#maybe if i think harder i could write about how these two stories also deal with the framing of death as simply 'the end'

[tcelujhita]

I’ve been rotating Michael Magnusarchives and the Wolf Neverafter in my head recently because they share such an engaging character concept. They’re both kind of ambiguous weird blends of one human and one person whose identity is more wonky. Both characters present a single trait that originates from their component parts, except the reason is different for each part. 

With Michael, he���s made up of Michael Shelley and the Distortion, right. Shelley’s gentle and trusting personality got him worse-than-killed (sorry man for following your nature), and his identity got placed onto the hand of the Spiral like a sockpuppet. Michael hates what and who he is because he's Michael (which as a Person Identity, is antithetical to the Distortion, a location that just lives to be confusing and undefinable), and because he's a manifestation of the Spiral (which Shelley got killed by). He's bitter about being sacrificed by Gertrude, and he's bitter about being forced into being a somewhat-definable person. Dude got blended and he’s so spiteful about it. Even though he should be contradictions within contradictions, the human and the manifestation agree to hate Michael and the Archivist. His bitterness originates from both and I really like that.

So the Wolf, I’m thinking specifically of the scene in the forest limbo with Ylfa. The Wolf switches to being her Grandmother, except it’s ambiguous as to who this actually is. I mean obviously it’s the Wolf but she’s simultaneously Ylfa’s Grandmother, despite the wrong personality. That’s how Ylfa treats her at least. And even if there’s no aspect of Ylfa’s real grandma there, then the Wolf is not just wearing her appearance, but also her behavior & role, and so what’s the difference really. This person offers Ylfa genuine kindness and she accepts it. The bit of the scene before this shows Ylfa grappling with the idea of ‘comfort in the certainty of death’ despite her efforts to protect people’s lives. This is presented by Death itself (who I believe later when talking to Pib, says he thinks of himself as more of a concept than a character/person), then Ylfa is simply emotionally comforted by the archetypal nice Grandmother figure. The traits originate from both. I just think, Death and the Grandmother could both be pictured as saying, “Come here into my arms and it’ll all be over soon.” 

[katiascraft]

BLOG MASTERLIST

works by cate :) hope you like it 💌 feedback is always welcome.

FORMULA 1

Charles Leclerc

“You knew all too well I was right where you left me” [on the making] -> It’s the story of a woman frozen in the moment her world fell apart. A perfect dinner ended with, “I met someone else,” and while everyone moved on, she remained stuck in that instant, unable to let go of the past. A poignant tale of heartbreak, grief, and the weight of being trapped in a “forever” that never was.

“Am i too much for you? Maybe I’m too much for everyone” -> Reader feels insecure but Charles makes sure she knows how important she is to the world (specially his world).

“Tender is the night for a broken heart” -> You been feeling very sad lately. Your emotional stress is taking you places you didn’t want to back in ever again. And Charles knows it - just wanna make sure you know you are loved despite it all.

“You think you won ‘cause you got the man. But honey, you’ll always be a fan” -> Charles has a new girl and she’s obsessed with you.

“If I define her I limit her” -> You go together to the Gladiator || premier because your best friend Paul Mescal invited you. You didn’t expect Charles being so sweet talking about you on interviews.

“26” -> the world didn’t know you and Charles broke up a few months ago. it was until you haven’t been to any gp people started speculating. he finds some one new. Makes his dream com true. And you write an album about him reveling how you broke up and why.

Lando Norris

part 1: “opposite”, part 2: “sue me” -> Reader and Lando broke up a few months ago. You both assist a mutual friend’s birthday party and Lando has a new girl. Then reader has a girlfriend and thinks she’s all right. But did she really move on?

part 1: “so long, London”, part 2: “L’AMOUR DE MA VIE” -> You and Lando have been engaged for a while. You thought you were end game but he didn’t love you anymore. Then, you moved on. But Lando didn’t.

“If you were my boyfriend. And I was your girlfriend. Probably wouldn’t see nobody else” -> you are just ‘friends’.

“If nothing else get you through. Then darling, I’ll cry with you” -> Lando was fighting the championship until the Brazil GP happens. Max wins and Lando pretends it’s not a big deal. But you know, it is.

“Him” -> oblivious idiots to lovers. That’s what Max said.

“I would set the world on fire for you” -> after the Brazil GP, lando comes home to the worst week of his year. Also, it was his birthday. So even though the world hates him, you wanna make sure he is loved and he did nothing wrong. And that if you could you would set the world on fire for him.

Oscar Piastri

“I’ll pay the price I guess” -> the world hates you’re dating Oscar.

“This is how you fall in love” -> Oscar is truly, madly, deeply in love with you.

"Maybe i should've told you i miss you. But i don't know if you feel the same" -> your insecurities lead to lose the love of your life, but destiny always play its worst (or best) cards for you. in the aftermath of it all, two souls become one (again). or that's what you'd like.

Franco Colapinto

“But we were something, don’t you think so? And if my wishes came true, it would’ve been you” -> You and franco broke out a year ago. You are now Williams Racing social media manager and he’s an F1 driver. Your job just got a bit harder because of him. Is possible a second chance?

"Modales" -> You had a brief yet beautifully intense romance with F1 driver Franco Colapinto a few years ago when he was driving for F3. When he decided to end your relationship, you didn’t expect he would move on that quickly.

“Pueden más que el amor y son más fuertes que el Olimpo” -> how is like to date Franco since your teenage years. And how is for you as a student to balance your world and his world to make the relationship work.

Lewis Hamilton

“Can’t believe you’ve noticed me” -> Reader and Leiws are on vacation. One day under the golden hour he decides to sing you a song he wrote for you.

Made in Argentina : The series

Reader is argentine and Franco Colapinto's bestie.

Lando’s Version -> part 1

Oscar’s version -> part 1

Franco Colapinto

coming soon.

Like , reblog & comment if you like! Support your fave writers!

[petew21-blog]

Am I evil? Stone swap Pt.1

Inspired by Viceversa and his last Stone of change story that stopped on a beach. Hope you like it. I used to write stories, but got my account banned few years ago. So I figured I might get back to it again. Hope you enjoy

I always thought of myself as a good guy. But now I have to think hard about that. Is causing a massive and chaotic body swap a good thing?

Let me explain

There was this stone passed by people around the town that caused them to switch bodies. I got my hands on it as the last person on a beach one day, after it caused a great chaos. Thanks to some dumb luck I just swapped bodies with my friend, Mark. We were also shocked as everybody else, but we were the lucky ones that were left with the stone.

Then we made a deal. We would only use the stone while both of us were present and only if we could get the stone and our bodies back. Well, that's what I fucked up.

The Imagine Dragons came to town. I went to the concert, Mark was out of town. Obviously, I didn't leave the stone back in the appartement. I just couldn't pass the chance.

I mean. Just look at him. The body. The biceps. The abs. Who could say no?

So when Dan, the singer, came to me and included the stone in their show as a totem that would be passed by the crowd, I knew I would never ever see it again.

And after that I fainted. The last thing I saw was Dan looking confused and sleepy.

All I can say is that "chaos" can't even describe what happened after. But I made my way away from the stage. From the sleeping band and I headed with my bare torso through the backstag. Never looking back.

It's so great to see Dan in my own mirror of the bathroom. See him copying all my moves. Nah. That's me now.

And the voice. I touch my throat, forcing words out in this incredibly manly voice. My left hand stays on my throat, the other is touching my new defined pecs, slowly continuing to my beautiful pecs. A monster in my pants is getting bigger and harder.

I slid the pants down and grab it. "God damn" he is so fucking hung. I jerk furiously looking at my new image and just smile. I can't stop laughing how lucky I am. I pick up the pace

"This body is amazing! I'm so fucking sexy"

I cum all over my bathroom mirror. Exhausted from this little work out, I just stood there with my new dick in hand.

That's when Mark came back in

"What the fuck have you done?! You caused thousands of people to swap bodies. It made the news. A lot of people got hurt because of you!!! What were you thinking?" Mark screamed at me

I have no words. What have I done?! I wasn't really thinking what worst could happen. I just wanted Dan's body. Not to hurt anyone. That is the most evil thing I have ever done.

And now I am this incredibly hot man, covered in cum. Yeah, fuck that. I may have actually helped a lot of people get their dream bodies.

So, no. I won't be mad at myself. And I won't let Mark scream at me. He is definitely pissed at me more for losing the stone rather than causing the chaos. He is still in the body of his much older professor and that might be the issue. I don't know what is his problem. His body is hot and that's all that matters. Maybe I could show him just how hot the two of us look together fucking each other in front of a mirror

I am Dan now, and I won't ever regret the choice I made today.

I am hot. I am sexy. And I am never giving up this body.

Now, let's fuck this professor

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 111 (Making Progress on the Case?)

Conrad gave Malcolm's video to a tech at work the next day, and while they worked he updated the police chief. "I'm sure it's him. When the video comes back, we'll know."

"The precinct still won't send you to George Brindleton's villa in Sulani until the video can be analyzed, Gordon. I know how badly you want to get there, but you can't take any more of this investigation off grid. You've got a lot of nerve getting Judge Morrison to rush a warrant on a Landgraab. I don't care how well you think you know him."

"I'm sorry, Chief. I've been getting a little desperate to solve this one, and because he's a Landgraab, I knew you'd tell me to hold off if I asked for permission first."

The chief rolled her eyes. "One of these days your instincts might fail you, Lieutenant, and all that risk you take won't have reward."

Two officers entered the room after a knock at the door. "Lieutenant Gordon, we brought in someone you're going to want to talk to. She says she's an ex-girlfriend of Rafael Bonilla."

Immediately, Conrad knew who he meant. Melissa Ramsay. He'd found old social media posts from a deleted account with their photos. He found her in the police database, subject to an outstanding warrant after a bust Rafa had also been involved in when they were sixteen, and had put out an APB on her almost a year ago.

He entered the interrogation room, and she looked at him nervously in her orange jumpsuit. "I wasn't trying to avoid arrest. I thought it was all over, I swear. I was only there that night because I loved him. I didn't do anything."

Conrad could relate to her predicament. "I'm not trying to reopen an old case against you, Miss Ramsay. Your record after the bust is clean. But it's rare for someone who becomes their high school valedictorian not to continue to university. You've been harder to track down than most who have nothing to hide."

"I don't know what you want from me. I work in a flower shop. I can give you the name and number for my boss."

Conrad nodded, letting her write down the information. "When's the last time you spoke to Rafa Bonilla?"

"I don't remember."

"A few months ago. That's the last time I spoke with his sister, Ximena. And you might not know this about me, but over a decade ago, I loved her like you say you loved Rafa. So you don't forget."

"Maybe I didn't love him enough."

"You loved him enough to be there that night."

Melissa frowned. "We finally broke up three years ago and I haven't seen him since."

"Do you have any idea where he might be, or who he might be with?"

"I don't know. After the bust we didn't talk about his work, but it was always the problem between us until I finally left."

Again, Melissa's story rang true to Conrad's experience. "Did you know he's wanted by San Myshuno PD?"

She nodded. "I had nothing to do with those busts, either."

"I know that, Miss Ramsay. Do you think Rafa's on the run?"

"Maybe he finally got away from his sister. He knew she was dragging him down, but he didn't know what else to do with his life so he did whatever she asked. They had this loyalty that he couldn't shake. I begged him and I tried to deal with it for years, but finally I had to accept that she won and I walked away from him."

"If he ran, where would he go?"

"I really don't know, Lieutenant. He didn't talk about what he wanted to do because he thought the cartel was his only viable option."

"Has Ximena tried to find you since Rafa went missing?"

She shook her head. "She hated me so much, I don't think she's spared a single thought for me since Rafa and I broke up. She never wanted me around to begin with."

Conrad gave her his card and let her go, asking her to call if either Bonilla happened to reach out after so long. He hadn't learned enough from Melissa to justify a work trip to Sulani to find Rafa, but if Melissa was telling the truth, he'd been given valuable insight into Rafa's mind.

Ximena thought Rafa was happy to work at her side, running drugs and weapons for the cartel. But maybe the reason Ximena had been no real help in the search for Rafa was that she truly had no idea where he was. Maybe he'd been in hiding for years - from his warrants as well as his vicious sister.

He was beginning to get excited - the end of this very long tunnel might finally be in sight, but his run of luck couldn't last forever.

Frowning, the young officer who worked on his video approached him toward the end of the day. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant Gordon, but the facial recognition software couldn't pick up enough of the man's face in the video recording to confirm a match with Rafael Bonilla."

Conrad sighed. Though it felt he'd taken two steps forward and two steps back, forced to keep looking for evidence connecting Rafa to Sulani and the Brindletons, he still felt as though he was on the right track.

He returned home to his family that night, finding Ash and Lavender in the kitchen with a book.

"Give Twee, Dada! Pease?"

Lavender crossed her hands on her lap and smiled, melting any possible opposition. Not that he ever turned down a chance to read the kids a good story.

Heather gave Gord a bath while Conrad read, getting the kids ready for bed before a freshly-shampooed Gord bounded up the stairs to say good night.

"Nigh-nigh Go-dee," she said, patting his head gently as he leaned in for a nuzzle. "Go-dee wet!" She laughed wildly and wrapped her arms around him. "Lovey!"

Conrad's gorgeous family was a constant reminder why it was so important he find the Bonillas and move forward with his picture-perfect life. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

[usedtobeguest123]

My grandma passed away this last week. She was the matriarch of my family, raising a brood of boys on her own in a new country, and the life I have now I owe to her dedication and sacrifice. She is part of why the character of Abuela resonates so strongly with me, not because of their similarities in character, but because of how meaningful it was to see a story like hers represented in a beautiful, celebrated way in mainstream media.

I'll miss her dearly.

I was going through my unused writing snippets and I found this old one I had started for Encantober "Grief" and never finished. I polished it up a bit and offer it up now in my Abuela's honor. It's inspired by this Twitter-posted poem that resonated with so many people. While I know that there's so much more to the everlasting life after this one, this poem speaks such beauty and childlike peace into that transition, and I adore it for that.

Also, for some reason, I always thought that when the time came for Abuela to pass on, Camilo in particular would have a hard time letting go. Let it in, let it out, let it rain, let it snow, let it go, and all that. He seemed a fitting recipient for this, and also someone likely to ask an uncomfortable question.

Love you Grandma; God bless you and keep you. I can't wait to see you in again in paradise ❤️

------

It had been happening all. freaking. day.

He’d turn the corner, see a cup or a flower or a damn leaf that somehow reminded him and poof, he’d be someone else. Papi. Dolores. Luisa—a mess of people in quick succession. Thank God he’d managed to keep from changing into her. He didn’t think he could deal with that. Ay, he didn’t think any of them could.

No one blamed him though. When Mirabel witnessed one of his involuntary shifts on his way to the kitchen that morning, she’d just looked at him with that sappy, stupid face she was always making and gave him a hug that maybe did help him feel a little better.

Papi had clapped him hard on the back, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder as he shifted back down into his own skin. He'd nodded solemnly, giving him a gentle, encouraging lift under the chin.

Tía Julieta just gave him an extra helping at lunch, teary-eyed yet smiling warmly as always.

But it still sucked.

Dios why couldn’t he just get a grip? He felt so jumpy. Everything set him off. He snapped at Antonio when one of his coatis left cacas outside his room again. Even as he spoke he’d known his voice was a too harsh for the situation. He snapped Isabela, and for once she didn’t snap back. She just sent a tiny bloom of flowers settling into his shirt pocket, their stems only a little spikey. He even snapped at Casita when they both knew he'd just tripped on his own two feet.

But he made sure he was on his absolute best behavior around Mami. You want to talk about jumpy? He had nothing on her. Poor Ma.

He managed to hold it together through the rosary, and the next day at mass too, by some miracle. The ceremony was harder, but he pulled through. But then came the reception. Everyone was talking to him and hugging him and offering condolences and ay how many times can you say thank you, I know she's at peace with just the right sad smile before the words start to lose all meaning? Thank you thank you thankyouthankyo—

So. Phwooo. Here he was now, sneaking out of the reception to the back porch of Casita when no one was looking, just to try to fill his stale lungs with a little more air.

After he shut the door quietly behind him, giving a small pat to the wall in thanks to his accomplice Casita, he turned and was surprised to find he in fact was not alone. There, on the small step that led out to the back patio, was Tío Bruno, a rat of course sitting on his shoulder. Eck. Camilo felt a little shiver go down his back.

He considered turning around to find his own private place to brood, but something stopped him. After a moment, and a small nudge from the tiles beneath his feet, he quietly approached instead.

“Hey,” he said lamely.

“Oh!” Bruno startled, flailing comically, but recovered quickly. “Oh, h-hey there Milo.”

Guess I'm not the only one who’s jumpy.

“Do you mind if I…?” he gestured at the empty spot on the stairs next to his tío.

Bruno nodded rapidly, flapping at the spot with his hands and scooting over a minute amount that made absolutely no difference in available space. Camilo sat.

For a while, they didn’t say anything. The rat had disappeared from Tío Bruno’s shoulder to God knows where. They watched the leaves sway on the large gnarled tree that stood proudly behind Casita.

Man, how old was that thing? It had been there as long as he could remember. At some point, a planter had been built around it where Isabela grew a perpetual explosion of flowers, and a swing hung from one of its thicker branches, but he'd seen pictures of when the back porch had let out to just a field and a tree. Camilo found himself wondering if that old thing had always been there, or if it had come with their Miracle.

It looked ancient. The trunk was at least as wide as four humans, twisting and turning up toward the sky at a slight angle before giving way to countless branches, those branches breaking off on their own as well in seemingly infinite chaos. The canopy splayed out above the courtyard in a protective, verdant umbrella so lush that even in the rain, the area underneath often stayed dry. Down below, the roots wove in and out of the soil like great serpents surfacing for air, defying the boundaries of the neat planter and forever upending the level neatness of the patio.

Camilo couldn’t imagine it not being there. He just couldn’t imagine a world without its constant, unshakeable presence. Something heavy and gripping suddenly settled into his chest, and he swallowed hard.

After a moment, his traitorous mouth opened without being told to and he whispered out question so quietly he wasn't sure if Bruno would even hear him.

“What do you think it’s like?”

“Huh?”

“...dying.” Camilo swallowed again, but didn’t look at his uncle. “What do you think it’s like.”

“Oh.” Bruno’s voice was soft. To Camilo’s surprise, he didn’t fidget or squirm like usual. Instead, he seemed to sort of wilt. Camilo glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He'd leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. He stared up toward the big tree too, but he didn’t seem to be really looking at anything.

It was quiet for so long, that Camilo considered cracking some kind of joke to cover his tracks.

What are you thinking anyway, tonto? he thought. Guy just lost his mom. You gonna drop a rock like that on him? He really did need to get a grip. He needed to break the tension, ease the mood.

“Well, it must not have been that bad if Abuela allowed it to happen,” he joked, his voice light, wry, and guarding. “I think even La Muerte herself would have layed off if Abuela had given her that one stern look she had, ya know?"

Camilo chuckled, but Bruno didn't laugh. He didn't respond at all. He was still looking at the tree with a distant expression. Camilo narrowed his eyes at him—it didn't even seem like he'd heard a thing.

“...Tío?”

At that, Bruno dropped his eyes down to look at his hands, woven together loosely between his bent knees. He tipped his palms up slightly as if he was looking for something there. He took a slow breath, and then he began to speak.

“When I was a kid,” he said, “a-a real little kid, we had this big party at Casita. You know how it goes. House full of people, everything is busy and bright and loud. I don't remember what it was for anymore, b-but the whole time I just was torn between wanting to not miss a minute of it all, but, but, but also trying to be on my best behavior, like I knew Ma would want, a-and also also trying look out for my sisters, who were doing fine by the way, definitely didn't need me looking out for them but—well, anyway.”

Bruno cleared his throat, and Camilo watched him curiously. He nodded for him to continue, and Bruno nodded back.

“A-anyway, I didn't make it through the whole night. I got tired, like kids do, a-and fell asleep in some corner of the courtyard, heh. Passed right out. And Ma—y-your abuela, she found me and picked me up.”

Bruno looked up then, turning to look at Camilo with a sad, crooked smile and an odd brightness in his eyes.

“She carried me upstairs to my room. I could still hear the party—laughter and singing and music and joy—just in the next room over, but in my room with Mamá it was all still and quiet and peaceful. When she tucked me in, she kissed my cheek, and she whispered, ‘You did well, mijo. You did well. I've got you now.’”

Bruno swallowed. “It…it all just felt so…so…safe,” he shrugged. “Like…relief, I guess. Contentment. Idaknow. I think….maybe, um, maybe dying is… something like that.”

The tight feeling was back in Camilo's chest, and he felt a tear streak down his face before he was even aware it was there. He blinked. Bruno looked down at his empty hands again. The air around them had grown cool, the sun now set. The sound of crickets hummed, and the gentle murmurs from the reception wafted out from the warmly lit windows of Casita. Camilo sniffed loudly.

“That doesn't sound so bad,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. Bruno nodded with a broken chuckle, and brought a sleeve up to wipe roughly at his own face.

“Yeah. It doesn't.”

Then, without warning, Camilo’s shoulders quaked, his breath hitching and more tears suddenly appearing as all the pent-up pressure of the day rose to the surface and broke free. He choked out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry. Bruno put an arm around him.

The wind blew gently through the branches of the tree, ruffling the leaves in a hushed lullaby. The ropes of the swing creaked sweetly along with it. And there on the porch, settled between the warm murmurs of the reception behind them and the cool peace of the star-filled night, after his breathing had slowed and his tears had been wiped dry, Camilo thought that maybe he could finally feel within him a measure of stillness.

[spookymystery67]

I Wish I Could Walk In Heels

AN: I apologize if the format looks any different for this chapter. I had to post it through the app which I hadn't done before, but the website WOULD NOT copy-paste like it usually does so I had to try it out here. And I'm sorry for the wait everyone. I truly am trying to get myself together. I don't know why writing is so hard to do right now, but believe me, I'm sick of it too. I want my motivation back! Anyways, this chapter is just slightly shorter than the new average word count of my chapters lately. Still over 2k words, so I call that a win for my unmotivated ass. I figured the ending of this chapter was a good point to stop so I could get something out for you all. I still can't believe so many people enjoy this story and I am still so grateful for the support and love you all give. Thanks so much and I hope you enjoy!

It's concerning, and incredibly frustrating, how often Leon's life has been in danger since his arrival to Los Iluminados. You'd think the government would have trained their soldiers in stealth missions.

Chapter 22:

If they did, Leon likely failed.

You and Ada had arrived at the house just in time, with her saving Leon from a large man with a beard in a trench coat and hat. The man oddly reminded you of the Tyrant, Mr. X, you all had encountered back in Raccoon City. Granted, you couldn't get a good look at him, electing instead to remain hidden from both him and Leon so as to not cause any more issues with the mission at hand.

Ada had grappled to the roof of the house, while you had remained on the ground so she could help more easily. Hard to shoot a gun while using a grappling hook. Even harder to do so while also carrying your girlfriend.

Leon left the house shortly after the man with the beard had. So, moving swiftly, you climbed your way up the house to the second floor as Ada jumped down to the same spot from the roof. Opening the window, she nudged for you to go in first. You checked the surrounding area in case there were any enemies, before quietly climbing through the window after seeing nothing of concern.

Maybe you should have been more thorough with your search of the area, considering as soon as you found a lead to where Luis could be and went to exit the house, you both were attacked by the bearded man and friends. 

It was not a fun encounter. But thanks to Ada's quick thinking and her handy dandy grappling hook, you both made it out in relatively one piece.

Finding your way to the abandoned factory, Ada took the lead and carefully entered before you. Gun in hand and ready to fight.

“Not a soul in sight.” She said, putting her gun away. 

You pointed to the corpse on the floor. “No one except that guy.” 

She hummed in acknowledgement. “Might have been Luis’s doing.” She activated her fancy contact lenses. “I'm picking up his footprints. This way.” She beckoned.

You were right behind her as she followed the footprints, keeping your eyes peeled for any other clues to his whereabouts, before finding his pack of cigarettes with the numbers “422 1625” written on the it. 

“Is this his frequency?” Ada questioned.

“Try it out.” You shrugged.

Taking out her radio, she set it to the frequency written on the pack and you both waited with bated breath. Thankfully, Luis answers and you sighed with a smile, happy to see the man was alive.

“Ada?” He laughs in relief. “I knew you'd find me!”

“That's my job.” She responded with exasperation.

“Is Sénorita with you?” He asked. You rolled your eyes fondly. He hasn't referred to you by your actual name at all since the moment you've met. At first you found it a little annoying. Now it kind of amused you.

“Right here. I have a name you know.” You called out.

“Ah, but Sénorita rolls off the tongue better.” He teased with a grin. 

Ada interrupted, not at all in the mood to deal with Luis's constant flirty comments that he enjoyed throwing at the two of you. “Are you about ready to hand over the Amber?” 

“There's a big house just outside the village past the windmill. You know it?” Luis questioned.

“Yeah, I know it.”

“Then I'll meet you here. I'll be waiting.” He said, ending the call shortly after.

“Cool. Let's get out of here. I don't like this place.” You said.

“Agreed.”

Only, of course it wasn't that easy. It was at that moment a bunch of the villagers, including one with a chainsaw, decided to bombard their way into the factory and attack you both from every angle. Getting out of the fight was as difficult as it was annoying. But somehow you both managed.

You and Ada ran out the door of the abandoned factory, with Ada running ahead of you.

Clutching her head with a grunt, Ada's sudden stop instantly made you concerned and on high alert. You didn't see the creature, but you were surrounded by villagers. You both had to get out of there. Now.

“Ada? What's wrong?” You had your gun out, so when she started to faint you were unable to catch her in time. 

You gasped and quickly kneeled beside her, checking her pulse and feeling relieved when you felt her heart still beating. Though it was a little fast. And there were markings that resembled veins on her face that really worried you. Whatever that creature infected her with, it was getting worse and you needed to find a cure. Fast.

But you needed to focus on one thing at a time. And that one thing was getting you and Ada safely away from the infected villagers you were surrounded by. 

“Need a hand?” A cold voice drawled.

You jumped to your feet and turned around so fast you were dizzy. Yet the gun in your hand was steady. The slight blurriness of your vision cleared away soon enough and focused right on the source of that cold voice. 

Wesker.

“Do I have a choice?” You practically snarled, not wanting to accept help from such an awful person. But you knew full well there wasn't any room for argument with the man.

He aimed his pistol at a nearby villager and pulled the trigger without so much as a glance away from you. “No.”

“Then by all means.” You picked Ada up to the best of your ability as Wesker took out any villager in your way, dragging her to the building he led you to and placing her on a bed once you've reached your destination safely.

Safe? Were you at all safe in the vicinity of Albert Wesker? You didn't think so. Interactions with him have to be done carefully.

And by that, you meant you have to remain silent and as far away from the man as possible until Ada wakes up. So you sat on the bed beside Ada and planned to do just that.

Until you saw Wesker making his way over to Ada with a needle. 

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked with alarm. He just looked at you with his usual deadpan expression.

“That's none of your concern.”

“None of my concern? I find it pretty concerning that you're trying to stick a needle in my unconscious girlfriend.” 

Your reply seemed to agitate him, judging by the way his harsh features hardened even further. He walked closer to you. Far too close for comfort.

“Keep in mind that you and Ada are expendable. The moment you have little of use to me is the moment I would happily see to it you both are dead. Especially you, Y/n. The only reason you aren't dead is because I need Ada to get this done. But she is very quickly becoming a problem for me. And so are you.” Wesker looked you dead in the eye. And despite the sunglasses, you can feel the weight of his glare easily. 

“Do you really want to interfere while Ada is unconscious and unable to fight back any attack to come her way?” He challenged.

You glared, rage running through you. But accepted your loss and shook your head no. You have no way of winning a fight with the man. And you sure as hell didn't want to chance it while he was so close to Ada, who was prone to any attack at the moment.

“Good. Stay in line. And you will live.” He finished, as if it was simple. 

It wasn't simple. It killed you to watch Wesker draw blood from her while she was none the wiser. You felt as though you had betrayed her. And what's worse was the thought that followed after he finished obtaining her blood without her consent.

You paled in realization. He must want it for some kind of experiment. Why else would he want her infected blood? A plan B for if this whole mission turned into a failure. How many people will get hurt now because of this blood sample? How many more will die?

You already feel responsible for those lives who have yet to suffer because of this. But what choice did you have? He could hurt Ada.

Please wake up, Ada.

As if she could read your mind, she immediately gasped awake and looked around in alarm. You grabbed her hand and she flinched, before realizing it was you and relaxing slightly. She went to speak but you quickly shook your head. She was confused, until you gestured to where Wesker stood by the window.

She looked over your shoulder and her eyes widened as she noticed Wesker for the first time, with his back turned to the bed you both sat on. She quickly schooled her features before he could see her surprise.

“Having a bad day?” He asked her, putting the needle away before turning to face her completely. He was ignoring your existence now, but you didn't mind after what just had occurred with Wesker. You'll let Ada deal with him. She has the most experience with the man.

“Wesker. To what do I owe this pleasure?” She asked lightly. Though it was very clear she didn't want to deal with the man either.

Wesker was not having any of the pleasantries. “Stop wasting my time, Ada. Find Luis. Fetch me the Amber.”

“I should probably thank you for this room. Are you staying… to back us up?” She asked. You really hoped he wouldn't stay.

“I'm not here to babysit you. See that you and Y/n remain an asset. Not a liability. I have absolutely no use for your incompetence.” Wesker threatened.

Ada stood up quickly, a bit irritated. “Easy with the threats, Wesker.”

“Just get it done. I'll be in touch.” With that, Wesker walked out, carrying the case that held the needle and her blood.

Not a moment after, her radio rang. You stood to your feet as she immediately answered it. Luis's voice sounded through the speaker of the device.

“Ada! You're okay. I've been waiting and, uh, you're still coming right?” Luis asked.

“Yes, just had some business to attend to. Y/n and I are on our way now.” Ada reassured him.

“Got it. See you soon. Ciao.” 

The call ended and she put the radio away, then looked at you. “You've been awfully quiet. You alright?” 

Looking at her in disbelief, you responded, “Am I alright? I should be asking you that. What happened back there?”

“The infection is getting worse.” She paused. “But I should be fine. There should be enough time to get the Amber and then an antidote.”

She didn't sound so sure, and you weren't convinced. “Uh huh. And where and how are we going to get an antidote?”

She looked unsure, then shrugged. “Um, one step at a time. Come on. We have to get to Luis.”

You followed after her, exiting the house to get to the location Luis wanted to meet at. As you walked you decided to mention what Wesker did. “Ada?”

“Yes, dear?” She called over her shoulder, focusing on her surroundings yet still hearing what you have to say.

You didn't know how else to say this, so you just said it. “Wesker. H-... he took some of your blood.” 

She froze in her tracks and faced you in bewilderment. Shock, confusion, then horror became evident on her face as she took in your words and quickly made the same conclusion you did when she was still unconscious not that long ago. 

He stole her blood for whatever virus was currently coursing through her veins.

“He knows?” She asked you.

“That you are infected with something? I think so. I can't think of any other reason he would do this.” You paused, before sighing in defeat. “I wanted to stop him. But he threatened your life and you were unconscious and-”

“Sweety!” Ada interrupted with a raised hand. “It's fine. I completely understand. I am upset at the situation, but not with you.” She huffed. “I'm pissed off actually. At Wesker. Clearly his mother didn't teach him manners.”

“Does he have a mother? I would think he was created in a lab or something.” Not your best joke. But nonetheless, a small smile still appeared on her face.

She shook her head. “Who the hell knows. Come on, not much we can do about it now. Let's focus on Luis.”

With a nod, you followed Ada to resume your mission once more. To Luis. To the Amber. And hopefully, to an antidote for Ada before it is too late for her.

(Edit: I got rid of the spaces. Between paragraphs. Hopefully it looks better and more like the usual posts.)

[lady-october]

Pairing : Oli Sykes x Female Assistant Genre : Romance, Smut (18+ Only) Previous Chapters : Available on Ao3 & Tumblr

Story Content : Smut, Drama, Choking, Power dynamics, Romance, Rough sex, Sadism/Masochism, Dom/Sub, Mentions of addiction & self harm, Degradation, Praise kink, Exhibitionism, Orgasm denial, Breath play, Dirty talk.

Summary :

“Don’t you see what a dangerous game you’re playing? Why did you have to look so fucking delicious tonight, I couldn’t stop undressing you in my mind, thinking of all the twisted things I want to do to you.” She had only worked on the touring team for three weeks, but her mind had been hijacked by dirty thoughts of a man she barely even talked to. Sure, he was very attractive, but were there other reasons she was so uncontrollably drawn to him? This is a filthy story of pain, self discovery, and love.

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Chapter 27: You monsters are people

Chapter title is lyrics from “Obey” 

This chapter is from Oli’s perspective. 

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I can’t believe she stayed. 

As soon as the words had left my mouth, I’d regretted it. But being inside her, being surrounded by her scent, her legs wrapped around me, her large blue eyes set in that flushed, soft face, how was I supposed to keep the words to myself? 

How was I expected to not express my love for such a perfect sight? 

I’d been working overtime for days to keep from telling her I love her, knowing it was too soon, especially for someone like Alice.  

And then I’d gone and told her twice within the span of a couple of hours. 

I let my hands rake over my face as I shook my head under the shower head, the warm water cascading around my vision, turning the tiles wavy. 

I’m so fed up with myself. 

Regardless of my self-indulgent recklessness last night, she’d still stayed, faced her demons, and let me know she’s trying. 

And now it was my turn to return the favour. 

But how was I supposed to deal with my current problems, when dead and buried demons were suddenly crawling out of their overgrown graves, reminding me that maybe they hadn’t been properly dealt with in the first place? 

I thought I’d shed the shackles Fay had put around my ankles at this point, but in so many ways I’m still the same person I was a year ago when I read her texts. I still crave the validation, the attention she offers me so readily. So greedily. 

I’m not completely daft though, I know she’s just manipulating me, just like she’s always manipulated me. Controlling me in ways I feel powerless against. The difference is that I didn’t use to care. In fact, I welcomed it, because I wanted to spend every moment with her regardless of her intentions.  

It only became a problem when we were no longer on the same page. 

I also knew why she was the way she was, which made it even harder to judge her for it. 

You see, I may have always been drawn to troubled women, but Fay’s the most troubled of them all. 

By a long shot. 

She may not be suicidal in the typical sense, but she lives her life like there’s no tomorrow, continuously reckless in ways that usually guarantees becoming worm food prematurely. 

You’d think most of her wild traits could be chalked up to growing up with her addict mum, who were either not home for days on end, or blacked out on the sofa when she was. Or maybe even by the fact that she croaked from an overdose when Fay was barely a teen. 

But personally, I think most of it could be explained by being left in the care of her extremely abusive stepfather once her mum was out of the picture. 

About two years ago when it was still Mat and Fay, we’d all gone to stay in Birmingham to hunker down and spend a full week focused on writing and recording a new EP.  

This also happens to be the week me and Fay fell in love.  

Every night was sleepless, which wasn’t uncommon for me, but it turned out Fay also had her slumber related problems. This meant we’d spend hours every night together, oversharing, getting to know each other on an inappropriately personal level considering her relationship status with my best mate. 

I wasn’t used to opening up to people, but the very first night Fay had told me about her childhood, and it all just spiralled from there. Naturally – and because I’m a fucking mess – I was immediately enthralled by this seemingly mythical being, so fun, yet terrifyingly disturbed. 

What was so shocking about her was how casually she talked about her life, like it was the most normal thing in the world.  

Which, to be fair, to her it was.  

My earliest taste of this came on the second night of the trip.  We’d been talking about our mutual love for animals, when she interjected with a long list of stray pets she’d rescued off the streets and hid from her stepdad.  

Only to follow it up with how she kept coming home to them having their necks broken once he’d found them.  

I’d been horrified, wondering how that would’ve affected her – how it still must affect her, when without skipping a beat, she’d move on with the conversation, going on a passionate tangent about climate change out of nowhere. 

It was bizarre, it was refreshing – it was alarming and worrisome. But in some weird way it was also strangely comforting, knowing that even though she was deeply traumatised, and clearly unhealed, she still had a zest for life.  

Albeit maybe a bit too much zest.  

The last night of the trip was the most memorable to me. 

She’d been laying on the balcony table for about an hour, staring up into the night sky as it slowly shifted and changed to brighter colours. I’d been distracted by the silk robe she’d worn, and how her long, bright red hair was hanging over the edge of the table, halfway to the concrete floor. She was reminiscing about a hike she’d gone on with a group of friends, when she broke out into the most delightful laughter, smiling from ear to ear before rolling over to finally face me. It was like I was staring into the eyes of a deity, some ancient goddess, when she reached out to trace one of the skull-motifs inked into the skin of my arm. 

“I have something so similar to this one,” She’d started, her fingers still playing on my skin, the innocent touch feeling so charged, so forbidden in the deep hours of the night, it threatened goosebumps to form as I fought off the urge to stare straight down her cleavage, “I’d show you, but I don’t think Mat would be too happy about it.” 

While she wasn’t as covered in tattoos as me, she wasn’t too far off. And from her implication that the placement of the art piece in question was somewhere I shouldn’t be looking, I could immediately imagine it on her inner thigh, considering I may have caught a glimpse of the bottom of it earlier tonight. 

Which in turn had me imagine more things that caused blood to flow in places they shouldn’t be as I inevitably allowed my eyes to fall to her chest, so poorly covered by her robe. 

But through the fog of dirty thoughts and fought off impulses, I realised she was trying to seduce me, which forced me to take a step back and analyse what’s been going on the past week.  

And that maybe we’d both been trying to seduce each other. 

“Think it’s time to sleep.” I muttered before getting to my feet, knowing I was in deep, deep shit. 

“Stay,” she breathed, taking hold of the arm she’d been tracing, “It’s our last night here, and you haven’t told me about your addiction yet.” 

I was confused, as I’d already shared how it all started, and about my time in rehab. As far as I was aware, I’d told her everything there was to know about my addiction. 

“What are you on about, of course I have.” I countered, thrown off once again by the continuous sudden change of topics and moods that Fay seemed to come pre-programmed with.  

She let go of my arm, sitting up, and allowed her legs to dangle over the edge of the table before she spoke, “You’ve told me nothing I can’t read online,” She scanned my face with her dark eyes, such a deep brown they were pitch black in most lights, “What’s so terrible about you that you don’t want to be yourself?” 

I wanted to tell her I wasn’t there mentally anymore, that I was better now – happy and recovered.  

But I knew I’d be lying.  

Addiction is like weeds; you can clear them as thoroughly as you want, but if you don’t tend to them regularly, your whole garden will be overgrown before you know it. 

And I was a master of pretending everything was fucking dandy when they weren’t. 

“You sure you want to talk about that?” I asked, thinking of her mother’s history with drugs. 

She let out a laugh I’d heard her do several times before – mostly when discussing a sensitive subject. It was slightly manic, her eyes sparkling with mischief, “Why, because my deadbeat mom overdosed? Oh please. Just tell me, Oliver.” 

I hated it when she called me by my full name, and she knew I hated it from the moment we were introduced. 

Yet she didn’t stop until months into our relationship, claiming that Oli was a stupid British nickname, and since she’s American she was very adamant about rejecting the shortened version of my given name. 

Despite my better judgement, I sat back down, not wanting our week to end on a bad note. 

Even though I knew we’d have to stop hanging out alone after tonight, no matter how sad that thought made me. 

Especially because of how sad that thought made me. 

“It’s not that I think I’m terrible, necessarily. But it’s like my emotions are always dialled up to max, and there’s no shutting them off.” 

She grimaced at my response, “I feel a lot too, but that’s a great thing, and I would never want to turn them off. They’re what makes me feel alive; I cry, I scream, I laugh, I love, I fuck – and I feel better for it.” 

She forgot to mention that she plays Russian roulette with her life every so often by being an adrenaline junkie in the worst of ways. 

And no, I hadn’t overlooked how she put emphasis on the word fuck. Or the way it had me imagine her dark eyes looking up at me as her full lips closed around my shaft. 

“I wish it was that simple for me, love.” I responded under my breath. 

“Why can’t it be that simple?” 

“Because I’m a bomb.” 

There was a short pause as she considered my words, “Explain.” 

I got more comfortable in my seat again, preparing to unpack such a deep part of myself, unsure whether it was the early morning hours that made me comfortable enough to do so, or whether there was just something special about Fay. 

I took a deep breath, “If I let my feelings run amuck, I’d probably burst wide open. I’d get so fucking furious with the state of the world, or with how little anyone seems to give a shit, that I couldn’t think straight. On the other side of that, if I let myself love to my full potential,” I shook my head, “That’s a terrifying thought to be honest with you, cause I don’t know how far I’d take that. Pretty sure I’d completely lose myself, and drive anyone on the receiving end of it fucking mad in the process.” 

As I spoke Fay’s eyes burrowed into me, lighting up with the passion of a thousand suns.  

I’d later found out that it had been those words that made her fall in love with me, that she’d been searching high and low for a man that loved with as much intensity as she does, and after that night she was determined to become mine. 

I had to look away from her deep stare in order to finish making my point, “But when I get high, my feelings shut off, and for a while I’m free of all that. I get to just exist, without being exhausted from keeping myself restrained all the time.” 

“You’re talking about yourself like you’re some kind of monster that needs to be put down.” 

“Not put down, but I don’t think I should be let off my leash.” 

“Unless you’re talking about some kind of kinky play, I disagree.” 

I laughed. 

“You should try it. Next time you want to get high cause you hate your feelings so much, just let them do their thing.” She leaned forward, giving me a better view of her cleavage as her demeanour shifted; it was a very subtle shift, but it was more than enough to highlight the already undeniable sexual tension between us, “And whatever urges you get, give in to them. It might not be as bad as you think.” 

In a desperate attempt to keep my mind out of the gutter, and to prevent myself from pulling her into my lap right this moment, I conjured up images of my parents. 

And thankfully, it worked quickly, and well enough to keep myself in check. 

“Don’t think that’s a good idea, love.” My voice had dropped several octaves, giving away that I’d been considering doing what she was very clearly suggesting. 

A seductive smile bloomed on her lips, “Why?” 

“Because I have enough regrets as it is. I’ve no plans to add to my list of things that keep me up at night.” 

The look she gave me was that of a child who had their favourite toy taken away from them. 

As I got out of the chair to head to bed – alone – I couldn’t help but wonder what had Fay as sleepless as myself.  

Or how much regret she was repressing from living her life the way she did. 

But one thing I knew for sure was that she’d been hurt – badly. And hurt people who haven’t dealt with their pain, very easily hurt others. 

While I didn’t give in to my urges that night, once me and Fay did become a couple, I would quickly discover the full range of ways she’d inflict pain on me. 

It started with harmless manipulations to get her way in minor arguments, which was easy enough to overlook, especially when you’re falling head over heels for someone. 

Which I definitely was. 

Considering how hard and fast I was falling, it didn’t take much convincing for me to do as she’d suggested that night on the balcony. So, I gave in, submitting to my feelings in a way I hadn’t quite done before when it comes to love. 

It was so liberating, so wonderful, to just let myself worship her; to tell her I love her a million times a day without judgement, to have it so readily reciprocated, and allow myself to request as much of her time and attention as I craved. 

I was so convinced that she was the best thing that had ever happened to me, that of course I didn’t bat an eye when I noticed the small white lies. Surely she only lied to protect me, because she loves me so much. 

But the small lies grew bigger, the innocent manipulations turned sinister, and about 10 months into the relationship she’d almost always choose revenge over peace whenever we’d argue. She’d do things like ramp up her thrill-seeking behaviour to get me worried for her safety, or intentionally make me jealous – which, I am not proud of having done to Alice. 

But there’s a reason they call it the cycle of abuse. 

And now I’m the hurt person who apparently hasn’t dealt with their pain, hurting others in the process. 

Turning off the shower I wrapped a towel around myself before stepping in front of the fogged-up mirror over the hotel sink, giving it a wipe to take a good, hard look at myself. 

The eyes looking back at me were bloodshot, accompanied by dark circles and a scowl.  

While I’d fallen asleep fairly quickly last night, I’d been jarred awake by the usual nightmares so early it was still dark out, and I’d spent the hours since pondering what to do next. 

And while there were several pressing matters, all roads seemed to lead back to Alice. 

Do I tell her the truth about everything, or do I share the watered-down version I’d planned to relay last night before we got interrupted? 

I exhaled a shaky breath as the man in the mirror’s features turned increasingly panicked. 

Alice wasn’t wrong; you really are a fucking coward. 

Suddenly a loud bang could be heard from outside the bathroom, and I quickly realised it was the sound of the hotel room door slamming shut. 

Almost as if someone had stormed out of here. 

I launched for the bathroom door, ripping it open only to be met with an empty room. 

In the middle of the floor, I could see my phone lying face down, moved from its original position on the bedside table. 

Fuck. 

Dread washed over me, knowing what Alice must have seen on my phone to make her dash out of here in such a rush – the same thing I’d seen every time I’d looked at it since I’d accidentally messaged Fay. 

I wasted no time, collecting my phone and dashed towards Alice’s room, only for the shortest of moments registering that I’m soaking, and just clad in a towel around my waist. 

“Alice!” I yelled after several vigorous knocks on the door, “Let me in, it’s not what you think!” 

I threw a quick glance at my screen to see what Alice might have read. 

“Fay: I can’t wait to see you.” 

“Shit.” I breathed through clenched teeth. 

“Alice!” I yelled louder as more panic set in, knocking the door so hard it rattled. 

Realising she might’ve not even gone to her room, I pressed my ear to the solid wood to listen for any sounds inside, only to almost fall face first into the room when the door suddenly flew open. But instead of falling I was shoved by a furious Liam, who had sent me stumbling backwards, nearly hitting the wall on the opposite side of the hotel corridor from the force he’d used. 

He was clearly a fair bit stronger than he looks. 

“I don’t know what the fuck you did to that poor woman, but there’s not a chance I’m letting you see her.” 

“She thinks I’m chattin’ up another bird – I’m not!” I raised my voice, hoping Alice would hear as Liam had left the door ever so slightly ajar behind him. 

“Whatever.” He muttered, rolling his eyes, clearly not giving a rat’s arse about the specifics of the drama he’d been forced to take part in, before giving me a once over, “I need to go back in there. Get dressed, there’s kids staying here for fuck’s sake.” 

The door shut, and locked, with both Liam and Alice behind it. 

And I’d never felt so helpless. 

I took another step back and let myself lean against the wall I’d nearly slammed into moments ago, sliding down it as I tried to keep my heart from breaking entirely. 

My eyes were so full of tears that it took me a second to realise there was a pair of shoes in my peripheral vision. I looked up to see Mat standing next to me, pity painted all over his face.  

I hadn’t heard any other doors open or shut, which meant he must have been in the corridor for the entire interaction. 

“Would you like a hand?” He asked, sounding sombre. 

I took his stretched-out hand and pulled myself up on unsteady feet, “Did you catch all that?” 

“Yeah. Wanna talk?” 

I wiped the tears away while attempting to keep the towel around my waist from falling to the floor.  

I was torn, because I knew Mat had asked me with the intention of being there for me. 

But it wasn’t just Alice I needed to have a serious discussion with. And I doubted he would want to console me after I come clean to him about everything. 

“Yeah.” I responded after I’d made my decision. 

We walked to my room where we once again took a seat on the floor, leaning against the bed. Only this time it was the bed me and Alice had just spent the night in, made abundantly obvious by her pile of clothes on the floor, next to the bag which she’d left during her swift escape. 

I watched as droplets fell from my soaking hair and hit the carpet as we sat in silence for a while, probably to let me collect myself. The cheery, sun-lit room a stark contrast from my dark and hopeless emotions, which seemed so impossible to fight. 

But I had to start somewhere. 

“I almost got high last night.” I said, breaking the silence. 

I threw a quick glance at Mat; he looked hurt. 

I couldn’t blame him. 

“I almost got high when we were in London too, sent an old dealer a message and everything.”  

The problem with saying things out loud is that they immediately become all too real.  

But since I was walking a dangerously fine line considering I didn’t know if things would work out between me and Alice, I needed it to become real. 

And I needed it to become real right now. 

I looked over at my trousers laying on top of my luggage. 

“I got some,” I started, whispered, the words feeling like acid pushing up my throat, knowing that as soon as I’d let them leave my lips, I wouldn’t have the option of going numb anymore. I inclined my head towards my belongings, “Last night at the club. It’s in my pocket.” 

I’d been staring at the seemingly harmless article of clothing all morning before going for a shower, being so incredibly tempted by it, only able to talk myself out of it because she stayed. 

Which I realise is extremely problematic. 

Mat sighed deeply, leaning forward to rake his hands through his hair. 

“I’m sorry man. I know we said I’d come to you if I ever got the urge to use again.” 

He looked so disappointed, and I hadn’t even gotten to the worst part yet. 

“I had some suspicions you weren’t doing great, but I had no clue you were on this thin ice. I just thought I’d give you a chance to come talk to me when you were ready.” He released a nervous laugh, “Actually I thought that maybe you were doing better the past week or so. You’ve been a bit off, sure, but you’ve also seemed quite happy a lot of the time.” 

I hadn’t expected such a peaceful response after my admission. In fact, I’d suspected him to tear me a new one. 

But then again, I wasn’t done talking yet. 

“Mat, I’m a lying piece of shit, and I have no excuses.” 

“I’m just happy you’re talking to me before you did something, this way—” 

“I’ve been hooking up with Alice since London.” I interrupted, the disbelief on his features adding to my ever-growing mountain of self-hatred, but I knew I needed to continue speaking, to rip the band aid off once and for all. My mouth hung open for a beat, suspended, as I gathered the courage to tell him how I feel, “I’m in love with her.” 

Mats’ features grew cold as he processed what I was saying, readjusting his position on the floor. 

“Why’d you let me look like a twat, thinking I had a shot with her?” He asked, an anger lacing his words. 

I watched more drops fall from my hair as I hung my head low, “I wish I could say it’s cause she wanted to keep it a secret, and sure that’s how it started, but she understood why I needed to be honest with you lot, considering our past.” I took a deep breath and forced myself to face him again, “The long and short of it is that I wanted to see if I could trust her – see if she’d run off to you instead.” 

He watched me under furrowed brows, “So, you were using me.” 

“Yeah.” I confirmed, feeling like a useless wet fucking rat. 

Mat let out a long exhale as he leaned back into the mattress behind us, “You remember that week in Birmingham, when we were recording about two years ago?” 

I tensed, remembering it as the week I wanted to steal his girlfriend, “Of course.” 

He sucked on his teeth, contemplating, “I didn’t sleep much that week. I would sit with the window cracked and listen to you and Fay talk for hours.” I was surprised, not just by what he was saying, but by how guilty he looked as he told me, “The whole week was hell, but I needed to know if I could count on her. Turns out I couldn’t.” 

Apparently, it wasn’t just me who was riddled with trust issues after all our overlapping romances. 

“How come you never told me?” 

Mat shrugged, “I don’t know, bit embarrassing, I guess.” There was another short pause as more guilt made an appearance on him, “Also, I didn’t just want to see if I could count on Fay, but you as well.” 

I could see why, especially with how much lying I’d done over the years. 

“Well, how did I do?” I asked awkwardly. 

“Better than me.” He said with a bitter smile, clearly referring to the fact that he’d slept with Fay when I was technically still with her. 

Appearing as if he remembered something, his features grew worried, “I never slept with Alice, but you should know there was stuff going on.” 

I sighed deeply, “I know.” 

The look he gave me was filled with confusion, “And you’re alright with that?” 

All I could do was shrug, “We’re not a couple. And at this rate I’m not sure we’ll ever be.” I said, knowing there was a real chance I’d scared her off for good this time. 

He opened his mouth, probably to say something hopeful and kind that would only serve to make me feel worse, so I hurried to speak before he got a chance to. 

“There’s one more thing.” I could see him bracing himself mentally for whatever I was about to say, but I knew he’d never expect this to come out of my mouth, “I’ve been talking to Fay.” 

“Fucking hell, Oli.” He looked utterly disgusted with me. 

Which reflected my own feelings about myself perfectly. 

“She’ll be at our next show.” I continued. 

Mat got to his feet. At first, I thought he was about to leave, but instead he just began angrily pacing back and forth in front of me. 

I felt like a kid who was about to get a scolding from their parents. 

He stopped and looked down at my pathetic self on the floor, “Did you invite her?” 

I shook my head, causing more droplets to fall all around me, “No, she was already going. She’s been going to a lot of our shows the past year.” 

His eyes began darting all over the room, his mind obviously racing with thoughts – probably the same thoughts I had when I found out. After a handful of seconds, I could see the anger inside him deflate before he returned his attention to me, “Do you still miss her?” 

I shifted awkwardly, “I’m not sure.” I said honestly, shame filling me at my admission, “Thing is, the thought of seeing her again makes my skin crawl, but there’s just so much unresolved there. I want answers.” 

The pity reappeared in his eyes before he sat back down next to me, “You think she’d actually give you answers?”  

The question could have been perceived as mocking, but I could tell it was asked with sincerity.  

“I don’t know. All I know is that I’m nowhere near as healed as I thought I was.” And it was messing up my life in ways I couldn’t stand anymore. 

It also had me wondering how many unhealed wounds she’d left Mat with. 

“Do you want to meet her?” I asked quietly. 

He let his head fall back onto the mattress, looking almost as defeated as I felt, “I don’t know. She has a way of fucking with your head. I should hate her guts for everything she’s done to us, yet…” 

“You feel bad for her.” 

He huffed out a laugh, “Yeah.” 

“Yeah, me too.” I muttered. 

Mat studied my face for a moment before getting to his feet again, throwing a look towards my pile of clothes on my luggage, then back at me. 

I knew what he was silently asking, so I just nodded. 

He took the short steps over to my trousers, picking the pockets clean and headed towards the bathroom. 

When I heard the toilet flush, I was both relieved and terrified in equal measures. 

“I really need to go check on Lee.” He announced as soon as he came back out, almost as if pretending what he just did for me never happened, “Only the Matt’s of the group have it together lately.” 

Ah, never mind. 

“Why we needed two.” I said with a tired smile. 

He smiled back at me, “I’ll be back in just a couple of minutes, yeah?” 

My tired smile blossomed, feeling incredibly grateful for his continued support, especially when I was pulling so much stupid shit. 

“Mat,” I said right as he was about to leave, “I’m sorry.” 

“I know.” He responded casually before latching the door shut. 

I looked towards the dress I’d peeled off Alice’s exhausted body to help her get ready for bed last night, and I felt as if I was at a crossroads; either I fall apart, wallow in self-pity and let the melancholy take root. 

Or I continue clawing out of the grave I’d dug for myself, and fight. 

Springing into action, I started rummaging through Alice’s bag, to see if she’d left her phone behind or not. 

After having made an absolute mess of the room in record time, I deduced she’d taken it with her, so I sat down on the bed and began taking screenshots. I wasn’t sure if Alice was anything like myself when it came to these sorts of things, but personally I’d require proof. 

Mat came back as I was in the middle of cataloguing my conversation with Fay the past two days, hoping that the context would shine a better light on the situation, destroying any conclusions Alice had drawn from the individual damaging messages that had been present on my lockscreen. 

“Just a minute, mate.” I mumbled to Mat, who collapsed into the chair next to the bed. 

But I must have taken more than a minute, as I suddenly heard the TV turn on, pulling my attention away from the message I was typing up for Alice. 

I looked up at Mat through my now slightly dryer hair, “Sorry, I got a bit caught up.” 

“Wanna tell me what you’re doing?” He asked with an amused smile. 

“I can’t let Alice think I’m trying to get back with Fay, so I’m sending over the whole chat… Along with a message.” 

He stared at me for a beat, “Let me see before you send it.” 

It might seem like an odd request to some, but me and Mat had often helped each other out when it came to delicate communication. It started when we were teens trying to convince our parents we weren’t out partying every night, but it quickly evolved into helping each chat up girls on MSN.  

When we were kids it pretty much only served to get our way, no matter what. But once we got older, we stopped lying, turning the intention behind putting our heads together significantly less self-serving.  

As an example, I helped him write the eulogy for a childhood friend that passed away some years ago. 

“Alright.” I responded without giving it a second thought. 

Once I was done, I handed the phone over to Mat. From the amount of time he took, he was clearly also reading over my chat with Fay. 

I grew increasingly anxious the longer he took, knowing that he was close to reading the things I’d told Fay; how I’d finally responded to her relentless stream of messages, showcasing how pathetic I am.  

Highlighting that she clearly still had some type of hold on me. 

“She seems different.” He finally said. 

“Yeah.” I agreed. 

“Like she’s happier. But who knows if that’s just for show or not.” Mat handed the phone back to me, “How come you haven’t told her about Alice?” 

While the messages I’d sent to Fay were cold, short, and could be counted on one hand – versus the vast amount she’d sent me – I had given her a life update, intentionally not mentioning Alice while doing so. 

“I almost did, but I’m not sure she’d still want to meet up if she knew I’d fallen for someone else.” 

Fay matched me in possessiveness, and considering she was still obsessed with me, I knew she’d take it poorly. 

He took a moment to consider my reasons, “Besides that bit potentially looking a bit sus, I think you’re ready to send that.” 

“You think it’s enough?” 

He shrugged, “Hopefully. Depends on Alice really. Like you said, you two aren’t a couple. But I think that’s the best you’re gonna get – it’s a good message you’ve written.” 

I looked at the message, explaining how I’d accidentally messaged Fay, and my reasons for responding at all, and wondered if it contained some hidden meaning – some hidden trigger that would send her into another spiral, considering I was essentially speaking to Alice like she was already my girlfriend. 

‘Are you breaking up with me?’ 

Her panicked words from last night echoed in my head, a most bewildering concoction of emotions lingering from them.  

Copying everything into Alice’s message box, I pressed send, and fell backwards onto the bed. 

“Don’t get lazy now, you’ve got to hold yourself to your word.” Mat said. 

In the message I’d let Alice know I’d be waiting by her door until she was ready to talk to me. 

My tired eyes met Mat’s, and I told him something I don’t tell him nearly enough, “I don’t know what I’d do without you to be honest.” 

“There are other drummers. None as good as me of course, but I’m sure you’d make do.” He joked, keeping the mood light as always. 

I just shook my head, “You know what I mean, man. I really don’t deserve this type of treatment from you. I’ve been a fucking bellend at every turn, and you’re over here giving me advice about a bird I know you also feel some type of way about. I just want to keep my shit together long enough to feel like a decent friend. Just for once.” 

Mat braced his arms on his knees as he leaned forward, giving him an air of seriousness, “You’ve been a shit friend many times,” he started, pinning me with his eyes, “truly fucking awful actually…” he muttered, and I felt my heart drop for a moment before he continued, “But you’re not like that anymore, and you haven’t been for a long time. You’ve shown me time and time again that you can be trusted – that you care, and that you are trying bloody hard to better yourself; and that’s all that matters to me. You’ve been there for me through some truly horrible times as well, so you’ve got to stop being so hard on yourself Oli. You don’t give yourself nearly as much credit as you should.” 

Silence fell for a beat as I tried to keep the tears out of my eyes. 

“The Oli I knew from five years ago wouldn’t have come clean about any of the things you told me today.” He added, “I would’ve had to pry that out of him, kicking and screaming.” 

I knew he was right, and while I knew I had changed, it just wasn’t good enough. 

“I want to do better than this.” I whispered. 

He slapped his knees and got to his feet, indicating that it was time to get up and deliver on my promises, “And you will – you’ve got an excellent track record for improvement.” 

Once I’d gotten dressed, I grabbed a drink from the mini fridge and sat down next to Alice’s door. 

“Hiya.” I awkwardly said under my breath to the second couple walking past me the last couple of minutes, shuffling my legs out of the pathway to not be more of a nuisance than I had to be.  

Lunch time was coming up so most of the guests were about to head to the restaurant located on the first floor, causing some hope to sprout, that maybe she’d want to head down as well. 

Every so often I’d hear the faint sound of talking coming from behind the wooden door, and butterflies would come to life in my chest whenever those inaudible words were spoken by her soft, delicate voice. 

As I listened to her, my mind wandered back to when my obsession with Alice had developed to the point of no return, about a week before I grabbed her and fucked her on that table in London. 

She’d been using the laundry facilities at a house we were renting down south for a three day stay between gigs – something we did at times as it was often more comfortable than staying at hotels. When she’d suddenly stormed out of the loud utility room, running into the living room where I was currently reading.  

For a moment I’d thought the place was on fire from the way she’d legged it, in combination with the sheer panic all over her flushed face, causing me to bolt upright from my previously sprawled position. 

“Is everything alright?” I asked over the washing machine which was clearly in the centrifuge part of the cycle. 

But Alice just fell to the floor in front of the coffee table between us and began searching through the pockets of a jacket that was bunched up there, too preoccupied with whatever she was searching for to provide me with an answer. I thought that maybe she was having some sort of medical emergency, potentially looking for an inhaler or an EpiPen, but then I saw smoke escaping the utility room door frame, lapping onto the ceiling, which caused me to immediately spring into action. 

Heat smacked me in the face once I stepped into the room, only to realise it wasn’t smoke I’d seen, but steam. The place was like a sauna, and after taking one look at the pile of folded clothes next to the iron, I quickly deducted why. 

Realising that whatever crisis was occurring didn’t have anything to do with the utility room, I turned around, only to immediately be face to face with Alice. 

The panic was gone from her features, instead she appeared embarrassed, and so apologetic you’d think she’d kicked a puppy. While holding her phone, she opened her mouth to explain, and before she even got a word out, I let myself relax, understanding that there was in fact no danger. 

When words began leaving her lips, I was about to interrupt her, to let her know I couldn’t hear a thing she was saying over the loud machinery. Only the faintest, most delicate tone of voice could be heard – which is exactly what I could hear now, listening to her in the hotel corridor.  

But I never got to speak up, as I got incredibly distracted. 

A drop of sweat running down the side of her neck had caught my attention, so clearly visible due to her hair being haphazardly put in a bun. My eyes followed it as it slowly snaked along her skin, enthralled, hungry, only to realise that her whole body seemed to be glistening with sweat, just covered by a flimsy crop top and shorts. 

I felt as if I was going mad.  

Like I’d been wandering in the desert for days and she was a lake, suddenly appearing right under my nose. 

Only it had been over a year since I’d fucked anything but my own hand. 

She hadn’t been talking for more than ten seconds when she gave me a questioning look. Having no way of knowing what she’d asked me, I just nodded in response, hoping it would be appropriate.  

Hoping my erection hadn’t become visible yet. 

It seemed to have worked, as she gave me a shy smile before walking off to the kitchen, shutting the door behind her. I sighed in relief, heading for the bathroom as I had nothing better to do than to use the fresh mental images of her to release some tension. 

But the laundry cycle ended, and the house fell quiet enough for me to hear that she was on the phone. 

I stopped, looking towards the kitchen door, then back to the bathroom, contemplating. 

But curiosity got the better of me, and I found myself taking gentle steps in Alice’s direction, wanting to hear what she was saying. 

Unlike the thick wooden door of the hotel room next to me, the kitchen door was so thin it might as well not have been there at all. And once I got close enough, I could make out her words if I focused hard enough. 

“I can’t believe I just remembered, I feel horrible about it, mum.” 

“You called her, you got her a gift, and we always put your name in the card we give her. I’m certain she’s not expecting a card from you as well.” Her mum had responded, which I’d heard clearer than I’d heard Alice – and the call wasn’t even over speaker phone. 

“But I always give her and all her sisters their own cards, I wouldn’t want her to feel left out. I know it’s been a couple of weeks since her birthday, but should I just send one now?” 

The longer I listened, the more puzzled I grew. 

Could all that panic really have been over a bloody birthday card? 

I was so extremely bewildered by the fact that this creature felt so much guilt over something so extremely trivial – especially since I was used to someone regularly treating me like a doormat and expressing no guilt at all over it. 

Or at least not until they feared losing me – until it affected them. 

Fay was wrong about a lot of things, and until that moment I’d thought she’d been entirely wrong about letting myself relax when it comes to how I experience love. 

But was it possible that I’d simply let myself fall for the wrong person? Given my heart to someone who wouldn’t handle it like the fragile thing it is; so quick to bleed. 

And then the idea of giving into my emotions with someone like Alice consumed me. 

I was terrified, attempting to reject the longing inside me. But it was a pointless battle, the hope that I’d found someone worth handing my aching, scarred heart to was simply too strong. 

Of course, falling for Alice had come with its own set of problems. 

Problems I needed to resolve. 

The hotel room door suddenly opened, jarring me out of my thoughts. 

I shot to my feet, knocking over the empty energy drinks next to me with a clatter. 

Hours had passed, and I’d kept going back to my room for more caffeine as staying awake wasn’t the easiest at this point considering how little I’d slept. 

Disappointment washed over me as I was staring into Liam’s fed-up eyes. 

“She wants to talk to you now.” He proclaimed before pushing past me to head towards the elevator. 

The door slowly swung open, and I finally got to see her. 

Her eyes were slightly puffy, and she was holding her arms defensively. 

She was as beautiful as ever. 

“Hi.” I breathed, leaning against the door frame, feeling disproportionally happy to see her considering I didn’t know if it was just to tell me to fuck off for good. 

She rubbed her arms, her messy blonde locks falling over her shoulder as she did so, “So, are you gonna meet up with her?” 

She sounded so shy, so scared. 

“I think so, yeah.”  

There was a disappointment that settled on her, reflected more in her posture than on her face, which still held a sense of fear. 

I looked around us, wanting to elaborate, wanting to talk to her privately, only to see someone coming from the end of the corridor, “Can I come in?” 

She nodded and moved to the side. 

Allowing me the privilege of her company, and hopefully to set things right. 

... Subscribe to the story on Ao3 for future updates

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hiya! so I was thinking about Peter Quill with an artistic reader (in the form of headcanons) bc omg i think that'd be absolutely adorable and ive been going in a spiral for him lately

Just a thought! You dont need to do it if youre busy, have a great week!

hii! omg yes I love it. and don’t worry me you and everyone else feels the same way😭 ive been defending him in comment sections for years so im glad he’s finally getting recognition he deserves. big up quill. I also did this first, as it was a fun sorta break in between other writing. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌 have a great weekend also. xo

headcanons/ imagines (2)

Peter Quill x reader (gn)

warnings || none

masterlist + rules

taglist

- he doesn’t always have the best attention span, but when it comes to you he could watch you paint/ draw for hours. it’s something that keeps him entertained

- he likes to ask questions/ communicate while you work “that’s cool, what does that do?” or “how did you do that?” feel like he’d be mesmerised watching the canvas come to life

- you both listen to his music while you do anything artsy, the combination is the best of both worlds

- but if he’s not watching you/ hanging around at the same time, you like to listen to his music so it feels like he’s still there. he’s silently caught you a few times and it makes him feel special that his music means so much to you

- he definitely brags to the other guardians about how talented you are (like tony and thor talking about their girls in age of ultron)

- I feel like he can be a great helper- if you’re at the easel, he stands next to you holding the things you need so you don’t have to keep bending/ reaching etc. or if you need a brush cleaned, he’d do it for you

- if you wanted to do pottery, he’d get rocket to make you a pottery wheel, whatever you needed, rocket will make

- if you live with him in his apartment on knowhere, he’s moved his things about so that you could paint by the window/ designated a space/ area for you to work at (he remembers watching bob ross a couple times when he was a kid, so he used the tips he learned and put them into practice for you)

- if and when he sees any kind of art materials on other planets, he definitely brings them back for you. over a while you’ve acquired quite a diverse set of tools that’s broadened the quality of your art

- I feel like he’d kind of pimp you out- would put your name out there to get more people to commission work from you

- you’re now the go-to that people come to when they want new things for their houses. a majority of people on knowhere have probably bought work from you

- you’ve made pieces for every guardian, something specific and detailed that has meaning to each individual (kind of like the holiday special) you’d be very creative and intricate in tailoring the work to the person

- mantis absolutely adores what you made. nebula was apprehensive at first but you caught her smiling when she thought you weren’t paying attention. drax goes into great detail when he describes what he loves about it, always using crazy big adjectives. rocket said he doesn’t care for art, but the way it’s displayed in his apartment tells you otherwise. and groot was super happy to have something made by you

- quill has treasured everything you’ve ever made him, he can be very sentimental so all the work you made is something he deeply appreciates. something minuscule you made at the beginning of the relationship, is kept in one of his memory boxes (like a flower made of tissue)

- maybe you’ve made things to honour his parents, using stories he’s told you into creating something beautiful (two separate pieces- one of meredith and one of yondu) they are something he has hung up and displayed in his apartment. I feel like it’s helped him deal with his grief- and over time he’s been able to look at the artwork without feeling sad. now he can smile when he sees their faces

- its definitely made him fall harder for you

[feralboo-the-weirdo]

Here's the thing I've been thinking about after watching Legend of Korra, it's not a good sequel to the the last Airbender, but it's not supposed to be. It's supposed to be a continuation of the world. Am I sad that the original gaang Is not in it as much as I wanted? Yes. Season 1 (the only season I've watched so far, for context. I've heard about the horrors of S2 though) was good, but it was missing a lot of things. Character growth for one. It felt like if you put all of the characters from the begining of the season into the final episode they would have made the same decisions. With the exception of maybe Korra. It shows they thought they only had one season. And personally I think the writers could have worked harder to make it a full story with only one season. They had thirteen episodes and yet they still rushed episode thirteen.

But even still, it wasn't supposed to be ALTA. It was supposed to be tLoK. Was it well written? Eh some of it. I'm deep diving into this now I guess.

The plot? Good, felt disconnected though. Start of season: trying to win a sport, end of season: fighting god. (This disconnect is similar to the one in S2 of Arcane. Starts with a revenge heist ends fighting god) I wish they'd used what they learned as a team to beat Amon. Or that them doing the bending matches had any impact on the final episode. Though Amon holding the debend everybody rally in the finale in the probending arena (I think) was so dramatic. Like bro? Freaking king for deciding he hated pro bending so much he was going to hold a rally against bendingon the old stage. That's like if someone really hated baseball so they did a giant rally about how awful baseball is in the biggest field for it. Though, even with that it's so disconnected. Like if I had only seen the finale and someone told me the midpoint was them winning a sport I would not believe them and that's a problem. The season feels split in two. The bending matches and then the big Amon problem. It's like couch that's made of cardboard on one end, cement on the other. Little to no overlap. It's not cohesive, and that's part of the problem.

The villan? Decent, started out as one of the most well written characters I've seen in a while, ended kinda mid. Though the scene of him jumping through fire in the finale was SO COOL and I need that to be acknowledged at least once. Amon felt like a threat, this looming thing no character could escape. However that was also a problem because it made a writing corner because he was too cool. Too OP. Give your villains fatal flaws people! :)

Setting? I liked the setting, liked how the technology from ALTA bled into the tech in Korra. But I know I'm not the first to say this, Republic city felt empty. Post episode like six I think it's just so empty, and muted. Not enough people. Not enough life. Maybe that's intentional, but it made me feel like I was in a liminal space. I wish we'd spent more time with a crowded Republic city so the empty one felt like it meant something.

AtLA doesn't have this problem. Everywhere they go has people, has atmosphere. LoK is just empty, even when there is people. The people somewhat feel like they only have lives when Korra is around. Mako, Bolin and Asami have a similar problem. Their stories only progress when Korra is around to be what drags them around.

Also, side note but they should have brought Katara to the meeting where they arrested Yakone. Suspected bloodbender? Wouldn't it be convient if there was a person the council knew, specifically Sokka, was able to resist bloodbending? Just Incase he was super dangerous and might create a son who would take away people's bending? Just Incase something went wrong? Also why did everyone float when they were bloodbend? Like, um? What?

The next big thing. The finale. It was so rushed. I think it was like half a season squished into twenty minutes. Korra andin should have had to deal with not being able to bend, Korrs should have had a longer breakdown, and Mako should not have kissed her in my opinion. Their romance is fine, not the worst writing, but it makes Asami feel like a prop for the love triangle, nothing else.

I'm going to split up my thoughts so this isn't a mega post. Expect multiple posts soon. I have many thoughts. Idk if anyone cares, I just want somewhere to put them.

First thoughts, the thoughts on characters, then maybe how to fix season 1.

[staytinyville]

Beomgyu

PLEASE REFER TO MASTERLIST TO GET FULL TAROT READING EXPERIENCE

↣ Summary: You’re the glue who keeps the boys all together. And maybe the one who fancies Beomgyu  just a bit more than the others. 

↣ Characters/Pairing: Choi Beomgyu x gn!reader

↣ Genre: fluff

↣ AU/Trope info: 6th member!au, idol!au

↣ Word Count: 1.085k

↣ Warnings: None

↣ A/N: Beomgyu is chaotic but we are here for him. I will be honest some self insert was shoved in here and idk maybe that’s not how Beomgyu acts but it is how I am. I share the same MBTI as him and honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of people get overwhelmed with him and tend to lash out. I get that a lot of the time and it does make me upset. But that’s just what I think. Maybe it’s not how he is and is quite content. I hope he is. 

TEMPERANCE

Balance, Moderation, Patience, Purpose

This card shows that you have balance, patience and moderation in your life. Your energy has been running free but now it is time to bring it back into you. You must get a hold on it once more.

You are the kind of person who understands what it's like to be open minded with what others have to say. And because of this now is the time to use it if you are dealing with two different sides of a story.

You are also at a point where you would need to act with a calm and even mind. Be sure you stay calm even in a time of stress. Because what you show others, they might just show back.

XVI TEMPERANCE

You could remember the first time you had ever met all the boys. They were chaotic and had their own feelings towards each other that weren’t the best. However over time you got them to loosen up and now they couldn’t live without each other.

You were their mediator–the one who made sure all their fights were resolved and there were no hard feelings. Sometimes arguments were harder to fix than others, but you always wanted them to make up. Mostly because you guys all lived together so it was best to fix your problems than let them fester in your own personal space.

While fights were few and far between, there were still those petty ones that only lasted for one conversation before they were back to poking fun at each other. In these cases, most of the time they were between Beomgyu and Yeonjun. You loved both of them but they clashed so much. You had no idea why but it probably had to do with the fact that Beomgyu was a chaotic boy and Yeonjun had thin patience.

They still loved each other though and that was all you tried to care about.

“I told you it had my name on it!” You squeezed your eyes shut at the sound of Yeonjun’s annoyed voice.

“No it didn't!” Beomgyu retorted back. “Look!”

“Beomgyu! It's right there.” Yeonjun retorted.

“How do you expect me to see it when you wrote it in the same color!?” You got up when Beomgyu shouted.

“Guys!” You told them pointedly walking into the kitchen. “Stop screaming.”

“(Y/N)—”

“But (Y/N)—”

“Stop.” You raised a finger, watching as they both began to pout. “What happened?” You asked them.

“He ate my yogurt.” Yeonjun told you.

“I did.” Beomgyu admitted. “But I didn't see his name on it.”

You held your hand out for the cup, trying to find where it was that Yeonjun had put his name. While you did find it, Beomgyu had been right to say that it was hard to see. He had used a red marker on a red label.

While you knew Beomgyu should've thought for a moment that if he didn’t buy it, it wasn’t meant for him. However there were occasions the boys would buy things and share with the others so the possibility of eating something meant for all of them was there this time it wasn’t the case.

“Yeonjun, you did write it in the same color.” You told the boy, handing him the cup. “Soobin could've eaten it.”

“You're just taking his side.” Yeonjun pouted.

“Yeonjun, don't argue with me.” You told him with a stern look. “It wasn't intentional. Beomgyu will buy you another yogurt.” You looked over at the other boy who avoided your stare.

Yeonjun watched as you waited for Beomgyu to look up at you and acknowledge your agreement. While they all knew about how you babied the boy a bit too much, they also knew you were the only one who he listened to.

You had always known how to settle arguments and how to make them all get along. You were someone who held them all together. The shoulder they needed to lean on. Especially when Beomgyu overwhelmed them.

While Soobin was the leader of all 6 of you, it was clear you were the motherly type. You always worried about them–telling them to be careful when they left the house, asking where they were going just in case something happened. You weren’t over bearing but it did bring them happiness to know that someone was at the dorm making sure they were healthy boys.

It also assured their parents.

“Fine.” Yeonjun sighed. “I'm sorry for yelling at you.” He told Beomgyu .

“I'm sorry for eating your yogurt.” The boy said back.

“Good!” You grinned. “Now hug!”

They looked at you with sneers on their faces. “Too much.” You rolled your eyes. “I want a hug though!” You held your arms out waiting for the large boys to cuddle you.

Yeonjun scoffed but wrapped his arms around your middle before kissing the top of your head. “Love you.” He told you before leaving the kitchen.

“Love you too.” You called with a smile.

When you turned around, your breath was nearly knocked out of you as Beomgyu was crouched down and rubbing his cheek into your chest. “Hi, Gyu.” You giggled, messaging his scalp.

“Can we cuddle?” He asked shyly.

“Are you okay?” You asked him, pulling his face to look at you.

“Yeah, I just feel tired.” He sighed, his cheeks squished between your hands.

You smiled softly, nodding your head. You knew what it was like to suddenly feel anxious over being scolded, especially when being yelled at. Beomgyu was a soft boy who got sad easily. So maybe that's why you paid a bit more attention to him than others. You knew his personality was a bit too much for others which led to being scolded a lot and that made him shrink in on himself.

He just needed someone with patience and luckily you had a lot of that.

“Let's go watch some dramas.” You smiled at him.

He grinned widely before skipping off to your room. You shared it with Soobin but seeing as he was currently out, Beomgyu took the time to cuddle with you in a sacred space. He grabbed your laptop and started to set it up before you made your way into bed and huddled up at the headboard.

Like a small child, Beomgyu enjoyed being the small spoon so he laid his head on your shoulder and placed a leg over your waist. For a large man he was extra cuddly but that was okay, if he wanted to be babied you would do that for him.

“I love you, (Y/N).” He spoke up, cheek squished against you.

“I love you too, Beomgyu.” You chuckled, kissing the top of his head.

“More than the others?” He grinned, looking up at you.

“Don’t ask me that.” You lightly swatted at his head.

“Sorry.” He cackled. “But seriously?” He added, going back to squishing against you.

“No, I don't love you more than the others. I love you all equally.” You admitted. “But maybe I just like babying you a bit more.” You smiled softly.

“I'm the best.” He giggled quietly.

“No, you just need someone watching you 24/7.” You laughed.

“I do not.” He gasped.

“Hush now, lay on my chest.”

Tags : @cultofdionysusnet , @sandsofire , @k-vanity

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #285

Despite the fact that the last 10-15 hours were objectively amazing, at the moment, I feel almost unbearably empty. It seems like the weight of it is crushing me, even though emptiness isn't technically supposed to weigh anything. Weird. I have a playlist on, consisting of a few simple songs, trying to keep myself afloat. Honey Trees, by Michael Bell. Taswell, Dreiton, and Aria Math, by C418. Invisible Hand, Champion, On the Beach at Night, and Weep Not, My Child - all by Curtis Schweitzer. I also have in there a song called To Faraway Times, from a game called Chrono Trigger; the version of it I like is done by a person named Malcolm Robinson. Maybe you'd like some of these. Or maybe not. Maybe you can give them a try and find out, if you want to.

…Sephiroth, I don't have a reason to feel this empty. Aside from the things that come with being a queer autistic AFAB with ADHD and C-PTSD, life is perfect. I eat when I want. I have two beautiful, wonderful husbands who love me. 5 adorable cats who love being near me. A plethora of awesome and supportive friends. More games to play and inspiring stories to witness than I know what to do with. Lots of beautiful teas to delight in. A warm house in a safe neighborhood. Clean water to drink, reliable electricity… the list of blessings in my life goes on and on and on. I could literally be here for hours listing them all. But that'd get boring, I'm sure. So I won't.

…I don't know what's wrong with me. It's a little scary, actually. Today, I caught myself thinking again about how nice it would be to just… stop… being. For a while. I haven't had thoughts like that in some time now. If they're cropping up, there must be a reason - a neurochemical issue that can be solved. I just… I don't know what it is. Is it the fact that I woke up to horrible cramps and lots of bleeding? Is it that there isn't enough sunlight for me to feel good? Maybe I didn't get enough sleep? Enough water…? Is there some nutrient I'm missing from my diet…? Is it the anticipation of getting 4 teeth yanked out the day after tomorrow…? Dealing with being in consistent contact with that acquaintance, who likely will never understand that I'm a full human instead of just a walking Google for his use? Some combination of all of the above…?

…

Well. I tried doing stuff anyways. After writing last night's letter, I had a really good Dead Cells run. I made it to the Astrolab again. And this time, instead of getting my ass kicked by the enemies there, I actually made it to the room beyond, called the Observatory. I took pictures; I promised you that I would get pictures in a recent letter, remember? Here:

...I streamed this run on Twitch. On my Twitch stream, I have a couple banners. One says, "Yes, I know I'm bad at this game. Be nice or go away." The other tries to tell people that the chat isn't easy for me to see, so I can't always respond immediately.

...Well... some person on the internet who was watching me fight The Hand of the King said to me that they "don't know why [I] say [I'm] bad at this game, because [I] parry like a god".

...I felt warm and fuzzy at that for a little while, but... then I felt a little badly about it. I tried telling this person that I am not actually very good; I am actually dyspraxic, and so I had to work a little harder to get this far than most would have had to. My progress has been slower than what a person with a normal brain with normal motor functions would have been capable of. I told this person that I still sometimes have instances in which my rhythm and timing are poor, that I still sometimes get overwhelmed and panic, that I still sometimes make mistakes and get overrun.

...Sometimes I still fall. Most of my runs still end in failure. I still haven't been able to defeat most of the bosses without getting hit. Although I did manage to defeat The Concierge without getting hit in last night's run, and that felt pretty good.

...

...I think I am afraid of accepting compliments because I'm afraid that if I do, then it'll set the other person up for having unrealistic expectations of me. They saw me while I was in a flow-like state, having a good rhythm, and being successful; what kinds of abuse might they sling at me, the very moment that I falter or fail to do the thing with the level of precision and flawlessness that they've come to expect...?

...When I think of these fears, I think of my mother. I get the praise from her as long as I can be perfect, as long as I can be someone she can brag to all her stupid little fucking friends about. But the second I slip up, the second I'm not flawless, the second that I behave like a human instead of an automaton, the second that I defy her unrealistic expectations of me, her perception of me does a 180 degree turn, and I go from being "oh so smart", "gosh how reliable", "so diligent and thorough" and "wow so creative" to "stupid", "oblivious", "ungrateful" and "disrespectful" in no time flat.

...I guess I'm a little afraid of compliments because... I guess I feel like it's only a matter of time before I become a disappointment instead. And... in my experience, I've found that when I am perceived as a disappointment, the thing that follows soon after is rejection or violence.

...

Anyway, I got my ass kicked by The Collector at The Observatory. I wonder, perhaps somewhat bitterly, how "godlike" this person thought I was as I was being tossed about the screen, if they were still watching me as I fell. I wonder how quickly their opinion of me changed. I wonder if they decided that they were wrong about me and that I really do suck at this game, after all.

...Or maybe that's just my old childhood conditioning, telling me that I have to be infallible and beyond reproach before anyone will think I'm worth anything. If my childhood conditioning is running the show right now, I must be pretty tired. I'm going to take a deep breath and recognize negative thoughts like those for what they are - abuser propaganda, fed to me in the past as a means to keep me weak, isolated, self-doubting, and easy to control.

...Sigh. It's very lame. But that's okay. We can defy the old things. We can remember what is real and what is good. I can still be perceived as good even when I make mistakes and fall down. And it's only unhealthy people who will respond to my inherent imperfection with violence, rejection, and hate. My worth is not defined by how well I can live up to others' expectations of me.

It's okay that I got my ass kicked by The Collector. It just means that I can face him in the training room until he stops kicking my ass. I'll do the same thing I did with The Hand of the King; every time I defeat him, I'll lower my stats by a single point, until I'm satisfied that I can defeat him, even at a significant disadvantage. Then, when I face him for real, it'll seem easy by comparison.

...I went to bed later than I should have, last night. That's probably not helping matters.

Well. My body was not in a great state when I woke up, in any case. Lots of cramping and bleeding, like I said, which was already anticipated and accounted for. I made the steak. And I made the weird garlic bread.

I seasoned the steak with my usual combination of spices - salt, pepper, paprika, and garlic powder. Can't go wrong with those:

I made mac and cheese, too:

I also made garlic and herb butter - this time with only half the garlic I normally use. I spread it on a handsome loaf of bread, split in half:

From here, I prepared the brie I got:

...This one is a triple cream brie, which means it's SUUUUUPER soft and gooey. And since it's a brie, that means the rind is also edible.

But... two things about brie. Very important:

The first one is that you DO NOT under ANY circumstances want to eat too much of it in one sitting. As far as I understand it, all the soft ripened cheeses have a small amount of listeria in them. And a little bit won't hurt you, but if you eat too much, you'll get a lot of it, and too much at once will take root in your digestive tract and cause problems. I only know this because... well. I stress-ate an entire wheel of brie in one sitting a number of years ago, and after the two-week incubation period, I ended up with a fever high enough to cause confusion and mild delirium. And then everything I ate passed through the other end just chewed - wholly undigested. It was a VERY BAD TIME.

-2513847 out of 10 stars, ABSOLUTELY WOULD NOT RECOMMEND.

The second one is, while the rind doesn't taste bad in its unmodified state, if you try to incorporate a whole brie, rind and all, into a sauce, the rind will make your sauce taste like the way ammonia smells. Or at least, that's what happened that one time when I tried to make a berry and brie sauce. I just combined mashed blackberries, sugar, and a whole wheel of brie into a saucepan on low heat and blended them together, and it should have been delicious, but... it very much WAS NOT. It was so bad that I had to throw it all away; it was not salvageable. I concluded that heating up the rind for more than a minimal amount of time makes it weird. Don't do it. It's bad news.

Anyway, so I cut off the rinds from the brie. It's really not bad, especially if there's still a decent amount of cheese attached to the rind:

...It's got a bit of an earthy, almost mushroomy flavor to it. The ammonia flavor is there if you're looking for it; it's not exactly subtle, but it's overridden by the other flavors, usually. It's not bad though, especially if you wrap it in something yummy to go with it, like roast beef or prosciutto or something:

The knife looked like this after I cut the rind off; you can tell it's a super gooey cheese just by looking at it. Mind you, this cheese was still cold:

...The rind tastes a little weird, maybe. But the cheese inside the rind is unbelievably buttery and delicious.

...Anyway, so the garlic bread was baked, and then I put the cheese on it; brie on one side, and muenster on the other, because M and J aren't overly fond of brie:

...We melt it in the oven, and then we stick the prosciutto on top after that:

From there, we cut it up into delicious slices:

...Here's the resulting plate of yummy deliciousness that I put together in order to try to replenish all the iron I'm gonna be losing over the next 10 days or so. I wish I could give you some:

...I kind of... floundered around for most of today. I didn't even play any Dead Cells. I'm hoping to tomorrow. But I've got a couple things to do tomorrow, so we'll see. I talked to a few people on and off. I have a friend in this space who talks to me regularly, and that's always delightful. And I have another friend who sends me heartwarming pictures on occasion; today it was a VERY cute caterpillar!!!

Even on days that feel empty and strange, I still gotta try to remember that there are good things. Even if the present is ouchy, and even if the future seems scary, we still gotta try to hold on to the things that are good. These are the things that give us strength so that the scary things are a little bit more bearable.

Towards the end of the day, I managed to snag a couple nice pictures of the sky for you:

I also managed to snag these pictures of Mogwai chilling out in my lap as I write this letter to you:

...Though I think I'm just about done with today's letter, I'll probably be stuck here in this chair a while; it is currently illegal for me to move, hahaha! Sometimes I wonder if I should have named him "Monkey", because he's always climbing all over me, ahahaha~!

It is a good "problem" to have. 🙂

Though I still feel inexplicably empty, you don't gotta worry about me. I know that states like these are only temporary until my brain sorts out whatever it's gotta sort out. I'll keep trying to take care of my body in the meantime until whatever's going on makes its way out of my system. And it will make its way out of my system; I know it because I've been here before, and I've been in worse spots before. Unpleasant states aren't permanent. You just "focus on what you love, right under your nose" (as The Horse says), and keep solving the obvious problems one step at a time until things turn around.

I'll be okay. And you'll be okay, too, as long as you don't give up hope for a better future. Keep striving for your safety, and for the safety of your friends and your planet and all the people on it, okay? Keep solving one small problem at a time. Keep making kind, good, loving, compassionate choices, even when it feels really hard to do. Keep looking for the magic in things, even if your heart feels heavy. Keep finding the good within yourself, even if you have doubts. And please... stay safe out there, with whatever it is you're doing.

I love you. And I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[youngestrunningleek]

Thoughts on Owls, Predators, Prey, and Relatability

I’ve been rereading Kathryn Lasky’s Guardians of Ga’Hoole series recently. It’s fantasy about owls, a la Warriors.

This is not a review. Even though the books have plenty of mice and other small mammals (as food), these are not rat books by any stretch of the imagination.

Still, I have been thinking about xenofiction as a whole— the idea of writing from other species’ POV.

In my childhood, the two biggest series that really got into other species’ heads were Warriors (cats) and Ga’Hoole (owls). I think that’s notable, because when I’ve written my own stories from a rodent’s perspective, it’s pretty difficult.

One great resource for how rats, specifically, experience the world is this website. Basically, they have poor vision but great smell. They also rely a great deal on touch and on their whiskers.

Cats and owls are active at night because they can see in the dark— rats are more likely to be active in the dark because they simply can’t see well even if it’s bright out. They’re also very near-sighted.

One of the first things that makes it easier to relate to predators like owls and cats is that they have senses like ours, or better. It’s less difficult to imagine seeing through an owl’s eyes (and hearing through an owl’s ears, etc) because their most important senses are comparable to our most important senses.

Humans primarily experience the world through sight, and then through hearing. We have language to describe it, too. Even if I can’t hear a mouse’s heartbeat or see by the light of the stars, I can imagine that.

Meanwhile, there’s no good equivalent to a rat sensing the world through whiskers. How do you describe a scene, or a character, when vision isn’t your primary sense? And neither is hearing? We don’t distinguish each other by how we feel or smell.

We have so few words to describe smells, and absolutely no language for “feeling something with whiskers”.

We are oriented toward sight and sound in so many ways. If I wanted to suggest that a character was tough (and maybe someone to be wary of), I could say they have a raspy voice or a towering demeanor or a dozen different facial features, or expressions, or postures. If you had the same character to describe by smell or feel, how would you do that? “They smelled kind of threatening”?

Or, if I’m describing a conversation, I might say “they frowned” or “he looked away” or “she bit her lip”. We don’t have smell-based ways to indicate emotions or thoughts.

Heck, even “feel” is an annoying word because we so often use it for emotions instead of actual tactile sensations.

Now, in fairness, there are plenty of harder comparisons in the other books I mentioned. There’s no human equivalent to cats leaving scent markings on their territory, or owls feeling a landscape through the air currents that rise off of it. Ga’Hoole is full of excellent owl words like “yarping” (spitting up a pellet), or “wilfing” (appearing to shrink because your feathers lie flat).

I will also argue, though, that predators are more relatable because of philosophy.

Owls and cats are predators, like humans. Personally, I’m a vegetarian, and I don’t hunt for anything. But I still have far more in common with predators in how I experience the world.

We’re programmed for this by our biology, in so many ways. We have binocular vision, to better focus on one object in front of us, instead of two wide-set eyes for wider field of view.

Even if my sense of smell is much poorer than a cat’s, I’ve still followed my nose to food plenty of times. But I have never used my sense of smell to avoid a predator. Or, for that matter, my hearing or sight. Because I’m a human! I’m not prey! And neither are the owls and cats in these books.

Meanwhile, if you read about how small mammals experience the world, it’s a lot of focus on staying alive. Mice show up plenty of times in Warriors and Ga’Hoole… as food.

There’s even a way that being a predator feels noble, to humans. National animals are usually not prey animals. It’s raptors and lions and other beasts that we think of as “on top of the food chain”.

Here’s where we return to specifics about Ga’Hoole. In the same way that other fantasy loves having benevolent kings, the fact that all the owls are predators provides a lot of opportunities to (ostensibly) show who’s good and who’s bad.

Nest-maid snakes in these books are a whole thing. It’s a real scientific fact that sometimes owls will bring a snake back to their nest, not eat it, and enter a symbiotic relationship. You could call it commensalism (the snake is benefitting from shelter and eating the bugs in the nest, and the owl is not harmed or helped) or maybe mutualism (the owl gets a clean nest so they both benefit). It’s definitely more like mutualism in Ga’Hoole because they’re anthropomorphized and they like having clean nests.

The issue in Ga’Hoole is that it’s a whole serving class thing. Like, they imply snakes don’t have souls? They could have made it cool and normal but instead repeatedly say that snakes aren’t on the same level socially as owls are. It’s a whole thing.

And, more importantly, they eat snakes! That’s another real scientific fact. In the earlier books they have a few conversations about how the main character, Soren, was raised to never eat snakes. His friends give him grief about it, but that’s the principle he has. It’s good manners.

Think about it, though. It’s seen as noble that he could be eating snakes, and he’s refraining from it.

There’s another conversation about a starfish, and how it would be wrong to bring it home as a decoration. Because that would be killing for decoration, not for survival. They also clue us in that someone is evil when she tortures a mouse instead of just eating it. That’s a huge taboo for them.

I guarantee you that rodents are not having these conversations!

In the same way that we’re conditioned by a million stories to love gentle royalty who treat their servants well (even though, let’s be real, monarchy is a really bad system of government) … I think we’re taught to relate much more to predators than prey.

It makes sense. Why fantasize about being a meal for everything on the face of the Earth, when you could fantasize about being king of the beasts?

Of course, Watership Down is a very notable exception to this. Rabbits aren’t classified as rodents, but I promise the Watership Down review is coming.

Richard Adams stuffed that book with the rabbit outlook on the world. They have words like “silflay”, because of course they’d have a verb for “to go above ground to feed”. They have words like “embleer” as a curse word meaning “the smell of fox”, and it all reflects that they are prey animals. They spend a lot of their time thinking about all the forces that can kill them.

In its own way, playing up the vulnerability makes the characters seem even stronger. How can you not root for them, when they can’t count past four and everything wants to eat them? Even the simplest task is monumentally heroic.

I don’t have a larger conclusion beyond that. Just, that even if we’re technically more closely related to rats… it might be easier for us to relate to owls. But how much of that is innate, and how much is a cultural desire to see ourselves as the ones on top of the food chain? A more honest look at nature sees it as a food web. Everybody decomposes, and there’s no species on top of it all.

As a caveat (cat-veat?), I haven’t read Warriors in many years. And I haven’t finished my reread of Ga’Hoole yet, either. There’s plenty I could have missed.

Also, forgive the inelegant phrasing but: my senses are what people consider typical. Not everyone relies primarily on sight and hearing, and I’d love to hear other peoples’ perspectives.

[mariyekos]

One day I want to write an AU where Dante and Vergil were actually born a few hundred/thousand years pre-story, which is something Dante tries to hide while Vergil doesn't. I have 2 main ideas for it- DMC1/3 Fusion AU and DMC4 AU. These got long, so I'm putting them under the cut!

In the DMC1 AU, it'd be sort of like a combination of the anime, DMC3, and what you see in DMC1. Dante'd look like he's in his late 20s for this one. He and Lady would meet because they've both been hired for the same job, then encounter each other on some odd jobs before they end up working together on a big one. Maybe Arkham killed Kalina Ann when Lady was a teenager, but didn't manage to enact the rest of his plans right away so Lady's been chasing him for a decade, hunting demons in hopes of finding a lead. Dante meanwhile just likes the human world, so he goes from place to place hunting demons until it gets too suspicious he's not aging and he has to leave. This AU'd have branching paths at the big job they take take together: the Temen-ni-gru or Mallet Island. In both cases Dante and Vergil haven't spoken for a while. Vergil's gone silent for years or even a decade or two in the past, but he'll have a bad feeling about this particular silence (for good reason).

The main difference between the two would be who Arkham allies with. In both cases, Lady isn't aware of how old Dante is, or just *who* he is until partway through. She knows he's part demon, but with the way he acts she assumes he's actually in his late twenties and the kid of a demon that was probably fairly powerful, but unknown. But the truth would come out partway through, which...would maybe change things, maybe not. It would be a shock regardless.

Back to the branches though, in Mallet you could go with the plot where Arkham is trying to revive Mundus, so Dante intervenes. This one would have a Nelo Angelo bit (making Dante feel terrible because he'd just allowed Mundus to do whatever he wanted with Vergil for who knows how long, all because he hadn't bofhered to check up on his unusually silent brother). I might have a sort of B-plot involving Lady, Arkham, and Trish to accompany the Dante, Mundus, and Vergil angle.

With the Temen-ni-gru, it would be your classic Arkham+Vergil relationship, but with a much older Vergil he wouldn't be tricked by Arkham this time. Arkham would think he has Vergil in the palm of his hand until he clearly doesn't and Vergil deals a fatal blow as soon as Arkham pulls off his betrayal. I think Lady would be pissed Vergil stole her kill, but ultimately have to back down for the Dante vs Vergil fight because with that many extra years under their belts, she'd be no match. Seeing them would be an interesting contrast though, because Vergil so clearly clings to the past (he'd be in a more Renaissance style than Dante) while Dante's all about the present and human world. This one...I think would be harder to resolve than the other one, because I'm not sure how Dante would convince someone so set in his ways (again, hundreds of years old at a minimum) to change, but it could be fun to play with.

As for the DMC4 AU, this one would be a case where Nero is still a teenager, and Dante's really surprised because oh boy, who in the *world* managed to convince Vergil to sleep with them when he'd been so uptight for centuries? And Dante's excited to have a family member and can't help but mess with them.

I think in this one it might also be fun if Fortuna was aware that Sparda had children because then you'd have a case where people potentially worship said children, whether or not they realize it's Dante. Maybe Vergil ruled Fortuna for a little while after Sparda left and that meant people knew he existed. Dante hadn't been aware he'd apparently come back, but Nero's proof enough so he's really going to have to have a talk with Vergil the next time he returns from his travels. I'm not set on whether the people of Fortuna would know that Sparda had twins, or if they'd just know about Vergil and thus be in denial that Dante could possibly be the son of Sparda because he's *so* different. In either case eventually people (or at least Nero and Kyrie) would have to reconcile Dante with the figure they'd been worshipping and that would be hard (and for Dante, hilarious). I think in this one I might make Lady part of a bloodline that has fought alongside Sparda since he split the Human and Demon worlds, sort of like the Castlevania series with Alucard and the Belmonts, while Trish would be someone Dante recruited a few decades to centuries ago (importantly, she's younger than him).

In this one I think part of the driving force would be that Dante wants humanity to be able to protect itself/prove its worth, or for Nero to protect them/prove his worth, because if they/Nero don't then Dante's worried Vergil might instead deem humanity a scourge and do something bad.

The plot of DMC4 revolves around humans using demons to fuel their own power, and in this case I think Dante will have found out about what Fortuna was doing too late to erase what they've done, so it's a case where humans need to prove that there are more good humans than bad humans so Vergil doesn't slam down the hammer. Dante can encourage them in the right direction, but he can't carry them the whole way. If he does then Vergil will deem his interference proof of humanity's weakness and do...Dante isn't totally sure what, but he doesn't like how Vergil's been the past few decades and he's increasingly been feeling like Vergil might decide he's had enough of the human world and side with the members of the demon world Dante *knows* have been slipping through the border to speak to Vergil. And while Dante doesn't think he'd *lose* to Vergil, the battle would lead to immense destruction and would weaken them enough that Dante's fairly sure Mundus or some other demon would take advantage of the chance to invade the human world while they're in no state to defend it.

...Anyway! That's two/three ideas for first that I will...maybe get to, one day, once I finish the million other fic ideas I have. I just really like the concept of "totally goofy guy is actually super old" or "frustratingly unserious guy is actually one of the guys you grew up worshipping, somehow." I think there's a lot of room for fun there.

[obsidianpen]

I've started writing my first fanfic and oh boy. I feel like I only really get 3-5 paragraphs done each time I sit and write down. It's a lot of writing, then rewriting, rewording things and finding the write words. How do you do it? How'd you start? How much do you get done per session now? I feel like my imagination is stunted, and it's very slowly painfully growing

how did I start? Gosh. I picked up a fanfiction that I had started like 10 years prior as a tween with no plan/outline/plot idea AT ALL, was met with a great amount of criticism but also a small amount of support, and that led me to start a totally new story which got about 10 comments but maybe one or two said I should keep going so I did, all to please two anonymous (at the time) people. 😂 but that’s not really what you’re asking.

I think the writing process is different for everyone. Some people plan out meticulously how their stories will go, coming up with beautiful outlines that make lovely story arcs following some kind of logical layout. Some people (myself included) never do this, and instead write as though possessed when the spirit moves them. There’s a fair amount of middle ground there too I’d assume. One thing that has always helped me with coming up with ideas is running or going for walks and listening to music. To pull a quote from Schitt’s Creek, ‘Come, let's walk. Creativity lives on its feet. Anything else is bullshit.’ Revising is a whole other animal and I’ll admit I don’t do a lot of it because fanfiction and I don’t typically have to. But you could argue that revising work is even harder than writing it in the first place, especially if you’re doing so based on the feedback of someone else!

hahaha I laughed at the ‘how much do you get done in a session?’ question, because I have a baby now and there has been no such thing as an uninterrupted writing session for me for a long long time! I pretty much only write when the bambino is asleep, usually on me, so that’s a tough one to answer to. It depends on what I’m writing. If it’s dialogue a lot, that goes really quickly - if it’s setting up a scene or writing a passing of time sort of deal a lot longer, maybe because I just don’t like writing that stuff, I find it harder and a little boring at times. that was a big rambly, sorry! Hopefully is answered what you were asking for. It’s normal to feel stunted when you first start!!! Take a long walk, listen to some inspiring music, and keep going! 💃🏻

[subway-boss-jericho]

SORRY ABOUT STEADY TRACKS if u want I can… send an ask in about it… if it would help… maybe… 

Going on the coupled (Uncoupled) post- struggling to communicate turning into an Issue that makes it Harder to communicate but then the characters realizing they Really Have To Communicate and Doing so even tho it’s hard is. So good. It’s especially interesting here with emmet kinda dealing with trying to figure out how to reverse the fusion Without any real input from ingo. 

(I do freaking feel you Emmet. Forgetting that people have you Explicit Permission and Freaking out despite being aware they knew the risks. Man. It’s rough.) 

Love seeing stories about their relationship. How much do you love your brother? How well do you know him? Just how far would you go? … could you forgive yourself? Could he..?

Mmmmm tasty. Especially since the answer is often “yes” jejdjdnenidjx

It’s also nice to see a story where initially trying something that seems like a good solution didn’t work! And possibly made the situation worse! (Or perhaps is exactly what they needed to get talking with one another) 

No one is perfect! It’s so fun to see what these two characters who love each other would do. 

On that- I. Feel you incredibly hard about the romantic aspects of “love”. It’s… very sad to see how little people feel friends can do with one another without it being “romantic” in nature. Even more so for siblings. I’ve also written fics where I read it back and I’m like “will people misinterpret this? Will they think that this is wrong?” And it sucks. It really does. (I usually put a “this is Not romantic in nature” and have to trust that people won’t assume things.

“I can't really control what other people will think, say, or do. I just hope they don't get me involved”

as you said, about sums it up.) 

(ok now. Gimme a sec to whip up something for two left hands jejdjsjdnbxns)

Don't worry about it! Firstly, you can do whatever you want forever <3 Secondly, it is never anyone else's fault if my brain switches tracks. I mentioned Coupled (Uncoupled) offhand on a totally unrelated ask and then hyperfixated on them for the rest of the week sdjhgsdg That's just how my brain does stuff sometimes, which is the real reason why working on big long-term projects (in this case, Steady Tracks) take a while. Thirdly, this is the most anyone who doesn't know me personally has ever interacted with any of my not-steady tracks AUs, so please know that I would go through the trenches on your behalf

I got mentally ill again + was busy the next day so I blame my delay in answering this ask on getting so excited that I genuinely didn't know how to respond right away ksjdhgsdgh

So hard to write good conflict! So funny when I look back on how I write conflict and it ends up being inextricably tied to my life experiences 🤣 (wheeze) Art can tell you a lot about the artist?? really? that's crazy who would have guessed /j /s The struggle with him trying to reverse fusion is the first "major arc" that I mentioned on one of the other posts. It's one of the shortest ones, thankfully, yet also has an extremely dense angst content sjkdgsdg Unfortunately it's easy to spiral when you believe everything going wrong is your fault. it's a bit hard for me to talk about much more without starting to spoil the story and I'm trying so hard not to 😂 The love was always there! It always has been and always will be! But Emmet needs to stop feeling guilty so he can accept that love and move on, and Ingo is going to keep doing his best to try and communicate + show support in the meantime.

The splicers initially making things worse is definitely one of the funnest parts of the AU for me :] it was supposed to help Emmet feel more secure, and yet instead it made everything way more complicated + made him feel way less secure... I can't pretend to be normal, I'm very fucked up about them

🤝I won't drag out the romantic/platonic discussion because I know it makes people uncomfortable to discuss- more than fair, it makes ME uncomfortable to discuss -but hell yeah solidarity. It's at least nice to be able to voice my stance on it, since I feel like it's hard to even bring up in the fandom. I love a civil discussion about hard topics :D love setting boundaries. Peace and love

Thank you as always for the asks!! 🌠✨

Coupled (Uncoupled)Masterpost

[ferinehuntressmoved]

𝘒𝘕𝘖𝘞𝘐𝘕𝘎  𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙  𝘗𝘈𝘙𝘛𝘕𝘌𝘙  𝘞𝘌𝘓𝘓  𝘊𝘈𝘕  𝘗𝘖𝘛𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘐𝘈𝘓𝘓𝘠  𝘔𝘈𝘒𝘌  𝘞𝘙𝘐𝘛𝘐𝘕𝘎  𝘛𝘖𝘎𝘌𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘙  𝘈  𝘓𝘖𝘛  𝘌𝘈𝘚𝘐𝘌𝘙.

NAME :　Panda

PRONOUNS :　She / Her

PREFERENCE  OF  COMMUNICATION :　Discord. While I can use tumblr dms, I most likely might miss them. Discord is the best form of communication for me.

NAME  OF  MUSE(S) :　Primary muses are Caitlyn Kiramman & Ahri. Secondary are Mel Medarda & Aloy. Tertiary are Elora & Vi. By Request is Nidalee & Janna

EXPERIENCE  /  HOW  LONG  (  MONTHS  /  YEARS? ) :　Holy shit, you want me to count that far back. You want me to tell you how old I really am!?! So, I started to roleplay when computers were pretty new to houses. YES! I was one of those kids that was graced by the first computers in houses! I think my first computer was a IMB one or something, but I started playing on a computer with internet back in 2000. My parents didn't have a lot of money so we couldn't get an earlier computer; this was a gift from a friend at church for me. It had Windows 98 I think or something. I don't know.

Anyway, got distracted, but when that  came around, one of the first forums every I think that had roleplaying on the web was called Avidgamers. I played Pokemon as a self insert character. One liner diaster writer I was. So yeah, I've been roleplaying for about 23 years now, but in terms of writing, I have been writing stories since I was 9 years old, so that is about 26 years (I use to also write self insert stories in Sailor Moon or Pokemon or things like that XD). Anywho, I went on a tangent, anyone who reads this your amazing.

BEST  EXPERIENCE :　Oh man, I'm not sure. There are so many things that could be my best. I use to own forums before, I had some amazing partners. I miss them dearly and I hope they are doing amazing things now. Honestly, I think its just the level of growth I've had over the years. From going to being a self-insert writer who could only write a line or two, to now trying to expand my writing and doing more. To be more quality then quantity, but also meeting partners who absolutely challenge me to write better and be better. I want to be good for people, but there are those partners that absolutely push me to try even harder and be even better.

RP  PET  PEEVES  /  DEALBREAKERS :　I'm not saying this is a pet peeve? but I typically stray away from one liners or massive purple prose writing that I don't understand what I'm reading. While I never deny anyone's choice of writing, these are the things I tend to stay away from because I personally cannot write them. I  can't really say what my pet peeves are? I probably have some but I don't know of the top of my mind.

MUSE  PREFERENCES  FLUFF,   ANGST  OR  SMUT :　I am, hands down, an absolute fiend for angst. I know it might be overwhelming for some people but I really find it carthatic for myself? and have a double enjoyment of angst that turns to fluff. I like to call it Angsty Fluff, or Fluffy Angst. The bonding of two people in difficult moments whether that is fighting to survive death or helping someone through a rough period. Two people, bonding and encouraging each other is something I really enjoy to write. I also don't mind writing smut, I actually enjoy it but I do tend to write smut with people who I heavily plot with often.

PLOTS  OR  MEMES :　Plots. While I post memes a lot, I do try to create a plot line to those memes too. I need some kidn of foundation. I am not looking for a written out script we have to follow to a T, that's not what I mean. What I am looking for is just like this idea to build around, maybe even talking about our muses connections and waht they are dealing with at the time. That kind of foundation and design really helps me feel more connected to our msues and the writing. I love memes, but I tend to only continue memes with people I plot with a lot.

LONG  OR  SHORT  REPLIES :　I love long threads. like you don't have to apologize for anything because I thrive on really long replies. I have had replies go up to 1.5k words, which absolutely thrills me. The shortest replies I can do is maybe 2 paragraphs. Any shorter then that, and I tend to loose interest and have to drop it.

BEST TIME TO WRITE :　Honestly, no idea. I am far more productive at night my time (CST). I tend to stay up til 2 or 3am.

ARE  YOU  LIKE  YOUR  MUSE(S) :　Caitlyn is very much my muse, so much so we relate on many different levels. I understand her deeply and I'm very connected to her. As for my other muses, yes and now. But caitlyn, hands down, is almost like a part of me that I get to write fully.

➤ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 [ : ] @knifvd - Thank you dear ♡ ➤ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 [ : ] @shimmerbeasts, @hexcoremagician, @goldenfists, @futureforged, @goldusk, @gauntlets-shot, @blackrosesmatron, @angelicxlly, @dynaisms, @decidentia, @demacianhcart, @jynxd, @piltover-sharpshooter, @powdied, @ofspvrta, @undercity-prodigy, @torntruth, @tricoloredillusion, @realmyths, @weavertali, and anyone else who wants to.