#like the correlation is so fucking obvious

[wettestwraith]

im gnc but im not trans babygirl i can still be a woman and not conform to stupid gender stereotypes at all, that makes me gnc, not being trans. but yeah, being gnc is big in lesbian spaces and culture while being trans/enby isn't lol

Yeah obviously I'm just saying that historically some butch lesbians would use neopronouns and/or get top surgery, being trans and enby isn't that far off. It's still not conforming to what society wants of you, it's kinda fucking stupid that that wouldn't at least make you tolerant of trans and enby people

Also imagine using babygirl unironically like actually lmao like who are you? Some early 2000's Disney Channel original movie jock?

[talentforlying]

none of the muses on my hellblazer multi are linked to the canon of my constantine portrayal, but i think that i am going to bring my ellie's canon divergence over here (summary post) in regards to hellblazer #104 & its ramifications in 125-128, bc that still does not sit well with me and i will be annoying about it forever. john constantine respects chantinelle in this house, even if they did still betray each other in the end; they simply have too much history for him to be so pointlessly goddamn cruel when he knows full well that she would probably have agreed to a trade of some kind instead.

[teamatsumu]

compression. (sakusa kiyoomi x reader)

summary: atsumu is the perfect person to feed your obsession with kiyoomi’s arms.

word count: 1172

warnings: swearing, very mildly suggestive (if you squint), detailed descriptions of kiyoomi’s arms in compression sleeves so it’s not for the faint hearted

tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi

When you studied Marketing and Communications in university, you didn’t exactly anticipate that your future would include you managing a V League Division 1 sports team. But every day when you went into work, you thanked the gods above that this is where your career path had led you, because that meant you could ogle Sakusa Kiyoomi and his infamous compression sleeves all day.

Oftentimes you were certain Kiyoomi didn’t mean anything by them. For him, they were practical. They kept his arms taut and ready for the ball. They made his movements sharper. He received the ball better. He didn’t have to feel his bare skin on the dirty court. These were all reasons you had heard straight out of his mouth. When you heard him mention them so nonchalantly, it almost made you feel bad for the absolutely sinful- borderline deranged- thoughts you had in your head about the way those sleeves made his arms look.

You were well aware of the kind of thoughts Kiyoomi’s choice of athletic wear caused among his fans. To put it simply and bluntly, they went feral over it. There were whole Twitter accounts dedicated to just his arms, or his chest. And as someone who often managed social media profiles for some of the members, you got to see the most unhinged of these comments with your own two eyes. And you would be the first to (secretly) admit that you agreed with 90% of what was being said, because holy shit did those sleeves do something to you.

Most of the time during practice, you could feel your eyes drift back over to the man in question, wearing a black sports tee and those godforsaken sleeves, working up quite the set as they played set after set to prepare for their next game. As the hours passed, Kiyoomi would get more and more disheveled, curls becoming unruly enough that he would grab a towel, biceps flexing as he ran it over the nape of his neck and dipped into the collar of his shirt. Christ almighty.

You should’ve known that you would eventually get caught. But if it was anyone who would notice, you had expected it to be Meian or maybe Coach Foster. But the person who did bring it up to you happened to be the biggest nightmare in this scenario; Miya Atsumu.

“Ya should be a little less obvious ‘bout it.” He commented when he trudged over to the bench where you sat, grabbing a water bottle and beginning to chug. You tore your eyes from Kiyoomi who now had his back to you, the muscles under his shirt flexing with every movement. You raised an eyebrow at the blond, not yet correlating his words with your hidden obsession. He placed the bottle down and placed a hand on his hip, giving you a knowing smirk.

“A blind grandma could notice the way yer lookin’ at him.”

Your eyes widened and cheeks flamed when he nudged his head in Kiyoomi’s direction, and you knew you had been caught. You clenched your jaw hard.

“You say a single word-”

He threw his hands up as if in surrender, effectively silencing your threat in its tracks.

“I won’t, promise! But there is one thing…..”

You groaned loudly, throwing your head back. Of course, of fucking course he would blackmail you with this.

“What do you want?” You deadpanned, glaring at him and preparing for the worst.

Atsumu looked a bit affronted, as if the mere insinuation that he might want something was preposterous to him. You gave him another tired look, until he sighed and gave up, plopping down heavily on the bench next to you.

“A phone number. Ya know that cute girl who comes by once a month? From the Volleyball Association?”

“No.”

Atsumu’s mouth dropped like a child who just got slapped. “Hey c’mon! Ya didn’t even hear me out!”

You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a characteristic frontal headache begin to build, courtesy of Miya Atsumu. “I’m tired of setting you up with people, Tsumu! It won’t end well, as always-”

“I’ll get you a picture of Omi with his compression sleeves.”

You give him an unimpressed look. “I can get hundreds of those off the internet.”

“I’ll get you a picture of Omi with just his compression sleeves.”

That made you halt in your tracks. You searched Atsumu’s face for any form of mockery or lie, and you found none. Your eyebrows shot up when you realized he was being serious.

“In the locker room. I can get it for ya today.”

Oh my god. Instinctively, your eyes darted over to the man in question, who was talking to Hinata about something. It looked like volleyball tips since he had his arms before him in a receiving position, and Hinata was rapidly nodding to what he was saying.

“No.” You shook your head. “No, that’s wrong.”

“I’ll take a selfie with him, yeah? He will know there’s a photo. And I can send it in the groupchat.”

You look back at Atsumu, seriously contemplating his offer. He kept yapping, as per usual, thinking that the more he talked, the likelier it would be to convince you. And the bastard was right, it was working.

“No one else will bat an eye. We see each other in the lockers all the time. No big deal.”

You bit your lip in thought. The possibility of seeing Kiyoomi shirtless and only in compression sleeves had your pulse rising.

“And you just want her number in return?”

Atsumu nodded eagerly. You gave him a narrow-eyed glare.

“Send the picture. Then I will give you the number.”

His triumphant grin made it feel like he had already won. “Deal.”

That evening, when your phone pinged with a text notification, you nearly flew across the bed to grab it, opening the picture Atsumu sent in the groupchat with eager fingers and freezing as soon as you laid eyes on it.

Atsumu had held up his end of the bargain spectacularly.

He had taken the picture with Kiyoomi a little further in the background, so he could get the man’s full torso in it. He was facing slightly away from the camera, but his face was turned towards it, capturing the scowl between his eyebrows and the little pout of his mouth. He was gloriously shirtless, still a bit sweaty from practice, and he held his shirt in his hand, one arm flexed as he held it while the other was held carelessly by his side, compression sleeves hugging the cords of toned muscles just right.

There was another ping, pulling you out of your trance and making you realize just how dry your mouth had gotten. Atsumu had messaged you privately.

“My payment? ;)”

You rolled your eyes and sent him the number, immediately going back to the picture and starring it for future reference, a tiny smile quirking up the corner of your lip as you did so.

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Rainy Season - Part 7

Final Chapter and Epilogue

Everybody’s Got Somebody but Me

Azriel Eris x Reader

Azriel pleads his case to his mate before the Inner Circle, an unexpected interruption sheds additional light on the situation, Y/N makes a decision.

Part 5 Part 6

Warnings: Language

The room thrummed with erratic energy as everyone awaited the arrival of the Shadowsinger. Eris watched intently as Y/N kept a collected facade before the present group, but behind her eyes a tumultuous storm raged. She hadn’t seen her mate since she’d left - since he’d betrayed her - and maybe she was a coward for facing him before an audience of his loved ones but she was done tip-toeing the line, done praying that the words falling from her mate’s lips were truth when he’d done nothing but spin ugly lies from that beautiful mouth. She wanted the real story, the whole story, and Truth Teller itself couldn’t extract it better than the audience before them.

Her gut-wrenched with his nearing presence, the doors would open any moment as guards would bring him in, before her, before his family, before Eris and her sister.

The only missing parties in the space were Amren who had stayed behind in Velaris to keep a presence in place and Nesta who had other matters to attend to. Mor’s attendance was welcome but not required, given the obvious histories between she and Eris - her mate.

Eris kept an amused facade beneath his own surface, though he was anything but. Y/N looked resplendent seated at the lone chair at the head of his table. Seated to her right, he kept a respectful distance, fighting the overwhelming urge to reach out and warm her shaking hand under the table.

And Eris couldn’t be certain by the flat expression on his face, but he could have sworn the slightest gleam of amusement glimmered in Lucien’s eye as the mechanical one focused in on a clearly unimpressed Camila who was unabashedly taking stock of the middle Archeron sister at his side.

The door unlatched, all traces of civility falling from Rhys’ face as Azriel stepped into the now darkened room.

Azriel looked terrible, the purple bruises and dark circles under his eyes draining the remaining life from his sallowed skin, eyes red and puffy.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, burying down the instinct doing its damndest to get her to run to her dejected mate.

Azriel looked straight past every single person at the table, not even sparing a glance to the seething High Lord staring daggers in his direction. His hazel eyes blew wide as they honed in on his mate. His perfect fucking mate. He truly had drained so much from her, hadn’t he? Never once stopping to notice the signs.

Now, before him was a divine female - full in all the places he’d once gripped so fervently, her complexion radiant, hair lustrous, lips so delectable he wanted to bite them. There was no broken female here, this was a female who has been living a life of love and joy. The only thing missing was her bright smile, now absent in his presence.

Another thing he’d taken from her.

“Y/N”, Azriel mouthed, no sound coming out as the guards kept the cuffed hands he tried to outstretch in her direction restrained.

Her pointed silence and the clunk of the guards boots filled the room as Azriel was lead toward his space between Cassian and Rhys at the table. Y/N now noting the correlation between the bruises on Azriel’s face and a few scattered on Cassian’s.

Rhys’ voice entered her mind. “Azriel started a fight with Cassian that led to us finding out about he and Elain. When Cassian realized, he went feral on him. It’s been centuries since I’ve seen those two fight like that. By the time Cassian was done with him, I couldn’t in good conscience lay a hand on him.”

“They shouldn’t have fought over this. But I bet you not laying a hand on him though he knew you wanted to hurt his ego more than any punches would have.”

Feyre joined in the mental conversation, adding “He’s just lucky Nesta wasn’t there when they found out.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, assuming that Nesta would have remained neutral in the ordeal. Not out of cruelty, but given her love and protective tendencies toward Elain as well as her friendship with Azriel and their Valkyrie training.

Azriel looked to his mate, once again wordlessly mouthing. “Y/N, please.” Finally taking in the crowd before him, he paled further.

“Cat got your tongue, Shadowsinger?” Eris mused. Fury lined Azriel’s features at the smug tone. Rhys only let out a bitter chuckle though he found nothing funny about the predicament they’d found themselves in, his violet gaze narrowed in on his brother. “You found a work around with our bargain by finding your mate outside of the Summer Court, but couldn’t find a work around on the matter of being barred from communicating with her? Just how did you expect this whole plan to work out?” He didn’t wait for a response to the question as he waved to the bargain tattoo. “I rescind the bargain tattoo, you may speak to her for as long as she’ll allow it.”

Azriel paid no mind to Rhys, his chest heaved as he frantically spouted out, “Can we speak in private, my love? Just you and me.”

Eris bristled internally at the pet name but Y/N didn’t falter as she replied “You lost the right to call me that the moment you took another female to bed.”

Elain fidgeted in her seat, eyes downcast. Camila bouncing her murderous gaze back and forth between she and Azriel.

To his credit, Azriel took the blow. This was a bed of his own making and he knew it, they all knew it. There was no sense in trying to deny it.

His mate’s head remained held high as she continued, “By the grace of the High Lord of the Autumn Court, the consequences of your attempted infiltration of this keep have been resigned to your own High Lord.“

Shame flooded Azriel’s face but he let her continue.

“As for me? All I ever wanted was your love and commitment. I gave so many chances and when it finally seemed like you might get it - you’d squandered that opportunity as well. I am before you right now because I want to know why. And because you have not given me a reason to trust you, I have brought this council of individuals who have somehow found themselves so intertwined with our relationship when it should have only been you and me.”

Azriel spat the bitter words before he could stop them from leaving his mouth. “If Eris is not issuing consequence, there is no need for him to be here.”

Despite his exceptional ability to bait, Eris remained silent. A show of respect to the female at the head of his table.

“I was a guest in his keep when you decided to make our separation everybody’s problem and breached the wards.”

Azriel, damn him, couldn’t stop the next hateful words either. “I hardly call emissary business the equivalent of being a guest.”

Eris forwent anger over the blatant disrespect already rolling off of Azriel’s tongue when she didn’t owe him a second of her time, he knew this force of a female by his side well enough by now - biting the inside of his lip to hold back the involuntary smirk creeping its way up to the corners of his mouth as he sensed the words before she spoke them.

“You’re right, Azriel. But I am not here on emissary business, I am here as a personal guest of Eris, who has found himself intertwined in this relationship.” She then looked to her sister “Along with Camila, as they BOTH found themselves putting in considerable time and effort helping piece back together the parts of me that I couldn’t quite place myself. Do you have further question on the members in attendance today that you’d like for me to elaborate on?”

Camila, seated to the other side of Y/N, gave her sister a reassuring squeeze of the hand under the table. Silence once again filling the room, Azriel’s shadows in conjunction with Rhys’ raging darkness rendered him barely visible.

Perhaps her words to her mate were harsh but they were far kinder than the venomous “I’m here on the business of fucking the brains out of the Autumn Court High Lord who, by the way, is just as well endowed and far more bendy than you.” that she wanted to spit back at him.

As if Eris read her thoughts, he loosened the reign on that wicked smirk he’d held back.

“Now that the matter of why we’re all here is settled,” Y/N continued, “I will hear you out, Azriel. If at any point I do not wish to continue this discussion, you will leave immediately. Do you understand?”

Her stoic mate, the revered Spymaster, simpered at the words, giving a slight nod. “Yes.” Eris thought to himself in that moment, heart filled with pride, “She would make a fine High Lady.”

“Great. We have a bargain.” Her fist clenching as the tattoo formed on the back of her neck. “Please proceed.”

Azriel stood, looking to his mate. Crestfallen he began. He held himself in submission to his mate but with enough confidence for her to see that he was sincere in whatever he was about to say.

“Y/N. I love you. I have loved you since before the bond ever snapped. You are - You’re everything. Fuck, I know that what I did was terrible but, it’s not what it seems. You were so good, too good, I didn’t deserve you. I never have. You are everything good and I do nothing but bring pain and hurt to others, and now I’ve done the same to you. Words can never express how sorry I am but… I can at least share what happened.”

He looked to her, praying she’d speak, give any encouragement. Her bright eyes only stared through him, straight into the tattered soul he’d tried so hard to conceal from her.

The table remained silent. Camila biting back a scoff and Elain fidgeting with her dress.

Realizing she wouldn’t speak until he’d told her everything he continued.

He began speaking of how insignificant he’d felt in comparison to her. How he’d buried himself in work, in training with the Valkyries, helping Elain recover. He then pleaded to her, giving recollection of how he’d stopped feeling her through the bond. Giving account for everything leading up to the night he’d slept with Elain.

He recounted how he’d just wanted to get through the night, how he’d chosen to go to dinner instead of staying in, drowning himself in alcohol in an effort to get through the night, how he’d planned to tell Elain that he could no longer spend so much time with her.

It was then that he turned a violent glare to Cassian. “Tell her. Tell her, Cassian.”

Cassian let out a sigh. “Y/N, I am so sorry for the mistake I made. Nes and I, we’d stopped into a new apothecary along the Sidra and found a unique new aphrodisiac. We’d done a parting shot with Azriel and Elain after everyone else had gone out and I -“ his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, “I accidentally gave the shots we’d mixed the powder into to Elain and Azriel instead of Nes and I. I had no clue until yesterday, we just assumed it was a faulty batch.”

Azriel’s shadows swirled with rage as he picked up where he’d left off. “I went to find Elain afterward, to break things off but the aphrodisiac hit so hard, so fast, and I was so terribly intoxicated. One moment I was trying to speak, the next she was kissing me.” He shook, choking on the next words. “The next morning, I knew I could either tell you, inflicting more pain upon you, or I could carry the pain myself and make sure it never happened again.”

Lucien gritted his teeth at the admission. He’d known they slept together, she’d come straight to him afterward. Choosing to make his best effort to do right by his mate, telling himself that what had happened evened out the playing field between them. Of course it hurt, and hell, he was livid. He found himself fond of the Shadowsinger’s mate, forming a comfortable acquaintanceship with her the few times they’d attended the same events with the Inner Circle. She deserved so much more than a mate that cheated on her.

But Elain was his mate, he needed to at least try with her now that she’d finally shown up. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat and had spent the past six months spending what time she deigned to give him with her. He’d hoped at the very least it would keep Azriel away from Elain and with his own mate. He’d felt awful when he heard she’d left.

He was drawn from his thoughts by Azriel’s next words and the corresponding pained gasp from Elain, and the thrumming power of Feyre as she seethed from both embarrassment of the ordeal and the careless words about her sister. “Y/N, Elain means nothing to me. She was a mistake. I don’t care about her beyond the fact that she’s my High Lady’s sister, I don’t love her - I only love you. I only want you. She is nothing.”

Elain clutched her chest, eyes welling with tears as she let out a whisper that may as well have been a damning scream. “But - you’re my mate.”

Time stood still as everyone turned to her in shock. Everyone, except for Rhys whose raging power dimmed momentarily, heads turned from Elain toward him as he let out an incredulous laugh. “You idiot.” Feyre turned toward him. He’d pay for that comment later, though only mildly as she was inclined to think the same of her sister. “That aphrodisiac that you were given, it is designed to imitate the mating frenzy. He’s not your mate, you were just horny.”

Elain turned ghostly, sinking in her chair at the revelation. Y/N felt sympathy for Lucien as she noted his gritted teeth. Apparently whatever she’d told Lucien, she’d left out the important detail that she thought she had another mate.

Camila’s body shook, fighting back laughter, and failing. Her laughter filled the space. “Oh my gods!” She wiped a tear from her eye. “I don’t mean to… but this, this is too good.” Her laughter only increased. “How humiliating!”

Even Y/N bit back a smile. Camila never was good at hiding her emotions, laughing in the most unstable of circumstances. And she couldn’t stop. Finally she placed her palms on the table pushing herself up. “I’m so sorry. I’ll excuse myself.” Lucien was next to stand, Elain tightly grasping his wrist. “Lucien” she whispered.

It was Lucien’s turn to let out a small laugh. “I suddenly find that I am not at all intertwined with this mess. Enjoy your mate!” He mused, a saccharine smile forming on his face as he pulled his arm away, catching up to Camila. His footsteps and the distant sound of “My lady” as he extended an arm to her, which she gladly accepted.

Elain stood eyes darting between Azriel and the door. Taking far too long to come to the decision to chase after her actual mate. Her foot moved out, pivoting her toward the doors when Rhysand commanded, “Oh no, you will stay here and finish this discussion.” She gasped looking to Feyre who only gave a solemn nod of solidarity with her mate.

Elain fell back into her seat, crossing her arms across her chest, glaring daggers at Azriel.

As the room once again settled, aside from the roaring heartbeats at the table, Y/N spoke impassively, “If there’s anything else you wish to say, now would be the time, Azriel.”

He stared wide eyed, clearly still blown away by the bullshit with Elain.

“Y/N, I am so sorry. I know that what I did was wrong. I never meant for any of this to happen. I never would have slept with her had it not been for the aphrodisiac. I never meant to hurt you. I have so much darkness within me to reckon with, so much that I’m terrified to bring up, so much I never wanted you to see. I need you to understand that. You were never the problem. It was me. It was always me. I can tell you how sorry I am, I can tell you how much I love you, but it won’t matter unless I can show you. Please give me that opportunity. I won’t let you down.”

Y/N sat still. Processing all of the details Azriel had given her. She felt his desperation barreling through the bond. Her hands again began shaking under the table without her sister there to steady them. Discreetly, Eris reached his hand to Y/N, the quivering receding at his warm touch.

Azriel’s shadows rose to whisper in his ear, his eyes instantly honing in on where their hands were joined, as if he could see right through the table.

And Y/N didn’t know if it was by a stroke of luck or the absolute lack of it but at that moment, the doors flung open and Nesta. Fucking. Archeron. stormed in.

“You.” She pointed to Azriel. One word. One action. So much damnation behind it.

Rhys’ darkness flared in the presence of his wild card sister-in-law. Cassian merely raised an eyebrow, the slightest upward curve tilting his lips as he took in his mate who could command a room full of power.

She looked over both High Lord’s at the table with an unimpressed sneer before turning that deadly, piercing gaze toward Azriel.

Azriel’s eyes widened in surprise at the Valkyrie striding toward him. “What. The. Fuck. Is. This?”

His brows knit and she opened her fist, grasping a chain with two of her fingers to display a dangling necklace.

Azriel’s face paled.

“You know, the strangest thing happened this afternoon. I was talking to my friend, Gwyn. We got to talking about flowers and Elain’s garden. Gwyn began speaking of how she loves roses, clutching at a lovely little pendant around her neck.”

“And I thought to myself, something about this necklace seems so familiar.”

“And then I recalled a solstice not too long ago where my sister came crying to me over a male who had given her a lovely necklace of the same description. How they’d pined for each other, never going further than a brush of the hands. Until the night they almost kissed, the scent of his arousal heavy in the air between them, then pulling back from her and stating ‘this is a mistake’ and leaving.

At the point Rhysand turned to his brother. “You’re fucking joking, Azriel.”

Y/N looked to them beginning to anticipate where this was going.

“When asked who gifted it to her, she stated that Clotho told her it was left for her from an anonymous admirer. So, I went to my friend Clotho, who keeps to her word very well. She’d sworn to the source she wouldn’t tell. But you know, the House of Wind is a sentient entity. Persistently tugging me toward Rhys’ belongings that remain scattered around the house.”

Nesta turned her glare from Azriel to Rhysand. “So, Rhysand, something tells me you know about this.”

Rhys lowered his head with shame hesitating as he searched for the right words.

“Y/N…. I’m so sorry. A couple of years ago, on Solstice, I caught Azriel placing a necklace on Elain.” He looked to Elain and then back at Azriel again. “I monitored the situation, hoping I was wrong, but as their lips were moments away from touching, I used my daemati abilities and summoned Azriel to my study. I truly thought whatever happened was over between them as the tension between the two seemingly faded in my presence. Until yesterday, when we found out about he and Elain sleeping together.”

Cassian glared to his brother with rage, “You gave a necklace meant for Elain to Gwyn?”

“She wasn’t supposed to know.”

Before he could dig the hole further, Elain whispered, those doe eyes peering at Azriel through her lashes, “So, you didn’t really think it was a mistake?”

Feyre broke her silence letting out an audible groan of exasperation. And Azriel broke his own silence,

“It WAS a mistake, Elain. All of it. Rhys tried to stop it. I should have listened. You were a mistake.”

Elain gasped, tears lining her eyes. And if looks could have killed, the glare Nesta gave Azriel would have ended him on the spot. But it was Elain who made the mistake of reading her sister’s rage toward Azriel as sympathy toward herself, leaning into her sister, turning her head into her side to catch her dramatized tears.

“No, Elain. I am so disappointed in you. You were completely wrecked when Graysen left you and you were only engaged. Imagine the pain Y/N felt losing her MATE.”

Eris who had been taking in the cluster fuck surrounding them mused, looking toward the door Lucien had earlier exited, “Oh, I don’t think she’ll have to imagine much.” Earning a laugh disguised as a cough from Cassian, another sigh from Feyre, and a scowl from Nesta as she chose to ignore the barb - looking again to Azriel, “You have a lot of amends to make.”

She looked to Elain, “You do too.”

With that she grabbed Elain by the arm and drug her out of the room. With a wave over her arm and a shout of, “You deserve so much better than what you’ve been through, Y/N!”

Y/N took a breath as the room regained its composure, the tension again thickening. “Is there anything else, or are you done making excuses, Azriel?”

“They’re not excuses. Y/N. I love you. I was wrong. It’s always been you.”

“I’m tired.” She spoke softly. And it was the truth.

“I spent so much time waiting for you. Praying that one day it would all become ‘right’ again. I dreamed that you’d come walking through the door, and remind me what it was like to feel your love. My Azriel, my mate, all I wanted was you.

But, this, Azriel. You are not the male I fell in love with. And I think… I think the most heartbreaking part of that is that what I loved most was those dark depths of your soul that you tried so hard to hide. You were never a monster, you were always worth loving. You wouldn’t have broken me. Shutting me out is what broke me. And I told you that, so many times, in so many ways. But you never listened.

And the reason you couldn’t feel me through the bond? The further you pulled away, the more I closed it off from my end. I hoped that it would give you time to work through whatever it was you were facing and refused to share despite my pleas. Until I eventually grew so numb that I just shut it down completely. A courtesy you never once extended to me during my time away. Do you know how hard it was to recover after I left? I felt your guilt and rage barreling through me at all hours.

And you fucking Elain? Nobody but you and Elain are responsible for your actions. Cassian is not your excuse. You chose to go that night, you chose to drink all evening, you chose to wait until that night to tell her you wouldn’t be spending time with her like you had been. You had the entire week away and chose to wait until the last minute.

The affair started long before then. I think we can agree that despite your cold treatment of her before me today, that you two were engaged in an emotional affair long before you ever went to bed with her.”

She reached into her pocket pulling out a piece of parchment.

“And then, you attempted to court Gwyn in my absence - which, fair, because I’m the one who left. She really is a lovely female. Although, I hear it didn’t quite work in your favor.”

Azriel’s eyes grew wide in panic. “The necklace didn’t-“

She laughed. “I’ll save you time and effort of your excuses, Azriel. Gwyn may not have known the necklace was from you but she did extend the courtesy of writing to me and I was rather surprised by the details of the demise of our relationship that didn’t quite line up - specifically the cheating aspect.”

She placed her hands on the table, looking her mate directly in the eyes. “I made my decision long before your attempt to break into this Keep, before the truths were unveiled today. I appreciate everyone for coming but I have heard enough. I ask that you leave now, Azriel.”

Tears filled his eyes. “Wait! Please, Y/N.” His brothers began to pull him away but Azriel fell to his knees.

“Please, baby.” He begged. “Just come home.”

She stared at the pleading male before her. A pang of sympathy for her broken mate ran through her. She wasn’t cruel and sympathy was not a weakness. This was her choice to make and nobody would blame her if she went back to her mate.

“Come home, please.”

Holding her head high, she stepped around her chair.

Eris sat expressionless, carefully avoiding any inclination of the devastation he’d feel if she chose to leave. He would support her either way.

Azriel remained focused on her every movement, his erratic breathing the only sound cutting through the tension of the room.

She took a step, and one more, before halting. Gently taking the hand of the red-headed male beside her whose eyes lined with silver as he looked up to her.

“I am home.”

EPILOGUE

The time he showed up:

Lucien suffered when his bond with Elain was severed. She did not agree to breaking the bond which left slim to no opportunity to move forward with the breaking of it. After months of intense research, Helion was able to find a tricky workaround that did not require both parties to be present. It was incredibly painful due to the negative effects being concentrated to one individual instead of split between two but fortunately not lethal.

Eris never pushed me to sever my bond with Azriel but as time went on it felt important to put that part of my life behind me. I’d extended the courtesy of writing to Azriel regarding my intention to sever it, informing him that I would be going through with the incantation that Helion had conjured. He did not reply but I knew he received the letter based on the muted feelings of grief that seeped through crevices of the walls I had placed against his end of the bond for several days afterward.

Eris traveled to the Day Court with me, having decided nobody could aid in my recovery better than he. To my shock, upon arriving, Azriel was there. Demurely, he stated that it was only right for him to share the weight of this burden. I was inclined to agree but only thanked him for showing up. He bristled at the sight of Eris but the males said nothing to eachother and we went our separate ways until Helion was ready for us. With Azriel’s presence and the pain being shared, the physical recovery on both of our ends was expedited and manageable for both of us.

We were both held in separate suites to recover until Helion gave the all-clear to leave. When the pain became less debilitating, I decided to take a stroll through an exterior walkway, soaking in the sun while Eris bathed. Apparently Azriel had the same idea as I turned a corner to find him sunning his wings, head hung low.

Right as I made to pivot, his head whipped in my direction, eyes locking with mine. Even without the bond I could easily read the pain in his eyes, the grief that surrounded him. His shadows fought to come to me but he kept a tight reign on them. His breathing was rapid, his eyes fighting to turn away but his gaze lingered.

He opened his mouth to speak, a weak sound escaping his lips before he clamped his mouth shut, jaw tensing.

I kept my gaze soft, maintaining eye contact for another moment but he didn’t try to speak again. With that, I walked away and we did not encounter eachother again during the stay.

It was later I realized that he likely wanted to say something, anything, but there was nothing left to speak between us.

The sister-in-law:

After recovering fully from the severance of his bond, Lucien cryptically invited Eris and I to a lakeside home in the Day Court.

“Dress for merriment.” His only details.

Upon arriving, we found a couple of beloved faces from my life, along with Feyre, Helion, The former lady of Autumn (now the lady of Day), Jurian, Vassa, and even Tamlin at the home. We were all escorted to the grounds where an absolutely beaming Lucien stood at an altar beside the most radiant female I’d ever seen.

That was the day my sister became also my sister-in-law. It’s a very strange thing to say aloud but makes sense if you think about it.

The first heir:

Eris cried the day our son was born. Not from the relief of having an heir, not from any upset due to the child being male, certainly not from any disappointment of being a father.

The birth was as smooth as one can be, he held my hand throughout, praising me, and whispering words of love. He didn’t even mind the curses I threw his way as I pushed. He only let go of my hand once the babe was carefully handed to me by the midwife, allowing me those first precious moments to cradle our little flame to my chest and relish in the life our love had created.

Eris cried when that tiny babe was finally passed into his arms and the little red-haired beauty grasped his finger. That touch immediately tethering a connection straight from the child in his arms delicate soul to Eris’ heart, the heart that once beat beneath layers of armor now laid bare before his son.

Never would this child know pain at his fathers hand. Never would he limit the love he could show for fear of being seen as weak. And never, ever would he question his fathers love for him.

The coronation

Azriel

Sitting here lonely at a table for two, watching lovers being lovers

Azriel sat shrouded in shadow in a quiet corner of the decorated throne room. Happy chatter rang throughout the room as attendees anxiously awaited the crowning of the High Lady of the Autumn Court.

Feyre and Rhys; Cassian and Nesta; Helion and the former Lady of Autumn; Emerie and Mor; Tamlin and his new wife, Briar; Lucien and Camila; and even Gwyn and Tarquin sat cozied up in pairs throughout the crowded throne room. Nyx had seated himself next to his best friend Alex, Camila and Lucien’s son.

From what Azriel had heard Lucien treated Alex as his own from the moment he met him, adopting the boy immediately after he and Camila married. He seemed to be a fine young man and a positive influence on Nyx, who kept Rhys and Feyre on their toes these days. Perhaps karmic justice for the hell Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian put Rhys’ mother through in their youth.

Three little girls ran through the room, two with vibrant red-hair, tan skin and freckled golden cheeks; one with dark hair, fair skin, and her mothers eyes; their giggling rang out above the chatter filling the room as an older child, a boy of eleven years old - Azriel still remembered the day the announcement arrived to the Night Court of the birth of the first Autumn Court heir - walked in a straight backed, lordly posturing behind them, a crease forming between his brows as he focused intently on his little sisters.

The boys long strides kept up with his little sisters as he reminded them to mind their paces. Lost in their merriment, the girls ignored his warnings until the boy finally let out an exasperated sigh. Stopping for a moment with his arms crossed, he raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as he shook his head, murmuring gods knows what frustrated curses. Knowing his mother, it was not the typical frustrated language of a child.

Azriel gave a small, sad smile at the memories elicited.

When the boy looked up, the girls had disappeared from his sight. He grew frantic for a moment until his Uncle Lucien walked up to him, pointing to his wife and the three girls pressing kisses and talking animatedly to her round, very pregnant belly. The boy gave his uncle a smile, shoulders sagging in relief. Lucien bowed down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. The boy took his hand and walked back toward Camila and the sisters.

Azriel placed a hand to his chest at the wave of grief that rang through him. The mating bond may have been severed but he never could get over the love that he squandered. The family that could have been his.

“You don’t have to be here, brother.” Rhysand’s voice invaded his mind.

Azriel swallowed, willing his thoughts to a tone of neutrality. “She’s the High Lady of the Autumn Court, we’re immortal, we will have to be comfortable in spaces together. It comes with the territory.”

I miss you. Without you I just don’t fit in.

He didn’t have to say what his brother already knew. That yes, he was broken when she left. Broken further when she confirmed he was no longer her home. He’d hated himself for what he’d done, for what he put her through. For a long time, he’d been a shell of the shell of himself that he’d already become. Eventually, he’d taken to seeing one of the counselors in the House of Wind’s library. He was too far gone at that point to consider such an option but Rhys had coordinated with the priestesses and mandated it. Either he got help or lost his position in the Night Court.

Even after the countless hours of counseling sessions he’d attended over the years, that “savior complex” of his remained. Seeing Y/N thriving with someone else was fucking hard but not as hard as living in a world where he never looked upon her face again. As she assumed the title of High Lady, a target would lay on her back, just as one was on any other High Lord or High Lady’s back. He’d never forgive himself if his stubborn pride kept him from attending any court events she attended and something happened to his own High Lord or Lady… or if something happened to her.

I don’t know if I’ll ever find another you.

So here he was, alone at a table, in a now quiet throne room, watching the love of his life step out onto the dais in all of her resplendent glory, kneeling down before the male she loved. Eris’ eyes lined with silver as her own lifted to meet his gaze, her chin held high as she awaited his next move. Carefully, he lifted the emerald and ruby crested crown, with one large diamond centered between two golden leaves, off of the plush pillow it sat upon. Eris’ previous words rang true through Azriel’s head “Diamonds don’t crush under pressure.” The people of this court were truly fortunate to be under the rule of such a resilient and kind ruler. The shining diamond of Autumn. She would love them deeply and do right by them in a way so few leaders were capable of.

Azriel couldn’t contain the pride that welled up in his chest, tears threatening to spill over his thick lashes as the crown was placed upon her head. And yet it was Eris who looked at her like she was the very air that he breathed, as if nothing existed in that moment but the female at his fingertips, like the only reason he himself was brought into existence was to find and cherish her for eternity. And despite his disdain for Eris Vanserra, Azriel finally understood that this was where she belonged.

Everybody’s got somebody but me.

————————————-

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read this series! I loved writing it and I hope you are pleased with the ending. Some may ask, “What about Elain?” and to that I say, “What about her?” I find great satisfaction in the fact that she didn’t get either male, was embarrassed in front of the IC, and became so irrelevant that she was barely mentioned in the epilogue (aside from Lucien breaking the bond). Clearly, she’s still bitter considering she refused to sever the bond with him but he still found a way out (albeit painfully) and got his dream girl! Stay mad, Elain.

ACOTAR Tag List:

@lilah-asteria

Eris Tag List:

@angiedsv

Rainy Season Tag List:

@going-through-shit @kalulakunundrum @lisanna2000 @fxckmiup @sheblogs @emryb @one-big-fangirl @historygeekqueen @isa1b2h3 @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @theravenphoenix26 @sidthedollface2 @i-am-infinite @caraaaaugh @evergreenlark @darkbloodsly @piceous21 @anxious-study @chessebookgirl @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @crazylokonugget @mysticalfuncollectorus @starsinyourseyes @b0xerdancer-writes @inloveallthetime @thegirlinshadows101 @viistrength @grunchwench @starryhiraeth @macimads @feiwelinchen @acourtofbatboydreams @nebarious @haechansleafblower @melsunshine @thegirlintheshadows101 @plsfckmern @existingthroughwords @mybestfriendmademe @strangersunghoon

[denim-devil]

Bad To The Bone - Week 1 | Mirror Fucking/Hair pulling

Summary - When hearts collide, Billy chooses to chase after the longing thoughts that have only you in the midsts of them all, the biggest halloween party ever hosted in the small town of Hawkins was his best bet to finally entice those very thoughts…

Pairings - Bully!Billy Hargrove x M!Reader

The cigarette hung loosely from his lips as he stalked the crowded room, his eyes lingering on the current sight before him. Steve’s hands were far to close for his liking, lightly grabbing at your swaying hips.

What had felt like an eternity, Billy slowly crept toward the two of you, anger and malice ran through his veins like the blood circulating his body had done, bubbling up, growing closer to a boiling point.

Steve’s lips felt warm against the crook of your neck, his teeth nibbling gently against the dampness. Although under the influence, you had no desire to stop him, not after the end of your mid-night rendezvous with the current king and bully of Hawkins High.

A slight shove had forced the ridiculed Steve into the wall beside the two of you, a harsh bang sounding out into the room, even with the noisy crowd of teenage students and the humming beats of madonna…it was loud.

“Watch it asshole-“

Steve ushered out with a hiss. As if time itself was a concept, you stood, frozen. Billy stood with a proud smirk, his black, slightly damp leather jacket was hung open, showcasing the toned physique you were once frequented with.

“Watch what? I didn’t do anything”

Billy tuts, his eyes flicking over to you, looking you up and down like he would his next meal, like a dangerous predator to it’s prey. A certain ache began to pool between your legs, what were once pale, your cheeks were now a deep shade of crimson, taking note of Billy’s looming figure.

“Oh yeah? You wanna bet?”

Taking a puff of his cigarette, it goes back to laying loose between a shit-eaten grin, his tongue flicking over the orange tip. Billy had no time for games, nor Steve’s bullshit, instead he opted for the obvious choice, charging toward you with his fingerless leather gloves which eagerly wrapped around your bicep, yanking you toward the stairs.

“Oh your in so much shit sweetheart”

He half growled, half whispered, even with the music blaring and the crowd going back to dancing and chatting, Billy took himself seriously, only wanting you to know what was to follow as you stumbled up behind him, leaving a confused Steve, stammering around in the very same corner.

He hadn’t bothered to look back, feeling how limp your wrist was within his grip had told him everything he needed to know, you had no fight to win, Billy had already won, more so with the dingy bathroom door flying open with a tug and a kick.

Thump, thump, thump. It rang through your ears like an alarm, heartbeat pacing like a jockey and it’s horse during a race, running quicker once the door slammed shut and the click of the lock latching away both your confidence and the thoughts of an impending escape.

He stood, flicking the cigarette bud onto the floor before raising one of his heavy boots, stomping the crisp leftovers into dust.

You watched the older male proceed to shake of his jacket, leaving him in just the denim jeans he was naturally acquainted with.

“You better think twice before ever letting Harrington touch you like that again-“

Nodding was the only beneficial answer, earning a daring smirk from the manic jock before you. His golden locks were matted yet matched the darkness now claiming the once ocean blue eyes he usually sported, his hair resting against the sweaty tan skin that covered his innards.

His steps grew closer with each thump correlating with your heartbeat, black boots treading against the tiled floor toward you until his warm breath fanned lightly across your pink-dusted cheeks.

“Billy- please, it was nothing, j-just needed something”

He tutted before pressing his body against you, pushing you further into the floral wallpapered brick behind, instantly making you feel small and defenceless.

“Save it- you need to learn a thing or two…”

Billy doesn’t think twice, he normally doesn’t before acting on said thoughts, twisting your body, roughly laying you stomach first against the counter top that faced the elongated mirror before you.

His body, warm and delectable now rolled into your arched form from behind, pushing most of his growing erection against you, forcing you to feel your own impending doom.

“You should be thanking me sweetheart, you got this cock all to yourself and you were ready to throw it away like dog shit- fuck”

You incoherently mumble a short “no” before pushing back momentarily, testing the waters. Luck had happened to be in your favour, a starving Billy, craving nothing but to ravish you groaned before pulling back.

It was easier to see this way, watching eager finger tips make quick work of his leather belt and crotch zipper, both thumbs hooking into the burgundy band of his boxers, wiggling them down slowly, past the light trimming of blonde pubes surrounding his veiny, thick base.

“Can’t stop thinking about how easily you take this dick”

Your tongue trails over your dry lips, watching as the band smoothly runs further down, catching on the moist tip before being completely removed, his cock bounces, loudly slapping into his toned abdomen, the head angry with urgency, a deep crimson in colour, he was thick from base to tip, a singular girthy vein running on the underside, splitting off just underneath the curve of his tip.

He chuckled at the reaction, watching as the same lips he used to get himself once in the janitor closet after gym class hung agape, eyes wide with earnest and adoration.

“Don’cha think Harrington would give it in so easy? Look at you, all dolled up for the wrong guy-“

You groan into the warm air of the now secluded space, the bathroom, although big felt small with the presence of Billy watching over you, his shadow looming in every corner from the dim strip light placed just above the mirror, forwarding his domineering ways.

“Billy- I got dolled up for you…”

As if words were a dagger, sharp and pointy, cutting into his skin, seeping deeper and changing his whole point of view. It was clear now, from the tight, revealing light wash jeans that hugged every spot he had both discovered and devoured more then once to the dainty leather jacket that had you looking smaller then usual, swallowing you up.

“Oh really? Fuck princess, you really know how to rile up a guy”

His fingers tips scrambled from your inner thighs upward, towards the belt loops and eventually to the knot holding you together.

Billy had made quick work with your belt and jeans, unclasping the metal before roughly pulling down the tight denim that hugged you perfectly, followed by the white briefs unveiling the very source of his affliction and desire.

His cock, thick and heavy, laid perfectly between your crack, pulsing at the very thought of being inside once again, after weeks of having blue balls, it was his forbidden truth to feel you all over again, like the first.

“Harrington could never- you really think he could fuck you the way I do? Make you feel things…”

Reaching down, a warm hand cups the base of your dick before slightly tugging, the leather cold against the warmth he was supplying. The moans that had forced themselves from deep within bubbled up into a whimper once surpassing your open lips.

His free hand managed to sneakily wrap itself within your hair, tugging harshly, you were not getting out of this, even if you had the choice.

“I won’t ask you again doll-“

You mumble a sharp, squeaky “no” once the angry tip rests softly against the puckered skin surrounding your entrance and Billy’s gateway into bliss. A few more tugs was all he offered up before removing his hand from your dribbling member, slightly patting at the pert globes you arched into him.

He chuckled cockily, his beer-soaked chest resting against your clothed back before looking up into the glass mirror. It was almost invigorating to see himself like this, to watch you wriggle with anticipation, giving in so easily, allowing Billy himself to guide you through his ecstasy, it was even better, a strangers bathroom had never brought him so much glory.

“Atta boy, come on, won’t you relax for me, let me in sweetheart…”

He slips in with ease, creating a stretch that burned like the sun, growing with each passing inch, watching as his tongue danced against your neck, how your features twisted with pain…then pleasure.

“Look at yourself-“

He settles against you before pressing his hips flush against your own, filling you up, warm and thick in your gut. Tear-stained eyes flick up to settle on his baby blues that twitched with lust, his smirk big and proud, almost intimidating.

“That’s it- that’s my pretty boy, such a sweet thing for me, all for me”

He panted before pulling completely back with an audible pop, watching his cock bob, he ushered himself back in to the hilt with a loud slap, this was something Billy would never forget, clearly.

“Keep your eyes on me princess-“

You did, watching him roll his hips, feeling each inch slip and slide against your velvet walls, his tip edging it’s way back and forth, watching your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

“Bill- Billy, please-“

You gasp before he presses fully forward, pushing against your pleasure spot and watching you gasp, tongue licking at dry lips. Once again you find his eyes, blushing at the wet laps he gives your neck.

“You’ll think twice next time hmm?”…

[txttletale]

In response to your overwatch posting but more about competitive games in general, why is it fine and good for certain things to be low or high teir? It's a pipe dream to perfectly balance a game, but isnt the shackling of playstyles, characters, etc to a certain skill group a problem that fucks players at every level?

it's fine and good because it allows for designs that you couldn't make if you really want every character to be equally good. there's a basic expectation from players of competitive games that success should be correlated with skill, that if you play better, if you are better at the things the game asks of you (skillshots, or aiming, or movement tech, or inputs, or whatever) you will see better results. this is what makes a game competitive, right, the ability to get better and see your performance improve as a result.

this means, that, generally speaking, the harder a thing is to do in a game, the more rewarding it will be. this is the logic behind headshots in FPS games, right--it's more difficult to hit a headshot than a bodyshot, so you get rewarded with more damage. better players can hit more headshots, so they'll get more damage (and presumably more kills) in an average round than worse players. so now, let's say you want to introduce some playstyle differentiation into your game, so you add the Scanner, a gun that deals half damage on bodyshots but double damage on headshots.

this is a cool idea! it rewards you even more for showing skill at the game, makes people using it feel really cool when they get that bonus, poses interesting questions to players about trading consistency for volatility. but because it interacts with a skill-based mechanic, its viability is obviously going to be tied to a player's skill--if you're in a pro lobby hitting 60%+ of your headshots, it's an obvious pick. if you've just started playing and you average one headshot a match, it's a total dud.

this is a really on-the-nose example, of course -- but in any kind of competitive game, there are likely going to be far more than just one skill-based mechanic, as well as meta-skills like team communication, positional awareness, understanding matchups, etc. that are going to vary between low and high levels of play. so trying to make a character/weapon/playstyle equally viable at every level of play would mean having to make them essentially agnostic to all those things--which would mean not allowing them to interact with any of the mechanics of the game--which is, practically speaking, impossible.

on the other hand, purposefully designing 'low-tier' or 'high-tier' characters lets you do lots of really useful things! first of all, it lets you make easier characters for beginners, who don't have a huge amount of mechanical complexity to deal with, have some kind of 'training wheel' ability that mitigates a new players' lack of all these game-winning skills. like, say, a gun in that same FPS designed for a 'spray and pray' playstyle, or a character in a fighting game who revolves around one comparatively simple combo. having something like this lets new players onboard to your mechanically complex game without getting overwhelmed or disheartened, by letting them get into a match and feel like they're doing something as soon as possible.

as for 'high-tier' characters, acknowledging that a character will have to be nerfed into unplayability for low ranks lets you actually play with the upper ends of the mechanical complexities you've put into your game. creating characters with extremely complex movement techs that can offer marginal benefits that are game-defining in pro play but basically meaningless in casual play adds a new dimension of depth to high-level play that you can't get if you're too concerned about making every character good at every level.

ultimately, i don't think it fucks players, and i don't think there's any shackling being done--i think it's good to create characters that lean into different parts of a game, for characters to fill different niches in a meta's ecosystem, and for the lists of pro staples and pubstompers to be different.

[theballsuckler]

DRDT SPOILERS

i’ve always found it interesting how this dialogue from David after the chapter 1 execution (the 2 images above) correlates so much with his dialogue after he snaps in the chapter 2 trial (the image below)

Also seeing his dialogue after every other character’s death, i think it’s obvious that not only did the deaths genuinely affect him, but that this hopelessness that he gained from it is a large part of why he snapped

so to sum it up, david isn’t a heartless sociopath and he actually cares about people even tho in the second trial he acts like he doesn’t

this is nothing new or surprising but i just KNOW david is hiding something behind that “heh i don’t care about any of u go fuck urselves DX” demeanor

more spoilers but this is david’s response to the other two deaths if you’re curious

kinda funny how he always pulls out the same sprite each time too

[moutainrusing]

hallucination

Sirius’s lover was the spy.

It was obvious, actually. Remus Lupin was betraying the Order, giving secrets and information to the Death Eaters, to Voldemort, allowing Muggles and Muggle-borns to die, and deserting Sirius. And Sirius was just as bad, because all he cared about was the fact that Remus didn’t care about him. He couldn’t care less if Remus was a mass-murderer, as long as Remus still loved him. But Remus didn’t and so Sirius hated himself, because he was still in love with a traitor, and all he wanted was for said traitor to love him.

It started off okay, at first. In the first few months, Remus was doing typical Order work, normal shifts and lookouts and guards. Casting spells, making wards, sorting papers. Then in the next few months, he began going on missions every full moon. Sirius immediately deduced that Remus was working with werewolf packs, even if Remus wasn’t to breathe a word about it, because who was he to not memorise the dates of every one of his lover’s transformations? So that was okay. Remus came back, wearily smiling, but still fighting.

But then things changed. A couple more full moons, and Remus looked like he’d completely given up. He wouldn’t smile anymore, he wouldn’t touch anyone, he would flinch, always watching his back, like one of the Order members would attack him, and for what? Why would his allies hurt him? Unless they weren’t his allies anymore. But Sirius had shaken that thought out of his head; something must have happened with the packs. But Remus wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t accept comfort. When his lover reached out, he would curl within himself, hide away. Sleep on the couch, never their bed.

Then he began leaving at random points in the month. No correlation to the moon. He’d go up on “missions” and disappear for days, coming back looking harder and meaner. Jaw set, fists clenched, eyes sharp. He’d still have his full moon missions, but there was no news whatsoever about werewolves aiding the Order. So what was Remus doing with them?

It got worse. It got to the point that Remus spent more time out of the apartment than in it. And then he started leaving for reasons that weren’t even missions: started going to the pub, getting hammered out of his mind, returning in the morning stumbling and swearing. He started regularly smoking and drinking, and you could never see him without a bottle or cigarette.

Right now, Sirius was alone in their flat, which might as well just be his, because once again, Remus was not in it. He wrinkled his nose at the couch, with its unwashed sheets Remus had been using for countless days, its Muggle beer stains, its cigarette ash. And then, because he was an infatuated dunderhead, he walked to the couch, picked up the blanket, and inhaled.

His stress vanished. How could it be that even when he was stressing over Remus, his scent still calmed him down? It wasn’t fair.

Then he heard the wards come down, and the unlocking of the door, before his aforementioned lover stepped forward. And Sirius could let go of the blanket and retain his dignity, but the drunken thug probably wouldn’t even notice.

He was right. Remus simply toppled into the couch, not even glancing at Sirius. Sirius threw him the middle finger, stomping off to ensure the wards were back up, and to lock the fucking door. Did Remus want the Death Eaters to come here? He probably did, being a traitor and all.

He turned, about to storm into their bedroom, now probably just his own (honestly, why didn’t Remus just break up with him already?), curl up in the sheets and cry into his two-way mirror, when he heard Remus murmur, “‘E was sniffin’ yer blanket. Stinks. Should wash it…”

Sirius froze. That was the most amount of words he’d heard from Remus in months. And it still sent his heart careening in his chest. And then Remus grumbled, “An’ ‘e flipped yer off. Bitch.”

Sirius turned around and raised a brow. “Excuse me?” He asked coldly.

Remus blinked. “Hallucinatin’. Yer nutter. So fuckin’ in love.”

Sirius stalked towards him, heart in his chest. Was this finally it? “Finish that train of thought, Moony.”

“Moony,” Remus echoed softly, closing his eyes as tears gathered in his lashes. “Yer like that, don’t yer?” he smiled twistedly. “Pathetic.” Sirius tensed.

“Fine, Remus, fucking spit it out then,” he snarled.

“‘E’s not real, mate. Go on, touch ‘im,” Remus mumbled, tears slipping down his cheeks, leaving shining streaks across his skin, which Sirius desperately wanted to wipe away, once more trailing his fingers across Remus’s rugged face, tracing the scars and imbuing them with love, pressing his thumbs into his cheeks until dimples appeared beneath them, connecting the dots between his freckles… and Remus had said ‘touch him’, hadn’t he?

Sure, Remus wasn’t making much sense, but with the tip of his forefinger, Sirius took a tear off Remus’s cheek. Remus’s eyelids snapped open and he jerked back on the couch, blinking furiously. “You’re not real,” he said, louder and more clearly.

Sirius immediately retracted his hand to his side. He raised a brow. “I’m real.”

Remus hesitantly reached out and drew some sort of wobbly pattern across Sirius’s wrist. And maybe Sirius was going slightly mad, but that was definitely the best way someone had ever touched him. Remus pulled his finger back, and inspected it curiously. He looked back up at Sirius. “Never been able to touch you before.”

Sirius was getting increasingly concerned. “Moony, love, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Remus smiled timidly. “You’re nicer than the others. Mind must like me today, huh?”

“Remus, Remus, I’m real. Your mind’s not imagining me or whatever,” Sirius vaguely gestured to Remus’s head.

And then Remus burst out into sobs. Sirius immediately dropped to his knees beside the couch, reaching out and running a hand across Remus’s back, through his hair, trying to stop the man he loved from hurting.

“Wand, wand,” Remus muttered, procuring it and casting a silencing charm around the couch. “So real you won’t hear,” he explained, jabbing a finger to the bedroom. He blinked up at Sirius happily and hopefully. “‘M drunk enough to imagine your touch. Hug me?”

So Sirius clambered into the couch beside Remus and wrapped him in his arms, pressing his lips to his hair. Apparently, Remus had hallucinations about him. And apparently, Remus cast silencing charms so Sirius wouldn’t hear him cry. Sirius squeezed Remus tighter, while he snuggled into his chest. And he should probably let Remus sleep, but maybe Remus would tell his hallucination things?

“What’s on your mind, Moons?” Sirius mumbled into his hair.

Remus looked up, fist curled into Sirius’s chest. “I miss you, you know,” he whispered, the words brushing over Sirius’s mouth.

“Yeah? Why don’t you go talk to the real me?”

Remus’s eyes widened, and he shook his head violently, burying his head back into Sirius’s chest. “Can’t. Got too much shit now. Don’t wanna hurt him. An’ he hates me now.”

Sirius frowned. There were many things wrong with what Remus had just stated. “How could you hurt him? And he doesn’t hate you.”

Remus laughed brokenly. “Does too. Can’t stand the sight of me, can ‘e?”

“He barely gets to see you,” Sirius pointed out. The real reason was that he couldn’t stand the sight of Remus not being his.

“Better that way,” Remus muttered, hand over Sirius’s chest, brows furrowed but slowly relaxing, as his breathing matched the beat of Sirius’s heart.

Sirius wanted to smile down at him, but also scream in his face. He controlled himself, softly asking, “Why?”

“Oh, y’know. The packs an’ all that. Greyback’s bein’ a bitch. Likes attackin’ us while we’re human, still. Like, mate, take a break, yer already bit me and ruined my life. I dunno how many people I’ve killed at this point. Or how many fellow werewolves, actually. My mouth always feels so dirty.”

Sirius simply gaped at him, while Remus tilted his head up and smiled absent-mindedly. “Been ages since I last hallucinated you, love. Got so much to tell you.”

“Tell me,” Sirius somehow uttered, hands tightening in Remus’s hair as he fought the urge to throw up and cry.

Remus grinned excitedly. “Your voice is so perfect.” Sirius felt his heart shatter. Remus then frowned, “I dunno where to start. Still got my full moon missions, where I run ‘round with the packs and try to stop them killing Muggles and Muggle-borns. I think sometimes I succeed, ‘cause I’m still with other animals, right? I think better. Although I’ve got so much innocent blood on my hands. Every time I suggest going to the woods, they all snarl at me. I told Dumbledore, I dunno why he keeps trying to convince them. They’re not budging. It’s ‘cause of Greyback, too. Poisoning their minds.”

Remus looked up, tears streaming down his face. “They could be so good, Sirius. You don’t understand. There’s so much waste. Wasted lives, Sirius. I can’t—” Remus began shaking.

Sirius rubbed his hands along Remus’s body repetitively, burying his nose into his hair and breathing, placing soft, feather-light kisses over his tightly fisted hands. “I’m sorry, Moony. Please don’t hurt. Please. I love you. So much,” he said reverently between kisses.

Remus simply shook even more. “You’re not real, not real, stop, stop, please,” he clutched his head, tugging at his hair.

Sirius made a decision, grabbing Remus’s hand and pulling him up from the couch. “I am real, and honestly, it’s insulting that you’re so convinced I’m not.” He tugged him towards their bedroom, kicking the door open. “Look. Sirius ain’t there. Sirius is right here, holding your hand, because I am Sirius, and I love you so much.”

He stared fiercely into Remus’s rapidly blinking eyes, daring him to call him a fucking hallucination one more time. Finally, Remus choked, “You can’t be. You, you can’t—” Remus threw himself into Sirius, yelling, “Stop, please, stop—”

“Stop what?” Sirius pulled Remus back and looked him in the eyes. “Stop your missions? Yes, I think I’m gonna do that. I’m gonna tell Dumbledore to stop your fucking missions, because they’re fucked up, and evidently pointless. And if Dumbles can’t see that, he’s evidently fucked up and pointless too.”

“No!” Remus flailed. “It’s for the greater good! The greater good, the greater good…” he muttered to himself.

“Fuck the greater good. You’re the greatest good. You’re the one that matters, you’re the one who needs to be happy, not fucking Dumbledore.”

Remus looked at him sceptically. After a long time of just staring, he spoke, “When do you think real Sirius will be back? Think we can sleep in his bed?”

Sirius genuinely wanted to rip his hair out. “Yes, you can sleep in our fucking bed, because it belongs to you and Sirius. And I’m Sirius! For the love of Merlin, please! I’m Sirius son of a bitch Black!”

Remus just stared at him. And then his face split into a small smile. “I was joking that time.”

It was Sirius’s turn to stare at him in shock. “REMUS LUPIN. YOU ARE BLOODY LUCKY I LOVE YOU.”

[rizatouchesthewalls]

everyone who writes and supports miles smut can block me, that includes 42 btw.

PLEASE SHARE THIS TO ANYONE WHO SUPPORTS AGED UP MINORS (SPECIFICALLY MILES MORALES)

TW: BELOW THE CUT IS DISCUSSION OF P//DO, UNDERAGE CONTENT. (I don’t go too far into detail but I know some people have been affected by it).

elaboration on why aging up (for sexual purposes) is bad

miles is canonically 15 and dont even pull that “he’s aged up” shit with me cause you know damn well on aged up fanfics they use pictures of CANON MILES. so its pretty obvious u have the teen in your mind. and you know what the ones that are around his age are annoying too but it doesnt put nearly of a bad taste in my mouth as the GROWN ASS ADULTS who make that shit.

and btw dont go and say “oh, it’s hormones and plus miles has hormones” and to that i have to say:

1. if you are a child who likes miles like that, fine, deal with that shit in private tho. you posting s*xual content of a minor is catering to creepy adults online

2. if you’re an adult saying that shit then i can say nothing less that you have the mindset of a groomer. You’re not very far from the mfs who say that “teenage girls are at their ripe age at 16.” you as an adult SHOULD NOT be using teenagers having hormones to your advantage and excuse. That’s disgusting.

“they’re just a fictional character” 😟 can you get a grip? go outside. Miles is a fictional character who is BUILT and DESIGNED to look like a teenager. And astv aint that unrealistic that you can say he’s ambiguous. He’s not. And even if he was he does activities that I do as a teen—I go to high school, I’m nervous about my future—miles is literally a relatable teen, as he was designed to be.

“Then stop looking for the smut posts.” I DONT NEED TO! It infiltrates my ASTV tag and at times the Hobie Brown tags too. You act like your tags aren’t public. If someone wanted to read a Miles fic that was normal fluff they would have to scroll through some smut too!

anyway thats all and dont even both coming up in my comments and reposts throwing a hissy fit you niggas r weird asf and can block me. maybe then id see less weird shit on my tag page. do us all a favor and log off.

+ Update: His ages from any other media isn’t a valid excuse. If you were clearly writing for canon adult miles you wouldn’t have astv miles as the icons and astv as the tag.

+ Update: Miles is CANONICALLY 15 in the first movie, and somewhere in the last movie he was YOUNGER. As mentioned above, mentioning other media as an excuse is bs when in the movies your writing for (itsv, atsv) he’s clearly a minor.

+ The thing that pisses me off the most is how ya’ll act like the people who are uncomfortable are weird. Are you not writing s*xual content about a 15 year old on a daily basis? please.

+ Fiction DOES affect reality. Why do you think people have nightmares after horror? Why does a sad film make people cry? Why does a deep movie change perspective?

+ In the scene where Miles argues with his parents, he says something along the lines of “I’m 15!!!” So if you think he’s not underage, you either didn’t pay attention or don’t have google. Plus what 18 year old discusses college that late? (without any other discussions prior?)

+ if you like little boys stop tryna hide that you like little boys it makes you even more manipulative and gross. no but in all seriousness telling minors that behavior is okay has gotta be SOME form of grooming on a more subtle scale. sorry if that’s too bold for ya’ll but as someone who’s been tricked into thinking content like this was okay when I was younger, I can confirm that this isn’t okay.

+ If to prove character that’s canonically a minor isn’t one you have to pull up seven different source materials that barely correlate to the one you write for, that character is still a fucking minor! It’s giving “she’s actually 3000!!!” when she looks 8.

yeah. kay bye!!!

[moldingtundra]

Explanation for my unpleasant gradient and infected dynamic headcanon!

Ok let’s get one thing out of the way:

I headcannon that unpleasant gradient is infected/kaspers ADOPTIVE father

if that makes you uncomfortable, no worries! Simply ignore it or ask me to tag just in case.

now for the people actually interested in why I headcannon as such, I’ll explain in this blog! So strap in for my ramblings lol.

WHY? AND HOW?

ok let’s get the obvious out of the way:

Unpleasant always appears from infecteds apartment. And ONLY infecteds apartment. Nothing else.

which is obviously weird. I know that other npc’s only spawn from one place (i.e infected from his own apartment or pest from the subway) but this almost always correlates with their lore in some way. If unpleasant had spawned somewhere else then it wouldn’t be such a big deal but this MAJOR evidence for my headcannon.

of course he could just be a really annoying roommate but I’ll explain this in my next point-

-which is THIS:

Litteraly who the fuck follows their “roommate” around once they get an injury, you wouldn’t do that type of stuff unless….

It’s your child.

yeah that’s right, I believe that unpleasant is actually just a worried dad. Which explains why it always follows infected around and why it has such close correlation.

on top of that there’s infecteds skateboard, who the hell gets a skateboard directly based off of their supposed roommate? Unless of course. Infected actually looked up to unpleasant and based his skateboard off of it.

“BuT kEvIn WhAt aBoUt ThIs!?!?1!1?”

I honestly have no idea what to say of this. I’ll be honest lmao. But I’m guessing it’s probably the fact that it’s just teenage angst and/or him hating on unpleasant because he’s technically not his “real” dad.

“bUt ErM kEvIn wHy WoUlD hE eAt HiS CaT tHeN ☝🏼🤓”

Because erm actually anon there’s 0 fucking evidence he ate the fuckass cat there’s only speculation and coincidences who the hell knows maybe it’s KASPER himself (I actually headcannon that but it’s a topic for another time)

ok now that I’ve THOSE out of the way it’s time for general headcannons!! ^_^

General headcannons + ramblings!

number one! Since unpleasant is pretty much fixated on ‘cringe’ things (skibidi toilet and unfunny 2020’s jokes) it could play a factor on why infected dosent like having him around, he’s chill. But he’s basically the embodiment of embarrassment. Whether that’d be through his habits (nose-picking, messy eating, etc.) or his humor (as stated before) he’s pretty much the dad that embarrasses you wherever you go.

on top of that, the difference and the opposite nature of both infected and unpleasant makes it quite hard for anyone to really think they’re even partially related. Which is why infected takes advantage of the fact that he can say he’s a “creep” / stalker and anyone can believe him.

However despite their difference in nature. Unpleasant and infected are actually not all that awfully different. They’re both mentally stuck in a period of time (2010 with infected, 2020’s with unpleasant) and they’re both ‘cringe’ in their own respective ways. So despite their opposing beliefs and humor, they’re actually not all that different.

this and unpleasant would be the type of ‘protective and nosey’ dad. Constantly trying to see what is up with his adoptive son while also trying to protect him ever since he got the infection. To which infected retaliates and pushes it further, thinking he deserves to live his life the way he sees fit. Even if it means getting in trouble sometimes. Which is probably why no one is comfortable with unpleasant, it only suspects everybody.

Anddd that’s all! I think- But man that was a woozy to write- I hope you all like it! Who knows if this does well I might write more of my headcannons! For now though I’m gonna log off for the evening- Bye bye!

[supermaks]

I think this a good time as any to share what I think H0rners big brain been cooking for some time, especially after the Spa fiasco wid Danny ric and allegedly big sponsors having to step in to save Checos seat ((Im skeptical of those reports but they not really the point, Checo bringing Liberty, and rbr, a lot of money from very intense LATAM pockets never been a secret, and it does matter in the cost cap era, its just how things are. Plus replacing Checo not something that keeps Horner up at night believe it or not, and that's where my word vomit comes in)).

I been sitting wid this 1 for some time, but mind u its all speculation on my part and mostly incoherent because my brain is completely fried these days. But stay wid me 😭😭. Adrian Newey leaving-- not just because of how it was announced, the way it was dealt wid internally, the shit he's been saying to press now ((he's tired and needs a break but been shopping around for teams like he's bored on hinge)) -- was , imo, more of a statement of distrust. In the rbr project, but mainly in Horner. He no longer believes Horners ability to succeed, he prolly already knew the rb20 as an evolution of the rb19 had its set of obvious limitations when it came to suspension once the field closed up, he knew they were headed down a difficult type of season, he took a step back, he saw the cracks begin to delve deeper and deeper into nastiness between the Verstappen camp and Horner, he saw Horner refuse to take accountability while Max very pointedly and UNLIKE all the other red bull drivers refused to express his unconditional support for Horner. Quite the opposite, Verstappen began making threats. Centering the importance of the car ((!!!)) and a stable environment, not Horners innocence or lack thereof. He doesn't care about that, as long as hes got the people and the car to work wid. Keep that in mind.

But back to the Newey divorce . Adrians one of the most important figures in motorsport period, he knew he had better options, perhaps some financial motivations, why not, he said thank you, I don't trust you anymore, goodbye. So here falls a core, original pillar of Milton Keynes, arguably one of the most successful aerodynamicists of all time. 1 of Red Bulls bishop, gone. Still, they rallied behind Wache, they said Adrian hadn't been part of development for some time, their factory remains strong, they can fill in the gaps, rbr is STABLE, sure sure sure.

Imola, Canada, Spain. We all hold hands wid Max and play pretend for a lil bit. Verstappen factor and all that bullshit. But for some reason, Max delivers the same conclusion every post race presser. This car is falling behind. We are starting to struggle. The sim data and the on track data don't correlate. This car is not gonna win constructors. Idk how the fuck its even the WDC. CHECO of course appears to be driving for my cousin's bumper cars themed birthday party so we can all point and laugh and marvel at how a driver known for his experience and who's won races and gotten poles to suddenly drop to fucking p6 in the standings. Surely this is the worst driver of all time. Surely.

Austria. Rbr pit stops, already looking kinda iffy since the beginning of the season, hit a new low. Lando, wid a single good overtake, wins the race, effectively beating Max on track. Max didn't let him. And he came out of it with a points advantage too, because he made a choice regarding his driving and how he wud defend his position. In a better car, that's never a choice he has to make. But the car isn't on par wid Mclaren. Rbr factory development has, quite clearly, stalled. Upgrade packages go backwards.

Hungary. Yeah. Everything is stable and the car was good and Max was beyond delighted of course.

So, that's stable environment gone, competitive car gone, and now off goes Wheatley to fulfill his tp destiny. Somebody , who, once upon a time, was rightly identified as the guy who wud replace Christian Horner due to the severity of the allegations made against him. Yeah, remember when Horner shud have fucking been fired? But Horner stayed, Newey left, and Wheatley left. To disconnect these events is, imo, a lil bit insane. Wid Wheatley gone, that's red bulls bishop n2 fallen. I think its fairly reasonable to assume somebody wid 2 cats in Monaco is straight up not having a good time anymore.

So, where do Checo and Danny ric and that fucking seat come in. They're all part of this dance, but I think in a way that's been fairly misinterpreted. See for a long time now, prolly since he signed Danny ric to do tiktoks, even before Vcarb became a thing, Horner has not been looking for a replacement for Checo. He's been looking for a replacement for Max. Ik, again, this is me letting the voices take over. Lemme say some unhinged shit before u call the cops. Max is an impossible teammate. U cant match Max on pace over an entire season, u cant prioritize a driver over Max when it comes to development, u cant tailor a car to somebody like Checo ((which , because Im so fucking money on this, is what Horner has just claimed he's gonna start doing post Spa)) and not Max, because, simply put, the car will be slower. Max can drive faster cars, he can deliver the poles, he can give rbr a fighting chance, he's been doing that shit, wid more or less success, all season, most of his fucking career actually. Now, who do y'all know who also qualifies very well, likes a pointy car wid a shit ton of oversteer and recently been caught discussing rb20 failings wid Verstappen himself. Danny ric. And Danny ric, like Checo, is very much in the Horner camp side of things. Danny ric, rn, comes wid bonuses of loyalty and trust and maybe a lil chip on his shoulder that Verstappen quite simply does not have, or cares to have because that brother is trying to get his fourth championship, not survive f1. Danny ric comes as a success story for red Bull amidst very trying times for the brand, the silver son who bent the knee and came home to warm hugs and big smiles after nearly getting fucking taken out back in a farm by Zak brown. U put that brother next to Checo or Lawson or whoever u also have the bonus of not having one of the best drivers of all time absolutely refuse to finish behind them, which can be a lil bit annoying if the car is shit too.

Horner is a stingy, extremely egocentric asshole, who prolly shudve been fired a long time ago, and he's not the team principal I thought he was. Horner's strength as a tp came from standing on business for his WDC once the going gets hard. He's doing none of that this season, at least not for Max. He's just a man, and at the end of the day, he's got the pride and insecurity of one, too. If he thought Newey was expendable, well sure u already have a bald man in the team who gives a fuck ((????)), if he thinks Wheatley is expendable, that's pointing towards a more personal type of dutch centric trend, because if he thinks MAX is expendable ... if this 2023 Merc stinking ass fucking season is headed the way I think its headed baby. I wish him good luck .

[autispec-hours]

am i the only one who’s really fucking tired of people being like “ oh these are traits of autism in FEMALES ( and afab trans and nonbinary people i guess ) ”

first , i should not have to be a footnote or a last minute inclusion in my own community , especially given the high percentage of trans non-binary and otherwise lgbt people who are autistic as compared to allistics . do you know how absolutely dehumanizing it is to be forgotten all the time by the people you’re supposed to trust and connect with . and if you are remembered you’re invariably lumped in with your AGAB , even if those traits don’t actually fit you

second , these traits aren’t inherently gendered in the first place . it’s about the way you were raised . my cis brothers have a lot of ‘ female ’ autism traits , and me and my cis sisters have a lot of ‘ male ’ autism traits . these things are normal and relatively common . yes , there is a correlation between the way society raises girls and boys differently and the way we develop socially , but acting like that’s an absolute is disingenuous , imo

i understand the need to separate it into categories . that’s natural for all human brains . but as we’ve all said many times before , autism is a spectrum . it’s never going to be one to one , for anybody . and i’m really tired of people subtly reinventing functioning labels over and over again , on top of it being a very obvious way to reinvent the gender binary

cause it very much ends up being ‘ female ’ autism that directly correlates to the high-functioning label , and ‘ male ’ autism that correlates to the low-functioning label . “ oh , girls are good at masking ” “ girls will make eye contact ” “ girls are just so quirkycute none of their traits are negative unless they mask too much uwu ” ( and you know they’re including trans men and AFAB non-binary people in ‘ girls ’ )

i don’t know how to fix this . i don’t know what to do about it . i just know that there’s a reason most of my friends are both autistic AND genderqueer . because some of y’all cis autistics really like your gender roles , and it’s incredibly alienating

[mulberriesandtea]

A VERY DISORGANIZED AND WEIRD MESS OF THOUGHTS THAT ARE ALL RELATED TO THE SODA EGO SOMEHOW

So wellcheer's story is like, this employee getting drugged and taken aboard a ship, and eventually coming to enjoy his work there, finding it better than working in the city. In general this reads to me as the escapist fantasy of the employees, wanting something that's more fulfilling, more satisfying, hoping for a change. While I think Hong Lu having it is somewhat self explanatory, I think we need to consider Ryoushuu as well, since both can provide context for one another. I will also bring up the fact that someone pointed out they could correlate to the types of work that give grape wellcheers, those being attachment(being kind and friendly) and repression(denying the abnormality in some way)- which I didn't quite agree with at first, but I think I understand better now that yes, it's likely. With that out of the way~! Let's talk about Hong Lu, since he's the one we understand the most about! These are not clean sections by the way. They're ramblings of a mad man.

"Tadaa~ Transformation complete! Hah, we've a boatload!" 

- Hong Lu Awakening

I think Hong Lu's is specifically meant to represent denial as his form of escapism. He denies anything that happens to him, and instead focuses on other things. We can note that Hong Lu seems to enjoy film in some way, and often mentions boredom and 'entertainment.' Not to mention Land of Illusion(I stare at the 5 gloom cost good fucking lord). Yah. Anyways, his magical girl transformation is an obvious reference to well, magical girl shows. Y'know, the kind of shows you watch and go 'man I'd love to be just like her" at least according to people. Understanding that, as well as pointing out that in both his Dimension Shredder and his Roseate Desire he seems a lot more overtaken by the abnormality than Yi Sang and Ishmael respectively in their awakenings(Yi Sang at least has both arms and Ishmael seems really not to be having a fun time), I think I can safely say that I think Hong Lu being on the boat is quite literally him fully accepting the fantasy of it. Have any of you method acted before? I have done it before, but not correctly, and I'm easily swayed by the emotions and thoughts of the characters I overtake, it's incredibly hard to maintain a divide between 'yourself' and 'your character' if you don't properly understand yourself- I mention this because it's quite literally what the Sinners do. I know this seems random to bring up but I hear me out here. I think it's clear that method acting wise, Hong Lu gets much more lost in his roles than the other sinners- I'd argue Canto IV especially shows this. Some of the others seem to also have trouble with Canto IV's play scene, but I believe the difference between that and their EGOs is how prolonged it is. Hard to explain, but yeah, Hong Lu quietly gets much more lost in his roles and it really does show in his EGOs- which is likely part of the escapism of it all. TL;DR I think his thing is denial, and as such, he represents the Repression half of the Wellcheers Grape Soda, and the reason he's on the boat is that he's *fully* invested in the EGO.

...Someone more into method acting should explain it better and see how it works within the context of EGO.

"Go on, open wide. Relax and cram this drink down your throats, heheh." 

- Ryoushuu Awakening

And that brings us to Ryoushuu, who I think represents the Attatchment side. And that might sound really weird at first. Why is the friendly one who seems to be more open with everyone Repression and the one who quite literally would attack other people and seems much more distant from everyone else despite it being several months now be Attachment? I'll explain more in Hong Lu's corrosion section. Anyways Ryoushuu! I think, in a way, her EGO, and the fact it's Zayin, is rather important- I'm still not quite sure on that aspect outside of 'it is really notable Gregor and Ryoushuu have Zayin EGOs.' I think her form of escapism is much more external than Hong Lu's- of course there's her tendency to smoke, but there's also her tendency to get obsessed with her art- and I think the fact that art is often heavily affected by the emotions of the creator is important. Art's a form of venting in a sense, but the way Ryoushuu does art she forces other people to deal with her problems. It's hard to explain gosh. Basically, she's very much ignoring her problems by creating art- she's not solving the root problem, she's not actually understanding why she's feeling that way, she just doesn't deal with it. THIS IS SHORTER THAN HONG LU'S SECTION BUT IN MY DEFENSE-

"The seagulls... They keep crying and screaming away...!" 

- Hong Lu Corrosion

So yeah these two. Ryoushuu's based on a man who committed suicide after the death of his daughter(who we know is dead in Limbus too, Fourth Match Flame and Red Eyes very heavily imply that, not to mention how Ryoushuu reacts to Outis during Hell's Chicken) and very much so has self-destructive behavior(said staring directly at Indiscriminate Art, which passive wise is exactly the same as Self-Neglect, and her smoking habits), while Hong Lu seems to very much have a persona of being cheerful and oblivious to the point of where it's very hard to tell if he's being genuine or not(The one potato joke in Hell's Chicken)- a persona that has not cracked yet in story, even when Faust attempted to break it with a sledgehammer(Once again, Hell's Chicken). I mention this because his persona has cracked in his EGOs- and this is one of them. I argue that both of their egos will be them no longer able to confide in their coping mechanisms of escapism, and their reactions to that. Hong Lu's EGO specifically shows him with the net stuck around him and in his mouth, and with him seeming almost panicked and lost. It's very particular he seems focused on the 'seagulls' which can seem a bit random, but I believe this is due to the 'seagulls' representing his last thread of escapism- his world, literally and in his denial, is falling apart. I'd argue that Ryoushuu's will be somewhat similar, also representing her thread of escapism falling apart- likely to do with either Yuzuki’s death or her completion of the ‘Hellscreen,’ and her being unable to deal with it.

I think they'll both be either Lust or Gluttony EGOs put a cute little thumbsup here

Of course I can be like, completely wrong. Anyways it's like 3 in the morning stream heart's claws by vane(flashing colors warning): 

https://youtu.be/2M2BHjVQPH4

i wanted to post the sodas but that’d take too long

[eclairris]

Drabbles from Re-Playing AOM

OKAY SO- woe Spoilers and speculations upon ye

I'm still reflecting on the card that's deliberately put into Alice's room underneath a picture frame of the Deross family. It's probably just cut and dry like "ohhh Alice is a sacrifice" but I can get more nitpicky with it

On the back it says "Welcome to Join the Hunting Game" which could be two things

Either A really poor translation on IDV's part, and is further saying the obvious that Alice is a sacrifice (Which would make sense given how we've pretty much gotten hunter versions of da capo excluding her, if you count Frederick being a hallucination influenced by Orpheus' exposition, and how Melly is on the near horizon).

Or it could quite literally be saying "Here pookie, stop running and succumb to the delulu" and putting hunter Alice into concretion But I think it's also probably just saying regardless that Alice is the direct sacrifice that Orpheus believes will keep the games going (clearly something went wrong) given how lambs are treated within religion and folklore.

I also did replay It and select every visit option I could for that sweet loredrop and I haven't seen anyone talk about this either.

The person literally saying that is young orph (orphan, If you will). The whole muse corridor points into details about the raid itself, which is odd because just a cutscene prior was Alice getting chased by hallucinations down that same corridor. It got me thinking about how IDV developers have considered giving Alice a hunter form.

So what do I know about this bird?? Uh the bare minimum actually but it can serve as some type of drop with how the story's going. He's not saying Alice is the Nightingale. He's saying she's better than it, which could resort to the potentiality of hunter Alice taking on the form of a "nightingale" if we go off the fact that most identity swaps with heavy lore (at least in da Capo's case) is based on either regression, repression, or insecurities.

Norton - Repression. He's not keeping up face when it comes to his identity swap. Literally chaos incarnate. Orpheus - Projection. Nightmare can quite literally be called Orpheus' Mary Sue oc. That's the post. Mary/Frederick technically isn't influenced more by Frederick himself but rather Alice's way of seeing it. Which fucks up a lot but let's not talk about it. I'd say it leans more towards Identification.

Melly could potentially have some correlation to the odd point Orph brought up

"After all, there's a price to pay for being unfaithful, isn't that right Mrs. Plinius."

Which is probably saying that Mr good ol plinius wasn't loyal and probably either had an affair or did something behind melly's back.

If the point of Alice being braver than the Nightingale is anything to go off of and whatnot then it could be safe to say her identity could be based off that if she ever gets one. It could play off of her bravery and need to look towards the future as opposed to Orpheus being stuck in the past. It could also explain why we haven't heard or seen much when it comes to Nightingale, because of two reasons

they're saving her for some big story update much like the rest of the da capo identity swaps.

Orpheus has been PROVEN to be an unreliable narrator. Surely wanting to dissect Orpheus under a microscope isn't delusional enough.

[mango-dolphin]

playing a game with myself called "inventing a man and scaring myself with it"

Note: Not all of these predictions are meant to be taken literally, more figuratively/metaphorically/so on. You get it. Note 2: lighter the text, the more likely i think it is to be (in part or in full) true

ALSO. thank you @maxknightleyunofficial for the yuri box.

bingo transcribed below [with additional Author's notes!]:

Limbus Company Predictions

Row 1:

Sinner Number correlates to recruitment order. (Which, yes, would imply Dante joined LCB before Sinclair, Outis, and Gregor. No points)

Another character based on a poet (or philosopher) is introduced. HM: Ovid SWEEP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Meursault's source material is his backstory: he works for the LCB because they saved him from the death penalty

The E.G.O gear the Sinners are attuned to all corrode because the gear or their attunements are imperfect. As in: your LC nuggets got that good shit [because the LCB doesn't have Cogito & can't manufacture E.G.O gear: the Sinners have to "connect" to the Abnormality instead, however that works] / are better [than the LCB Sinners]

The psychosis warning is for multiple Cantos and/or side stories, but one of the Cantos needing that warning is Meursault's.

Row 2:

Sinclair goes tree mode. I will not explain any further.

Limbus Company wants to be the new L Corp, or at least be continually influencial to whoever takes the spot.

The Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil; [it will be] a constant theme. Dante cannot "eat" (the apple), and thus is not "doomed to die" like the Sinners.** **The Sinners are named thus because they "partook" in the fruit: these moments, from blissful yet tormentous naivete to a sudden sinful upheaval, are highlighted in their Cantos. Gregor's was cutting the apple (crossing the boundary from child to war machine); Rodion's was killing the tax collector (her desire to be a hero completely upended by her actions leading to the deaths of all her neighbors); Sinclair's was following Kromer / letting her into his life (specifically allowing Kromer into his basement and witnessing The Horrors)... **This could imply LCB as the serpent in the garden, but more than anything, Dante is Eve. [Iori could also be the serpent she's got the range. swagever. It'd be funny.] HM: Or even worse, the opposite is true.

Sinners will get upgraded versions of their base E.G.Os; These versions have relation to the shadows cast in their E.G.O portrait.

Ishmael's white whale is a Library of Ruina character.

Row 3:

Faust's Faustian Bargain is classically straightforward: she "sold her soul" for knowledge. HM: The Devil in this exchange is the LCB.

Outis is in the middle of her years-long Odyssey as we speak. HM: It's why she's one of the last Sinners

Purgatorio & Paradiso

Outis, Don Quixote, and Hong Lu are using fake names

Dante (prior to the events of the game) has been on the Outskirts of the City, or even left City limits. HM: They're from outside the city

Row 4:

Gregor is an abnormality / abnormality-like; Hermann's "gift" to him is that. [Honestly he'd be one in the same way Tomerry is, but further than that? He's more than just a genetically modified soldier is what I'm trying to get at.]

Iori

^ HM: Lion, Panther, and Wolf were sent to Dante as a test. [Idk what kind of test it'd be. Trust me.]

At least one Sinner will Distort, and possibly multiple Likely Hong Lu, Ryoshu, Rodion, Heathcliff, Faust, or Meursault. Don seems obvious.* *Colors are likelihoods, not pairs. Though I don't see it likely that they all will distort UNLESS SOMETHING FUCKING HAPPENS *ADDITIONAL hard mode (so hard it's mode): Meursault Distorted before joining Limbus

the golden boughs are the remnants of Carmen's body or essence / the byproduct of the Seed of Light. [That's NERVOUS SYSTEM, baybee!]

Dante goes to Paradiso alone / with only Vergilius (I forgot how it went :( idr if Dante Dante's Inferno went up there alone)

Row 5:

Something bad happened to Gregor's sister :( HM: She's still alive. This is a bad thing. [Leaving my wording vague here on purpose.]

Marie (L'Étranger) is in the Blue Team (with Demian); Gretchen (Faust) is in the Red Team (with Hermann). Gretchen switches teams? [Honestly likely Faust hasn't encountered Gretchen either!]

There is yuri moments and maybe even yaoi moments (not Yuri) SINCLAIR. Yi Sang, Outis, Ishmael, Meursault, Outis again, Hong Lu, HM: Outis Wife Penelope

Angela.

Dante knew Carmen

[doomsdaydicecascader]

on your point about the self-referential nature of homestuck, do you have any specific tips for people that want to create such an effect in their own webcomics? I'm just very interested in *how* homestuck was made, like in storytelling decisions and stuff, and I think that it's self-referential nature might be one of it's most consistently well-done qualities

sorry i got back to this one so late, i've been game jamming. so i think the biggest thing you can actually do for yourself is build pattern recognition when it comes to your own work. like. there's this advice that i think came from pixar but it's good advice and pixar hasn't made an uncomplicatedly good movie since the obama administration, so, like, grain of salt on that source.

it's that writing multiple drafts is an advantage because you can write your story first, and then go back at it with a critical eye and pick out your recurring beats, and finding ways to emphasize and represent those beats in meaningful ways becomes part of your story. this is the first part of what is ultimately pretty rudimentary symbolic work, though. like. "oh this sword represents the heros bond with his family"

where i think things like homestuck and petscop differ is that they sort of use narrative beats as symbols in themselves - homestuck is broken up into 4 parts, and each one is an iteration on the last, and it's actually really clear here from how much of a fucking flex the dancestors are, narratively. and that sounds insane to say, because they're terrible, bad idea characters, but like. consider the narrative profile of a character like damara.

damara's got a lot going on in openbound, but we can break it down into some digestible chunks of beats from other characters's stories: there's obvious imports like the megido name, of course, but you also get interesting stuff like using needlekind, and using those needles to do suicide threats, which puts this kind of abstract "rose-ness" in her profile. her relationship with rufioh ended tumultuously, with rufioh being paralyzed from the neck down, which resulting in him having a robot horse body. this puts "vriska-ness" in her profile, who is already loaded down with rose-ness by virtue of being a light player. this paralysis was also remedied by horuss kissing rufioh's severed head in front of a mountain, and involved sending rufioh the horse body piece by piece, this puts rufioh and horuss in the position of both of them having dirk-ness and jake-ness, which puts jane-ness in damara's profile too, which then turns into very indirect foreshadowing when damara's attempts at sabotaging the dancestor session are reflected in jane doing the same, spurned on by the same character, even.

(plus, if you read bdth: there's more. i've written so much more.)

another, that's a little bit more complex to explain, is the idea of tokenization. this is an idea that petscop expresses really well. i'm kind of cribbing from nightmare masterclass here, but in petscop, there's these things that are called "caskets". these caskets are not literally caskets (that which contain the dead) but they are called caskets by the game itself, which both groups the items together as a thing to be understood in terms of itself and very little else, it's sort of an insane flex too - just like. "here is how these items are grouped and a guiding word as to what this grouping entails, find the pattern in this or don't", it's all very abstract in ways that i find very very compelling.

there's a non-mechanic in petscop that i think is unbelievably compelling, which is that there are these "symbol blocks" - that's all they are. they're a block with a symbol on them. these symbols recur in multiple places, and their only purpose is to imply a correlation between the places they show up, and thus, it becomes self-reference.

another thing i think you could look at is the game thoth, which is a similar fuckin. masterclass in visual language. this is a twinstick shooter with no text in it besides level number, and the way it builds its visual language using just shapes and their relations in a space is fucking impeccable. when you're deep in the game, you recognize what an enemy will do immediately from its appearance, and that appearance is like, concentric circles.

recognizing these things, drawing these lines between recurring ideas, reusing ideas wholesale to create new expressions of ideas, that's the basis of all of this. its like hypertext! two webpages that link to each other are almost certainly involved in the other's function!

It's also logical, since there is essentially nothing new in paradox space. Everything that can happen is either a visual or substantive reproduction of something which has already transpired on a timeline, offshoot or otherwise.