly was shirtless on your table, a scalpel in your hand. Never has your hand trembled but as you brought the blade closer to his skin, your fingers twitched ever so slightly. Your heart sped up as you took a deep breath, pressing the scalpel softly against the doll's skin.

Suddenly, he lifted his hand and grabbed your wrist, his eyes moving to look at you as you screamed, trying to step back but he held on tightly, taking a deep breath that sounded somewhat painful.

"Don't hurt me." he pleaded, his voice raspy as he took in shallow breaths.

You snatched your hand away, the scalpel clattering on the floor as your wide eyes took in the sight before you. Your dolly was alive.

"I always had this irrational fear that some day one of the dead bodies I was working on would wake up." you chuckled.

"I wasn't dead." he sat up slowly and you rushed to him, seeing he was dizzy.

"I know. You bled when I pricked your finger."

"By the way, that hurt." he gave you a look and you shrugged with a smirk.

"What about the part that came after it?" you asked breathlessly as Minho's eyes softened.

"That was more fun." he smirked, making you chuckle. "Can we go upstairs? The fumes are making me nauseous."

You helped Minho up, taking him to the kitchen where he drank four glasses of water quickly while you heated up dinner.

"So, you were aware of everything the entire time?" you asked and he nodded, his cheeks becoming rosy. "I figured as much. Something was fishy ever since you came here. I knew you were alive."

Shadow appeared in the kitchen, jumping up on Minho's lap immediately and he wrapped his arms around the cat, caressing her. She meowed and started purring as she pushed her head into his hand.

"She approved of you from day one."

"I'm glad she did."

"Here, eat and then we can talk." you said, as if this was the most normal thing ever.

-

"It's so nice to be able to move and be outside in the fresh air." Minho noted as the two of you decided to take a walk in the woods behind your house.

The woods were comforting always and even more beautiful now with all the autumn colors painting the leaves. It was a bit chilly but you dressed well, the fresh air was helping you clear your mind.

"I bet it is. So, what do you remember before being here with me?"

"I remember a lab. Tables like the ones in your basement, I remember I didn't look like this from the beginning. I also remember I could walk and move and talk before they put something inside us. We were plugged to something and suspended in water tanks. There was eight of us."

"Oh, I saw the others on the site! Do you remember them?"

"Yes, I do. We all had our cells before they put us in the tanks. Chan was made first. Then there was me, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, Seungmin and lastly Jeongin." Minho explained.

"Wait, Hyunjin?" you suddenly remembered the artist you ran into.

"Yes, he liked to paint."

"I saw him today!"

"You saw Hyunjin?" Minho's eyes widened. "Like this? Alive?"

"Yeah. Do you think the others are somewhere around here too?"

"Could be. I really miss them. We tried, y/n. We tried to fight the company but there were too many of them and we were kept in such a controlled enviroment. They kept injecting something with these big needles, it would make us sleepy."

"Do you remember anything before the lab?"

"As much as I dig around my mind, I only remember the lab."

"What do you mean, you didn't look like this the in the beginning?" you asked after a quiet moment of taking in everything Minho had told you.

"Well, I don't wanna gross you out with gory details." he said and you laughed.

"Honey, I'm a mortician."

"Right, you poke around dead people." he smiled teasingly.

"What a way to put it." you chuckled.

"Well. If you must know, they added skin later."

"Oh... Oh. So, I'm guessing maybe you're not human? Or at least, not entirely?" you said.

"I have no idea." Minho shrugged with a sigh.

Your hand brushed his as the leaves crunched under your feet.

You took hold of his hand, noticing his shy smile and rosy cheeks as your fingers entwined.

"We'll figure it out."

It's been about two weeks since Minho woke up and you had no idea your dolly would be so shy.

He avoided talking about what he was actually made for and never mentioned you using him for your pleasure multiple times. Minho enjoyed cooking for you and playing with your cat as much as he enjoyed watching you work and being the one to hold you during cold nights.

It was safe. It was comforting. You had found someone who was genuinely interested in what you do. Even when he was a little annoying, asking question after question like a curious child, his shiny eyes staring at you closely as he breathed in your personal space and kept asking stuff like 'What are you doing now?', 'What is that?', 'Why are you putting it there?'.

It was adorable as much as it was irritating, and you loved it.

Outside, it rained hard as you sat on your window bench, reading quietly while Minho sat on the sofa, cuddling with Shadow.

You gave him time to get used to everything, but you were feeling kind of impatient at the same time. Minho was observant, he learned all your little movements, the tone of your voice, what your sighs meant. He loved all the little details that made you you.

So, he stood up and made his way to you which got your attention, and you looked up from your book just in time as he stood in front of you.

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?" he asked and your eyes widened.

"Of course." you smiled then, your face heating up.

Minho sat down close to you, gently grabbing your book from your hands and putting it aside before he touched your face softly. He leaned in and you waited with bathed breath for his lips to collide with yours.

It wasn't what you expected, fireworks and passion, it was more gentle, more profound. He kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered in this world.

"I'm sorry I made you wait. It's just, I'm scared that somehow I will go back to how I was before. And I don't want that to be in that... prison anymore. Being able to see and hear it all but being unable to react, it was terrifying and I still have nightmares about it." Minho confessed as you ran your hands through his soft hair.

"That's not gonna happen, okay?"

"How are you so sure that it won't?" Minho asked.

"Because... I love you and I'm not gonna let anything happen to you." you said, Minho's lips trembled as he searched your eyes before a sweet smile spread on his lips.

"I love you too, my kitten." he smirked before leaning in, this time giving you a more passionate kiss.

It didn't take long for the kiss to escalate as Minho pushed his tongue into your mouth, tasting you. Your hands tangled in his hair as his roamed your body, exploring your curves and dips like he had always wanted to.

He kneeled between your legs, his knee pressed against your core and you whimpered into his mouth as he smirked against yours.

"My sweet kitten, I've always wanted to take care of you." he looked at you, eyes darkened with lust as you gripped onto his strong arms, your hips moving on their own as you rubbed your clothed pussy against his knee.

"M-Minho." you whined, throwing your head back and his lips attached to your neck and collarbone, traveling down between your breasts as he left hungry kisses everywhere. His hands gripped your waist before sliding down to grab your ass and lift you up.

You squealed as he turned your body towards the window; the view outside was breathtaking, all the leaves twirling in the wind, the rain dragging them down and washing them away just as the sky darkened.

"Here?" you gasped and he chuckled.

"Everywhere." he whispered in your ear before lifting your little nightgown and revealing your lacy panties.

"Very sweet." Minho grabbed handfuls of your ass and you moaned, nails scratching at the bench you were just sitting on. His fingers slid on your folds, your arousal soaking through the lace as he kept touching you, giving you a few spanks with his other hand.

You moaned his name, pushing back into him, your body craving for more; you were so touch starved that you lost your mind immediately, melting into Minho and giving him total control over you.

He wanted you as much as you wanted him so he slid your panties down just enough to have access to your wet pussy as he slid his pants and boxers down at the same time.

"I promise I'll take it slow later. I just need to have you right now." he breathed out as you felt the tip of his hard cock press and slide against your folds.

"Take me, Minho, please!" you pushed back again and he spanked you quickly, making you whimper.

"Stay still, kitten." he purred as he slowly pushed in and the stretch was perfect, your pussy taking him in easily until he filled you up completely.

"You feel perfect around me." he groaned as he started moving slowly, his hands splayed on your ass as you pressed your forehead into one of the decorative pillows on your window, little gasps and moans escaping your lips.

"Ah!" you moaned loudly when he hit your spot, biting down on the pillow as Minho's hand tangled in your hair, lifting your head up slowly.

"Let me hear you, kitten." he said, fucking into you harder, the sounds of skin slapping skin making your ears warm up in embarrassment. You caught a glimpse of your reflection in the window, seeing the expression on Minho's face sent shivers down your spine, your pussy clenching around his cock.

You let go and started moaning loudly, and the louder you got the faster he fucked into you.

"Just like that." he whined and you gasped, cumming around his length, making him more slippery and wet as he held onto you.

It only took a few more erratic thrusts before Minho exploded inside you, his warm cum filling you up deliciously and making you cum once more at the feeling of it.

"Oh." he gasped as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly for a few moments. You finally turned around, grabbing his face and giving him a sloppy wet kiss.

"I love you." you smiled as he pulled you into a hug.

"I love you. I'm glad I came to you." he whispered.

"Me too."

The two of you were cuddled up with Shadow under a blanket, watching a horror movie per Minho's request when your doorbell rang.

"That must be Emily." you stood up quickly and Minho looked at you with a panicked look in his eyes.

"You sure she won't freak out?" he asked and you shook your head.

"No, she's literally seen everything with me." you chuckled as you went to open the door. Minho sat still on the couch, cuddling Shadow to calm his fast beating heart.

"Emily, I'd like you to meet someone." you pulled your best friend into the living room and she looked at Minho confusedly for a moment.

"Didn't we meet already?" she chuckled and Minho's lips fell open.

"She's not gonna faint is she?" he asked, making the both of you laugh.

"Not that I know of." Emily said with a shrug. "Look Minho, when you're friends with y/n for years, nothing really surprises you anymore. Plus, she told me in advance. Everything that happened and what you remember." she added as you served some tea for her.

"Minho sometimes has nightmares about the company." you added.

"Did you remember any more details?" Emily asked after taking a sip of tea.

"Not really. Just bits and pieces, it's more like feelings. Fear, dread, isolation. I especially hated when they experimented on us, the tables. I don't know what they did to us cause I couldn't move and look down but it hurt. The water tanks seemed to alleviate the pain though." Minho explained.

"Okay, now that is creepy." Emily said and you nodded.

"Did you manage to find anything on the site?" you asked her and she shook her head.

"I tried hacking it. It has top security on it, it's out of my skill range." Emily sighed. "I wish I could be of more help."

"Hey, you being here is enough for me." you grabbed her hand as she smiled.

"Oh, do you maybe know where the company is?" Emily suddenly remembered and Minho shut his eyes tightly, willing himself to think of the location.

"Ugh. I can't remember no matter how much I try. I don't remember traveling from there to your house." he looked at you.

"It's okay. We can try again another day." you said, caressing his back to calm him down.

It was all so suspicious and you were too interested in finding out more about where you dear dolly came from.

You were enjoying an afternoon nap when a loud clatter jolted you out of your dreams.

"What are you doing, Min?" you rubbed your eyes as you walked into the kitchen.

"Oh. I'm making dinner for us. It's been exactly five months since I came here so I wanted to do something special." he said, his cheeks rosy.

"Aw, you are so sweet." you melted instantly, making him chuckle shyly.

When you sat down to eat the delicious meal he prepared, you got to thinking.

You've never been so happy or felt so seen. Living with Minho, sharing the day and night with him came easy to you. Everything seemed more lively since he came into your life, even death became an afterthought when you spent time with Minho.

"Thank you for the wonderful dinner." you smiled.

"Of course." he stood up and you followed quickly, almost knocking your chair down.

"Wait here a sec." you told him before running off to your room. If he had made an effort with the main course, you were going to make effort with the dessert.

Minho decided to tidy up as he waited for you, his heart beating hard in anticipation. While you were sleeping, he saw the lacy set you had put out in your closet earlier and he was so excited to see you in it... or take it off of you.

"Min, come here!" you yelled from the room once you were ready and Minho all but tripped over his feet, the carpet and Shadow who was lounging in her spot before he came to you, looking as cool as a cucumber. He leaned on the wall and smirked at you.

"What do you think?" you asked, giving him a little twirl. The lingerie you wore left nothing to imagination.

"I think you look stunning." he said, somewhat breathlessly as his face heated up.

"You gonna do something about it?" you taunted and he made his way to you, his eyes filling up with lust.

His hands landed on your waist as he pulled you in, his lips pressing against yours. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as you pressed your body as close as you could to his and his hands slid down to grab your ass.

You moaned into his mouth as he started massaging it, then giving it a few loving spanks.

"Fuck, let me take care of you, my love." you pushed him towards the night stand and Minho's eyes widened as you got down on your knees.

"Oh." he let out a quiet sound as you slid his pants and boxers down, not wanting to waste any more time. His cock was already hard and ready for you to play with and you were just too eager.

Your fingers wrapped around the base of his length as you leaned in closer, giving a few kitten licks to his tip, collecting the drops of pre cum on your tongue.

Minho breathed in sharply, his hands grabbing at the night stand behind him. You smirked, swirling your tongue around the tip, occasionally dipping it into his slit and trying to tease him as much as you could.

"Kitten." Minho moaned quietly, his hand tangling in your hair as you started sucking on the tip gently.

You were sure you couldn't take all of him but you were even more sure you were going to try anyways, so you slid down, taking more of his length in and trying to get used to it.

"You look so beautiful right now." Minho smirked, gripping your hair and holding you against him tightly. You moaned around him, sending vibrations through his body as you slid down more.

You bobbed your head up and down, wetting his cock with your spit and gagging around him multiple times and Minho couldn't help his desire as he slowly started to fuck into your warm mouth.

"Ah, y/n!" he groaned, accidentally pushing harder and making you gag. You slid off of him and he looked at you with panic in his eyes.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, his palm gentle against your cheek.

"No, I'm fine." you said, biting on your lip. "Just very needy right now."

"For what?" he smirked and you whined.

"You."

"Get on the bed, kitten." he said and you stood up immediately, lying down on the bed.

Minho climbed in after you, kneeling between your legs as he pushed your panties aside.

"This what you need?" he smirked, sliding the tip of his cock against your wet folds.

"Mm, yes." you moaned, already arching your back at the slightest touch.

"Hmm, I'm not convinced." he smirked.

"Please!" you whined desperately, making Minho chuckle.

"Okay." he said but you saw the mischievous glint in his eyes and you knew he was going to tease you some more.

He pushed in just the tip, fucking you slowly with it.

"Ah, Min!" you whined as he kept smirking, giving you a minimal amount of stimulation.

Your eyes teared up in frustration as Minho kept fucking you only with the tip, your pussy clenching and begging for more.

"Please, please!" you cried.

"More?" he teased, pushing a bit more in and staying still.

"All of it."

"As you wish darling." he said before pushing all of his length in and fucking you slowly.

You moaned as you wrapped your arms and legs around him and Minho held you close as he kept rocking his hips into you.

You reached bliss together, wrapped up in each other, completely content.

"Wait." you giggled as Minho started getting up so he can get a cloth to clean you up.

"What?" he asked and you pulled him closer, patting his head gently.

"Oh." he giggled cutely before standing up and almost running off to the bathroom.

While you laid there waiting for him, your phone started ringing.

"Ugh." you groaned and rolled over to grab it.

"Hello?"

"Miss l/n?"

"Yes, this is she." you sat up, thinking it was someone calling for your funeral services.

"We are calling regarding our dolly collection. We understand you have purchased our dark doll, Minho." the cold voice on the other end said.

"Yes, I have."

"We regret to inform you that the collection will be pulled back from the public and we will be taking all the dolls back to our company due to a malfunction. You will get your refund of course. We will come pick the doll up tomorrow morning." they said right as Minho came in.

"Okay, thank you for calling." you said politely before finishing the call.

"Who was that?" Minho asked.

"It was your company, apparently they are taking all the dolls back to the lab due to a malfunction."

"What? Please, don't let them take me! I can't go back there!" Minho looked angry and scared instantly.

"Oh they can come here. But they won't find anything. I have a plan, my love." you smirked.

You were not about to let anyone take away your happiness.

The doorbell rang at 9am sharp and you took a deep breath before opening the door.

There were six men in black suits and emotionless faces standing there and looking at you.

"We've come to pick the doll up."

Suddenly, you hiccuped and started crying.

"He is gone! My dolly is gone! I woke up this morning and looked for him everywhere. But there is no trace of him. I-I put him in my bed like always but he disappeared!" you cried and the men exchanged a look.

"Mind if we take a look around?" one of them asked.

"Please, go ahead." you let them in and they started snooping around immediately. Shadow hissed at them, running away as soon as one of the men came anywhere near her.

They were definitely dangerous.

"W-what kind of malfunction happened to the dolls?" you asked, blowing your nose in a napkin.

"We aren't allowed to discuss that." they answered.

"What's downstairs?" one of them asked.

"My preparation room. This is a funeral home." you said and they gave you suspicious looks.

"Can we take a look there?"

"Of course." you nodded and opened the door.

Then men looked around as you followed them, still crying silently and hiccuping a few more times.

"Well, he is not here. Don't worry about it, miss. You will still get your refund and the doll will be found." they finally gave up after checking every nook and cranny, or so they thought.

"Okay, thank you for coming." you said as they left.

You waited for them to get into their van and drive away before you ran back downstairs.

"They left!" you quickly opened one of the caskets and Minho sat up, taking a deep breath in.

"Gosh, I almost suffocated. I could hear them walking around here, it was so scary." he said as you grabbed his face gently.

"But they didn't find you." you smiled.

"No, thanks to my genius lover." he smiled back at you as you leaned in to kiss him.

"What do we do now?" he asked when you parted.

"We wait to get the refund. And then we'll see what our next step will be."

"Are you sure they won't come looking for me here again?" Minho sighed.

"They can try. But I won't let them take you away from me. I promise."

Minho wrapped his arms around you tightly, putting all his trust into your hands.

You knew you were running a risk as long as you stayed here, but there were preparations needed to be done before you could get away.

And you wanted to make sure there was no trace left for the wrong people to find you.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @starlost-mochi-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @eastjonowhere @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0

[milliebobbyflay]

paired with their often intimate and violent subject matter, i find the incidental way tamsyn muir frames women and their bodies throughout the locked tomb series to be refreshing bordering on radical

consider harrowhark; in the first book we see her as gideon sees her. she's a hideous ghoul with a flat ass and no tits, she's a delicate sopping wet beauty with a sharp face and angel bow lips, she's a triumphant and awe inspiring master necromancer screaming and fighting drenched in her own blood. the shape and condition of her body is allowed to take on meaning contextually based entirely on the situation and how gideon feels about their relationship in any given moment

she then spends the second book hobbling around with a sword twice her size, ripping apart her body to use as a weapon and passing out in her own vomit, struggling to eat and sleep – she and puts herself through absolute hell and never once thinks anything of it, and we're made to mourn this not as the desecration of a beautiful woman but as a manifestation of a human being's despair and self loathing, and we see this specifically contrasted against the care gideon tries to take when inhabiting her body during the last act

it's jarring, in nona, when we're suddenly made aware that her body could be perceived or valued as a commodity, when pyrrha is assumed to be nona's pimp. it feels strange and horrifying when we learn alecto's form was modeled for a doll, learn that she was given a woman's body as a display of ownership, an alternative to being consumed, and as we're processing this we watch gideon, paul, and ianthe, immediately setting aside their conflict in a desperate scramble to preserve harrow's body for no reason other than because it is harrow's and they love her

feminist fiction often focuses on women's relationship to a body which is valued more than the person within it – and that is a worthy experience to explore – but as a transsexual butch(ish) dyke, i have never really had the privilege of seeing my body as a precious commodity, never felt like it couldn't or shouldn't be a sight of violence and disgust, and as a result the locked tomb books have made me feel seen in a way that few other works of fiction have?

we as an audience are not made aware of how attractive any character would be outside of the context of our lesbian POV characters' perspectives, their relationship to patriarchal beauty standards is an utterly irrelevant detail we're never told and only occasionally glimpse through implication. the women in the locked tomb books are simply free to exist, to have experiences and feelings, to love and hate and grieve and suffer and die like anybody else, and to have those experiences reflected in their physical vessels

it's a perspective that's so fundamental and obvious that to praise muir for it for it feels almost patronizing, but i also think it's a huge part of what's made the series so resonant for so many queer women and i feel that that's worthy of highlighting and celebrating

[genderqueerdykes]

i think i'm a trans guy. i wish i wasn't. i keep telling myself that i'm anything but that. that i'm non binary or demigirl or agender or that i just don't care about gender because it's made up anyway but i think really i do care, i care so much and i feel like i shouldn't care as much as i do and i should be what is expected of me, i should be a pretty girl but i'm not i don't want to be, i can't be, i've tried, i have tried so so hard to be a girl or anything other than a guy but i know if i was given the chance i would give anything to be born a boy. i know if i was born a boy i would just be a boy. i have recognised this in myself for years but i just can not fully accept it, but i so desperately want to. the tv has never glowed brighter and i have never craved darkness more before.

its okay to feel that way. when i figured out i was a trans guy i was practically clawing my skin off because i wanted to be anything but that. i thought it was a terrible thing, because i would never become a real man, or people would always see me as a tranny and nothing more. i was very depressed thinking about how hard transitioning would be, and how i may never pass or get people to address me correctly

there's a sort of grieving period at first when you realize you're trans. you grieve for the person you were, and still are. you are taking the first steps toward moving forward, which involves allowing yourself to feel grief for what you're about to leave behind. you could or should just be a pretty girl, but that's just not you. you're grieving that girl, and it's okay to do so. it's part of the process of letting go

take care of yourself, feel free to stop by again at any point. you're not alone, this is a very normal experience to have

[sc0tters]

Better Off Apart | Luke Hughes

summary: the long awaited day has finally come! Luke is in New York and the Devils are set to play the islanders, but now a third person as slotted themselves into your love equation.

request: yes/no

warnings: this became a bit of a sad chapter, Luke is a boy who doesn’t know how to process his emotions, Mat gets jealous and also doesn’t know how to handle that. The reader is finally in a position where she’s reader to move on.

word count: 1.76k

authors note: I wrote this in an hour I was so excited. I saw that in some requests you guys actually wanted the mc of this to get with a player from the team but I sort of put my twist on that. The rest of the full length chapters for this story have been planned out but I think it could be cool doing a few blurbs for these two, so if you want to see anything in those let me know!

previous part | next part

It had been circled in red pen.

The date on your calendar had been marked the moment you got the NHL calendar announcement.

It was the date that you had been counting the sleeps down to like a child counting down the sleeps till Christmas.

It was the date that you felt so excited for but were also so nervous for that you wanted to go to the top of the Empire State Building and scream.

It's the date that the Devils were coming to town to play the Islanders.

It's the date that you were going to finally see Luke again.

You knew that you shouldn't have been excited, shouldn't have let your grow full and your palms grow sweaty at the thought of seeing him again.

All of your efforts to forget about him were now nonexistent as you spent moments every day staring at his social media's.

After a drunk night out with friends you unblocked and unrestricted everything that had to do with him, when you woke up much more sober you simply couldn't find it in your heart to or in your head to shut him out anyone.

A few nights ago whilst being sat in front of the tv with a meal from your favourite restaurant, you did something you never thought you would.

You wrote Luke a letter.

Just like you had for each of his teammates.

So you sat and you wrote, making sure to mention everything from how you felt to why you left. Writing that letter was better than any type of therapist as it had brought up things that you had seemed to compartmentalise. There were seven different editions of this letter.

The first two had to be rewritten because you zoned out and came back to see that your tears had soaked the pages.

The next three had you swearing like a sailor as you told him to fuck himself for making you fall so deeply in love with him.

The sixth letter just didn't feel right. You assumed that it was the lack of sleep that was getting to you, so like any mature adult you got up and went to bed deciding that the letter writing efforts would continue the next day.

The seventh and final letter was perfect, you were honestly tempted to email it to your high school English teacher you were that proud of it. It was the perfect way to tell Luke that you were okay that this was goodbye and that you didn't hold anything against him for how he treated you.

Yes you told him that he had hurt you but it helped teach you that some loves just simply weren't worth it.

It was like you had been put through the grieving cycle over the last fifteen hours as you learnt to accept that Luke just wasn't on your cards and that it was probably for the best.

Mat hadn't slipped up from his role of your new best friend, if there wasn't a game on Thursday you two would go get dinner and then sit at his apartment playing card games until the early hours of the morning.

The Canadian had quickly learnt why you were so popular in New Jersey amongst the players and it was one of the things that he was actually so attracted to.

Yes Mat found himself growing more enamoured with you by the day and despite his best efforts you never seemed to notice it.

You never noticed how his eyes lingered on you far longer than appropriate for just friends, or how he'd glare down every man and woman who dared to even look at you when the two of you were out in the town. You never noticed the way you squeezed the life out of his heart the moment you came to Mat's apartment in tears one night as you missed Luke.

The Canadian was hurt, it wasn't even the fact that you weren't interested in him that haunted his thoughts at night. It was the fact that you gave your love to someone who was so cruel to you.

But Mat put on a comforting smile each time he was forced to listen to you spill your heart out on his sleeve as you couldn't get over your failed attempts to get over the Hughes boy.

At one point the Islander player was ready to rip the bandaid off and tell you everything.

He wanted you to know that you were loved.

He wanted you to know that you were wanted and it was by a man who was sat right next to you.

But deep down inside Mat knew that those words would mean nothing to you unless they came from the Hughes boy.

That was the thing about love that was so cruel. Here were two people that wanted nothing more than to be happy. But the reciprocation of those emotions from the people they craved them from the most weren't there.

Yes you loved Mat but you weren't in love with Mat and that different meant everything to him.

So he kept his feelings to himself as he watched you count down the days until the Devils came to town.

He sat there dreading the moment he had to face Luke on the ice, Mat had been watching the meditation videos that you had sent him on repeat as he tried to memorise the various methods of calming himself down that he’d had to use in other to not hit Luke.

It wasn’t because Mat wanted to protect the boy, in fact he wanted to do the opposite. He wanted to hurt Luke for all that he had done to you. The Islanders player wanted to see the Hughes boy finally feel some sort of remorse, but he knew that if he laid a finger on Luke you’d get upset. So he was going to have to try to behave.

You woke up practically running out of bed ready to take on the world when the day finally arrived. Part of you was excited to see your friends from the team too and that’s what you told yourself made you so happy.

Luke swore he was going to throw up when he got on the team bus. Sure he was excited to see you in the flesh once more. But after seeing how the every gossip account swore that you and Mat were dating after someone spotted you on another on of your excursions, hope for him was running out. So he spent the last week forcing himself to accept that fact that this was all his fault. Yes he wanted to blame Mat instead but he knew he couldn’t.

If Luke couldn’t be the one to love you then he then simply hoped that the man who loved you, loved you even half as much as he did.

The young Hughes boy felt trapped inside of his mind as he had yet to reveal how he felt about you to anyone. It was partially due to the fact that he knew they’d all laugh at him especially after how he treated you. Yet there was another much larger part of Luke that didn’t want to admit it because one he admitted that he did indeed like you, it meant that it would really be real. At least for now he could act like you were all just simply a figment his dreams and hopes for in the future. He told himself that all he needed as a simply protein shake and his usual pregame playlist blasting through his headphones at a volume that was enough to make his mother cringe as she reminded her son that she didn’t want him going deaf.

Jack noticed the way that his younger brother had gone quiet since he stepped on the bus, the whole team did. As bad as they all knew it sounded none of them bothered checking in on the boy as they all just put it down to him not wanting to see you again.

If only they knew, right?

The youngest Hughes boy knew your routine on game days from your time with the Devils. It was something that he made an effort to learn early on in his attempts to avoid you.

He hoped that you had the same routes mapped out here because Luke knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it if he caught sight of you.

Now more than ever though it was because he knew he’d start crying on the spot.

Luke wasn’t a crier naturally but he had no clue how he was going to say his apology to you. All of the emotions that you made him feel just made him want to cry due to the sheer panic that was going through his mind.

As the team walked out of the away locker room he heard it.

The sound he had grown to miss.

The sound that brought him this warm sense of comfort in his stomach that he could only describe as funny.

It was the sound of your laugh.

Mat had been telling you a story as you two made your way over to the home dressing room as you had forgotten your folder in there when you took some guests around earlier.

As Luke saw the sight of you it was enough to knock him off of his feet as Jack walked into the back of him “dude,” the middle Hughes boy groaned as he lifted his brother off of the ground totally unaware of the fact that you were stood there.

It was like time stopped for the youngest Hughes boy.

He watched as your eyes locked with his and your lips formed a smile as you sent him a nod.

Mat had seen how you had stopped listening to his story were just simply looking in front of you.

It made the Canadian angry as in that moment he wanted to throw out all of those stupid meditation lessons.

He knew his next move was childish but he didn’t care he sent Luke a harsh glare as Mat threw his arm around your shoulders.

That moment dropped Luke back into reality as he felt like he had just hit a cement wall.

“Luke c’mon!”

There was a game to be played but it seemed that it was quickly coming off of the ice as well.

And you were right in the center of it,

But you didn’t even know it.

[thedreamlessnights]

Give The Devil His Due - pt. 2

Gale x F!Reader

{part 1}

Warnings: Major BG3 Ending and Epilogue Spoilers. Mentions of death, the use of the Netherese orb, grieving and loss. Amnesia, self-hatred, guilt-tripping. Raphael being a dick.

Synopsis: Gale is back. He's real, and alive, and... he doesn't remember you. You should be happy, shouldn't you?

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Hi all! Thank you so much for your patience as I got this chapter out. Life has been crazy, essentially. Apologies for the angst - next chapter will be happier, I promise! We'll also see more Gale then ♥

You must have sat on this balcony a hundred times in the past year. More, maybe. Sometimes, Tara curled up on your lap as you read a book, her purring a constant comfort. Other times, you fell asleep watching the ships sailing by and woke in the darkness.

The view was always beautiful, even in the storms. Crystal-blue skies against an aquamarine sea. Lavender sunrises that swirled with orange. Dark clouds, streaked with silvery flashes of light and the bone-shaking crashes of thunder. You can certainly see why Gale favored it. 

Until about two hours ago, it was a place of comfort. Now, it feels wrong. Or rather, you do. 

Every inch of your presence feels out of place. A transplant, neatly sutured into surrounding skin only to be rejected a year later.

The moments after you’d kissed him are nothing but a blur in your memory. The sheer, utter horror when he hadn't known you. Morena’s voice taking on an edge of panic. Your feet moving you away - anywhere, anywhere where you couldn’t see the look on his face anymore. 

You’ve been sitting on this balcony ever since.

Before today, thinking of Gale was painful. Every thought was a fresh shard of ice plunging into the warmth of your chest, slowly thawing - until a new wound came to start the process over again. But it’s different now. 

It’d be easier to deny this situation, to pretend that it isn’t really Gale in that room, but you know better. You know that it’s him, just as you know that darkness will follow the sun’s fading light and greet you with the shimmering stars. 

Gale is alive, and he doesn’t know you. 

Gale is alive, and every memory of him - his face, his words, your old life - feels like it’s rotting away in your chest. You’re grasping at every thought, determined to keep him from slipping away, but there's only so much you can prevent.

Even you have to admit, it’s better than you’d expected of a devil’s deal. You’ve spent the last year picturing all the ways it could go wrong, laying out the risks and estimating the reward. If I word things in a specific way, you thought, if I prepare for the loopholes, then perhaps I can avoid the worst outcomes.

But a part of you had always known that you could have ended up like Mayrina. Dragging around a corpse just to cling to that tiny scrap of hope that Gale might return. 

Gods, you could have had so much worse. Why, then? Why had Raphael let you have this? What more could he possibly want from you?

This isn't the first time you’ve felt this way. During your travels, Astarion had made a deal with Raphael to learn more about the scars on his back, and the only thing required in return was Yurgir’s death. You made a deal to bring back the one you love, and you’ve gotten it only at the cost of his memories. 

 Your soul remains intact. Gale still knows his mother and his tressym. He’s alive. That’s enough, isn’t it?

No, your heart says. No, it isn’t. But you’ll survive, as you always have. You’ve had worse than this.

Nearby, there’s the rustling of fabric. You know who it is, even before she speaks.

“I thought I might find you here.” Morena’s voice is gentle, as though she’s afraid she’ll startle you away, but it’s filled with a fullness - a radiant warmth you’ve never heard before. She gives you a reassuring smile as she approaches, then sits at your side and reaches for your hand.

Your throat goes tight.

“My darling, I know this was your doing,” she says. Her voice is measured, as well as her face, but the crinkling at the corner of her warm brown eyes - Gale’s eyes - bleeds the joy she’s trying to hide into her expression. 

There’s no point in lying to her. She’s much too perceptive for that. All you can manage is a small nod in response.

“It’s really him,” she breathes. Her voice is suddenly thin. Hollow, almost. “I always thought… if we could even get him back, he wouldn't be himself. But it’s him.”

Tears sting at your eyes, hot and unwelcome. “I know,” you say. Your voice chokes at the last second. “He doesn't remember me.”

“No,” Morena murmurs, “he doesn't.” She squeezes your hand, resting her other hand on your shoulder. The comfort feels more like pity, and it leaves a sour taste in your mouth. You’d known, but the confirmation still hurts to hear. 

“What does he remember, then?” you ask, slow and careful.

Hesitation flickers across her features. The hand on your shoulder slightly tightens. “You have to understand, he’s still very confused,” she starts. “His memories are muddled, grouped together. It’s entirely possible more will start coming back, if you just give him a little time-”

“Please, Morena,” you interrupt, desperate with anticipation. It’s always the not knowing that hurts you most. The cruelty of your mind that swirls out horrors that needn’t be there. “I need to know. Is it - is it everything but me? A hole in his mind where I used to be? How much of himself did he lose?”

She sighs, and her expression crumples. “It seems to be a… specific loss,” she says. “A cutoff point, really. Everything before the Netherese orb is perfectly intact. Everything after, well…”

She trails off, and her silence says the rest.

It isn't only you, then. It’s everything else you know of him. The tadpole, the Absolute, the Elder Brain. His friendships with the others. All the months of travel, and every single experience you shared. Even his year of isolation in the tower has been lost. 

His abandonment from Mystra; her charge for his life.

Something cold and numb blooms under your skin, trailing from the nape of your neck down your spine. Your lungs don’t quite seem to fill with air.

You’d hoped he wouldn't have to bear the burden of remembering his own death, but this… counting the time after his death, two years worth of life has been all but turned to ash. Morena doesn’t know of it, and Tara only knows glimpses. Your precious memories of him only encapsulate a few months of his loss. Is he still the man you fell in love with?

The spinning under your feet is making it difficult to think. You need to speak with Raphael. You don’t even know what you’ll say to him, but at this point it hardly matters. 

For a moment, you’re silent, almost forgetting Morena is there. Then, you remember her presence and swallow hard, forcing yourself to breathe. “I don’t think we should… tell him about me,” you start. “All of this… it’s enough for him to take in already. I would only complicate things.”

She gently pats your hand. “Your kiss said more than enough enough,” she replies, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “Gale is a smart boy. Believe you me, he’s already pieced it together. Aspects of it, at least.”

Gods, what had come over you, kissing him like that? If you hadn't been so impulsive - if you had just waited a little longer, this would have been much simpler. The split would have been clean. 

“Some time, then,” you land on. “I think it’s better for the both of us if I… if he - has time to process this. At least for now.”

Morena nods. “I can't pretend to know how incredibly difficult all of this must have been on you,” she says. “Whenever you need to come over, feel free. I’ll make an excuse for you.” 

She gives you a wink, then rises to her feet and places a kiss on the top of your head. “He’ll come back to you,” she whispers. “I know it.”

Her words linger long after she’s gone.

The moment you’ve stumbled your way home, you’re met with a burst of orange light in the kitchen. You don't bother looking for the source - the scent of cinnamon and honey in the air says enough.

“My, my. Whatever happened to our poor resident wizard?” comes Raphael’s voice, a few feet to your side. “How… unfortunate that he’s lost his memory, don't you think?”

You’re in no mood for his games. You toss your things to the floor and meet his gaze dead-on, staring daggers at him. “What do you want, Raphael?” 

“Tsk, tsk. What a temper,” Raphael purrs. “Aren't you satisfied? You got what you asked for. Gale Dekarios is alive and well. Of course, if you’re unhappy, I could always return him to the grave...”

You suck in a breath, attempting to dissipate your lingering fury. “I’m very happy,” you force out. “Thank you for bringing him back.”

Raphael eyes you, tilts his head, and finally sprawls himself out on one of your chairs. He trails his fingers along the table, then hums. “You know, of your ragged little group, I’ve admired you in particular. Such ambition. You could have dominated the brain, had you really tried.” 

He pauses, and his gaze seems to sear straight into your soul as he looks at you. “Tell me, why did you let Gale sacrifice himself? Were you afraid of yourself, little mouse? Afraid that, given the chance, you’d have taken the power you so desperately wanted?”

Your eyes squeeze shut involuntarily, the way they always do when your brain decides to relive this moment. No merciful sensory images to distract you. Nothing but sheer agony, even now, when he’s alive.

Fear. It’s what you remember most about that day. Regret had come afterward, but first it had been fear and exhaustion and pain. Stiff joints. Fatigued muscles. How in the hells am I supposed to go on like this? you’d been thinking. How can I defeat the brain on nothing but fumes?

And with the fear had come temptation.

The voice of the Absolute was always a siren’s song in your ear. It was a path to complete control, to security and safety like you’d never known. No more humiliation, no more fear, no more pain. Nothing unless you wanted it, you commanded it. Even as shame and horror bled in your gut, keeping you from sleep, you ached for it.

With every inch closer to the Elder Brain, the temptation had strengthened. An itch that you could not stand not to scratch. A whisper in your mind that grew until you could hardly hear your own thoughts. By the time you’d reached the brain stem, it was so terrifyingly potent that you were ready to lay down your sword and end the internal battle you were undoubtedly going to lose. 

Anything to stop yourself from going down that road and betraying your friends. Anything to stop the vision of 

And when Gale had offered to use the orb, it had all been so fast… even now, you can't remember saying yes. Only that he’d insisted, despite your arguments. Just as you’d wanted to save him, he’d wanted to save you.

The rest is blurry, but still there. His last words. The helplessness you felt as his magic overtook you, teleporting you and the others to safety. The all-consuming panic as you met with the reality of what it meant for Gale Dekarios to die, much too late to stop him.

A flash of light.

And then, agony that never ended. 

When the memory releases you, your body is stiff and heavy, and your cheeks are wet and raw. Your chest throbs. You feel as though you’ve been hit by a Thunderwave. At your side, Raphael’s face drips with false sympathy. 

“Is that what you want to hear, Raphael?” you ask thickly. “That Gale suffered because of me? That I’m the reason he chose to use the orb?”

Raphael leans back in his seat. “I want to know one thing, and one thing only,” he replies. “Is Gale losing his memory a cruelty, or is it a mercy?”

You're silent, but your lack of reply must say enough.

“Really?” he muses, rising to his feet. “I see it as a mercy. The orb must have been dreadfully painful to detonate, after all. Not to mention the fear he felt as he plunged the knife into his chest.” 

Raphael steps closer, and though he doesn't touch you, you can feel his presence on your skin. “How terribly alone he must have felt in those last moments,” he murmurs, his voice honeyed but sickening in your ears. “Yes. What a relief to have that washed away.”

He smiles, and the tension in the room finally breaks. “On that note, I must take my leave. I’d love to stay, my dear, but I’m a busy man,” he says. “Watch over the wizard, won't you? I brought him back just for you.”

Without waiting for a response, he snaps his fingers, and he’s gone. 

You buckle over and wait for the pain to pass.

[kurithedweeb]

I went to a performance of Vivaldi's Four Seasons recently and let me tell you I've had such ideas about how each one applies to each of the Ro'Meave brothers. I saw like entire animatics while listening.

Spring is about all three of them: the first section is Vylad’s, upbeat, innocent. The second section is Garroth, much slower and more somber, almost mourning interspersed with moments of frantic energy like the first, about the night he escaped and was captured by the titan golem that guards the outskirts and released at the last minute after it saw flashes of Esmund, who created it. Zane in the third section where he almost mirrors Vylad but with a less jovial air.

The second section, the slow one, got to me especially. It reminds me very much of rain and it switches between slow somber pieces and bursts of almost frantic energy that follows a two-beat rhythm. In the beginning, Garroth is still the heir but he is becoming increasingly disillusioned with the idea that his allowing himself to be molded like this will do anything to save his family and has recently discovered he'll be married off without his input, and his planning his death is a slow and controlled process. There is a frantic burst where he believes he's been discovered, but the actual death is a calm, calculated affair, and the panic only sets in when he is running through the streets to make his escape. There is a brief, grieving respite in the sewers as he properly tends to the wound and it finally completely sets in what he's doing. If he goes back now, he'll be killed for real. So he goes out into the rain and he runs, and the frantic energy in the faster parts get more and more sad as he cries and his tears mingle with the rain, and there is this feeling right in the middle where it feels like something is approaching. Something massive. In the background of the shot, an enormous shape becomes visible, and though Garroth doesn't turn to look he knows what's coming, and he's incredibly worn out from what he's done. He wonders if he shouldn't have done this after all. He slows to a stop and lowers himself to his knees, and he curls into himself as one massive hand comes down over him and covers him from view. The hand slowly lifts, turns towards the camera, and reveals Garroth cradled in the center of its palm, so small by comparison. He finally lifts his eyes to look at it. They're face-to-face. In the reflection of the golem's eyes, we see Garroth, and the rain washes his image into one of Esmund.

There are flashes of Esmund seen from the perspective of the golem. Laughing and talking with his friends. Talking by the fire with his family. Gathering the materials for the golem. Sketching designs. Looking into the golem's eyes and smiling softly as a parent to a child, speaking to it though the words cannot be heard. Esmund, wounded and torn open emotionally, mouth opened around an unheard cry as he throws things off his workbench and collapses against its edge, shaking as he holds himself up with a hip pressed to it and a hand coming away bloody from his bandaged side. Esmund curled into his seat by the hearth, the flame so low as to nearly not be burning, exhausted even in sleep. Esmund in the golem's palm just like this, holding his hands to its face and laughing with the joy of creation. And Garroth in the same pose, grief-ridden and resigned. And in the last few beats of the song, the golem lowers its hand and it remains there with its hand upturned in the grass as Garroth flees.

Summer is Garroth. Shots of him traveling, ill and hurting, and finding his way to Phoenix Drop. The second section is him finding Zenix, first slowly integrating into Phoenix Drop and then following a blood trail out to the woods and finding a boy crumpled to the ground and covered in wounds, the camera pausing a completely three beats on his feeble form before the pace picks up again with Garroth crashing to the ground and gathering him up and getting up even as he shouts for help. Shots of rushing Zenix to safety and caring for him and taking him on as his apprentice. The third section is as Phoenix Drop begins to devolve under Malik’s increasing paranoia, in the final slow part Zenix looks upon the flames he set to Malik’s house. Summer ends as Garroth takes charge of the investigation and the village and gets more and more tired with each passing shot.

Autumn is Zane. It has a bit of a haunting beginning that quickly folds itself into jovial music you wouldn’t find out of place in any noble society party scene in a movie. This is what he was raised in, where he finds his power, his connections, and there are sharp moments that reflect that there’s something well-hidden beneath the high-society charm. The slower second section is the moments behind the mask when we can see a sliver of the true face of the boy beneath: one devout and calm and perhaps not so inhuman as he portrays to his subordinates. He holds himself to an ideal. There’s a segment at the end of the second section that reminds one of a steadfast love, and this is Zane bringing Janus into his embrace and his plots as a man who finds loyalty in affection and duty and a sense of self given by another. In the third section, he dons the mask and veil once again and this is when he gathers all his strings and seizes power, by the end standing as the undoubtedly most powerful man in O’khasis even if all that power is hidden in doublespeak and undertone.

Winter is Vylad. The first section is Vylad as a boy as he grows into his teens, reminiscent of his part of Spring but having grown into something else. As we near the second section, there is an undertone of unease as he realizes something has been happening without his knowledge. The upbeat tone of the first part sombers a bit as Garroth dies, and soon after picks back up as the plot against Vylad spirals into fruition: in the last few segments of this section he is running through the forest and fields. The second segment opens as he is being hunted and chased, strings plucked in tune with his rapid breaths as he finds himself pinned and stabbed and lying in the grass as his life drains away. For a handful of moments, he sees the afterlife. And as this section closes, he wakes in a body he no longer recognizes, feeling as though he has been stuffed into a broken doll. In the third section, he navigates his old-new body. He finds himself in the Nether, at the beck and call of the Calling and cruel commanders. He gathers his strength, and at the first burst of a frantic movement, he makes his daring escape. He is chased, and so near when he is caught. But he bides his time, shown in shots of him drawing on the walls of his cell and fighting anyone who comes near and slowly cutting his way through his bars until the second frantic movement crashes over him and he bursts from his cell, runs through the fortress, bulldozing past anyone he can. The portal is within reach. He bursts through it and does not stop, heart racing and breath coming quick as the day he died. He’s forced to slow eventually, and over a series of backgrounds that change with each repetition, he slowly falls to the ground. As the song comes to a close, as he sits defeated on his heels without even the strength to push himself to kneeling, there is a swell that inspires hope, and he looks up to Hyria standing over him at the edge of the Sacred Forest.

[lisimcpisi]

One thing I've always found interesting in Rescue Bots is how each of the bot's have gone to accepting their newfound life on earth. Despite all coming from the same circumstances (all being contained in stasis in the middle of space and being found by Optimus), they each have gone through their own process of accepting that they can never go back home and have a new planet and humans to protect.

Throughout most of the series Blades and Chase are pretty much good with Griffin Rock. In fact, they're pretty much thriving what with how enveloped they are with different aspects of human culture!

Blades is a total pop culture nerd. He loves watching movies, game shows, and cartoons. So much so that it even influences how he sees the real world (thinking that monsters are real and having heatwave hunt them for him). He's even involved on the internet and developed a fan club.

Chase, being a police bot, is extremely passionate about upholding the law and memorizing police codes. He even loves sharing his love for the law this boy hyperfixates to the ends of the earth its so charming. In the episode where everyone on the island starts singing Chase sings a whole song about different police codes and it'smhilarious. When Cody is trying to figure out what he should do for his Lad Pioneers Project, Chase creates a fake game show where he quizzes him on the law. All in all, Chase loves his job and loves learning about human law.

Heatwave, on the other hand, is a complicated case. It's clear that at the start of the series, Heatwave is dedicated to his mission and wants to make Optimus proud, but he is very frustrated by the circumstances he's being put under. He has to hide who he is and pose as an emotionless machine. His partner is selfish and takes all the credit for their rescue work. All the others seem to be content with what they have, but Heatwave isn't. He so much so desires to be a part of Optimus' team on the mainland so he can be part of the action (even though any decepticon could kill him in one shot). There's also been multiple cases where Heatwave requests him and the rescue bots to be reassigned to a mission off planet, much like when the first Morbot "replaces" them in Season 1. And yet despite it, towards the end of the series Heatwave definitely turns over a new leaf. He loves his family and partners, and will fight to hell and back to protect his home.

Boulder, imo, is the perfect medium between Blades/Chase and Heatwave. One of his most endearing traits is how much he adores Earth. Like, he is in LOVE with the place. Right when the bots first arrive on Earth, boulder remarks at how beautiful griffin rock is. One of my fave episodes with boulder is when he discovers a species of bird that was previously extinct and wants to try so hard to protect it from tourists. In the musical episode his entire number is just a love song to Earth and its so adorable. He also actively wants to be a part of the community. He offers people to ask him questions about himself. He does community gardening and tries to sign up for a library card. Though, with how much he loves Earth, there are times when we see he still grieves his life on Cybertron. On the episode where they celebrate All-Spark Day, Boulder looks back on the fond memories he had celebrating on Cybertron, and wants to share his culture with Griffin Rock. Surprisingly, Heatwave turns down the idea, saying that they shouldn't look back on the past and stay focused on their mission.

anyways those are just my thoughts on rescue bots. it's such a well written show and I could talk for hours about what I love about it!!

[h2llish]

rollo rambles. they're kinda all over the place but hopefully you get the gist of what i'm saying right?

rollo, upon first meeting him, seems rather cold and serious, perhaps even a little skeptical and wary of who he interacts with. he's respectful in the way he talks and quite professional, outside of the occasional annoyance he displays and does rather well at hiding.

he doesn't seem very open, regardless of how close to a person he is, he may not even have the intention of forming relationships that would lead to him opening up about himself.

when the nrc students met rollo, they commented about his lack of expression, how he wasn't smiling, assuming that he must be angry. he probably makes this impression a lot, seeing as he doesn't seem very expressive of himself.

i think rollo, while naturally indifferent and closed off, has also crafted his persona into what it is and into what he's shown others. he masks a lot of anger, although his lack of expression can cause people to think he's angry all the time, no one knows just how deep that anger runs. his indifference and respectful way of speaking is a part of that carefully crafted persona, he's probably used to people complimenting him, like the way trein praised him for his manners.

he occasionally (slips up and) expresses his disapproval about something or someone. he also seems to think a lot more people share his views, and when people don't, he gets upset. apart of that disapproval involves the disgust he showed towards the towns people using magic (although it was minor as he did well at hiding how truly annoyed, he was). but these were all comments made behind a hand and hardly able to be heard by everyone.

another thing about rollo, is he's also dedicated and hardworking. knowing and learning all he has to know about the nrc students, and remembering everything he read afterwards. and how he was meticulous in the way he planned the release of the crimson flowers. he must've been planning for years, by how it's presented in the game.

now on gt the psyche of rollo, it doesn't seem like rollo was ever allowed to grieve, or perhaps never received the proper grieving counsel he needed after not only losing but witnessing his brother die. when going into psychology of grief, one often needs support in their grief, to have someone help them along the process and help the grieving understand their grief is valid in whatever form it takes. however, it doesn't seem like rollo ever received that support. perhaps he felt as if he shouldn't be allowed to grieve, perhaps he was guilty or ashamed, and no one was there to help him navigate through the difficult emotion that may come with grief.

now i'm not saying that if he did receive proper counsel, his hatred for magic would've gone away. however, perhaps it wouldn't be so disastrous if he had people there to help him process his grief. it may have stopped him from making the decisions he did, to eradicate magic entirely.

rollo kept a journal where he not only spoke about his plans with the flowers, but also his brother, possibly the rest of his childhood as well. this makes me believe that rollo might've been a bit aware of himself during the process of planning. but then again this could've also been his way of grieving, as some people who grieve choose to keep a journal on the reason for the grief. and also his way of making him believe what he was doing was "right".

rollo really doesn't seem to see anything wrong with what he did. he really does believe he was the "hero" for trying to rid the world of magic, and that anyone who doesn't share his views, or uses magic, are villains. he doesn't seem to realize the hypocrisy of it all, as a magic user himself.

during the event, the gargoyle comments of rollo's diligence for both the bell of solace and the gargoyles, mentioning how rollo seemed to care a lot about the bell and the tower. the gargoyle even went on to say that he doesn't think rollo was faking it at all. the gargoyle was worried and also cared for rollo despite what rollo had done. because of this, i believe, while rollo may not be completely truthful in the character he has shown others, and is also greatly clouded by hatred and anger, he is capable of caring for others he just isn't close to anyone to show that. i think he really did care for the gargoyles and showed parts of himself to them he hadn't shown others.

rollo lost his brother young, he witnessed his brother lose to magic, he witnessed his brother die. witnessing death, especially death of a loved one, at such a young age, can largely affect a person, and shape them into a person that probably wouldn't exist had they not witnessed such a traumatic event. and it did largely affect rollo. while i don't know the exact age rollo was when his brother died, i do know that he was young.

rollo seemed to understand what was happening at the time and felt helpless. his brother was a prodigy, manifesting very strong magic at a young age, but the same couldn't, or wasn't, said about rollo. and then rollo had to witness as the mages around them did nothing to help. and so his grief built into hatred and anger aimed at magic and mages.

grief is a hard thing, especially for children in rollo's case. losing a sibling can be difficult for a child. children who lose a sibling often feel guilty, or that they failed. it's even harder when that child has to witness that death. that shows itself when rollo witnessed his brother go up in flames because of his magic, while yelling out for rollo, and was unable to do anything. a child grieving may have misplaced anger at the world or a specific group - as it was with rollo.

rollo was heavily affected mentally after his brother's death, and that only got worse when he didn't receive the proper grief counsel as he got older.

during the final battle during the event, he showed no signs of caring for the amount of magic he was releasing while fighting idia, malleus and azul. it's said with the flowers draining so much of his magic with the large spells he was releasing he must've been in a lot of pain yet showed no signs of stopping. malleus commented that he must have strong mental fortitude but i don't think that had anything to do with it, i think rollo simply did not care. he was in pain, a lot of it, but didn't care because he was so focused on reaching his goal.

rollo was a child when he lost his brother, and his parents did not seem at all active in his life.

he's hated for being based off frollo yet he and frollo don't have much in common.

rollo is an interesting character and his trauma runs deep.

anyways i'm done hope you guys enjoyed this and it wasn't too confusing <3

[novashelby]

I'm Sorry....

I'm really sorry these last few days I have been kind of cunty posting. Life is emotionally hard for me right now. I don't want to go really deep cause I don't think anyone really wants to or needs to hear about all the shit in Nova's head. In short, as many of you know, my dad passed away in July. It was unexpected and my grieving process has been extremely hard and difficult. Mostly because of my awful narcissistic mother. Aside from that, I live across the ocean from my home. 1. That makes it extremely difficult going through the holiday season. Not only being away from family, but essentially having no more family other than my aunt. I've been away from my best friends. So, I have no one. Yes, of course, I have friends here and a social life, but it isn't the same. 2. My mother is still making my life difficult; over calling, harassing me, and all that. I can't block her because she isn't only vindictive, but cruel and mean. She has almost no limits and blocking her may poke a bear.

In saying this, I have been highly sensitive about a lot lately. Typically about things that shouldn't bother me. It is why I cling so hard to Evie because, as pathetic as it sounds, I quite literally have no family. I have one aunt and then a group of cousins, aunts, and uncles who don't really think of me unless they have to. So, they don't exactly count.

Part of me was feeling highly sensitive about the lack of engagement on my recent work or like lack of inclusion in the community. Seeing everyone, because we are all moots, talk and interact with another kind of hurts. (Though, it shouldn't cause I haven't been really active and engaging with others the last few months-I'm trying my best in catching up and doing my part in that). But I know it isn't because of that, but because the issues in my real life that somehow and someway mirror that exact same situation are taking place; feeling like an outsider in my new community, having no family, not being included, etc. I don't exactly know how to explain it, really. So, I hope what I wrote makes sense. TL;DR: because my personal life is sort of shit and it's over bubbling, things that I don't normally think about are bothering me. I don't expect engagement or inclusion, and I'm happy being moots just to be moots. So, know that it isn't me complaining or angry at anyone other than my own emotionally torn brain at the moment.

I am sorry that I kind of use this as a method of release because there really is nowhere else. So, I am so sorry to be kind of a trauma dumping idiot. I'm sorry for not always being the best person and friend on here. And I'm sorry that I have been kind of....out in left field?

I will get back to normal Nova or whatever that is sooner or later.

Thank you to all my wonderful friends on her that have listened and messaged me. Thank you to everyone who takes the time to appreciate my work. I suck at replying to comments sometimes, but I read them all and I hold them close to my heart.

Peace and Love.

[steddieunderdogfics]

FOR THE MONDAY CHALLENGE THEME:

The recent summer exchange has SO much great fic but I didn’t expect the dnd part of this one to work the way it did and I love being actually surprised by a story, plus the love story part of it is also done in a kinda surprising way too? 

hitlikehammers’ if you can’t write your own necronomicon, store-bought is fine

On ao3: archiveofourown.org/works/56414623/

And here on tumblr: www.tumblr.com/hitlikehammers/753765626924924928/if-you-cant-write-your-own-necronomicon

if you can't write your own necromicon, store-bought is fine by hitlikehammers

@hitlikehammers

Rating: Mature

14,421 words, 3/3 chapters

Archive Warning: No Warnings

Tags: Temporary Character Death, (TEMPORARY being the important part; I mean: that IS the orienting concept of the story), Pre-Relationship, (but won't stay 'pre' if these crazy kids succeed in their crazy plot!), Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Necromancy, Dungeons & Dragons References, (as in: HEAVY Dungeon & Dragons References), Grief/Mourning, But Then: What If You Interrupted Your Strange Process of Grieving/Feelings Realization, By Putting All Your Eggs In The ‘What If It All DOES Match D&D?’ Basket, Including but Not Limited To The 'Raise Dead' Spell?, The Adventures of Platonic Soulmates Trying to Understand the Nerd Game, Specifically to Try and Resurrect a Certain Dingus' More-Than-A-Crush, Resurrection, (and its consequences), The Dungeons & Dragons References Work With About As Much Leeway as Show v Game Demogorgons, So: Stretchy Like Gumbo, And Then All Of A Sudden:, confessions of feelings, Feelings Realization, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Happy Ending

Summary:

Steve gets stuck in his head about it: the fucking gravestone they’re putting up. He hates the idea of it being installed over nothing, just plopped on grass and dirt and just, just…nothing. Almost like they’re saying Eddie was somehow nothing, and when the overall notion hits on that thought specifically, Steve has the simultaneous urge to break a window and vomit, and it’s just, it’s not— He needs to find a way to curb that feeling. He hates it enough to mention it to the others, who don’t get it. At all. Maybe because it’s Steve, and they don’t think he knew Eddie enough to be this…this. If Steve was in a clearer frame of mind, maybe he’d be able to wonder, too. But he’s not. In a clearer frame of mind. He can’t process all that much beyond the all-consuming need to not bury nothing under Eddie Munson’s name. Which doesn't even touch yet on the way it also sticks in his head that, if they were going to name half of the Upside Down bullshit after the nerd game, if the parallels were gonna be just, accepted as a rule? Then why shouldn't the existence of a spell in the nerd game called 'RAISE DEAD' be accepted, too?

Thanks for the rec!

This rec is a part of Challenge Monday. The challenge this week was Fics from fandom challenges.

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[veronica-rich]

It's concerning to see people come blazing out of the gate at fans of someone who's just been reported to be majorly problematic or criminal, or outed themselves as such, with sentiments like "If you're not wholly invested with the victims and shed immediately of that thing you loved, I hope you choke on a dick!" It's not helpful, it's not productive - and it's not realistic.

Even when a fan reads the news and is willing to accept their fave did the thing, it's hard to process. It's like grieving that someone died. You shouldn't expect someone to get over their mom in 24 hours, and you can't expect them to throw away part of their psyche so fast.

At my age I've unfortunately seen a LOT of Regarded People fuck themselves into revilement or obscurity, yet there are times I'm still surprised when news comes out, even if I'm not personally invested in their work. When you see a fan still struggling to come to terms and it's only been hours or a few days, especially, take a breath.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Given a true, heartfelt apology, a change of actions to match, and probably a LOT of time, do you think Muriel would ever forgive Lucio? Or at least detest him less? It’s one thing I haven’t been able to pin down about Muriel’s character. Would love to know your thoughts on the matter!

@httyd-chocolate here you go friend!

Lucio's forgiveness

Since I was covering Lucio's forgiveness from multiple characters, I didn't go super in-depth for Muriel's part, so I'll go more in-depth on what I consider "forgiveness" to look like ^.^

Truthfully, forgiveness as we understand it is a much angrier, active, and empowering process than what often gets portrayed as it. The contexts I most often encounter "forgiveness" in are either media, where a saintly character rises above a villain's games as that villain is facing accountability and the consequences of their actions, or when someone in interpersonal situations wants to brush over what they've done wrong. In both cases it essentially boils down to "I've decided to stop thinking about and acting on the wrong thing you did." I've rarely seen forgiveness discussed or portrayed as what I've come to understand it to be.

(To be clear - I'm not talking about petty wrongs like your roommate eating your food and then trying to make up for it by buying you the replacement. This is in reference to horrific levels of violence/betrayal/wrongdoing, like what we know makes up Lucio's backstory)

Forgiveness as I see it is something that only the person who has been wronged can do. It is not something that can be demanded or expected. It is not owed - and granting it to someone who has hurt you only adds to the accountability they face. While there are things that the person in the wrong can do to make the process of forgiveness easier, at no point are they in any position to directly involve themself in it. It is something that only the person who was wronged can do, and anybody besides them has no power in that decision and process.

It starts by listing and acknowledging all the ways in which you were wronged - each action taken or not taken, the reasons why that decision was wrong, and every harmful impact it had. It means confronting your grief and anger with the reasons that you should be grieving and angry, and allowing yourself to feel them because that is an act of justice that you are worth taking. It means reaffirming that how poorly you were treated is in violation of your inherent value, not in accordance with it. It means understanding that there are no excuses.

This phase is the longest, and perhaps the hardest part, and it's one you never completely leave. Forgiveness for something on this level of wrong isn't a single decision or action, but a maintained mental posture that gets easier to hold and smaller in the context of your life as you grow and live on. There may come a point where you hardly think of it at all and the feelings are well-worn and quieter, but that has far more to do with time and healing than what forgiveness is.

The next step is deciding who you are and what you're going to do in the context of your suffering. It's not possible to do this honestly without spending time in the first step of acknowledging how valid your hurt is and how wrong what you suffered was. It shouldn't have happened. It did happen. So, now what? Are you going to let the actions of the person who wronged you define who you are and what you can do? Or are you going to take the pain that shouldn't be yours in your own hands, and slowly learn how to carry it because you were here before it was? Will you define your suffering in the context of the person who inflicted it, or in the person hardy enough to live with it even though they shouldn't have to?

It's only after you've found it in yourself to do those things that the part we usually think of as forgiving someone starts. It's when, after seeing and feeling how wrong their actions were, after living with and growing beyond the consequences they've inflicted on you, you get to bring the results of their faults back to them:

"This is what you did wrong. This is why what you did was wrong. This is how much harm you caused. Nothing can erase what you did. This will always be something that you did, and I am proof of it. I have lived with the consequences of your actions. I have refused to become the person you treated me as. I have developed the strength to carry faults that are yours, not mine. I have taken the ugliness you forced on me and turned it into a catalyst for growth and goodness. In that regard, I have covered for your wrongs, and I am choosing to let you live in debt to me for that. Whatever peace you get from not having your wrongs visited back on you is the gift from me you do not deserve, but I am choosing to give you anyways."

Obviously, forgiveness and healing are closely linked, and neither are linear or one-size-fits-all. Sometimes the context is well-intentioned love and close relationships that caused major hurt through personal failings, and forgiveness is navigating and balancing the pain and wrongdoing with the genuine love and connection you have for each other. Sometimes the context is selfish callousness where the person who did wrong puts no stock in how they affect other people, and forgiveness is asserting that it was still wrong and that your value is equal to theirs. Sometimes the context is malice and a desire to assert and maintain power, and forgiveness is becoming empowered to live as proof of their faults where the only place they have is in your debt. Sometimes the process is so long and hard that by the time you've reached that point, you have to do it to someone who isn't around anymore.

To bring an introspective, philosophical ramble back to Muriel from the Arcana, yes, I think he could one day forgive Lucio as far as what I consider true forgiveness. He's already in the first stage when we meet him. (Julian, on the other hand, has yet to consider any of the ways Lucio treated him as more than "mantrums" and I find that very concerning -)

[bercintalewatkata]

‧₊˚✧ Surrender ✧˚₊‧

We've all heard that old saying, "It's easier said than done." And it's so true! Everything in life really is. But remember, just because something is challenging doesn't mean we shouldn't speak our truths. 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒

We live in a world that's always buzzing with noise and distractions, which can make it really easy to lose sight of the present moment. It takes a little practice and patience to train our minds to anchor ourselves in the present moment. It can be tough to accept what is, rather than what we wish it to be. It's a journey that can feel like an uphill battle at times. It can take a really long time to get used to reality and to let go of the resistance that can feel so strong in our hearts. ‹𝟹

🌸But I want you to know, it's okay. It's more than okay. It's totally normal to need time, to move at a pace that feels right for you. If that means taking it slow like a snail or a tortoise, that's okay!🌸

When you're going through a tough time and dealing with loss, it can feel like the days are dragging on forever, with each moment feeling heavy and sad. Maybe someone who used to be really important to you has left, and you feel like you can't go on without them. It's so important to recognize that the urge to fill that space or bring them back will come rushing in. Guess what? You don't have to fight it. There's no need to rush to fill that emptiness. Take your time and just sit with it, okay? Let yourself feel the pain, heartache, and sorrow.𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒

Please, take all the time you need to grieve. If you need to, please stay in bed. Let those tears flow. Each wave of emotion is just part of life's journey. It's all part of the process of surrender. When we surrender, we don't lose our strength. We find it! As we surrender, we find the courage to look at our situations with fresh eyes. With this new perspective, we begin to make choices that guide us forward. In your moments of surrender, you'll find the love you've been seeking outside of yourself—right there within you! Remember, healing begins with a choice. We can choose to numb our pain with distractions, or we can choose the sometimes difficult but ultimately fulfilling path of healing. I know it can be tough, but we've got this! ‹𝟹 ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖

[forabeatofadrum]

Hello everyone and happy 2025! I spent the end of 2024/beginning of 2025 finally reading some good fucking fic, so I am glad to report that this is a long post :D

There's so much fic. I mostly (mostly!) read oneshots from under 10K, and I am also happy because I have read from multiple fandoms.

I am back on my Persona bullshit after playing Persona 3 Reload: Episode Aigis - The Answer since I got it for Christmas. Gosh, this game is absolutely heartbreaking and I keep aching all over and FANFIC CONTRIBUTES TO THAT! The looming tragedy that hangs over S.E.E.S.... oh MAN.

I read what we leave behind by @sunkitty143 and I cried so hard my pillow was damp. Maybe shouldn't have read it at 2am. God, it is so good and heartbreaking, especially as a reader who knows what the fuck is going on. Thinking about the three months that Makoto got is painful and my heart aches. And then I couldn't sleep and read sunkitty's other works.

stepping up to the plate is amazingly funny from Ken's perspective. A fun day with Junpei-san indeed! But damn, Junpei... and Makoto haunting the narrative. Makoto keeps getting younger and younger in Junpei's eyes. "Because maybe Sanada could've been here, and maybe Amada will always wish that Makoto was the one here, but Junpei is the one here." BRO?

the heart of self-defense is a great exploration of Akihiko's mindset and yes it is insane how much Miki hangs over this, but it takes 8k for her name to be dropped. And then Shinji dies. MAN, Akihiko.... "I don't really like fire either" YOOOOO? God, Persona 3 keeps breaking my heart, huh? This fic has a lot of hard hitting lines and some unexpected deep Makoto lore, but MAN.

last december is the one I skimmed over, kinda, because I only have one hour in Portable, so I haven't really met Kotone yet but I was so intruiged and yeah it's good. I will probably come back to it after I finish Portable.... one day.... but we all need Yukari calling someone a liar every now and then.

I reread what we leave behind, uh, 6 times (and yes, I will leave an AO3 comment.... one day.... when I have processed it), and decided that I should also read the gift of giving by atracoes. It is definitely... happier than what we leave behind, despite it taking place in December which is DECEMBER, but again, the looming threat of what happens in March hangs over it and it makes it so painful and gorgeous to read at the same time. I love how Makoto is just there for Ken and I like reading how much effort Ken puts into everything.

I kept riding the angst train and read Botamochi and Purge by ToxicPineapple because I was down for some Akihiko angst and also, well, grief is unfortunately a thing that is apparent in my life right now and sometimes reading about other characters grieving helps in a way. It IS insane how the world doesn't end when someone you love leaves it.

Wooh. Persona 3 truly loves its theme of death, huh?

That is Persona for now. Time for some cute shit! There are festive challenges all around in December and I still haven't read all that I want to read, but I have finally gotten around to some of the Klaine Secret Santa fics.

Awards Show from @spaceorphan18 was really good and I like that Kurt and Blaine are already in a relationship. I love a good meet-cute as much as the next person, but established relationship is the shit. Kurt and Blaine need to navigate fame and their love.

Speaking of a good meet-cute, Blind(sided) Date by @cryscendo was a nice surprise, since I actually am not too fond on blind dates, but I am happy that here Kurt got around to the idea even before meeting Blaine, so that it's not all like "oh ew do I have to do this?". Elliott, you sneaky, sneaky man!

And another trope that I cannot get enough of is friends to lovers, and also "and they were roommates!", so Operation Christmas Cheer-Up by @special-bc-ur-part-of-it was super duper cute. Blaine is such a great friend and it is just neat to see how it slowly blossoms into more.

Klainers aren't the only ones giving gifts.

The summary of From the Heart by @you-remind-me-of-the-babe immediately grabbed my attention! A Secret santa in a secret Santa-esque fic? Secret Santa inception! I like how Baz is trying so damn hard, and how that makes Simon realise that there could be more than a truce.

@martsonmars wrote a cute rivalry fic called always the time of the year where Simon and Baz, who are besties, are rivals in a Christmas market. I really REALLY like the friendship here and how the rivalry plays out, especially since there was an unexpected hiccup for Simon.

And lastly, Torchwood! Last year I read a fic where Ianto and Jack sort-of-accidentally get a kid called Lowri and I liked it a lot, but I never knew that Lottiethroughthelookingglass wrote a Christmas sequel called Good Tidings to it. Rhiannon asks Ianto to come over for Christmas, which means Ianto has to explain that he suddenly has a kid and that he's raising her with another man. There was some angst to it and the threat of CoE hangs over them, but it was still sweet and I like this lil family and the supportive aunt Rhiannon.

And lastly, in non-fic world: I read 1989 by George Orwell (finally!) and a book on the mining history of the south of the Netherlands.