#little details that make me insane just don't worry about it

[wildstar25]

just thinking about how g'raha calls Arsay his guiding star and how she coincidentally always had a little star charm tied to the back of her ribbon, which G'raha always saw every time she walked away from him off to her next adventure. how he wish he could follow her like a comet's tail.

[gotta-winwin]

OT13 Reaction -- when you ask them for an absurd amount of money as a prank

SCOUPS:

will transfer you the money, no questions asked. unless it's like an insane amount of money - like enough to buy a car - then he'd be concerned and ask why you need it. are you in trouble? are you being blackmailed? what can he do? he's ready to assist you in anyway possible and will be sulky when he finds out it's a prank. relieved, but a little sad that you'd even feel the need to test his loyalty to you.

JEONGHAN:

his immediate reaction is no. have you guys seen that interview where one of the members (i think it was dino? mingyu? my memory is so bad) said that jeonghan doesn't play when it comes to money and it lowkey stingy? yeah that. he'll definitely be hesitant and might even just flat out say no. extremely proud when you reveal it was a prank all along. i knew it was a prank, baby~ the student can't fool the teacher~

JOSHUA:

his immediately worried something terrible has happened. it's uncommon for you to ask him for money, usually its small enough sums that you don't even have to ask - you have his card anyways. stressed and annoyed when you tell him its all a prank. ai~ you know my weak heart cannot take you stressing me out.

JUN:

a little confused why you're asking him for money. he's the type to not catch on, you being in danger isn't the immediate thought when you ask him for 300 thousand dollars. will not react when you tell him it was a prank, the request for the money hasn't even properly computed in his head yet.

HOSHI:

he's going to complain he doesn't have that much money even though we all know he does. he'll agree to transfer it to you, but will whine and nag the whole time that this is his hard earned money! he loves you but why are you taking it away! another type to get sulky when you tell him its a prank and you don't actually need the money.

WONWOO:

ummm...why? he'll ask a shit ton of questions before agreeing, he needs to know why, when, what, where, who? all the details. this is his money after all, he needs to know where its all going. it gets to the point where you give up, just telling him its a prank cause his questioning isn't making it fun anymore. he tsks and asks if you have too much time on your hands to be pranking him.

WOOZI:

the money is in your bank account before you even finish asking. he's lowkey surprised you haven't asked sooner, he's always open with how much he's making and constantly tells you he'd just rather you guys have a joint bank account so he can spoil you. refuses to let you return the money once you admit its a prank. he makes more than enough anyways.

MINGHAO:

another one that's immediately worried. money's never been a topic you guys have ever talked about so he knows there must be something wrong. asks a boatload of questions trying to make sure you're okay and not getting scammed online or something. ends up just chiding you for even falling into a trap where you need that much money and narrows his eyes at you when you tell him its a prank. he thinks you're crazy and has too much time on your hands.

DK:

poor baby's scared. sure he makes a lot of money but he's never needed that much. eyes are popping out of his head when you tell him the sum of what you need. he agrees, of course, anything for you, but his hands are shaking as he reaches for his wallet. dramatically flops onto the floor when you tell him its a prank, begging you to never do that again - he might be rich but in his mind he's got like 5 cents in his bank account.

MINGYU:

blinks. pretends to think about it, but really he's been waiting for this day. the only possibility in his mind as to why you need the money is only for good things, and who is he to not spoil his baby? begs you to take his card anyways when you tell him its a prank. it's literally the only reason why i work, baby. just take my card.

SEUNGKWAN:

he's dramatic, screeching about how that's an insane amount of money and that he wouldn't even drop that kind of money on himself- and he loves himself very very much! calms down and genuinely sits your ass down to ask why you even need it. feels extremely betrayed when you tell him its a prank and vows to get revenge.

VERNON:

he sighs. he knows this trend and he's not having it. baby, you know i'd do anything for you right. you've got me like wrapped around your finger. you literally don't need to test my loyalty. apologizes when you get sulky over him already knowing the prank and offers to let you try again - this time he'll play along. ohmygod that's a lot of money are you being blackmailed? shopping in the black market? getting us a house in Bali? shrugs when you complain about his reaction being ingenuine and over the top. there is only so much he can do.

DINO:

his jaw is dropping at how large the sum is. yeah, he's got that money, and he'll show you his bank account just to prove it. but he'll start listing out what everything is for. that sum's set aside for our house, that one's to send our kids to school - we never said how many we'd have but i set aside enough to four university tuitions, and- you'll cut him off cause he's going to make you cry with how thoughtful he is. scolds him for ruining your prank. prank? he's confused. what do you mean prank? he got so invested in telling you everything he's saved up for your shared future he kinda forgot the original question.

[rosenclaws]

obsessed with your ex || Worst!Logan Howlett smut

summary: In his world you were his wife and he loved you and then you died. In this world you're his girlfriend and he loves you. At least you think he does. Still you can't help the voice in the back of your head telling you that you're nothing but a sad replacement.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI!! 18+ ONLY. insecure + jealous!reader, a very very toxic mindset, the reader's mind is very mean to her, reader is a mutant that can make objects disappear, angst, happy ending, rough sex, riding, french kissing, oral (f!receiving), a slight breakdown, soft sex, missionary, Logan is kinda a softie, cockwarming, fingering.

wc: 2.5k

a/n: Okay so it's here!! I need to make this clear that the readers mindset is NOT healthy and that relationships need good communication. That being said here's my fic idea that I've been thinking about for a bit. I love Olivia Rodrigo sm (I even saw her in concert!!) and this song was just begging to be written into a fic. Anyways I really hope you like it and that it's not too insane lmao. Also i made the graphic but i kinda hate it but i dont wanna change it so here we are I know it's ugly but its FINE

How long have you been here? Staring. Observing every little thing about you. Your nose, your eyes, your lips, your hair, your chin. The way your arms fall by your sides. Every. Little. Detail.

Did she have the same colored eyes? Did she talk like you? Was she smart? Was she powerful? Did he look at her the same way? Did he fuck her like he fucks you?

You clench your fists as you stare angrily at the mirror. He loves you. He says he loves you and yet it feels like you can never compare to her. She was the love of his life. She was an X-Men. She died. She was you. You're his dead fucking wife in his universe while you were nothing to the Logan in this one. 

He looked at you like a kicked puppy that first day you met. A lost little pet that had been searching for its owner. Dragged through hell and back just to get to you. It was easy to fall for him. Handsome, a little rough around the edges. You hadn’t even been dating for that long but it didn’t matter right? He worshiped you. He loved you. He promised he loved you.

But sometimes in the back of your head you wonder if when he's kissing you, does he imagine her? Does he close his eyes while he's pounding into you and imagine it's her? How could you ever compete? She was perfect, she was kind, she was everything to him. Spiraling deeper and deeper into a whirlpool of doubt and envy. There's a heavy pounding on the door but you choose to ignore it. Too wrapped up in your twisted mind to care. 

"Sweetheart, let me in." Logan's gruff voice was slightly muffled by the door. 

You clench your jaw as you finally tear your eyes away from the mirror. You slam open the door taking Logan by surprise. His eyes scan yours for injury, a worried look in his face as he steps into the bathroom. 

"I got worried, you were in here a long time." His arms wrap around your waist. 

He's looking at you with pity. At least that's what your brain tells you. Was he worried that you were hurt because he loves you or because he was thinking of her death again? You know he still dreams of her. He can hide it when he's awake but the nightmares don't lie. It hurts so bad. Love me. Love me. You're jealous you know. She's dead, she's gone. So why can't he love you. You push him off and storm out the bathroom. Nothing makes sense anymore in your head. 

"What the fuck?" Logan follows you and you feel yourself tensing up. 

It's a miracle your powers haven't started to go haywire yet. So many different emotions swirl around in your head until it mixes together to form one single feeling.

Need.

You grab Logan's shirt and pull him into you. Smashing your lips onto his with a hunger that you've never felt before. Logan hisses as you bite his bottom lip harshly but you don't give him time to say anything as you slip your tongue into his mouth. He groans as he starts to take some control back. Hands slipping up your shirt and ripping to shreds with ease.

You pull back from his lips, chest heaving for air as you paw at his shirt. Silently demanding he take it off which he happily does. Your lips are back onto his in an instant. He slowly walks you back until you fall onto the bed. You fall onto the bed and lick your lips. The bugle in his pants is evident as you flick your hand and the belt disappears. 

"I liked that belt." You pay no mind to his comment as you unbutton his jeans and pull them down, leaving him in his boxers. 

"Easy there sweetheart," Logan pushes you back gently and crawls on top of you. Logan kisses down your chest, teasing each nipple with his tongue. 

"Let me take my time." He purrs.

His hands touch and squeeze your breasts roughly making you whine. You watch his arms move, god he's so hot. He's close to making you forget. He kisses down, down, all the way down. He sneaks out the tip of his claws to pop open the button of your pants and he yanks them down until they're all the way off.

"There she is, my perfect girl." His girl. That's right your his girl. No one else's.

Logan pulls your panties to the side as he situates himself between your legs. He stuffs his face without shame, licking hungrily and practically moaning at the taste. You arch your back as Logan devours you. Watching his back muscles move are mesmerizing. He's yours. He loves you. He promises he does.

You can't stop the thoughts that begin to invade you. Overwhelmed by pleasure from Logan and pain from the horrible ideas that pop into your head. Did he do this with her too? Did he worship her? Do you taste like her? Is that why he can't get enough? 

"Fuck!" You hiss as you sit up and tell Logan to stop. He does immediately, wondering what the hell is going on. 

"Can't fucking wait." You scratch down his chest with your nails. He groans and tries to crawl on top of you but you shake your head. 

"I'm going to ride you until you can't come anymore." You growl.

You bite his shoulder harshly making him hiss. It heals right up much to your dismay. How badly you wish you could mark him. You make his boxers disappear but before he can make a smart comment you sink down on him all the way. You whimper as you start to bounce on his cock. Loving how much he fills you.

You need to be fucked stupid. You're desperate for Logan to fuck every bad thought out of your head. To promise that he loves you so that you can believe him. You want to believe him. Please, you have to believe him. 

"Sweetheart." Logan's breath is labored as you relentlessly fuck yourself on his cock. You feel so damn good but fuck he can tell something is on your mind. 

"What do you need, let me help you." He sits up on his hands, placing one on your back as he tries to get you to slow down. His words make you want to scream. What do you need? You look at him and the only thing your rotten brain can tell you is that he is thinking of her. 

"I need you to fucking love me!" You yell.

The dam of built up feelings breaks down as tears pour out of your eyes. Ugly, horrible sobs that make your body shake. Logan watches with horror in his eyes as he stills your hips, using his strength to lift you off of him as you continue to cry. 

"I do love you." He says softly but you shake your head. 

"No!" You shout. You pound your fist against Logan's chest over and over again but he barely moves. 

"You love her! I know you do." Logan's heart breaks at the sound of your sobs. 

"I'm not your dead fucking wife Logan!" You should regret the words coming out of your mouth but you can't stop them. 

"You look at me and you see her. Like I'm just some fucking placeholder!" You let out an anguished scream as Logan captures your wrists in his hands. You know the stories. She was a hero, she was perfect in every single way. 

"How can I compete with, with her?" You say completely defeated.

Your head falls against his chest. There's a sense of relief that washes over you. Thoughts that have plagued you for months are finally out in the open. Yet the fear of what comes next overtakes any other feeling.

"Look at me." Logan tilts your head up but you push his hand away. 

"Sweetheart." He sighs and lets go of your face.

Logan's never been good at this. Talking. Being vulnerable. Then he lost everything and he hardened even more and he just. This was a new chance at life and even though it's hard he can't lose it all again. 

"I know you're not her. Of course I do." Logan presses his forehead against yours, trying to get you to look at him. 

"You loved her..." You croak out. 

"I did love her. She was my wife. But I love you too. In a different way." He's a different man. Having gone through tremendous loss. It shaped him into who he is now. 

"You're different people. Your powers act differently, you talk differently, you feel different. You are not a replacement." He says firmly. 

When you finally look at him he feels this horrible pit in his stomach. He wipes away your tears but doesn't make any other move. It's not the right time.

"Would you have even given me a second thought? If I didn't look like her?" You ask, that question has haunted you for a while now but you never asked, too afraid of the answer. Logan is silent, unsure of how to answer. 

"When I first saw you it was like a punch in the face." He starts. "For a moment I was 20 years in the past. Then I snapped out of it. You look like her, yes but you’re not her.” He gently traces a small scar on your jaw that you got when you were a child. 

“I’m not the same as your Logan right? He was a leader, a hero and I was an angry drunk murderer.” 

“I’m not gonna start listing all your fucking differences sweetheart, but I swear on my life that I love you for you.” He pulls you into a tight hug as you start to cry again. You cling onto him as tight as you can. The bad thoughts don’t just stop, even if you want them to but Logans whispering sweet words in your ear. Pushing out every bad thought for now.

“Logan,” You take a deep breath, letting Logan invade all your senses. Tobacco and whiskey. 

“I need you.” He’s hesitant, not sure if it’s the right time.

“Please, I just need you.”

“Okay sweetheart, you have me.” He slowly rolls you over and lays you on your back.

He captures your lips into a kiss. His hips rolling slowly making you moan softly. His lips drift from your lips to the corner of your mouth to your cheek, trailing down. Each one so gentle, so full of love.

“You have this spot, righttt here.” Logan nibbles on your neck and you gasp when bites right at this spot that drives you wild. You melt into the mattress as he kisses over it.

“Always makes you relax.” He crawls lower, kissing down your body. He sits up on his knees and grabs a pillow to place under your back.

“I know you like to be slightly elevated because it means I can go just a little deeper.” He purrs as he takes his cock in his hands and gently rubs the tip of it along your folds. He slides two fingers into your cunt slowly.

“Know that my fingers drive you absolutely wild, that you need me to go slow to start.” You nod absentmindedly.

You never realized he picked up on all these things. His fingers start to slide in smoother, your cunt getting wetter for him. He leans down and takes a deep breath, groaning at the scent. He slips them out and licks them clean.

“Relax sweetheart,” He spreads your thighs and slips in all the way. Going slow but unrelenting, stretching you just how you like.

“So impatient, you never let me take it easy on you right? Just wanna be full all the time.” He leans down on his elbows as he rolls his hips nice and slow.

There will be no rough sex this time, this is about love. To show you that he truly does love you for you.

“Look at me,” He tilts your head so that your eyes meet. He smiles at the desperate look on your face.

“You can pretend it makes you all embarrassed, but I know you like eye contact.” He hums as he angles his hips so that he hits that perfect spot.

You jolt as pleasure rocks through your whole body but he keeps you under him. He’s slowly and methodically tearing you apart. Every touch, every word out of his mouth just makes it better. He knows. Of course he does.

“I love you Logan.” Your hands cup his face as you stare into his hazel eyes.

This time not filled with lust, but with a true deep love. He looks at you like you’re everything.

“I love you too.” He kisses you as he starts to pick up the pace of his thrusts. He smirks as he feels you start to squirm under him. You could never help it when you were close.

“Come on sweetheart, just let go.” He whispers in your ear.

His deep voice paired with the unrelenting feeling of his cock is all it takes. He holds you in his firm arms as a warm and wonderful tingling sensation runs through your whole body. A blissful smile on your face as you tilt your head back.

You feel your whole body relax as your mind calms. Logan tries to hide his growls as he fucks into you a little faster, until he’s coming hard and deep inside of you. He sighs in contentment as he stays inside of you. He taps your cheek lightly and you look up at him.

“I love you. No one else. Just you.” He moves to pull out but you whine. You need to be close to him right now. He chuckles as he slowly moves to your side. Spooning you tightly with his cock still deep inside of you.

“Can we talk?” You ask shyly.

“About what?” Logan grunts as he pulls you as close as he can get you.

“Anything?” He’s not much of a talker so he asks the questions instead.

How did you discover your powers? How did you meet wade? Just anything and everything and you tell him.

You talk for who knows how long. Staying wrapped in each other's arms. It helps, it really does. Logan listens, he really does listen. He wants to get to know you. He loves you. You rest your head on his chest, tracing shapes into his palm as you talk.

For the first time in a while your mind seems to settle. Ignoring any thought that may try and ruin your mood. It’s just you and him right now. There’s no looming figure of your alternate selves, not anymore.

Just you and Logan. Forever.

[tsuutarr]

You don't know when it started, but you've been finding letters hidden throughout your house. At first, you just assume that they're leftover letters from a past tenant – cute, sweet love letters. You don't mean to, but you end up reading them whenever you find them, heart fuzzy from how cute the letters are.

“I’ve been watching you for some time. I think you’re cute.”

“I love you so much, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“I wish that you could see me like I see you.”

The love letters you find are filled to the brim with the writer’s affection. You can only hope someone will love you that much.

But, at some point, the letters you read start to feel a little… off. At first, they seemed like letters that simply waxed poetic about some unidentified person – someone you don’t know at all. However, the more letters you find, the more the letters feel like they’re being written about you.

Letters begin to describe your appearance in great detail, commenting on how beautiful your eyes and hair are. Then, the letters begin to describe your hobbies and personality, even the sides you keep hidden from the public eye. The final nail on the coffin is when these letters begin to describe, in detail, your day-to-day activities, from when you eat to when you shower to when you leave the house.

The worst part is that nothing really seems amiss – you don’t see any hidden cameras and you don’t notice anyone following you. Hell, you installed some security cameras, only to come up completely empty. It’s honestly driving you completely insane.

But don’t worry – you’ll soon see who your secret admirer is. Yes, indeed, just give your ghost roommate a little more time and he’ll be able to make himself visible to you.

And when he does, there’ll be no escape.

Maybe there never was one in the first place.

[aihoshiino]

chapter 165 thoughts

Aqua Hoshigan Status: It's Officially Hoshinover

Chapters Until The Story Ends Without The 143 Kiss Being Addressed Or Acknowledged: 1

damn i guess they really did just kill his ass

I'm gonna be so real with you gamers, I kind of don't have a lot to say about this one either lol. Which I acknowledge sounds completely wild given the Everything that happens in it, but most of my meat and potatoes analysis in these reviews comes from breaking down characterization and we're flying through everything at such breakneck pace that we're barely getting any characterization.

It continues to drive me bugfuck insane that Ai is completely absent from this finale despite the importance of 15 Year Lie. Its imagery is plastered all over but whenever we return to it, we just see Aqua. Not only that, but Gotanda is the one who insists on pushing the movie through for Aqua. 15YL as a story about Ai's true self and her tragedy is now officially taking a backseat to being about Aqua's tragic death and legacy. It was already bad enough that we spent so much time in the Movie Arc not actually focusing on Ai to the extent that, as everyone pointed out, based on what we saw on-page it was basically a Sad Kamiki Movie, but this really is just pissing right in the wound at this point lmao.

The funeral scene also serves as the final nail in the coffin for any Secretly Alive Aqua copes, which is kind of a relief. I still don't like how Aqua's death played out, but I think dragging it out for four chapters then going "sorry you thought i was /srs when i was just /jk" would have been infinitely more insulting. I don't like this ending, but I can respect that Akasaka seems to be sticking to his guns on it, even if we still do have like a whole chapter left for him to whip around and go "I WAS /JK ALL ALONG!!!!" but I don't see it happening.

Anyway, yeah! The funeral! Uh. Is it gonna sound weird if I say I felt kind of like… grossed out reading this the first time? Like, I really don't know how else to explain the visceral "why the fuck is the author making me read this" reaction I had to it. I think it's just because Kana is so fucking distraught here and the drama is just so hammy and so over the top that it feels kind of… ech. I dunno. I just really didn't vibe.

It doesn't help that this is part of a much broader pattern in the back half of OnK of Aka getting us right up close into the gory details of a character's complete mental breakdown and suffering and then spend zero time or focus on their recovery. This happened with Ruby all over the Movie Arc and this many times and with this little runway to the end of the series, it just starts to feel exploitative, like a way to cheaply pull at our heartstrings without doing the work to build everyone back up after tearing them down.

also pre-emptively dreading all the fuel this is going to add to the fires of People Who Are Weird And Misogynistic About Kana but she could die saving innocent children from a burning building and people would find reasons to be shitty about her lmao

we really are not seeing ruby's reaction to finding out her brother was dead huh lol

I will say the one thing I didn't Actively Dislike about this chapter was Ruby, though. I was honestly starting to get pretty skeeved out with how many people were gleefully predicting or actively wishing for her immediate suicide purely for ship motivated reasons and I was also worrying that the story was going to pretend that Ruby doesn't like. Have a life and support system outside of Aqua. Yes, she should absolutely be affected by his death but this period of her shutting down only to drag herself back onto her feet that we seem to be getting feels way more in line with pre-Movie Arc flanderization Ruby and I'll take that W where I can get it.

god. I haven't even talked about Kamiki's supposed serial killer cult. I just don't have the strength. Like… that's self-evidently stupid, right? I don't need to explain to you why that's ridiculous and unbelievable? You don't need me to tell you why it's fucking crazy that we're getting this information about the alleged overarching antagonist of the series not only in the second-to-last chapter of the entire series but after he was already dead, right? We can just move on? Ok good. jesus christ.

FINAL CHAPTER NEXT WEEK…

[llamagoddessofficial]

Mrs. Llama, i wish for some wisdom and advice on writing scenes and dialogue.

When i read your fanfics my mind is just like... woah... how does she do that... I love the way you describe every little thing in your fics, nothing ever misses your eye and i'm like wondering how you've done it?

Sometimes the way your write ties exactly into what you want to convey, the emotion, the setting, if the person we're reading this through is focusing or not... I'm starting to write my own fics but I don't know if my writing is descriptive enough

Like there's something there that could be added, but it feels like i already added that line, what more could i add to it really?

First of all, thank you so much, I really appreciate the kind words. Sometimes I worry that I over-describe and I try really hard to make it seem natural. Hearing that makes me feel a lot better!

Generally, with descriptions, I try to imagine that I'm actually in the place. I know that sounds like an obvious step, but it's actually not at all - really try it. Close your eyes and picture yourself entering the room you want to describe. What are the first things your eyes are drawn to? Then the second, and the third? You'll probably notice the largest furniture/big objects first. Then perhaps the colour of the room. Then you might notice the carpet, the smaller furniture and any decorations. Try to think about what the character would see; does your character love plants? They might spot the plants first. Are they really tall? They might see the lighting fixture first since that's at their eye level. Don't forget your other senses - does your character hate the way the room smells?

I would also say that it's good to trust your reader. You'd be shocked how little you can get away with describing. If someone's reading your stuff, that generally means they have an active imagination, and they're excited to picture what you're offering. You don't need every little detail (unless of course you WANT every detail).

At the end of the day, the best way to get better at writing is to do a lot of writing. And how do you do that? Write the stuff you're absolutely feral about. No one's looking!!! Get a word doc or google doc and write about your blorbos until your eyes cannot physically stay open!!!! Write the stuff you're desperately passionate about, the stuff that makes you explode with excitement!!!!! Being fucking insane about something is a power absolutely none can parallel.

Write whatever the hell you want. It doesn't matter if someone else has written it before - no one has written it like you. Write what you want and the rest will follow!

[luveline]

jadey - HONEY - listenlistenlisten, so I feel like you said you'd write for hopper?? but if not (because he's not on the official list) please ignore this request! BUT would you be able to write something about hopper visiting reader in the hospital after she was almost posessed by vecna?? whether this is still early stages of relationship or already established, you pick, gorgeous!! (also ik this means no hopper/joyce but personally I prefer hopper/me??) xoxoxo BIG SMOOCHES

ty for your request, love u! ♡

Nobody would ever believe you, but you know it's Hopper from the smell. You've missed him for months, and though the scent of him wore away from his sweatshirt before you thought you had time to memorise it, you know without opening your eyes that it's him sitting beside you. 

Your heart monitor beeps loud and erratic. 

"Don't," he says quietly. "Don't freak out." 

It won't listen to him, how could it? Not even the oily fog of painkillers can dull the reality of him being here, right here, this close. 

"You're supposed to be dead," you croak, peeling your eyes open achingly slowly. 

"Aren't you a little old for teen angst?" he asks. 

He's real. He's real, you're exhausted, you almost died, but he's alive. Tears well in your eyes of their own accord, not a lick of choice in it as Hopper takes your arm into his hand. 

"You look sick," you say tearily. 

"Nice. You look worse."  

"Where's your," —you gesture to his body— "everything?" 

He's lost a dramatic amount of weight, hollows sunk under his eyes. He grins despite your insult and leans back in his chair, hand sliding down toward yours, fingers pushing between your knuckles to twine them together firmly. "Russian weight loss program. Like it?" 

You're honestly not sure. Maybe when the shock has worn off you'll feel strongly either way, but right now it's his obvious alive-ness that takes centre focus. 

"I missed you," you say. You've not even a syllable into 'missed' when your voice disappears, the agony of your admission knocking the air from your lungs in one callous blow. "I missed you so much." 

He squeezes your hand. "I know. I'm sorry." 

You start to sit. Hopper stands and slips his hands behind your shoulders, helping you up with a tenderness you've dreamt about every night since he disappeared. There was no time to define what you were to one another, all these months you've been grieving a maybe, but you know the connection you had was more than real when he reaches down the millisecond you reach up. His lips smashed to your forehead and his big hands spread and searching like he's trying to stop you from falling away from him, you splutter as the air is knocked from your chest again. 

"Sorry I wasn't here to look after you," he says.

He hugs you for so long you figure you must be dreaming. There's a familiarity to his embrace even if the feel of him has changed, security with a little less padding. "What happened to you?" you ask hesitantly. 

"What happened to me? You just had something– someone in your head. You almost broke your neck, you could've died." 

"I'm lucky. I am. It could've been worse." It was worse for others. Your voice wobbles embarrassingly. It doesn't put Hopper off. You used to worry that being younger than him would make you too different; you aren't a kid but you haven't lived a life as agonisingly detailed as he has. You're scared there won't be room in his head for your weight, too, but there always is. "You're back," you say, relieved.

"I'm back." 

You breathe out. 

"Let me see you," he demands, drawing away to check you over. 

Your skin is clammy and has been for days, you weren't sleeping —sleeping meant dreaming. Hearing the toll. You've chased sleep with coffee and caffeine pills and bad TV, each day going a little more insane with wanting Hopper back. There were moments when you knew for sure he was dead, and moments you hated yourself for entertaining the idea. Whatever you deserved, he's here, wiping your sleep crusted eyes with a careful thumb. 

"Well, you're still a sight for sore eyes." 

"Yeah?" you ask, laughing until you cough. "I look good in the gown, right?" 

"Better out of it," he suggests, kissing the top of your head. He lingers there too long. You can read his mind for that single moment. 

He's not happy with himself for letting you face it alone. Which begs the question. What kept him away?

"Hop, where have you been?" you ask gently. 

"I'll tell you everything after you eat something." 

"Me?" 

"I almost forgot how rude you are," he says, rubbing your cheek fondly. "Shit. Like I could forget a thing about you." 

You take his hand from your face to clear a path. "That's romantic. Hit your head while you were gone?" He nods, hangs his head, lets you cover the back of it with your hands. You pull him forward, searching for hair he doesn't have. "What did they do to you?" you murmur sadly. 

"Don't say that. The neck up is as good as it gets." 

"I don't believe that for a second," you say, though you worry about what he means. "You better go find me something to eat. I want to know everything that's happened." 

"Got a waiting room full of people who aren't gonna like that," he says, lifting his head.

"I really, truly don't care," you say, still so softly. "I've been waiting to see you again for a long time. They can… they can walk a mile in my shoes." 

"Whatever you want." Hopper clasps your elbow. "Anything you want." 

[erinwantstowrite]

Let me just quickly say, cross-overs can sometimes get REALLY difficult to map out and write in a cohesive way but you have absolutely NAILED IT!! I absolutely ADORE LoF!!! I usually don’t even bother reading fics with the ‘Richard Grayson is Richard Parker’ premise cause I felt like they were super confusing and overcomplicated but this fic?? SUPERB. ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE. OH MY GOD I ADORE IT. Everyone’s characterizations are so nice and wonderful aaaaaaah!!!! <33333

Ok ok I did actually have a question as well: would you be willing to share what your writing process looks like in terms of a chapter you’ve already posted? I was just wondering since I’m also currently working on my own fic (it’s been a few years but I managed to get fixated on an idea and it grew legs lol) and I’m currently fighting the organization of it haha.

How do you keep track of the plot points and/or foreshadowing you want to get a ‘lightbulb!’ moment for later? Do you have any tips?

Thank you so much! I absolutely adore your writing AND your art is so gorgeous omg it adds so much to the incredible story :DDD I hope you have a good day!!

I have a secret: I actually didn't like "Richard Grayson is Richard Parker' tag for a while for the same reason. Sometimes they felt like they missed the mark or it's just. A thing that's there? I almost didn't include it for LoF, but I'm glad I did because it changed the direction in such a big way.

Another secret: this made me incredibly happy because I have read so many wikis and scoured the internet to make sure that I had enough info on both fandoms so LoF could make sense to anyone who's reading it, whether they know Spider-Man, Batfam, or neither at all. Sometimes I worry a lot before I post that I'll miss a mark and will confuse people.

As for the question: I definitely am willing to share what my writing process looks like!

Be prepared for under the cut, I love to yap. It's in my blood to yap. And that's why it took a minute to get to this ask haha

(Spoilers for Leap of Faith!! Everything mentioned has already been published ((Chapters 1-11))

I had to go and find out which chapter I wanted to use as an example and I think we're gonna go with Chapter 5 for the most part :)

My writing process is, as described by alighterwood:

I think the description fits because while I'm all over the place, I have to be very detail oriented and I store everything in one spot.

Starting with the overall process, what I find is most helpful for me, when organizing, is having a notebook rather than doing it all digitally. I've been using a 70 sheet notebook that I had lying around waiting to be used, and as of yesterday, I officially filled the entire thing front to back. It's been an incredible help, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because it's a lot easier to remember something I physically wrote down than it is to remember something I typed. I'm now on to my second notebook for LoF, and I might even have to get a third.

In another ask, startupkat asked me this:

And I shared a little about my outline process there, but I'll try to go into a little more depth here. Emphasis on little because this is so long.

I write a truly insane amount of outlines in this notebook.

This is just what I can show you, but a good chunk of the notebook is just outlines. Over and over and over again. That's because they're always changing/adapting based on so many different factors. Sometimes I get to a chapter I thought I had fully planned out and then realize it just doesn't work anymore. Other times, I get to the chapter and realize I don't want to write that anymore/isn't as interesting as I thought it would be. A few times I got halfway through a POV of a scene I was struggling on and decided to switch POV's, which will change up the outline for a chapter every now and then.

Which is why I don't write incredibly detailed outlines and try to keep it vague until I actually get to that chapter. It's a lot less daunting to rewrite a chapter outline than it is to rewrite the entire outline.

Fic outlines and Chapter outlines look a lot alike.

This is what I said in the other ask, but I didn't elaborate on it all the way.

I make a list just like that, and then I try to put it in chronological order/in an order that makes sense. I keep the Fic outline vague by writing down "Goals" for a chapter rather than scenes. But I also keep notes to myself if I really think something is important. The more important I think a scene needs to be, the more details I write down to make sure my future self recalls what I had in mind when I thought it up.

Really simple example:

Chap 1 Goal: Peter gets to Gotham and meets Babs while running around. Meet Nightwing too? Get shelter.

Chapter 2 Goal: Bats are like "???" about Peter. Batfam dynamic important... Peter stalking Batfam back? Peter meet Batman >:)

When I get to a chapter, that's when I make a far more detailed list of wants/needs/goals. It's the Step 2 from the Step 1. Here are some examples from Chapter 5:

Needed to have:

More POV's from universe 1299 (Peter's home universe)

Tony's POV more specifically, how he's doing/feeling, what he's figured out

What they've figured out on 1299 side vs what's going on in 1300 (Gotham)

Explaining more about Peter's trauma/his past

Dick learning more about Peter, and vise versa

Wanted to have:

Ned being a more central character

Natasha :)

Loki being a little shit

Tony and Cap bickering

Peter talking to Nightwing again

The last name Grayson

Gymnastics!!

(This is the shortened list, because the chapters are so long)

When I looked at this list before writing my outline, I had to figure out how I could incorporate everything. If I needed more 1299 POV's, and I wanted Ned, Natasha, and Loki, there's one scene accounted for. I had to get their side of things and wanted that trio together. I needed a Tony POV, and I wanted Tony and Cap bickering, so those went together, plus I got 1299's POV of Ohnn and his plans explained.

I needed to have Peter explaining more about his trauma, and Dick and Peter to talk/get closer. I wanted a Nightwing POV, to have Peter say his last name, and them doing gymnastics. I knew Peter wouldn't willingly talk about that, so I had him have a nightmare. Not only did it give readers perspective but it made Peter more susceptible to talking to Nightwing because he was more emotionally vulnerable/lonely, and that's how that scene came together.

That's when I would write down the chronological order of these events by writing out "Scene Blocks." (This is what I wrote down but my handwriting was so bad I can't subject y'all to it):

scene 1- Ned talking to Loki. Natasha should be nearby and observing Loki's behavior. They are not on friendly terms. Ned is more worried about Peter than he is as to what Loki could be up to, so Natasha takes on that role.

scene 2- Tony is freaking out about Peter being in an alt dimension. He should attack Ohnn when he's not prepared for it. Beat his ass? Beat his ass. Cap there too.

scene 3- Peter's nightmare. "Ben, where do you go when you die?" "Where do you think?" "With you. Where you went."

scene 4- Nightwing and Peter.

Of course, things come to attention when writing. Like originally, Tony and Cap were arguing in the Tower. But it was a little too much like his and Natasha's argument, and I kept in mind that Tony is smart. Sometimes I forget that the characters are smarter than I am, so I have to account for what they would figure out. So Tony would have picked up the puzzle pieces and come to more conclusions than I originally thought about, and I figured he'd be way more proactive about it than just. Being in the Tower and waiting.

Which means that that scene ended up being as listed above: having a squabble with Cap, learning more about Peter's dynamic with the Avengers in this universe, and seeing how Tony is reacting to it by throwing himself head first into trying to capture Ohnn.

I'll realize I need something else to be mentioned or put in and I'll have to shimmy things around, but that's basically how it goes.

As for other forms of organization:

Keeping a timeline is so important because it tells you a lot about the environment your characters are in. It's also important to remember what a character has on them, what money they've spent, who they've met/who you have mentioned, every alias that is being used, to read your work and write down edits you want to make before you make them, to write down ideas beforehand of situations you can use, and, most importantly: MAKE A MAP!! This has saved me so many times. Sometimes your brain WILL trick you or make it harder on you to envision a scene. Make a map of where your characters are physically!! It will save you too!!

As for foreshadowing and plot points, I'll let you in on yet another secret:

Your subconscious is doing a lot more than you think it is.

Sometimes when I foreshadow something, I didn't even know I was until I got to it. I very often go back to read chapters that came before this to see what I've mentioned and what I haven't, and when I do, I'll see something and go "I have to bring this back" or "I almost forgot about that!"

Other times, I am very aware of what I'm foreshadowing, and that's because I follow a mystery plot formula. You have to keep in mind everyone's intentions, all the time. How are they feeling? What are their motivations? And: what are they doing right now, while this character is doing this?

Like Beck and Ohnn. From the very beginning, I knew I had to make sure that it was obvious Ohnn wasn't working alone. From there, I had to weave through the story and slowly build him up as someone who's working behind the scenes. Even from Ned's first POV, I made sure to mention that this person knows Tony and is tech savvy.

My biggest tip is to make sure you reread your work or at least skip through it, because sometimes you don't even know that you placed something there.

And sometimes, it's very purposeful. :)

I hope this helped! I really tried to keep it short but I am insane and the process is sooooo long. It sounds complicated but it really is simple when you're actually doing it I swear

[istharoth]

In love with a 2-D Character?! Hotarubi Edition!

Blurb: In which you are a character in a popular game the Tokyo debunker boys are coincidentally in love with.

↪ Subaru Kagami

Another one on the list "does not play games".

But he does! This game in particular catches his eye because everyone has been playing it.

He does not have the idea of choosing a character at the beginning, it's too stressful and what if he likes some other characters?

He's going into this knowing it's an otome game (it's not but characters have the power to ignore it. *cough Haku cough*) and poor guy is just worried if he'll lose a route if he chooses a character.

If he's starting the story + if it has routes, he needs to see all the routes.

Chooses you because you're so...he can't put it into words. You're suspicious but you're also very comforting in a way.

Is financially responsible. Does not feel the need to gamble.

"Oh no, I didn't get the character." *2 seconds later* "It's okay, I'll get them on their rerun."

F2P throughout!!!

Apologizes when his character apologizes too, he feels so bad for them but then him and his favourite character are seen together so little, it's kind of sad :(

He wants to see more of you! But the game said no so he turns to the next best thing.

Fanfiction. Writes only for your character alone, has done numerous character studies, directed your personality, even going as far as to find tidbits your voice actors may have left for you

He's a chill player, does not worry much but does very a lot in the story if he's about to die.

No, he's not used to almost dying in every chapter.

↪ Haku Kusanagi

Where do I begin...?

THIS MAN FLIRTS WITH YOU

you're a character on his screen, he's a human who flirts with you after you say your automated line.

Is a bit nsfw but he means well

Commissions? Art commissions?

He's the king of yume.

Has his own fanpage dedicated to you but no one knows it's him because yeah, how will they know?

You know those "Timely Character" accounts? Yeah, he has that.

+ another one to defend you from any haters.

SPEAKING OF SELF-SHIPPING/YUME, he has likely commissioned every artist he knows + likes the art of to draw him (not his OC) and you together.

Will also get into drawing because 1) he wants to make fanart for Subaru's fics. 2) he wants to draw you.

Merch? Babe he's the creator of merch.

You know that one Hatsume Miku deodorant being sold at a Comicon? Yeah, he's going to do that but with you instead.

Jewellery inspired after you? oh absolutely. Body pillow of you? No. Plushie he made after you? Oh hell yes.

He's a keeper, but he pulls on every character. Has insane luck + cracked builds.

Claims he doesn't know how to build anyone except you (but he does)

↪ Zenji Kotodama

Can he hold a phone...? Does it go through him or isahukvas anyways!

First and foremost, he writes bloody good flowery fanfiction.

He chooses not you, but his brother's favourite character! Eventually meets you in Chapter 5?

BAWLS HIS EYES OUT AFTER KNOWING YOUR FATE

you were so young :( how could the clash cut your life short?

Is your biggest fan ever, only pulls on your banners and if he doesn't get you, he's discreetly using Darkwick's money to pull on your banner.

Don't ask me how he got the card details, he's a ghost, he can get places.

You're on his home screen and because he doesn't need sleep, he's constantly hearing your voice lines in game

Eventually, the biwa in Hotarubi was accompanied by the voice of a character.

LIKE, KEYCHAINS!!! Biggest fan of Keychains, will hold them around everywhere displaying them to the world. He's your biggest fan!!

and if someone else claims that title, he's fine with it! More people love you right!! That's all he cares for.

Prev [Sinostra] Next: [Obscuary]

[skelly-words]

hiii , if i can ask for like mammon and mc sitting in his room and he tried to "do it" with her a lot of times but she just stop him , one day he get a little mad so asked for asmo help , so asmo asked mc what was the reason and she told him that she feel insecure abt her body , he conferm her، and when asmo tell mammon abt it he go to her and make her love her body on his way

thanks if u accept it and if not have a good day<333333

(NSFW Mammon x Reader)

18+ no minors allowed!

Hiiiii anon, thanks for the ask. hope this is what you were looking for. This was proofread by Grammarly and that's it so I apologize in advance for mistakes.

No use of Y/N. There are no pronouns used (I think) but the reader is pretty feminine (wears a skirt, pretty girl is used once or twice, has a pussy.)

Tags: serviceswitch!mammon o7, very vanilla, light fluff, praise, cunnilingus, cumming untouched, very light angst, hair pulling, language, spit kink? lemme know if I missed anything

Synopsis: see ask above. Mammon eats you out.

Wc: 3.7k

You and Asmo love to gossip. Every week or so you get together, shopping and pampering yourselves and spilling every detail of your personal lives. You're ending the relaxing afternoon with bottomless mimosas at Hell’s Kitchen’s Sunday brunch, talking way too loudly about everybody’s business. It’s so easy to forget about the world and vent when the waiter fills up your champagne glass and Asmo smiles so encouragingly at every word you say. Though, today it seems like Asmodeus has an agenda. He keeps steering the conversation towards you and Mammon’s budding relationship, which is exactly the topic you want to avoid. 

“At least tell me if he's a decent lay” Asmo whines. “If not I have a 50-slide presentation I can send you to give him a crash course in pussy.”

“That sounds more like a master’s program. Besides, I wouldn't know.” You mumble the last part around the rim of the champagne glass as you down the drink, and Asmo signals at a waitress to bring you a refill. 

“What?” Asmo really tries to sell his shock here. He feels bad lying to you, but it's not often he has Mammon begging for a favor. “No way, are you losing interest?”

You shake your head quickly. “No.”

“Are you a virgin? Is it too much pressure?” With every question he scoots a little closer to you in the booth, so you only need to whisper an answer. 

“Nothing like that. I've been with a couple of people before, and Mammon is really sweet. He barely even mentions sex at all anymore. I think he might even be scared to kiss me. I'm more worried about him losing interest if I don't put out.”

“You don't have to worry about that. He's insane about you.” Asmo scoffs. “Like he-should-be-institutionalized insane.”

You laugh at Asmo and shove his arm off of where it loops over your shoulder. 

“No, I'm serious,” he continues. “I want to sedate him before even mentioning you. I think he'd rename important landmarks after you if he could. Whenever his mouth opens, there's a 96% chance he's gonna bring you up. You get it?”

“Thanks, I get it,” you murmur softly. Tears threaten to fall as your vision blurs a little and you blame the four mimosas and the fifth one the waitress sets in front of you. “Now I feel guilty. He's too sweet for me.”

“No, hun. That's not what I meant.” Asmo pulls you into a hug. A real one that he doesn't let you shrug off. “What I'm saying is that you can talk to him about whatever you want and I'm sure he’ll understand or at least help you work through it.”

His hug is warm and soothing, arms holding you close and tight without feeling suffocating. 

“You're the best, Asmo,” The words are a little slurred and shaky, but it’s easy to get emotional when you’re buzzed and Asmo is being so sweet. “I don’t know. It has nothing to do with Mammon. It’s just, I’ve never had great self-esteem, so physical intimacy can be a little hard. I mean, there's plenty of things for me to be insecure about, and I'm aware of every single one of them, so when I see how pretty and perfect Mammon is-”

“Gross.” He cuts you off at the perfect time, right before your sappy rambling. He makes a retching sound and reaches for his drink to wash away that sourness. 

You glare up at him. “That's my boyfriend you're gagging at, asshole.”

“Yeah. You sure know how to pick ‘em.” His nose scrunches up, and you're half-sure it’s involuntary. 

“Yeah.” You sigh dreamily and continue. “I just don't know how to bring a mood-killer like that up.”

“Want me to tell him for you?”

You think about it for a moment. “I feel like I should stop being a little bitch and just rip off the band-aid.”

“Okay, you could, but you haven't.”

“I think talking it out with you will make it easier though. I'm gonna talk to him as soon as we get home.”

“Promise? Cause I'm sick of him bitching about how you don't love him anymore.”

You smile and nod and pretend the confidence is from more than the alcohol. “I promise.”

***

Mammon’s been waiting for Asmo to text him all day, nervously pacing or playing with random things in his room to occupy the time. He’s flipping through an old copy of a magazine he modeled for when his phone buzzes with Asmo’s custom ringtone, quickly followed by yours. He snatches the phone off the bed and flops down between the pillows. He reads the text from Asmo first.

Asmo: So so, sorry, but I can’t spill ): We’ll be home in like 20 minutes

“Ugh.” Mammon glares at the ceiling. He was sure Asmo would come through. Especially after loaning you two Lucifer’s stolen his credit card for the day out. 

Mammon opened your messages next.

<3: We’ll be back in a little bit.

<3: If you’re not busy, let’s hang out. Love ya

Mammon: I’m never too busy for you, chillin' in my room

<3: Good answer

The next twenty minutes are spent trying to figure out how to dress. Mammon tries to master the look of lazily lounging around the house without looking suspiciously slutty. The final decision was a black wife beater and basketball shorts. He even experimentally smudges his eyeliner to make it look a little slept-in. He carefully uses the remaining time to switch out accessories and pose around his room in an attempt to see “where he looks the hottest.” In the end, his efforts are futile and he doesn’t notice you come in, too busy changing out his earrings.

“Hey.” You tap him on the shoulder, hesitantly, not wanting to scare him. 

“Oh, hey, hi.” He turns around, lips pressed into a smile that looks a little too tight for his face. “So how was your day with, um, Asmo?”

“Nice.” Now that the mimosas had worn off and Asmodeus wasn’t around to keep you confident, the impending conversation was starting to make you nervous. 

“Just nice?” Mammon asked with a tilt of his head. “What can I do to make your day better, babe?” He gently cups your face, becoming acutely aware of the sweat on his palms, and the breakfast on his breath when he kisses you.

You kick yourself for how quickly you break the kiss to murmur against his lips, “I’ve been lying to you. Well, only by omission, but still. Can we talk?”

Your hands hold each other to stay steady. Realistically, there’s nothing to be nervous about. You’ve blown this whole thing out of proportion, but it’s not like insecurities follow basic logic. 

“Yea, ‘f course.” His hands trail down your sides. 

You don’t notice the sweat, more the warmth as he thumbs over each of your ribs.

“Just talk to me, angel.”

And you hate that it sounds like he’s begging. Like he wants you to dump your baggage on him. Especially, when it should be so easy for you to just get over it on your own.

“I don't think I'm hot enough for you.” It comes out messy and unarticulated.

“What? That’s ins-”

You don’t let him finish, cutting his rebuttal off with the more rehearsed version of what you said. “I mean, whenever I go to see you at your photoshoots, you look so good with those other models. You're surrounded by all these perfect men and women who you'd look great with, so great that it's literally on the cover of a magazine, and I can't compete with that. And it's not like this hasn't happened before. I've never been the first choice, just someone to settle for or a rebound, y’know?”

“Not really.” He scratches the back of his neck, realizing how clammy his hands have become and how uninspiring that answer is. “But, well, that's because I've never felt that way about you. There’s no need to compete with anybody, baby. You're everything to me. I don't even notice other people when you're around or when I'm thinking about you, which is always. And I can't make up for shitty past relationships, but I hope you know I'm better than that.”

“Thank you, and I wanted to apologize. That’s why I’ve been avoiding being physical with you, but that seems kinda dumb now. So, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. And I'm a little insulted that you'd compare me to your past partners. I'm The Great Mammon, not some idiot human boy with no brain. I can't even comprehend why you'd jump to that. I'm appalled, disgusted even, livi-”

You cut him off with a kiss. Smiling into the lines of his lips as he struggles to keep up. 

He breaks the kiss to keep talking. “And I'm not just saying all this ‘cause I wanna have sex with you. Not that I don't want to do that. I just don't want you thinki-”

“Shut the fuck up, Mammon.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His hands find your waist again to pull you towards him. 

The way you kiss is slow and natural. A welcome change to the stiff distance you’d previously been putting between your bodies. His hands wander and guide you closer. It takes a moment for you to reciprocate, too distracted by the simple comfort of his touch.

You rest your arms on his shoulders, lazily lifting a hand to play with the fine hairs on the nape of his neck. As your fingers tangle higher up on his head, you tug gently to pull him away. It’s nice just to look into his eyes for a second. The dark blue near the center of his iris almost blends with his blown pupils. You find it impossible to pick a favorite shade of blue when his kaleidoscope gaze stares so intensely back at you. 

“It’s you who’s too pretty for me.” Mammon doesn’t even try to kiss you, just looking at you, flicking his eyes up and down your face. His thumbs barely dip under your shirt and skim the skin of your stomach, memorizing it in the pads of his fingers. 

“Stop it.” You take a small, nearly involuntary, step backward. 

He follows you, pushes you until the back of your knees hits the edge of the bed. 

“No. You gonna let me see all of your pretty self?” He asks. “Take it off.”

Mammon gently stretches the fabric of your shirt away from your body, waiting patiently for you to comply. 

You nod. Your eyes slip shut as you peel the top off, and you don’t bother opening them to see his reaction. You just wait for him to say something, to touch you, or to give you any indication of disgust and rejection.

He holds you gently by the side of your neck, lifting your chin with the pads of his thumbs.

“Can you look at me, sunshine?” 

It takes a moment for you to make eye contact with him. You’re not expecting him to be disgusted or reject you, but that doesn’t stop you from being nervous or unsure. He smiles when you finally meet his eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything right now. It’s your call, always, okay?”

“Okay, but I do want you right now. ‘M just a little nervous.” Your hands need something to do, so they go back to threading through his hair. You thank Jesus that Mammon takes that as a cue to kiss. His hands smooth down to your shoulders, never breaking away from your skin. 

The kiss is too long and too deep, not parting until you’re roughly panting into each other’s mouths. You sit on the bed and Mammon pushes you down onto the mattress, waiting for you to tell him to stop.

“Don't just stare, weirdo.”

He chuckles, and you can feel it on your face.

“Sorry. I just can’t believe you’re real, and really with me.” His admission comes with a blush smeared across his face. It’s hard for him to continue the eye contact after that. Mammon buries his face in the crook of your neck as he laughs again. “You’re just here, and I love you so much.”

Your fingers are less rough in his hair, gentle and soothing. His arms dip behind your back to hug you, keeping your bodies pressed together for a minute or five. Until he’s sure you’re not leaving. When he finally moves, it’s to unhook and remove your bra, but then he’s back to hugging you again. This time, kissing between your breasts, he doesn’t know why you’d ever keep this from him. His hands don't stay in one place for long, wanting to feel every inch of the body that you've been hiding. 

“You know what pisses me off the most?” Mammon lifts his head to look up at you. Saliva coats his mouth, your skin, and connects the two with lust and heat. 

You don't answer, half-scared he's changed his mind. 

“I hate knowing that someone else has seen you like this before me. I wish I was your first everything.” His mouth is smothering yours again like he wants the feeling of his lips to stay there even after you’ve parted. From your mouth, he drags light kisses down your jaw and to your neck. He keeps you so close that, even though he can't see it, he can feel the flush coming off of you. 

“You won't hide from me anymore, right?” His kisses begin at the junction of your shoulder but quickly drop lower, down your chest, tummy, thighs, winding a clear path down your torso.

“Hey.” Mammon stops and the fuzziness dissolves. Your attention easily snaps back to him, where he kneels on the floor, hair sticking out where you’d tugged it out of place. “When I ask you questions, fucking answer me.”

You swallow thickly and nod, unsure of what would come out if you opened your mouth. 

“Words, babe. You won’t hide from me anymore?” Though it’s a statement, he’s still asking. The skin of your thighs is worried between his teeth as he waits for an answer. 

“I wo-” You cut yourself off, inhaling sharply when his teeth dig in too hard. He soothes that spot with his tongue, making you moan into the back of your hand. 

“Close enough,” he murmurs.

He inches the hem of your skirt up as his lips climb back up your skin. 

You scoot up the bed when his mouth lands on the crotch of your panties next. He chases you, following and following until your back is pressed against the headboard.

“Quit that.” Mammon yanks your knees apart. His broad shoulders stop your legs from snapping back shut. “Where’re you going?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I mean- don’t you wanna fuck?”

He nods into the crease of your thigh, nosing the lace trim of your panties. “But not yet, treasure. I’ve been missing meals, gonna make up for lost time. Can I taste your pretty pussy, please?”

“Yeah,” and it comes out like a breath. You slip your panties off. Mammon never lets you close your legs, so you have to frustratingly take one leg out at a time. 

He grabs the garment, dangling the blue panties in front of your face.

“Can I keep these?”

You snort. “Pervert.”

“So?”

“Yeah, you can have them.”

Mammon neatly folds the dirty underwear and roughly stuffs them into the pocket of his shorts.

“You’ll get them back when I’m done.” He’s not looking at you when he says that, eyes dropping lower to where your legs are spread as he pushes your skirt up around your waist. You feel warm like it’s too much for him to look at you.

“Gross,” but it comes out weak. You’ve shrunk back into the pillows, barely breathing between your fingers, mouth gone dry.

“Uhuh.” Mammon nods, dragging his nose down the trimmed hair above your slit. The hands on your thighs slide inward, keeping your legs spread and pinned against his pillows. His bottom lip brushes your clit as his mouth drops lower. He completely skips over the nub, licking at the slick pooling beneath it. “You get this wet for everyone?”

You can’t speak, covering your mouth with your palm to bar any sounds from escaping. His head tilts, looking both amused and curious as he waits for an answer.

“No,” you mumble.

“Yeah, well good.” Mammon’s mouth quirks up into a smug grin as he readjusts himself to lay more comfortably on the bed. He lies flat on his stomach, lazily kicking his legs back and forth as he kisses around your clit. He knows exactly where it is, but teases on purpose until he can feel your hips straining beneath his hands. 

Mammon’s palms keep you pressed down so easily that you don’t notice how desperate you are beneath him. Not until he lets you go. The reaction of your body is involuntary, a few rough rolls of your hips before you can keep yourself still. Your groans are stifled by your palm, you can feel the hot breath and saliva collecting behind your hand. 

“Wait?” He sounds disappointed. “Don't stop.” 

Mammon’s hands catch beneath your thighs, sloppily simulating the roll of your hips against his face. The movements of his mouth are less coordinated, too preoccupied with the strain on his forearms. Your juices smear messily on his chin as he works you open, pushing more and more of his tongue into you.

Spit collects in your mouth. You can’t keep from moaning into your palm, and all that sweat and drool runs from the corners of your mouth to collect on your chin. His mouth is warm, and the flick of his tongue deep inside you makes you match the pace he’s already set. 

Mammon grunts against your cunt. You can feel it more than hear it. The sound is low, deep in his chest, and drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. The edge of your orgasm builds with the soft vibrations of his lips. Your hesitant grind is pushed quicker by the need to get off. Every glance down at your spit-covered pussy has you bucking upward with a muffled gasp. 

Mammon is lazy, leaving you to chase your high as he looks up at you, enamored by how you still try so hard to cover the sounds spilling from your mouth. He’d say something about it if his mouth wasn’t so busy. It’s not until you dare to stop staring at him that he speaks up.

“C’mon.” Mammon lands a sloppy kiss on your clit. “What? Now you’re too good to even look at me, pretty girl?” He manages to sound so fucking pathetic and upset that you look back down at him. He grins back at you, pleased with his performance. Small kisses work up from your sopping hole to swollen bud. He flicks his tongue, teasing and testing before fully sucking on it. 

“Shit.” This is the first sound you let through your fingers, followed by a shaky moan as you try to control your breath. You can’t help but pant, stuttering, and heavy between the gaps in your fingers. 

“I know,” Mammon keeps his words short, barely parting from your skin to speak.

Though he tries to hide it, you can’t help but notice how he pushes his hips into the comforter, grinding his dick against the mattress through however many layers of fabric. You almost feel bad for him, but then he moans against you like he’s the one getting head. 

The hand you’d been using to keep yourself muffled reached between your legs to tangle in Mammon’s hair. The palm is still tacky from spit, sticking to make you tug rougher on the strands than you mean to. 

“M-more. Just a little bit more.” The words stumble out of your mouth like you don't know what you’re saying. Whatever will make him push his tongue a little deeper. “Pretty please.”

“Mhmm,” Mammon moans an affirmative into your pussy. He can feel your clit throb against his nose. Each second that passes brings you closer to climaxing. 

You’re stuffed full of his tongue, rubbing your clit on the bump of his nose. He’s barely done anything himself except taking it and whining. The rhythmic rutting of his hips starts working the comforter up the bed, gathering it beneath him to fuck into. He’s not even looking at you straight anymore, eyes focusing or crossing dazedly. 

You tighten your hand in his hair by pure instinct as you writhe beneath him.

“I think I’m gonna-” You’re not given a chance to finish before the twist in your stomach spills over. “O-oh, Mammon. Fuck, I’m-”

The last of your words are drowned out by his own needy moans. His hips hump the comforter bunched beneath him.

“Fuck, I love you.” His tongue licks a long stripe up your cunt.

“I’m still sensitive.” You shudder, and the hand in his hair falls to grip your skirt.

“Gotta clean up my mess,” he mumbles. He laps the saliva and cum from your skin, eventually just leaving wet kisses up the crease of your thigh. 

Mammon’s sweaty and flushed, still grinding into the blankets. His eyes flick shut and he lays his head flat on your lower stomach. His breaths are quick, warming your skin. 

A hand slips from underneath you to overlap yours. He pulls it back to his hair. “Pull it again.”

You want to be gentle, running a hand through the white strands. Mammon doesn’t care for your afterglow tenderness and slaps the side of your leg.

“Please, baby. I wanna cum.” Mammon kisses your stomach, low below your navel.

You can’t help but laugh at him. It’s too pathetic when accompanied by the frantic rolls of his hips. You can feel the skin beneath his head get sticky from the sweat and drool he smears onto you. He looks and sounds more fucked out than you just from using his mouth on you.  His thrusts stutter when you twist cruelly on his hair. 

“Yes, yes, like that.” He lets out a string of swears as he spills into his sweatpants. His labored breathing crests and slows, and you can feel when they finally grow even. “Thank you, treasure.”

Mammon doesn’t move from where he is, still comfortably tucked between your legs as he comes down from his high. It’s not until he’s been suspiciously quiet for too long that you realize he’s asleep.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

On a recent rewatch of s2e3, I noticed how interesting it is to spot clues something's up with the gravy basket before Ed does! The entire episode really rewards a rewatch or ten but I think this part is especially neat. For the purposes of organizing my thoughts, here's what I've noticed so far that contribute to a feeling of "something is definitely off here:"

It is so blue. Blue like water, maybe? Especially when you're expecting and noticing it, it's striking just how blue all the gravy basket scenes look. The blue doesn't let up, either - in fact, I almost think the blue filter gets heavier once Ed realizes what's going on.

Hornigold is always bringing up stuff that's just a little too relevant to Ed's situation - for example, when he's trying to get Ed to eat some soup and Ed resists on the grounds of Hornigold's past behavior, Hornigold says that "I was in a bad place back then, last time I was too much on the rhino horn." I don't think it's a coincidence Ed's also been doing so much rhino horn other characters have been commenting on it.

Part of this is surely just for the sake of adding levity, but you know how no one responds quite right to stuff in dreams? It's like how in the opening scene with Stede's dream, dream-Ed's dialogue is just off enough to notice. The way Hornigold talks to Ed reminds me of that - he's hitting enough rational responses that it makes sense and you don't notice right away, but something's definitely weird. For example, he says "I can see you're agitated" when Ed is, like, thrashing and hyperventilating and visibly terrified of his soup. "Agitated" is such a mild word to use that it almost seems inaccurate.

Hornigold flips topics to things that are probably weighing pretty heavily on Ed's mind in a way that really stands out when you watch for it. When Ed tells him about his mutiny, Hornigold seems very disinterested and then suddenly pivots to ask him "are you worried you're insane?" Ed immediately replies "yeah, a little bit," letting us know this isn't the first time he's had that thought. And immediately after that, no buildup or segue or anything, Hornigold launches right into the "I once fed a cabin boy a live crab" thing, which is probably drifting to the front of Ed's mind considering he's thinking about Hornigold and that was such a traumatic event for him. The conversation is clearly following Ed's thoughts, not Hornigold's.

We know Hornigold is Ed and we know Ed hates himself, and Hornigold is so fucking mean to Ed, even when he's seemingly trying to take care of him, like with feeding him soup. He force-feeds him and talks down to him constantly, telling him his mutiny was basic, shutting down his ideas (like the inn), dismissing his emotional reactions, and refusing to offer him any real comfort.

Really interesting stuff. I adore how OFMD has so many little details in every episode you can only fully appreciate on a rewatch!

[all4seth]

seth meeting your parents for the first time, at a Christmas dinner

I sat down on the couch, nervously fidgeting with my hands as my parents frantically moved little things around. I could see just how nervous they were too; they wanted to make a good first impression just as much as seth did.

He and I had been dating for about ten months and my parents were kind enough to offer hosting a Christmas dinner for his family and us.

Thinking of him, I hastily looked out the window again, yet there was no sign of him. I didn't worry, though; seth is always on time.

"Do you need any help?" I asked my parents.

"Don't worry, honey, it's fine" my mom smiled.

I smiled back, anxiously, knowing she would still give me some chore soon.

"Actually, it'd be great if you could rearrange that tinsel in the Christmas tree. The way your father put it up just doesn't sit right with me for some reason"

'Well that's just nonsense, a few minutes ago you told me you liked it" my dad jokingly argued.

"I tried to like it"

I chuckled and did as I was told, not for long though. The doorbell rang and all of us froze for a matter of seconds.

I walked to the front door and opened it. Seth was standing there, smiling widely, two pots of flowers in his hands, with his family behind him.

He remembered me saying how my mom and I could not stand people buying bouquets, because they're dead flowers; we like growing them instead.

The fact that he remembered this small, insignificant detail made my heart melt.

He smiled and I could feel his anxiety. I moved out of the doorway and the Clearwaters entered our house for the very first time, Sue taking the flowers from Seth. He stayed behind them and placed a quick, soft kiss on my lips while neither of our families were paying attention, too caught up in greeting and introducing each other.

"This is so scary," I cried out loud "but I'm so insanely happy"

"So am I" he agreed, his wide smile still glued to his face.

He wrapped his arms around me and kissed the top of my head, in an attempt to calm me down.

We both looked in the direction of our families, who truly looked like they were warming up to each other. Seth joined Leah, my father and his at the table after we told him there were already enough people helping out for setting the table.

I entered the kitchen so quietly, the moms didn’t even notice me, carrying on with their discussion.

“Seth is seriously such a fine, young gentleman. You raised the boy perfectly”

“Thank you, but you’re exaggerating” Sue laughed politely.

“Perhaps I am, but I’ve never seen my daughter so happy.”

“She’s such a sweetheart as well” Sue said.

They both turned to me quickly, only now noticing I was there.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrerrupt. I’m just going to take these plates to the table”

I swiftly did so; I couldn’t hold back a big, genuine smile.

I put the plates on the table and sat down, beside seth, who immediatly noticed my smile and asked about it.

“Your mom likes me” I whispered to him.

���Of course she does” he laughed and kissed me.

The moms came out of the kitchen with the food, Sue smiling at me.

Soon, they joined us at the table and we all started chattering.

We talked about our studies, our future plans, as well as just our favourite foods and what we were going to do on Christmas Day.

I was surrounded by the people I love, knowing I had their unconditionate affection, all while having a good time.

This is what peace feels like.

[frownyalfred]

Hi! I'm the anon who sent the ask with "apropos" misspelled in the first sentence 🫣 but also I think the schedule would like... three weeks on, one week off, for four months, then you get four months of one week one, three weeks off, and then rinse and repeat.

I imagine they get paid on salary, with the option for overtime bonus pay if they take on extra shifts (with limits to protect mental health), but regardless of what they do, they all get paid insane amounts, like, 2x or 3x what they would normally get paid doing the same job for a normal company with full benefits (like insane benefits like unlimited paid sick leave, paid two year maternity and paternity leave, two months vacation, etc (because Bruce worries about them being poached by villians or whatever to betray the league, so he wants to make as happy as possible working for the league))

But like. They also basically have to agree to give up any privacy. They agree to credit monitoring (if you get any debts that can be used a leverage, etc), unannounced checks of communications, regular health checks, including checks for mind control by a league member like Martain Manhunter, and just so many other things. If they have kids, they have the option to place their kid in a private school with very strict security protocols, amount other things.

I can't decide if they would require employees to move to housing communities with 24/7 guards and cameras (for their protection) or not. But they would make all employees sit through the save kind of lectures family's of US spys have to (how to tell if you're being followed, take a different route to school/work every day, what to do in an emergency situation, etc)

If you get hired, you aren't hired by the league unless you have a public facing job, like pr person or whatever, but by a shell company, or by one Wayne or Queen's companies. This way you don't get flagged as working for the league, plus if you quit you have a job reference you can give to future employers. Although, if you're fired (hard, usually involves VERY bad decision making, like getting caught getting drunk and bragging about said job in a bar, or causing a very big lab explosion (you were told NOT to do it by Karen in HR (fuck karen, she didn't even appreciate STEM)) and nearly killed yourself by blowing a hole in the watch tower and getting sucked into the vacuum of space.) and then you might get your memory wiped.

Sorry for the block of text, I just have Thoughts about DC world building

Very interesting! This makes sense to me. Worldbuilding is simultaneously so much fun and also terrifying because you have to nail little details like this.

[goldenshrikecomic]

Hello, this is gonna be a long one and I hope I don't bother you too much with it but you have something great going and and I think maybe some advice for someone like me who wants to do a longer comic and I took heart in that one ask you recently answered were you said you are plenty of pages ahead of the readers to not get paralysed by a deadline which seems like a no-brainer now that I read that with my own two eyes black on white but I had not thought to maybe go about it that way and I needed to have someone spell it out for me apparently. So to my question.. see, I have a skeleton of a story I have key scenes that need to happen and that I want to happen and I am sure in between things will shift and change and grow and a part of me can't wait for it to happen but- How do you start. How do you get going. It is in my head I have some written notes but most is in my head and I do not want it to remain there and rot I want to draw and tell the story I had in mind but I feel.. paralysed on the starting line of this journey and I am unsure how to go from there because my mind gets caught up in estimates of if I post one page a week that is "only" 52 pages. That seems so little. How many years would it take. Can I do this. And then my mind fires up in passion because I am willing to commit I want to do this I need to do this and I have a good idea of how to pace myself and how to go about it. I have the beginning of it on the back of my tongue and the tip of my fingers I can imagine it so vividly I wish I could animate it (if that wouldn't take up even more time and be insane I would) But somehow I still feel stumped on how to start. How to get over this first hurdle. It might be the executional dysfunction playing a huge part in it, maybe I am overthinking to much and stand in my way because of it, but like... How did you start your comic. How did your journey on GS begin? I know this was a bit of word vomit I am sorry but you are an inspiration and you seem to go about things (from what I could gleam from the asks) in a way that feels like it could work for me too and the way my brain functions but I do not know how to start? I dunno if it makes sense I am no english native and my thoughts are hard to put into words.

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for a while because it's such a loaded question. I have plenty of asks in this tag about my comicing process, so check them out maybe. This reply got lengthy! The more I wrote the more I noticed I feel very inadequate trying to give people tips on making comics. It's such a trial and error process.

I've seen plenty of advice for people wanting to start out comics to just start small, come up with a smaller story to get a feel of it before you go big. And I absolutely understand it in hindsight because I would've done many things differently if I had just tried it out first, but it's not what I did. I wanted to make a big comic, and a big comic I made, as my first project.

I don't think about the years these things take, but it'd absolutely ease your worries if you could come up with a simple style and be able to make pages faster. I've stripped my comic of shading and gotten more lenient with myself when it comes to backgrounds. You absolutely need to cut some corners if you want to make more than one story during your lifetime. It's a limited time afterall! Being able to turn your sketch into a lineart without having to redo everything with a careful hand would help a lot already. And colors, they take a lot of time.

This is not how I went about it in the beginning, but I'd love to tell you to write those things in your head down before you start. Leave holes, just write in what you know because you will forget some cool details if you keep them in. Write the starting point, middle and the end, even with just couple of words. Add things that interest you in the middle of those points. Do you want a sad arc for your character at some point? Write it in. Come up with what makes it happen. Weave it into the other scenes. If you know what's to come, you can add foreshadowing to the earlier scenes. Even if you didn't know what would come, you can take something from earlier scenes and make it foreshadowing. Writing is a fluid process. You can jump around and add things, you don't have to approach it by putting one block next to the other. Once you have the elements you want, you just have to tie those things together. It's the hard part. And you will change your mind about many things when you get to draw your characters and see them doing the things you've written.

The start! I always say it's the worst part, but I've started to think it might be the second worst. I think the worst part comes after you've started and worked for several ten pages on fumes and you finally run out of juice. Picking up after that is hard, for me at least. But if you can manage, it should get easier. You know your characters better by now, and they carry some of their own weight.

Make a canvas. Think about the scene you want to start your comic with. Night or day? Calm or busy? Just doodle, BIG and loose. Add some frames by just drawing lines, move things around, resize. What do you want to portray with the first page of your comic? I like to establish some of the world or atmosphere, and only then move on to the characters.

Don't try to be perfect, in fact leave that first canvas completely unpolished and move on to the next one. What should this page tell? Will you show the character? I'd leave the establishing shot of them as the last big panel. The rest of the page should build up to it. The last panel is important, it's a hook to turn the page.

Come back to polish those pages more only after you have a few of them done. The most important thing is to get yourself away from that first page, because the first page is scary. After five pages you can move things around and start adding ears to your spheres. You've started a comic now. You can go back to the first page and make it nice, because you already have opened the path to continue.

IT'S HARD. But it's rewarding. It's not for everyone but it's awesome if you can make it yours.

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Don't Worry Today, Face It Tomorrow

kai parker x reader

summary: kai's been lonely enough in his life to sense something's off with you. tonight was a good time to trust his intuition.

tags: mental health issues, depression, loneliness, late night conversations, suicidal thoughts, emotional hurt / comfort

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this is a fic i kind of wrote for myself but still want to share. i somewhat vaguely made the reader's problems my problems, because i needed to talk them out, but struggle to do that with people, so i do it through my writing. i wrote this a little while ago but have been hesitant to post it bc i didn't want to worry my readers by posting so many sui/sh related fics, but as explained in the ending note of this fic on ao3, i'm entering a new stage in my life where i hope i can start writing gentler & more lighthearted & fun fics again. i've been in a dark place these last couple months and have completely lost myself as a person, but i'm actively trying to make my life one where i'm not afraid to be present. i saw a quote recently that said, "...if hope is out of reach, try curiosity instead," and so that's about where i am rn. but anyway, i hope, despite it's heaviness, you guys like this, or maybe, it helps you feel less alone. <3

“Thought I’d find you here.”

You roll your eyes at the familiar voice. Of course he’d come to disturb your peace. 

“What do you want?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. The sound of shuffling indicates he’s coming closer. “Just checking on you.”

“I don’t need checking on. I didn’t the last time, nor the time before that, and certainly not this time. Can’t you catch the hint that I want to be left alone?”

“See that’s the thing… the hints are all there, I’m just choosing not to leave you alone.”

Fully irritated now, you shift your whole body to face Kai. Annoyingly, he leans against the restaurant’s chimney, unbothered by the heat that must be emanating from it. His arms are crossed over his chest, but his usual smirk is replaced with a somber look.

“Why?”

“Because…” He isn’t looking at you. In fact, he seems to look right through you, perhaps into some far off world or a deep void that threatens to swallow you whole. “...You look like someone who shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve climbed up here five times in the last two weeks. You’ve been acting distant. You don’t eat, I doubt you sleep. Everyone’s worried about you, and they have every right to be.”

“I’m fine,” you lie. “Maybe I just like it up here. I can see the whole town. I’m in it, without being in it. It’s peaceful.”

If that was supposed to comfort the young witch, it didn’t. He tilts his head against the brick. “And what about the rest? Are they right to worry about you? Are these new habits you’ve seem to have adopted secretly a cry for help?”

You narrow your eyes. “Of course not, that’s insane. I told you, I’m fine.” Before he can ask anything else, you continue. “And what’s it to you? Why do you care? If they’re so worried, why don’t they come and bother me instead?”

“Because they haven’t followed you to the extent I’ve followed you.”

“Comforting.”

“They see you at lunch, not talking, not eating, not laughing. And then they see you go home, usually early, and not come out for days. They acknowledge the fact you haven’t answered their texts in days, and they know you’re not feeling well, but they’ve barely scratched the surface.” He pauses. “I’ve been studying you. I see the dullness in your eyes, and I can tell apart a real laugh from a fake one. I’ve begun to notice that right before you’re about to make up an excuse to go home, you tap your nails on the edge of the table. You scan the restaurant, making sure the coast is clear, so that you can make a sure shot to the door without being interrupted.” You open your mouth to speak, disturbed by the detail, but Kai interrupts. “I’m a sociopath. I notice things in a person’s behavior that are missed by most.”

“And why do you think all these ‘things’ are reasons to have you so worried? Maybe I’m just tired of socializing.”

“Maybe. But I’ve been alone for a long time and I know how it feels. How it feels to be hopeless, and anxious, and exhausted, in a way that goes beyond needing a couple more hours of sleep. I might not’ve been under the same circumstances, but I remember searching for the nearest, tallest building several times when I was locked in that prison world. Let me tell you, the view is nice, but when you finally get the courage to walk up to the edge, the fall is not.”

Your eyes had dropped back down the roof’s floor, but they snap back up to him quickly. His words make your heart race with sudden anxiety. When you try to open your mouth to respond, nothing comes out. It takes a moment to recover. 

“How many times did you try?” Invasive, but he’s sharing, so you ask anyway. 

“Truth be told,” he surprisingly answers, “I lost count.” He inches closer to you, but you don’t move away. “I couldn’t die in there, but that never stopped me from trying.”

“Until Damon and Bonnie got there.” 

“Yes, but I was alone for eighteen years until they did.” He sits beside you now. “Maybe you can see why I was so determined to get out.”

“I could see it before,” you admit. 

You know most of Kai’s background. You know he had a big family, most of which are dead now. You know he has been in and out of prison worlds for most of his young life. You know his time spent in those other worlds was deserved; he wasn’t just a sociopath, but a serial killer, as well. Only recently did he finally stop hurting people, afraid of ending up in another one. It was a deal he made with the brothers and Bonnie.

Kai is less afraid of death than being alone. Hell would be a cakewalk compared to the prison worlds. 

“My father ensured I couldn’t die so that I wouldn’t be able to take the easy way out. And then again, in 1903, the heretics could only dessicate; they couldn’t die, either. Guess my ancestors have some deep-rooted fascination with eternal suffering. The twin merge is a curse. You either die or kill your sibling before you’re old enough to rent a car. Then, if you live, you have to marry and watch your kids do the same. And if you die before you have merge-able kids, whoops, the death of the coven is on you. Like, imagine you get hit by a car and die, and so does the whole three hundred year old coven. That’s embarrassing. Imagine explaining that to the ancestors in hell.”

You snort and let out a laugh. 

“Obviously, I don’t care about my coven, and I only wanted to be the leader so I could prove that I could, but it does suck that we’re all nonconsensually born into this life and can’t get out of it. It would be easier if we didn’t hate each other so much, and that instead of life being one big game of dog-eat-dog, we could come together and be like, ‘Hey! This sucks! Can we try to figure out which ancestral bitch cursed us and maybe reverse that? We’re supposed to be witches, right?’”

You laugh more now. A genuine laugh, amused by Kai Parker’s unusual bareness and honesty. Never had you had such a sincere conversation with him. Frankly, you didn’t know he was capable of opening up as much as he is now. It’s nice. It’s the most meaningful conversation you’ve had recently, and if you’re honest with yourself, it’s healing. 

Not only do you know Kai’s background, you know his loneliness. Of course, you’ve never been in his shoes exactly, but you know what it’s like to feel helpless. Sometimes your parents teach you about pain before anyone else has the chance. Sometimes your friends break your heart the hardest. Sometimes it feels like there’s a target on your back and everyone’s carrying arrows. 

You don’t need to experience the same trauma to relate to someone, you just need a little bit of courage to speak up about it. The right people will listen. Those who understand. 

“I said before that I understand why you were willing to hurt Bonnie and Damon to get out,” you say. “I stand by that still.”

“You do?”

“I met your father once. I was friends with Liv before she skipped town, and he came to her dorm when I was there. He was cold.” You pause, rubbing your arms as a chill runs through your body. Whether it’s the cool night breeze or the memory, you’re not sure. “He smiled, and he made a joke, but his posture was rigid and his eyes were dark. It was like looking into the face of a snake that could strike at any moment. I was afraid to look away, yet afraid to look right at him.”

“He was never a warm person. He loved his wife, and did love my siblings, I think, but coven always came before family. He would betray even those closest to him in a second if asked. I was always told it was complicated for him, but it’s pretty simple. He never hesitated. It was obvious. There was no right vs wrong war in his mind. Guess it makes him a good leader, though. Maybe.”

“Not a good leader,” you argue, “but a dedicated one.” Kai seems to ponder that. “My family’s the opposite: they are complicated. They say one thing, but expect the other. Everything is a guessing game. You’re never quite sure what they want from you, and nothing’s ever good enough. Life feels like a competition: you have to do the most, study the hardest. There’s a thousand boxes to check by the age of twenty-three, and if you don’t complete them, you’re never going to catch up, never going to make them proud.” You’ve ranted a little, spoken somewhat quickly, but Kai follows along with great understanding. “I have a relatively big family, too, and they’re all over the country checking boxes. I live in a small town, with goals only big enough that I won’t feel like a failure if I don’t achieve, and spend every day just trying to stay alive. I’m the biggest disappointment to them and it’s so obvious.”

“Looks like we’re both family disappointments. Do they know about the supernatural?”

“Oh, god no. Their heads would explode.”

Kai laughs. He sees you shiver again and silently unzips his sweater. You startle a bit when he puts it around your shoulders, but then welcome the warmth it brings. It smells like him, so you pull it closer, finding that as a new comfort. 

“Thank you.”

“It’s technically Alaric’s-”

You start to pull it off, “ew-”

He stops you with a hand to your back. “But I’ve had it for months.”

“How’d you-?”

“After Damon woke me up when they put me on ice. I’d siphon the magic from Caroline’s mom on two conditions: one, he’d let me merge that night, and two, I could borrow a sweater.”

You chuckle, then let it envelope you again. Kai’s hand leaves your back, taking some, but not all, of the new warmth with him. He stretches out, leaning back on his elbows, and watches you copy the position. Your knees touch gently, though neither of you move. He studies you again, eyeing your face for tension, but finds your lips slightly parted in a relaxed state. You aren’t afraid of him; you aren’t trying to get away. 

The only person who isn’t taut as a band around him is Damon, because the vampire’s confidence and strength matches that of the young witch. But here, you’re only human, full of emotion and exhaustion, and alone on a rooftop with none other than the self-proclaimed sociopath himself. If your friends knew, they’d surely be freaking out, and maybe an hour ago, the thought would panic you, too. But now, at this moment in time, you’re completely calm. You’re trusting him. 

“So what’s the verdict?” He says out of nowhere, speaking up in the dead of night. The restaurant crowd left some time ago, and the roundabout hasn’t been driven through for less. In the far-off distance, you can hear a dog, but it stops after a few barks. 

“What?”

“How are we getting off this roof tonight?” You look over to him with an eyebrow raised. “Are we jumping, or are you gonna climb off with me?”

You ponder the question. Truthfully, you didn’t climb up today with the full intention of climbing back down. If Kai hadn’t followed you up, you, as he put it earlier, may have made it to the edge. 

But now, with both of your hearts and histories spilled out in front of you, things are different. Things are harder, because he’s involved. Yet, at the same time, things feel easier. He’s involved. He listened, and he shared his own story. You found common ground and it brought you closer than you’d ever imagined you could be with him. Hell, lately, with anyone. Somewhere, deep in your heart, you feel a bit of hope. 

“I’ll be honest,” he starts, “even though I’m out of the prison world, finally leading this dumb coven, and somewhat surviving in this town, I’ve considered it. I thought getting out would be a fix-all, and once I was, I would be okay, but I never imagined that life outside of it could be as lonely as my life was there. My coven still controls me and my family still hates me, and I wanted to get out and prove myself, and live, but now, sometimes,” he struggles for the right words, “I can’t find it in myself to care anymore.” He looks over to you to find you nodding, understanding. “I could die a hundred times over in the prison world with little consequence, but here, death is permanent.”

You offer a smile and a second of silence before agreeing. “Sometimes its permanence is a comfort, but sometimes a hindrance. It's permanent, I’ll never have to carry this weight again. I’ll never be a burden, or a failure, or a disappointment. But at the same time… what if I regret it? What if I’m halfway through the fall, or lying in a hospital bed, and there’s no saving me, but suddenly, I regret it? Or what if we’re conscious in the afterlife, and I miss the body and soul I once had, but gave up before my time was up? It haunts me. I have decision paralysis over dying. I wish I could make up my mind.”

Kai’s never cared much for other people, but in this moment, he knows if you got any closer to the edge, he’d hurl himself forward to pull you back. He sensed something was off about you earlier. You’d been climbing up here for weeks, but this time felt different. Necessary. 

“How about this? Climb down with me and we don’t have to make any decisions. Okay?”

“So the decision is to make no decisions?”

“Exactly.” He sits back up, outstretching a hand for you to take. “Let’s go get a coffee or something, and we can worry about it later. And, maybe, tomorrow won’t be so bad, and we can put off that decision making a little bit longer.” Kai manipulates slightly. He knows there is no decision to be made - it’s not a yes or no - but an ultimate decision on when you will take that step closer to the edge. So, if he can distract you day by day, and put off that ultimate decision, he could, with time, pull you from the edge, and eventually, off the roof. 

And that is a decision he is willing to make. He’s never cared much for other people, but something about you softens him. His life hasn’t been a fulfilling one. He hasn’t accomplished much, and he’s done little that makes him proud of himself, but you make him want to change. Be better, do more. Even if he only does one good thing, he wants to do it. He wants to save you. 

“Okay,” you finally agree, taking his hand. “Coffee sounds nice.”

For the first time of possibly many, he helps guide you back down the stairs, onto the safety of the pavement ground. You keep a hold of his hand all the way to the twenty-four hour diner two blocks down, and the whole time, he can’t stop smiling. 

[fluffyglass]

This is the "Cromdo did nothing wrong" post.

HEAR. ME. OUT.

I'll start with what sparked this whole discussion; Cromdo being fully justified in "robbing" Liz and Egg's house. You may be thinking "what the hell that's obviously a terrible thing to do" NO. And here's why.

Cromdo states in his interview that he thought of sailing away when shit hit the fan, only to discover that the boat was gone (and some of Liz's belongings are nearby), which lead him to assume that Liz and Egg had abandoned everyone. Based on the evidence he had, this is a completely reasonable conclusion! Considering (in Cromdo's view) that Liz and Egg are no longer on the island, him salvaging their belongings is completely reasonable. Was trying to sell them cool? Not really. But taking them in general was completely justifiable.

Where do we go from here? Well, that leads me to another story that requires some context. For those who aren't in the Snakpack discord, I recently went on a three hour deep dive discussing when and why everyone left Snaxburg post-Liz's disappearance, and something came up regarding Cromdo that I couldn't come to a conclusion for- why Beffica planted evidence in his hut.

In Cromdo's interview, he claims that Beffica planted her diary in his hut to frame him.

(I believe he's telling the truth here, because it's such a specific detail that I don't know if he'd make it up. Given it's something everyone would have known about, he'd be incredibly easily disproven, so I'm taking his word for it.)

Now, what motivation would Beffica have for falsifying evidence? Given her interview where she states she posted pics of all his little crimes, we can presume she had photographic evidence of Cromdo "robbing" Liz and Egg. So why would she need to fake a diary theft if she already had all the evidence she'd need against him?

This is the part where I go a little insane LET ME COOK.

I think that once Cromdo found the boat gone, he told everyone that Liz and Egg abandoned them. And yknow what? Some (maybe most?) of Snaxburg believed him. So when he started salvaging their belongings, nobody was too concerned - save for Beffica, of course. Beffica didn't believe Cromdo because she already had a bit of a vendetta against him, so I think she planted false evidence in Cromdo's hut to "prove" that Cromdo was lying and was just using the disappearance as an excuse to rob them. Because... why would she be so concerned about Cromdo "getting back" at her if everyone in Snaxburg was on her side?

I think she was worried he'd call her out for falsifying evidence against him.

CROMDO. WAS. FRAMED.

Now I'm not claiming Cromdo isn't a thief. He (presumably) stole one of Snorpy's lunch pads and enlists the journalist to steal Triffany's map. However, compared to some of the shit these grumps do (looks at Wambus, Beffica, Gramble, Wiggle and Snorpy) some petty theft is NOTHING. Snorpy had multiple lunch pads. Triffany was biased against Cromdo possibly because of the slander Beffica pulled about him, and yeah stealing it from her house was bad, but again. He isn't punching the shit out of someone or placing trackers on people without their knowledge.

In conclusion:

The title of this post is technically a lie. Yeah, Cromdo did some stuff wrong, HOWEVER, his petty theft is really all you can count against him. Cromdo was quite possibly framed and blackmailed and had the entire town turn against him when he was (kind of?) trying to help. Cromdo did some bad things, but given this island? Practically nothing. I will stand by this.

Thank you for your time. Cromdo did nothing wrong.