#my faith is gone but the aesthetics are forever

[lizalfosrise]

Hey Rise, it's AK favorites time again. Give me your best defenders. Gameplay, personality, aesthetic, whatever.

Alrighty! Let's place this under a cut:

Launch Faves:

Spot - I see full kemono in Arknights I black out and go feral good yes very nice. That healing smokescreen remains very helpful, and he's just a real solid bro. His VA caught my eye too, since I was watching Raildex that year so I'd been hearing him quite a lot.

Cuora - Roaming baseball turtle is Fucking Invincible. HOMERUN!! Her module lore story was pretty nice in a sledgehammer-to-the-heart kinda way given it was her memory issues + her baseball&bat's origin. Incredibly solid and the first elusive 4-blocker saving our asses and storing up Pure Gold Ingots in the Factories. Homerun indeed.

Croissant - Really cool and fun character (we got her southern US drawl back hooray) with the interesting gimmick of being the push-stroker(they can never live this naming scheme down) defender. Problem? S2 says yeet 'em! No problem boblem. Niche and therefore undervalued at the earlygame, but Integrated Strategies with the Force+2 manual obtained must've made some fun shenanigans.

Gameplay:

All the Fortresses, honestly. They're great in character, in aesthetics and I greatly enjoy having their long-range bombardments. Firewhistle's brought us Burn procs and it's delightful to watch the bonus damage pour in. I can be trusted with the Londinium Self-Defense Artillery cannon emplacements.

Don't use 'em enough but they're fun: Duelist and Sentinels - Aurora is cute and has access to Cold proc manipulation tactics (plus that claw-shaped staked, slim tower shield is a work of art); Liskarm has been a faithful SP battery pistol-shooting down aerial threats while Blitz has the flashbang spam going for him.

Guardians are lifesavers, of course. Gummy's frying pan bonk stuns every third hit can actually be incredibly useful. Blemishine is a far better pick than Nearl due to her Sleep mechanics and yknow, 6* bulk/Skill 3 (she's cool to borrow as a support unit but I don't have her fully invested). Saria is pretty solid here and with regards to character&story, but at the same time I never actually E2'd her until mid-Dorothy's Vision because I finally experienced her Skill 3 and needed her to be beefier for a map clear (or several) that event.

General:

Horn - "YOU WANT TO TOPPLE ME?! BY WHAT?" Episode 9 was so great, and then we suffered a Manfred to the Self-Defense Artillery. That CG towards the end of Ep9 with a heavily-injured Horn pulling the S3 glare at Mandragora after auto-rocketjumping Bagpipe away was phenomenal. Incidentally a major part of why if you have taste you'll understand that Horndragora is the superior toxic yuri pairing rather than suffering that watery tart of a catgirl. I'm more enamored with that heavy-duty shieldcannon though, naturally. The Victorian Army gets all the cool gunlances eh? That VA olive green drab is a wonderful colour scheme too, really. The overheat flame vfx during S3 are a delightful detail on the chibi sprite and for that reason though I'll get that (somewhat mismatched) Lady of the Lake skin, I won't equip it often. But S1/S3 were absolutely outstanding during IS2.

Asbestos - The most tsuntsuntsuntsuntsuntsuuuuuundere foulmouthed foul-tempered vkei-ass Aussie salamander is just so iconic, bless her. Funky and rad design, personality and until Shalem appeared, the only Arts-shotgun shielder. Trying out her Skill 2 in IS2 was pretty fun since I only rarely used her prior honestly. The details gone into fitting her entire theming around asbestos are so so good.

Mudrock - Initially I wouldn't use her due to the 35dp cost buuuut I reached the point where 'This is fine actually' after a while of wanting to properly invest in her and yeah. Fucking incredible with sneak-healing via Perfumer. Spin2Win is forever relevant! We need a skin that brings back the full hazard suit towering over most other chibis though. Really good as a character, her parts in Twilight of Wolumonde were what made that event remotely bearable to me.

Her fellow Juggernaut companion Penance is likewise extremely good in aesthetics, character and as a unit.

Eunectes - Same deal as above, I actually haven't used her so badly she's not actually E2 yet. But I think she's incredibly gorgeous and a very cool Forgemaster. The Acahualla Trio are very, very fun! Summoning her upgraded Raging Ironhide must be a real lovely feeling given how much of a nuisance it is to fight.

Nian - Unemployed. Commando. The only Sui fragment I have at E2. Fellow spice fiend. Many noteworthy things can be said. I greatly enjoy her. We need to see more of the situation with training up Purgatory now going forwards in that storyline. Love that her E2 splash shows the(or at least, her) bestial Sui form has a maw in the chest.

Shoutout: Ace - He would've been male 6* Defender, absolutely, the way he tanked Talulah 1v1 during the Chernobog Exfiltration long enough for every surviving RI Operator to redeploy disengage & evacuate. Legendary guy. There's no Elite Operator covering the Defender class as a Temporary Recruitment in Integrated Strategies, so personally I feel like that's where he might've been.

[yerimbrit]

[flufftober day 6, wc: 673] - pumpkin pie baking contest gone wrong : p. hanni

THE LIFETIME MISSION that you decided had been assigned to you the day you met pham hanni (which was at the ripe age of six and a half), is to make her happy no matter what. so far, you think you’ve been doing your best to make your girlfriend’s life the best and enjoyable it can be. 

it is fall, the season of pumpkins, horror movies, trick-or-treating, and arguably the time your clothes start disappearing from your closet, only seeing hanni wearing a suspiciously-familiar hoodie a day later. not that you mind, but it is getting a bit breezy without your outerwear. the sleeves are too long for her, so she inevitably gains way-too-cute sweater paws, and if your girlfriend wants to steal your source of warmth forever, so be it. you’d do anything for her.

and if she wants to compete against you in a pumpkin pie baking contest, who are you to deny? it doesn’t matter if you’ll lose anyway because you’re inept at baking, because of the fact that it will not fail in making hanni happy.

earlier this morning the two of you went to the grocery store to grab ingredients for the contest. it was nothing unusual, just the regular short jokes, and her saying she’ll definitely beat you (which is true, but it’s not fun if you accept your defeat so openly), and the fight over who pays.

now you’re in your kitchen pulling up someone’s grandma’s “best pumpkin pie” recipe off of the internet, with a whopping 1.1 thousand five star reviews. unsure of how it’ll turn out, you put your full trust into grandma esther. ‘please, grandma esther. please don’t let this be the recipe you use for the son-in-law you hate.’

“what are you praying so hard for?” hanni comes up to you, nudging you by the shoulder, making you jump. she snickers, and you flick her forehead. 

“i’m praying that my end result won’t give us both food poisoning.

her eyes soften, and she intertwines her fingers with yours, squeezing your hand before smiling. it melts you in a burning pile of rainbows and unicorns, and that’s okay with you. “i’m sure it won’t be that bad. not enough to beat me, but not bad.

“okay, bro.”

you’re basically done with the recipe. grandma esther’s aesthetic touch is a joy, and you’re truly grateful because now you stand a chance against hanni. probably. maybe.

you feel a light tap on your shoulder, and turn around only to get whipped cream smushed on your nose.

of course, hanni is the culprit, grinning devilishly at you with remnants of cream on her index finger. 

“oh, it’s on.” you were not going to lose in this situation.

and that is how you end up pinning hanni to the floor with whipped cream all over your face and hands. your girlfriend is sporting a similar look, but with more of a mess on her face because you obviously won this fight.

determined looks disperse into giggles, and you’re pushed down by the back of your head to the crook of hanni’s neck. it’s warm, like heat emanating from a cozy campfire on a cold night. it feels like you need this warmth, her warmth, to live.

you nuzzle into her neck. “han.”

“what?” she strokes your hair gently, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. 

“i won the biggest prize.”

“you didn’t win yet, though.”

wrong. loving hanni is the biggest win in your life. “mine is already better than yours. i put all my faith in grandma esther.”

you feel the vibrations from hanni’s laughter buzz against your nose, and it tickles. it’s almost liberating; it’s how you feel after a small part of your lifelong mission is completed. home.

“we’ll still have to see if this grandma esther’s recipe lives up to your expectations.

you don’t say anything after that. instead, you push yourself off from the warmth of hanni’s neck, stare lovingly into her eyes, and let your lips take hers.

flufftober masterlist!

a/n : i love u forever hanni pham ALSO HAPPY BIRTHDAY HANNI!!!!!!

[cuddlytogas]

#wait #Jeremy Brett plays basil in a Dorian gray film??? (via)

yes! and he's very good!! in fact, I highly recommend the 1976 film for everyone (it's all on youtube!), and not just because of Brett! iirc it's a fairly faithful adaptation, which thankfully precedes the era of gritty remakes, and has an actually blond and sort of cherubic Dorian.

but most importantly, you need to watch it for this specific shot:

it's right near the end of the movie, after Basil's disappearance (read: murder by Dorian). Lord Henry sits in Basil's studio, the same place it all began, now emptied out. the camera pans slowly inward for a full 25 seconds, while Harry just sits there, completely motionless. it's this extraordinary moment of grief and stillness that he otherwise never displays.

the rest of the scene is all about highlighting Harry's folly: after all this time and change, he still talks in aesthetic riddles, still genuinely desires Dorian's beauty and youth, and all his wit has done nothing but alienate him. his wife is divorcing him, his best friend has disappeared, and this boy he once treated as a protege or experiment rejects him too. all that cruel wit, and in the end, he's just alone.

but in hindsight, it also puts so much perspective on his relationship with Basil! because he does care that he's gone! they were friends! and though the film doesn't lean into that angle, my god, just the prospect of it is so interesting!! (and was a huge inspiration when I wrote my own stage adaptation years ago lmao)

it just humanises Harry so much! all his flippancy and philosophy never prepared him for grief, but even he couldn't avoid it forever! and there's nothing to dissaude from treating his unlikely friendship with Basil as genuine - there are fairly obvious touches of it in the novel in Harry and Basil's interactions:

"You are an extraordinary fellow. You never say a moral thing, and you never do a wrong thing. Your cynicism is simply a pose."

"Conscience and cowardice are really the same things, Basil. Conscience is the trade-name of the firm. That is all." / "I don’t believe that, Harry, and I don’t believe you do either."

"You should have gone away when I asked you." / "I stayed when you asked me."

like, yes, you can treat those as just Basil being naive, or Harry flippant, but I think it's far more interesting to treat them as genuine. and that's there in that shot in the '76 version! those 25 seconds add so much to Harry's character, right at the close of the movie, and it's such a fantastic touch!

JEREMY BRETT as BASIL HALLWARD in THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY (1976)

[softdynasty]

The early beginnings...

Hi, my name's softdynasty (you can call me Lachlan too if you like). I'm an Australian English major studying to become an English teacher & author. I'm going to take you a little journey, and we'll be covering the following:

What does literature "mean to me"?

What kinds of things do I like to read?

So, if you're interested you can read more!

What does literature mean to me?

“What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it. That doesn't happen much, though.”

― J.D. Salinger

I think J.D. Salinger captured the essence of reading (to me) when he said "you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours." Reading, and the celebration of aesthetic achievement in literature is a way to connect with the ideas, feelings, and emotions of an author. A snapshot into a time, place, and context ENTIRELY different to your own. Literature quite literally illuminates the unseen. It's a tool to challenge or ignite ideas, alter perspectives, and change the world. Good books are books that will stay with you forever. I leave with you a quote from Lloyd Alexander:

"Fantasy is hardly an escape from reality. It's a way of understanding it."

― Lloyd Alexander

What kinds of things do I read?

My favourite genre of story is undoubtedly tragedy. There's something powerful and authentic about the genre. Something human. You read these stories, and they bloody punch you in the gut. They make you cry, smile, angry, and then cry again. I'll take you through the story that is Tim Winton's, "Cloudstreet" and show you the power of tragedy.

Cloudstreet is set in Western Australia and features two families, the Pickles and the Lambs. Sam Pickles, father of Rose believes in this "shifty shadow" (sometimes called the hairy hand of god), to him, this "shadow" symbolises luck. Well, luck sure is a bastard, because Sam ends up losing all the fingers on his dominant hand at a tragic accident at work, forcing the family to move in with one of Sam's relatives who runs the local club. You must be thinking "poor bastard losing his fingers like that!" Well, it doesn't get much better for him. He goes out fishing with this relative of his, and tragedy strikes again. His relative, in front of Sam, suffers from a fatal heart attack, once again leaving the Pickles with nothing.

However, Sam is left a large mansion on Cloudstreet by his relative, and the Pickles family end up moving in. This is when the story cuts to the Lamb family who were enjoying an ordinary beach party. Nothing could go wrong, right? Wrong. Fish Lamb is the pride of the family: the funny one, the smart one, the sociable one, the loved one. Quoting the book, "everybody loves Fish Lamb." However, the Fish Lamb we first see doesn't exist for long. Tragedy strikes, and Fish Lamb drowns, caught under the fishing net, unnoticed until its too late. Oriel Lamb, his mother, frantically performs CPR and tries to revive him. They bring him back to life! But, as Quick Lamb (Fish's brother) observes, "not all of Fish Lamb had come back." Fish Lamb from this moment on is stuck with the mind of a child, he's incapable of basic thought and cannot take care of himself. Fish Lamb was gone. This devastated the Lamb family, who used to be devote religious people, leading them to lose their faith. The town they lived in was only a source of trauma, and seeking escape, move to a mansion being rented out. That mansion was Cloudstreet. The story then proceeds to take you through the complex lives of these diverse characters as they search for their role in life and battle the constant tragedy that surrounds them.

All of these events I just described happened in the first 35 pages of a 426 page novel, and yet they evoke such raw and authentic emotion and feelings. They challenge the reader in magical ways. It's captivating. It's human. Of course, tragedy isn't the only genre I like. Some of my all time favourite books are just as comedic as they are sad, just as magical as they are real, like the amazing Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra.

“There is a thin line that separates laughter and pain, comedy and tragedy, humor and hurt.”

― Erma Bombeck

Wrapping things up

I hope you all liked the brief background on myself as a reader, and I hope you learned a thing or two about me in the process. I'll be posting regular updates about the things I'm reading, the things I'm writing and the things I'm enjoying. If you want to follow my little blog, feel free I'd love to have you! Also, if you want to contact me, you can contact me either via this page, or on my discord: softdynasty#9999.

[circuslollipop]

Essek and Caduceus for the character asks!

already answered for essek, so i'll answer for caduceus!

Why I like them: caduceus is a great contrast to the chaotic energy of many of the other m9 members and provides some excellent grounding. honestly, they needed him, and plus he has a wonderful aesthetic. but i also love how he's not just a one-note Wise Mentor; he barely knows what he's doing himself despite looking like he has everything together. i've heard someone describe it as the middle child grabbing for power and i think that's excellent

Why I don’t: n/a

Favorite episode (scene if movie): any time he's around his siblings and the cain instinct comes out full-force

Favorite season/movie: him during the clay family arc for sure, when they go to rescue all of them!

Favorite line: "respectfully." enough said

Favorite outfit: i love his winter outfit so much it gives very warm christmas vibes

OTP: i dont have any romantic ships for him since he's been confirmed aroace and has said he's uninterested in relationships!

Brotp: him and fjord, also him and jester! and him and molly, they could've been fun

Head Canon: the red streaks in his hair was a dye job and jester helped him pick out the colors

Unpopular opinion: why should i choose between him and molly when i could like them BOTH also they are friends

A wish: that he and essek remain friends for the longest time, even after the rest of the m9 are long gone. they could be a fun duo having some adventures, and since i mentioned in the essek one him meeting other ppl, i think cad could meet those other ppl as well!

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: i don't think he should like. stay in the grove forever i think he could def still go on adventures, maybe alternating between adventuring and being with his family?

5 words to best describe them: calming, wise, sibling, curious, faithful

My nickname for them: i love calling him cad or caddy

[meinkampfortzone]

Who Was Hans-Joachim Marseille’s Fiancee?: An Opinion-Based Commentary, Part 2

(cont. from Part 1): 

HJM’s Family’s Attitude Toward Hanne-Lies

So one of the things I noticed when I first started getting curious about finding out who HJM’s fiancee was was the fact that she seemed so comfortable around his mom. That was, in fact, one of the first indicators to me that she was a bit older than him, other than her face. Had she been around his age, most of their interactions would have taken place outside of the house, away from his parents, so that they could make the most of their time alone together. That was, in fact, the norm among young people in the 40s, especially with the growing availability of cars which made getting around a lot easier and faster. When in the presence of each others’ parents, both parties had to act very reserved toward each other, and refrain from things such as holding hands or kissing, etc. (their parents would have been from the generation born in the 1800s, where doing things like that in public was inappropriate and prospective couples were meant to act with restraint when together). Therefore, the fact that 85% of the interactions between Hanne-Lies and HJM (except for the outing in Bad Saarow and their trip to Rome) took place at his parents’ apartment in Berlin was something that stood out to me. I took this to mean that Hanne-Lies was either a friend of the family or mature enough to want to spend time with and build a relationship with her future mother-in-law. As my research later proved, the latter ended up being true. 

After Hans-Joachim Marseille’s death, Hanne-Lies was allowed to live in Bad Saarow in Charlotte Marseille’s summer house that she owned there. I found this strange because Hanne-Lies had only known HJM and subsequently his family for approximately 7 months (they met in March 1942; he died in September 1942), which was hardly a long enough time for Charlotte Marseille to get to trust her enough to give her her house and allow her to live in it. Hanne-Lies remained in that house, keeping it as her main residence, until she got married in 1944 to former LSSAH member Martin Stephani. This led me to think that perhaps, like her son, Charlotte Marseille saw something in Hanne-Lies that reminded her of her dead daughter Inge, and due to the fact that she had lost her daughter so recently, she built a good relationship with Hanne-Lies. After HJM died, I believe that Charlotte Marseille sort of saw Hanne-Lies as the last thing she had left of her deceased son, and decided to let her have the house and stay there for as long as she needed as a sort of gesture of goodwill.

This is a picture of HJM at a bar in Berlin called the Regina Bar (between the two girls) and Hanne-Lies (at the other end of the table). This was taken during his leave in 1942, during which he met Hanne-Lies and became engaged to her. Notice that even in the presence of his fiancee HJM has no issue cozying up to other women. Judging by the look on her face, she doesn’t seem too pleased about it either. 

HJM’s Comrades/Contemporaries’ Attitudes/Opinions Concerning His Engagement

Another thing that I find sort of striking is the complete lack of commentary on the part of HJM’s comrades and friends concerning his engagement, or rather, his lack of commitment to his fiancee. According to Colin Heaton, the news of HJM’s engagement “shocked” those who knew him, only because of his playboy nature. However, once that shock subsided, and everyone saw HJM going back to his old ways and sleeping with various women, not one of his comrades thought to mention how they found it strange that he was engaged and yet having all of these publicized affairs. Although sex outside of marriage, etc. was common in the 1940s, it wasn’t until the 1980s that it became the norm. Up until then, infidelity and sexual promiscuity was kept carefully under wraps, more so for women than men. However, back in those days engagement was essentially a binding contract--the couple was considered married for all intents and purposes until they actually went and legally tied the knot. I found it strange that Marseille’s comrades and those who knew him, when interviewed about him, had no problem talking about his various sexual escapades but didn’t mention how he still did these things while he was engaged. I would have expected at least one of them to mention how it was strange that he continued to do this even after he was committed to one woman. It was almost as if the existence of Hanne-Lies in HJM’s life was unknown to them. This led me to believe that maybe HJM never bothered to tell anyone he was engaged or probably only mentioned it in passing and never really made a big deal about it, or perhaps his comrades knew that this was just part of his nature and that it was foolish to think that he could ever be faithful to one person. 

When asked to describe the nature of HJM and Hanne-Lies’ relationship, Hans-Rudolf Marseille (HJM’s half-brother) proceeded to talk about how he convinced her to go to Rome. 

Of all the things he could have said that would demonstrate that they really loved each other and that there was something between them, he chose this anecdote, which really doesn’t demonstrate anything between them. 

Even the members of the Nazi high command who had interacted with Marseille, when interviewed by Colin Heaton, had no issue talking about how, when receiving a complaint from an Italian officer who stated that Marseille had “violated the family honor”, they all had a good laugh about it, and one of them even said, “Damn it, Marseille, have some shame, man.” However, none of them bothered to point out that this was going on while he was engaged, which was something he had even mentioned to Hermann Goering. Overall, none of the members of the high-ranking Nazi hierarchy seemed surprised at his behavior in the slightest.

Some Miscellaneous Points 

1- All of the people who were close to HJM gave interviews about him or attended events commemorating him and gave speeches/contributed to the event in some way, shape, or form. Many of the primary sources used in Colin Heaton’s book come from interviews conducted with many of Marseille’s comrades, such as Eduard Neumann, Ludwig Franzisket, and Emil Clade. Marseille’s mother, Charlotte, attended the premier of the 1957 film “Stern von Afrika”, and an article appeared in Der Spiegel featuring her and the actor who played her son, Joachim Hansen. In the article, she thanks Hansen for his stellar portrayal of her son. 

Hans-Rudolf Marseille assisted authors and historians writing and researching about HJM, such as Franz Kurowski and Walter Wubbe, and also gave interviews, snippets of which were included in a 1999 documentary about HJM’s life. It was because of the efforts of Eduard Neumann and other airmen who had flown with Marseille that a set of Luftwaffe barracks in Appen were renamed the “Marseille Barracks” (Marseille-Kaserne in German). Even Marseille’s batman, Mathew “Matthias” Letulu, gave an eulogy for Marseille in Germany during a ceremony held at the monument for Marseille in the Egyptian desert. 

The only person who had been closer to him than most of the people mentioned above, his ex-fiancee, was strangely absent from all of these efforts. Other than making an appearance at the 1967 Fighter Pilots’ Reunion event at Furstenfeldbruck, where she attended as a guest of honor with Charlotte Marseille (and this appearance isn’t even documented, as there are no photos of her at the event), she never gave any interviews about her ex-fiance, nor did she contribute to the efforts being made by those who knew him to keep his memory alive. 

2- During his interview, Hans-Rudolf Marseille showed a plethora of letters he had collected that had been sent by HJM to various members of his family--his mother, his sister, even his father. Some of these letters were reproduced and included in Walter Wubbe’s book “Hauptmann Marseille”. But with regards to any written correspondence between Hanne-Lies and HJM, there are absolutely no letters or anything whatsoever between them. Given the fact that they got engaged during one of HJM’s leaves, and they only saw each other once more after that when he was on vacation, it would make sense that they would be constantly writing to each other. Yet there doesn’t seem to be any sort of correspondence between them, at least as far as Hans-Rudolf Marseille’s cache of letters is concerned. The only testament to their relationship is the scarf that Hanne-Lies gave to HJM, and the photo she gave him of herself with “Ich habe dich sehr liebe!!” written on the back. 

3- When I read that Hanne-Lies had given HJM a picture of herself with “Ich habe dich sehr liebe” written on the back, I was curious because “Ich liebe dich” is “I love you” in German. Thus, I set out to find the difference in meaning between “Ich habe dich liebe” and “Ich liebe dich.” I found an answer to this on a German language learning forum that I’ll include below. 

In Closing...

When I think of what Hans-Joachim Marseille’s love life should have looked like, I immediately think of the relationship between Alain Delon and Romy Schneider (not how it ended, Alain cheated on her with another woman and she refused to get back together with him, but just how aesthetically pleasing they were and how big of a power couple they were in the years they were together.)

 I believe that he only got engaged to Hanne-Lies because of the emotional turmoil he was going through at the time. I think that even if they had gotten married, their marriage would have never lasted long. After all, grief isn’t forever, and eventually he would have realized that with that therapist aspect gone, there isn’t actually anything that binds him to Hanne-Lies at all. Hanne-Lies, too, would have had a hard time putting up with his infidelity and flighty personality, especially since she would have been reaching that age when she wants to have children and start a family and settle down (she was almost 30 when she got engaged to HJM). I honestly just wish that Inge Marseille wouldn’t have died so that HJM could have actually gone and found someone who had the personality and temperament to be his other half. I feel like, had he met someone like that, they would literally have been the power couple of the Third Reich. 

I’d love to hear your guys’ comments/opinions regarding this in the comments. Thanks for reading!

[respectthepetty]

Every poster is for Arctic Monkeys' AM, which beside the album being 🔥🔥🔥, the entire album focuses on "frustration surrounding tainted romance, sex and loneliness" which seems to be the perfect soundtrack to this series.

The poster on the left is the track list and features these gems:

I Want It All - features the chorus of "Blind faith, heartache, mind games, mistakes"

No. 1 Party Anthem - could be the anthem of the series with lyrics like "Drunken monologues, confused because it's not like I'm falling in love, I just want ya"

Do I Wanna Know? - which features lyrics like " Do have any idea that you're in deep? (Do I wanna know?) If this feelin' flows both ways? (Sad to see you go) Was sorta hopin' that you'd stay" <- my fave and the lyrics are on the other poster below the others. LISTEN TO THIS SONG!

R U Mine?, Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?, and I Wanna Be Yours - self-explanatory

One for the Road - about leaving after drinking and sex - "So we all get back to yours and you sit and talk to me on the floor, but there's no reason to show me 'round, baby"

Snap Out of It - about a guy telling someone that forever isn't for that person and they are faking their way through a relationship.

Arabella - the singer admires the aesthetics of his lover from the way she drinks from the bottle to the way she smokes her cigarette. <- second fave

Fireside - thinking about a lover who is gone even though you know it was for the better

Knee Socks - another one about thinking about a lover who you messed up the relationship with "When you know who's callin' even though the number is blocked. When you walked around your house wearin' my sky blue socks" <- third fave

Mad Sounds - I don't like it, so I don't listen to it.

So, yeah, AM is the vibe of the show and these characters.

That Artic Monkeys poster that says: Are you mine? Or just mine tonight? is a very good question, given that Ray just bounced after getting Mew's call, midway through what seemed like it would be another night Ray was going to hook up with Sand.

[rosy-cheekx]

Hypothetically

 @aspecarchivesweek Day One: Wish

I wish to make you happy.

Jonathan Sims/Georgie Barker

This was it. Jon fiddles with the pale green collar of his shirt; eyes focused resolutely on the version of himself in the mirror that hung on the wardrobe in his student flat. Tonight’s the night I’m going to ask Georgie to…

He shakes his head to himself, wincing at the end of that sentence. He knows what he’s going to do tonight, what he wants to do tonight, what difference does vocalizing it make, even if it’s just to himself?

Glancing down at his watch, Jon chews his lip. He was meeting Georgie at the bar in thirty minutes. The bar was ten minutes away…He should probably leave now, right? In case he needed to find them seats or use the loo or if the walk ended up taking longer than the dozens of times he’s been there before? He doesn’t want to be late, that would just make everything worse-

Huh. He’s pacing. Jon forces himself to stop and stands in the middle of his bedroom, wrapping his hands around his sides, thumbs digging into his back, feeling his diaphragm push his ribs out and in as he breathes, focusing on the solid movement of his body. Why am I so nervous? His therapist had talked to him, years back, about identifying sources of his anxiety. He hates that it works, hates that it means confronting his own brain and acknowledging his faults.

Is it the bar? No. This bar, The Addison, is one of the few pubs Jon actually enjoys. It’s always got a bit of a draft so even in the busiest nights it never feels like the heat of the room is inescapable. Jon’s not the biggest fan of beer, per se, but he can knock back a pint with the best of them, so long as he has something in his stomach first, and the pretzels and beer cheese The Addison makes are his favorite. The thought of them make his stomach growl.

Is it Georgie? No. He has a lot of strong feelings for Georgie, feels comfortable being himself around her. He drops his stuffy academic persona and can be his regular, less-stuffy-but-still-academic self, the one who speaks to her flatmate’s cat in a higher-pitched voice but still with proper Queen’s English, because “they deserve to be treated with respect, don’t you Madame?” She cares about him, too, he knows that, and he’s enjoyed their months as friends and the past few weeks they’ve been a couple.

As a couple…He feels a twinge of anxiety in his chest that makes him flap his hands instinctively, a quick stim to ward off the impending doom building in his belly. Ah. Found it. He and Georgie have only gone on a few dates: a coffeeshop on a Saturday morning, and a movie night in Georgie’s flat, an evening which had been planned to be a movie marathon of Georgie’s favorite bad horror movies, the B and C rated films that were truly just a vehicle for half-naked women sprinting down alleyways and gratuitous fake blood effects. Any excuse for them to laugh over popcorn and predict the plot points, except Jon had fallen asleep partway through the second movie and had woken up the next morning on Georgie’s couch, a worn fleece blanket over his slumped form. But this? This was a proper night-time date, involving alcohol and a walk home and, Jon was sure, a “mind if I come in?” and it would be different because it wasn’t a friend he was talking to, it was his girlfriend and there were expectations and he was a virgin and didn’t want to disappoint her because he knows Georgie is experienced and she deserves to have a good time and it’s his responsibility as a boyfriend to do that, even if he’s terrified because he hasn’t before—

Woah. Jon takes a deep breath. That was a lot. He did a full Sims, as Georgie would say, letting things snowball in his head until he explodes. He closes his eyes, wringing his hands again, just a gentle flutter at his sides. It’ll be fine. She’ll understand. She has up to now. Georgie has understood his weird studying habits, his deep aversion to spiders, his need to be early everywhere, his sudden shutdowns and stimming habits and how he loves to be held and touched. She can certainly handle him being a nervous virgin.

Jon slips a condom in his wallet and then, hesitating, tears off two more and throws them in. In case he messes up the first time. Checking his watch, he sees its quarter to eight. If he leaves now he’ll only be five minutes early. Perfect.

--

The Addison is a healthy dose of busy on a Thursday night in late autumn, the hum of conversation and music floating over Jon is just the right amount of chaos for him to reach equilibrium, feeling enthused by his nervous energy. He’s sitting at the bartop, spinning the cap to his beer bottle, watching it whirl, whirl, whirl, clattering on the stained wood and spinning all the while. It’s entrancing.

Georgie is speaking to him now. She smiles warmly at him and feels his stomach flip. God, she’s gorgeous when she smiles. Her hair’s in braids this month, pink and orange weaved tightly together, contrasting with the tight black turtleneck dress she wears. He catches himself staring at her profile, the planes of her face animated as she tells him a story about her professor and his alleged vow to fail her this semester. His face is warm. See, he soothes himself, you are attracted to her. You’re just nervous.

“Jon. Jon?” Georgie’s eyebrow is quirked up and she’s smirking at him, like she’s caught him in a lie. “Everything alright? You’re staring.” Jon feels another rush of blood to his cheeks, prickling at how exposed he feels to have been caught up in his thoughts about her.

“Oh-uh, yeah,” he nods, hesitating before reforming his own features into a smile. “I-I was just thinking. Well. How nice you look tonight.” Georgie isn’t immune to compliments, he knows this for certain, and its reaffirmed as she ducks her own head briefly, smile shifting from teasing to soft.

“O-Oh. Thank you, Jon.” She sips her drink, preferring something a little harder than Jon’s beer, usually a vodka cranberry she can nurse throughout a night or throw back when she needs a little something more in her bloodstream, fogging her mind. “You look really nice too, you know. Your green shirt is my favorite.” She gestures to the button up and he nods absently, glancing down at it. When he looks up, her face is close to his, hand weaving into the curls by his ear. He sighs and leans into the touch, feeling a shiver run through him when they kiss. He tastes the cranberry on her lips, vodka on her tongue, her liquid courage enthusing him as well as her (not that she needs any excuse to be bold, really), and makes a choice.

When they pull away for air, he grins wildly at her, the face he makes when he knows he’s about to a very Not-Sims thing. When the bartender makes his rounds again, a pale man in a black button-down, Jon orders his own ruby-red drink. Georgie’s eyebrows meet her hairline as he does so, folding her hands together. “Who are you and what have you done with Jonathan Sims?” The chuckle behind her voice balances the sternness of her words. He just grins at her and takes a sip of his newly-acquired vodka and cranberry juice, the dry flavors curling on his tongue and making his head feel light and warm after even half the glass.  

-

Jon is drunk. It doesn’t take a genius to see that. He knows he’s a lightweight and even the divine soft pretzels he’s been munching on since his arrival can only handle so much. He’s finished his second hard drink on top of the beer and is feeling properly light and airy. Like a cake, he giggles to himself. He’s having fun, chatting with Georgie about life and cats and uni and their plans for the future. Jon’s entertaining a couple of options, a few research jobs in London, and Georgie is poking his side, making him laugh as she teases him about his studying skills being useful for something more than exams.

“At least I have studying skills!” He says, pushing her off his side, linking their fingers together to inhibit her from poking him again. “You can’t ride my coattails forever, you know.”

“I won’t have to! It came in today.”

“What did?” His thoughts are clouded, edges of anxiety smoothed over into something more ignorable.

“My microphone! So I can start my podcast about spooky shit, remember?” Georgie squeezes his hand and finishes her own drink, far along as Jon in liquid consumed but not nearly as affected as he is. “I’m going to uncover the world’s mysteries and teach my faithful audience about the supernatural. I’ve got the title nailed down, too.” With her free hand she paints a banner in the air. “What the Ghost. ‘Cause it’s like ‘what the fuck’ and I can talk about all sorts of weird shit.” Georgie swears a lot, and more when she’s tipsy.

“Can I see it?” The words are out of his mouth before he can think them through. “The-the microphone, can I see it?”

Her eyes widen and she nods, “Oh, yeah of course! I haven’t been able to test it out yet, so maybe you can help me.”

Jon insists on paying. So does Georgie. They resign to splitting it, each vowing to pay next time and knowing they will never outsmart each other.

-

Jon doesn’t realize how drunk he is until he’s walking the five minutes to Georgie’s flat. Tucked into her side, the air is cool around his face, the wind an icy hand cupping his cheek. Everything feels smeary, liquid, warm. Hands in the pocket of the peacoat he knows he bought for the aesthetic and not to keep him warm, he fingers his wallet, feels the circular outline inside, and feels…nothing. Good. He can do this.

He’s always loved Georgie’s flat. It is warm, all orange and yellow lamplight, houseplants, and a cosy cluttered look. Her roommate exists only in residuals, the sneakers she leaves by the door and the dishes she does at odd hours more proof she exists than anything like conversation. Jon respects that. Georgie’s room is a lot like the rest of the flat, which means it’s a lot like Georgie herself. Warm, dark, soft, and scattered, with hidden elements of cat hair no matter how many times she cleans. Jon throws his coat over his desk chair and collapses onto her bed, reveling in how her pillows feel under his back. He takes a moment to greet the weird smile-faced stain on her ceiling before sitting up, watching Georgie fold herself next to him and open a carboard box, taking out a chunky black microphone with a USB cable. She brandishes it like a sword, before angling it to her face.

“This is BBC 4 with breaking news,” she intones into the microphone, putting on a crisp RP accent and lowering her voice an octave. “Ghosts and ghouls have been discovered at King’s College, Oxford, residing as university professors. News anchor Jonathan Sims has the story. Sims?”

Jon presses back his giggles and leans into the character, accent already pretty close to the posh voice she puts on. “There’s been an error, actually. They’ve been the students all along. Journalism student Porgie Parker has been found out to have been a ghost. These discoveries were made after her boyfriend, English Literature student…Bonathan Bims, realized she had never picked up a textbook because she couldn’t! Her hands went right through them!” By the time he’s gotten to the word textbook, Georgie has pounced on him, microphone forgotten as she wrestles him to the bed, alternating between poking and tickling him until he lets the bit trail off, voice a mix of giggles and pleas for her to stop.

When she lets off, Jon abruptly realizes the intimacy of their position. She’s straddling him, her hands pinning his wrists to the plush pillow behind his head. They’re both breathing hard, cheeks flushed, and smiling.

Jon isn’t sure who started the kiss, but it doesn’t really matter. His arms are wrapped around Georgie’s neck and her hands are cupping his face, cool to the touch, nails lightly scratching his jawline. The bed is soft and Georgie is warm, pressing in from all sides, and it feels good. This he likes.

She kisses along his jawline and he feels heart rate pickup, flexing his hands (when did he curl them into fists?) as she presses against his neck. He wishes vaguely she’d put her hands back in his hair, he likes that soft feeling of pressure on his scalp. The smile on the ceiling is smirking at him now, the curve of the water stain looking more vicious than it had earlier.

Her hands are on his chest, she’s unbuttoning his shirt. Her hands feel too cold now, the shiver running through him one of anxiety, not desire, and Jon is sitting up before he knows what he’s doing. Fuck. Georgie, the saint, backs off him and kneels beside him on the bed. Jon’s hands flit to the undone buttons, fingertips circling them, suddenly unsure what to do.

“Are you okay, Jon?” Georgie’s voice is softer, eyes searching his face as she wedges her hands underneath her knees. He watches her wrists, the swing of her braids as she cocks her head, anything to avoid her eyes.

“I-” he gestures to her vaguely. “Y-You know I haven’t before, right?”

“Oh. Oh.” Georgie nods, understanding maybe a little better than he expected. “No offense, but I kinda figured, Jon. Not in a bad way!” She backpedals. “I just figured, you know, there’s no rush.”

“I mean, there’s a little of a rush,” he admonishes under his breath. At her hum of confusion: “You know, the whole-” he gestures again, as if he could pluck the word from the air. “-third date…thing.”

“Jon,” Georgie sighs his name, voice soft and so patient, a voice he doesn’t think he’s heard used anywhere else. “There’s no rule saying what we have to do when. Or how. Or ever, for that matter. It’s no one’s business what we do except ours.” She reaches out a hand, waiting for a slight nod, before taking his thin hands in her own. “Is that why you drank more than usual today?”

Jon nods, feeling a sag of relief spread throughout his body. “I just- I want to make you happy.”

“You do make me happy, you twit. That’s why we’re friends and it’s why I’m dating you.” She presses a kiss to his knuckles. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t need sex to be happy. Is it fun? Yes. But not necessary.”

Jon frowns, chewing on his lip and eyeing the window of her bedroom, tracing the rectangle with his eyes over and over again. “I-hmm.” Georgie watches him search for words; she knows how he ticks well enough to know they’re coming if she waits. “What if, hypothetically, I never had sex with you? Ever.”

“Well,” she gave his hands a light squeeze. “Hypothetically, I’d be totally okay with it, though I’d ask if you were asexual and make sure we had appropriate boundaries.”

“Huh?” The word draws him back to her face, the deep brown eyes that search his own. “Asexual. Like, no sex?” She nods, again, ever-patient. “Huh. Asexual.” He drops the pretense. “Maybe.”

Asexual. The word felt good as he rolled it around in his mouth. He traced the letters with his fingertips in cursive against his thigh as Georgie let go of him, rolling off her bed to pull on sweatpants and a t shirt instead of the dress she was wearing 

“Let’s look into it, if you want. Together.” Georgie grins at him now, rye and warm. “I will have to ask you if want hypothetical crisps, because I’m hypothetically fucking starving.”

[prettysickcoincidence]

Glad I'm not the only one who just feels weird from the sidelines.

I actually have been thinking and...  I want to provide some perspective. 

•People on tumblr (and actually almost anyone else that isnt menhera themselves) have unfairly judged menhera and accused our community of romanticizing or fetishizing mental illness in the past

•I think naturally, as a sort of defense mechanism, we as a community have gotten used to trying to gatekeep and prevent things that are "anti-recovery" such as irl self harm and gore from being put in the menhera tag, as we believe that those contribute to the stereotype. We also just want the tags to be accurate so that people will know what menhera looks like!

 (I think most menhera users have only been introduced to traumacore by seeing traumacore posts that may be seen as unsafe for us in the menhera tag, giving some a bad impression. This should not be indicative of the traumacore community as a whole, just like self harm in the menhera tag isn’t indicative of us!)

•I can see why menheratic disagreed with traumacure’s idea that menhera is ‘making ugly things cute’ because this could be construed as romanticizing mental illness. While I see the need to distance the movement from this idea, I also see traumacure’s point. Both communities face the wrong generalizations that people who look normal and put together aren’t sick enough, and at the same time, suffering can be aesthetic or trendy. We both have to fight these assumptions and accusing either one of perpetuating these is just incorrect and unhelpful. But instead of a civil discussion, it was escalated into something it never should have been. 

•This isn’t the first time menhera tumblr has gone too far over a simple disagreement. People got lovelylor to basically swear off menhera forever because menheratic got into an argument with them.  And because of that simple disagreement in a word choice, she was FLOODED with messages and mean comments and just took all her posts down. Honestly, that was probably a direct result of menheratic’s aggressive attitude and bad faith arguments. They speak as if they have absolute authority and villainize whoever they’re talking to. They come off as very rude and condescending when they could be calmly educating. No wonder some people think we’re exclusionary or elitist. 

Looking back, I have been guilty of this as well. I think we can all do better. Let’s try to be open to criticism and communicate in good faith. If anyone wants to discuss this further, my askbox is open. 

[yashashveeroy]

Hey king🕊

I just found your page I love it especially your aesthetic 🥺💗 And thank you so much for doing this

I’m not really sure of my question

I have been stuck with a bad energy since last year and I am really tired

I just wanted to know how will 2022 will go for me and if I am gone have new opportunities ?this year 🕊💓

Thanks you hope you have wonderful day and lot of love . Nycuxs💘

Hello my little gorgeous one!! @nycuxs 💖✨

I’m so glad you like my aesthetic!🥺💜✨

Your upcoming year:

The card of Archangel “Barachiel” jumped out. Her name literally means “blessings of god” if you don’t believe in the concept of god, replace this with “Universe/Cosmos”. Also rules over ‘Fulfilment’. So it seems that you will be blessed with fertility and abundance. You will also strengthen your close relationships next year. So don’t feel bad if you have to cut someone off. “Success” is a highlighted word here. But you have to practice gratitude first in order to get the blessings. Be grateful for the small things that help you and make you smile.

Message: The light will shine. The darkness will never last forever. Live in the “now”.

Thank you so much for placing your faith in me for your reading! Leave a feedback to let me know if this resonated!!💖✨

Love, Roy.

[thorne93]

The Stars Made Us (Part 17)

Prompt: In this world, you’re one of the “lucky” ones who got a soulmate, but what if the universe gives you more than you bargained for?

(Prompt challenge – You live in a world where your soulmate can write on their skin and you will get the writing on your own and vice versa. Where they can wash away the ink on their own skin, however, the writing is forever scarred onto your skin until you meet face to face)

Word Count: 4107

Warnings: angst and language throughout, medical complications

Notes: This was supposed to be for @sorryimacrapwriter​​​​  and their challenge like a year ago, I think? I still loved the prompt though and have been working on this story for quite some time. This aesthetic was made by @quailliamyfears thank you so much! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes​​​​, couldn’t have done it without you, as well as @carryonmyswansong​​​​ and @arrow-guy​​​​ and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo​​​​

Also, I’ve never really liked the whole soulmate AU thing idea, but this felt so right and it was amazing to write. I hope y’all love it too!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Holy shit,” you gasped running to his side. “Stephen? Stephen?” 

Hank dropped to his knees beside you, digging through the bag he’d brought. 

“What’s wrong with him?” you asked. 

“I think he’s going into anaphylactic shock.” He finally found what he was looking for and jammed the needle into Stephen’s thigh. He stopped seizing but then stopped altogether.

Hank checked his pulse, checked his breathing, and began CPR. You were sweating bullets as Hank worked on him. After two rounds of chest compressions, he finally started breathing again. Hank and you helped him up and he sat there with his head between his knees. 

The two of you monitored him for several minutes before Hank and you helped him into his bedroom to lie down. 

“I think he’ll be fine, now, but it’s safe to say this serum won’t work for you. You’re allergic to it,” Hank informed. 

“So make one that I’m not allergic to,” Stephen responded with reigned in aggression.

“It doesn’t work that way. This serum is very specific, I can’t change it. I’m sorry, but it won’t work.” He nodded to you before giving you two a look of sorrow.

“I’ll walk you out,” you quietly said. You followed Hank to the door. “Thank you, Hank.”

“Yeah, I just wish I could’ve done more. It should’ve worked.”

You shook your head. “No, yeah, honey, I know.” You reached up and squeezed his arm. “This is not your fault, Hank. You’re fantastic. You rushed down here with the serum and you saved his life. I’m so grateful you made the time. It means so much to me. I can’t thank you enough.” 

“Don’t mention it. Sorry again.” He eyed you up and down before leaving. 

Just as you got the door closed, you turned to go check on Stephen but he was already standing behind you, in the doorway to his room. 

“Oh, hey, what are you doing out of bed?” you asked. 

“You said you trusted him.” 

“I do,” you said, a bit confused. 

“But he nearly killed me.”

“No, you had a horrible allergic reaction.” 

“You said it would work,” he responded. He was just as pissed and broken as the first night you showed up. 

“I said that I’ve seen him work miracles. You and I both know nothing is a guarantee.”

“Nothing is a guarantee? You said he could fix me!” he shouted.

“I said he could help! I said I saw him fix Charles but he told us that this might not work. He said that, but you insisted on it. Don’t blame me or him because of a fluke allergic reaction you had.” 

He glared at you. “You gave me hope. You made me think I could get my job back. You made me think I just had to take a few injections a day and I’d be back to normal.”

“Yes, I did give you hope, because somebody fucking needed to! So far all your ‘friends’ and ‘colleagues’ have slammed doors in your face. I showed up, not knowing you, trying to help you, and all you’ve done is fight me.”

“Well clearly I needed to. Hate to break it to you, doc, but your so-called miracle worker almost killed me.” 

“Don’t blame Hank. You’re allergic. He warned us that this might not work on you.”

“Yeah, but he failed to mention the part where I might die because of it,” he shot back as he paced, angry.

You shook your head, making a face of complete befuddlement. “I can’t believe this. All I’ve done is try to get you to be better, be healthier, and you’re just stubborn all the way. Either you want to be better or you don’t, Stephen, but make a god damn decision.” 

“Oh that’s rich. Me make a decision? All you do is talk about helping me and helping your other soulmate. Then go be with the guy. If he's so great, then why are you here?” 

“Because the universe told me to be here.”

“Obedient, aren’t you. But when I tell you to get the hell out of my life, you won’t listen. What? One disabled guy isn’t enough for you, you wanna have two? Won the jackpot there huh? Are we just your type or what is it?”

You gritted your teeth, trying to fight back tears. “I’m going to let that slide because you almost died a few minutes ago and I get it, you’re on your last leg. But lashing out like a wounded animal at me and everyone else doesn’t help you or me.”

“You’re not helping! Bringing in someone that doesn’t know what they’re doing isn’t helping me. Nothing is helping me!” 

“Certainly not you!” you yelled back. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“I mean wallowing. I mean not showering, not shaving. I mean not taking care of yourself. I mean the fact that you ran your expensive sports car off the road because you were too busy looking down at who you could get rich off of next. It’s your fault you lost your career, Stephen, nobody else’s. So don’t blame me, or Hank, or the doctor’s who did your procedures. It was you.” 

He shook his head, his eyes shooting hellfire at you. “Get out.” 

“With pleasure,” you said before grabbing your things and storming out.

----------------------

 You called Charles the next morning. 

“I think I’m coming home,” you informed as you started to grab your bags. 

“What? Why? What happened?” he asked, concerned. 

“He’s an ass, that’s why. He doesn’t want me. I don’t see any reason in staying around.”

“Well if you’re sure…” he said, but it sounded like he wasn’t saying everything he was thinking. 

You let out a sigh. “What is it?” 

“You just, you don’t give up. You didn’t give up on me, you don’t give up on your normal patients. You’re not the type and--”

“This is different,” you interjected. “He’s so hostile. It's not like it was with you. We had a history, I could reach you. He seems to want nothing to do with me.” 

“He’s disabled and he lost his job, right? How is that any different?” 

“You’re right,” he responded, “it’s very different. In fact, you and I got to fall in love. And what did I do when you turned up at my doorstep?” 

You took a moment to answer, starting to see what he was getting at. “You turned me away.”

“I turned you away, and I was in love with you - my soulmate. I was broken, damaged, alone. Only because of your persistence did you stay. Despite all my shitty attitude, you stayed.”

“Well, yes, but we already loved each other. I knew how you really were.” 

“Right, but just because we have a history doesn’t mean he doesn’t need your help. Now, I knew you, I loved you, and despite all of that, I still lost everything else in my life and I pushed you away. Imagine him. He’s all alone, he’s lost everything just like me, but he didn’t have you to hold on to.”

You pursed your lips in thought. “I suppose he’s probably feeling pretty horrible.”

“Stay one more day. I’d hate for you to give up and something happen. Maybe he’ll call or you can go by later and see if he’s better about the whole ordeal.” 

You pressed your lips together in thought. “Alright, fine, one more day. I’ll go over to see him.” 

You ended up back at his apartment later in the afternoon. He opened the door to you. 

“You’re back,” he noted.

“And you keep getting surprised by that. I told you, I don’t give up.” You sighed. “If you’ll still have me, I’d love to keep trying to help you. Even if you think I’m a nuisance, even if you hate me and want me gone, I’m here for you. I will be here until you don’t need me here.” 

“I know,” he replied with a bit of a smile. “That makes us both pain in the asses.” 

You smirked and he let you in. 

“So what made you decide to stay?” 

“Uh, my other soulmate. He reminded me of how challenging he was, and we had the advantage of loving each other. He loved me enough to trust me to take care of him. I loved him enough to keep helping him despite his asshole-ishness.” 

The two of you walked in and you sat down at his glass dining table. 

“And me? What’s your pull to help me?” he wondered with a small smile. 

“I was beginning to wonder what that looked like,” you noted with your own soft grin, talking about his smile. 

His smile got bigger despite himself. “Avoiding the question, doctor. Is that because you don’t have an answer?” His eyebrow twitched in encouragement. 

“No, I do. I want to help you because helping people is what I do, it’s what I’ve always done. If you were any other stranger, I’d be doing roughly the same thing.”

“Tending to them night and day?” he asked, a bit skeptical. 

You let out a small chuckle. “Well, no, okay, maybe not quite how I’m doing it with you, but you are a special case.” 

“Because I’m your soulmate. So you’re saying that if I was say, a neighbor, you wouldn’t be doing this?” 

“Possibly not, but then again, I’d have to know about their condition. The universe tells me when you need me most, and sends me then into your life. I trust that. So yes, half of me is helping because it’s in my nature, the other half is because you are my soulmate.” 

“I wish I had your blind faith,” he sighed. 

“You do. You believe in that blind faith every time you went into surgery. Sure, the procedures can be typical, but every case is different. You believed that all your training and experience would prepare you for every time you stepped into that OR, and yet, I’m willing to bet, sometimes it didn't.” 

He made a look of hesitant agreement. 

“I’m here, right now, reaching out, telling you I am here to help. I won’t think less of you for asking for help, whether it’s showering, cleaning, cooking, or even a shoulder to cry on. You’ve had an enormous blow in life. Don’t make it worse by continually pushing people away. Being alone doesn’t make anything better. I want to get to know you, to possibly love you, just as I do with my other mate. I’m not asking you to believe in some cult or change your religious views or anything like that. You know soulmates exist, you know we shared scars on our arms for years until we met. I’m not even asking you to believe in the universe. Just... believe in me. Give me a chance, forget about everything else.”

He looked at you with eyes that were hard to discern. 

“What’s his name?” he asked. “Your other mate.”

“Charles.” 

“I can see you with a Charles, it fits. Is he a psychiatrist too?” 

“No, but he is in the field of psychology.” 

“I see,” he said, bobbing his head. 

“So, when it wasn’t me or Christine cooking, did you do it or did you eat out?” 

“Are you fishing to see if I am a cook?” he teased.

You returned the smile. “I am, a bit, yes.”

He grinned. “Well, to be honest, it’s a bit of both. I like to cook if I have the time but more often than not I don’t. So it’s typically whatever Manhattan’s finest restaurants have to offer.”

“That sounds a little fun though. Trying out restaurants all the time.”

“Sometimes, and sometimes it can be a bit boring. A home cooked meal just tastes entirely different. What about you? Aspiring chef or…?” 

You shook your head and laughed. “No, no. I do love to cook, and bake though. I make Charles breakfast a lot and I get his lunch ready for him.”

“Must be nice to have a mother figure around,” he jested. 

“Oh, come on, it’s not like that. I just love to cook, he’s busy, so why not do it?”

“Because you sound like a housewife from the 50s, and you don’t strike me as the type to be okay with that.” 

You scoffed. “Really now? Because you’ve been running me ragged as a maid and cook for the last couple of days. I’m surprised you seem to mind me cooking for Charles.” 

Stephen stood up. “Come here,” he softly instructed, gesturing with his head to the kitchen. You did as you were told. “It’s not that I mind… Did he ask you to do it or did you offer?”

“Does it matter?’

“Oh, it matters a great deal to me.”

“I offered,” you said with a bit of a sigh and eye roll. 

“Ah, that’s what we were looking for. Autonomy. As long as he isn’t replacing you for his mother we should be fine… Now, you’re going to see how I make a fantastic dinner. But, I’ll need to guide you since…” He raised his hands, showing their shaking. You reached up and held both of them. 

“Just tell me what to do,” you gently said. 

“Well we’re going to make a fantastic Penne alla vodka with a salad and angus cheese bread. Alright? But first…” He grabbed a remote and pressed a button and jazz music filled the apartment. 

“You’re a jazz fan?” you asked, surprised, a wide grin on your face. 

“I’m a lover of every genre. In fact, in the OR, I have the staff pick songs and I can nail down the artist, song title, album and year of release.”

“Quite the carnival trick,” you noted with a shoulder bump. 

“Get the pot out from down there, and get the vodka from that cabinet over there,” he instructed. “It’s not a party trick. You could try too, you know.” 

You followed his orders and began the preparation of food per his instruction. 

“Well, I could, but if I use your collection, that’s a bit biased, don’t you think? Tips the scales your way.” You made a face of uncertainty and distrust. 

“Oh, I see how it is, you don’t trust me.”

“I believe your exact words have been all along that we don’t know each other yet. You seem like the type to show off, I’m just making sure you have a real reason to do it.” 

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’re really giving me the run around. Alright. Go for it. Pick anyone, any song.”

You grinned and went to get your phone while the ingredients worked on the stove. You found something that wasn’t too obscure and played it. After about five seconds, he got it right. 

“I’ll be damned,” you mused, amazed. 

“We should’ve bet on that.”

You laughed. “Oh, no, I'm never taking a bet with you. You just scream hustler.” 

“Oh, come on now.” He laughed before telling you the next steps. Before long, you two were enjoying a night of dinner. He asked you about your music tastes and you asked about his and how he amassed such a collection. He explained it was his photographic memory. You were actually sad to leave that night, and he seemed to not want you to leave either, but you had to get some sleep. He bid you goodnight and you walked away, happy. 

-------------------------------------

A few days later, Stephen left again. This time he told you where he was going. He was going to his physical therapy. It made sense now and you weren’t quite sure why you hadn’t already put that together. 

You were doing a bit of clean up when a knock came at the door. You frowned, unsure what to do depending on who the company was but answered it anyway. 

“Christine? Steven is not here right now he's at==”

“I know, he's at physical therapy.”

“Then why are you here?”  you asked in confusion as you followed her inside the apartment.

“Actually came to see you. Would you like to get some coffee?”

“Uh, sure,”  you agreed hesitantly.

The two of you locked up Stephen’s apartment and you went down with her to a coffee shop that was only about a block away. You were very confused as to why she wanted to speak to you. She hadn’t laid eyes on you since the first day. 

Once the two of you ordered, got your coffee and sat down, she began. She gave you a look of “bear with me here.” She let out a breath and started talking. 

“How has Stephen been?” 

“Fine,” you said with a shrug. “He’s getting better, mentally, that is. His hands are still... Not so good.” 

“What makes you think he’s doing better?” she asked, as if you had no authority on the matter.

“He’s laughing, smiling. He’s teasing. When we met it was nothing but hatred, cruelty, and wiseass comments.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s getting better. Look, his accident, it was bad. Not just the car getting wrecked or his hands, but that crash took everything from him. I don’t know if he’s told you that.”

You slowly nodded. “He’s mentioned it, yes. I know it’s been hard on him.”

“You have no idea what’s hard on him. You weren’t there for anything before this. That wreck turned a very proud man into the hot mess he is now. You’ve been soulmates, for how long?” 

“I have no idea. All I know is his handwriting showed up on me a few months ago.” You sensed unease in Christine and you had no idea why. 

“Stephen is… he’s a lot to handle, if you haven't noticed. And that was when he still had his career and money.” 

“I know you care about him, I get that, I do. He explained that you two have a bit of a history so I’m not trying to step on anything. He seemed to make it clear you two were over though--”

“You think I’m interested in Stephen?” she asked, almost offended. “I’m not here for that. I’m here so you know what you’re getting yourself into. All he cares about is himself, and that’s it. Did he tell you about the crash or anything that happened after it?” 

“Just that he lost the ability to work.”

She pressed her lips together. “He was on his way to speak at a neurological convention. He and I used to go to them. He thought they were romantic, I thought they were boring. Stephen was speeding around some dangerous curves. He was trying to pass someone, got distracted by a case a staff member of ours sent him, slammed into the car beside him, and he went flying. His car ended up in the water, and his hands ended up in the dash. We didn’t find him for a few hours.”

You nodded, feeling sympathy and sadness flood your body for him. 

“We got him in the operating room, we did the best we could, but his hands weren’t the same. He spent a lot of time and money doing experimental procedures, one right after the other. When we unwrapped his hands after the first recovery period, he looked me in the eye and said I’d ruined him. Think about that. This man, was a man I visited in the hospital every day. I fed him, clothed him, took care of his meds, shaved him. I was his nurse and friend for weeks and the thanks I got was that.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you offered, unsure what she wanted from you. 

“I don’t mind though because hey, we’re friends, old friends. We may have never made it as lovers but I respect the hell out of him as a doctor, college, and friend. So I don’t particularly like it when I see a random woman show up, claiming to be his soulmate and take all the credit for work I did. I had a routine, we were going to get him better, and now with you in the picture… everything will be wrong.” 

You held up your hands. “Woah, look, I don’t know what Stephen’s told you about me but I’m not here to take glory or fame or credit for anything. I’m just here because the universe told me a man needed me most. Everything you've done is fantastic, truly. He talks about you fondly, most of the time. I don’t think Stephen sees it that way at all.”

“I’m not here to try and get him back, or whatever, he’s all yours. After the things he said to me and the way he treated me, I don’t think we should talk for a while. But you, I’m just letting you know because even though we do have a history, he’s extremely trying. I just don’t want to see either of you get hurt. I don’t want you to think it’s all going to be okay, when with Stephen, it very rarely ever is. He tends to lash out even when he’s in a good mood, but now, I don’t know, it’s almost like he’s a wounded animal, just lashing out at anyone and everyone. Chances are he’s going to say something that will make you question staying. I’m not telling you how to live your life, but I don’t think Stephen could bear it if you two did become close and then you left. So you should think about that before you continue this.”

Her words stewed inside your head for a moment before you opened your mouth to speak. “I actually have two mates. It’s never been heard of, but here we are. I honestly can’t tell you who is worse. My first mate who lost function in his legs and his career, or Stephen. My first mate lost a school he had helped build, his best friend, and his sister, all at the same time he lost use of his legs. He lost nearly everything, but the only difference was, we’d already fallen in love. So it made it easier, in some sense, and harder in others. Hard to see a man I held in high esteem become drug dependent and a near alcoholic; but easier to want to help the man I love. With Stephen, I didn’t know him before the crash so what I’m getting now is just glimpses of a broken man.” You chewed on your lip before continuing. “I’m not here to hurt anyone. I think you’ve done a great job at keeping him sane and balanced, and I sincerely thank you for that. I don’t intend on leaving until I’m 100% certain he can fend for himself and he no longer wants me around. Until then, I’m in it for the long haul.” 

She smiled at you. “I’m glad to hear that, because here’s what you should know about him…” She jumped into it. She went into all of his bad habits, his quirks, his annoyances. She created a full profile for you to work with. She went into his background, explaining just how good he was at his job and just how devastating this was for him.

By the time she was done, it was evident. He was a confident, fantastic, renowned doctor, who had his career and livelihood stripped away due to a split second mistake on his part. You suddenly felt all the more sympathetic for him.

“I hope that helps you,” she finally said, “I don’t want to see any broken hearts. If you think he’s bad now, just wait until his heart breaks.” 

“I thought you two said you were never in love,” you noted, confused. 

“We weren’t, but you could do it, and you’d be the first woman to break his heart. I’d hate to see what that looks like.” 

Getting up, she smiled at you, saying, “I was wrong about you. I thought you couldn’t handle it, but I think you’ll be just what the doctor ordered.” 

Surprise colored your expression. 

You met back at the apartment with Stephen. You told him you’d had coffee with Christine. 

“Ah, did she turn you against me? Tell you how arrogant and stubborn I can be? That you’re wasting your time?” he asked, a bit jovially.

“Actually, she said I was your salvation.” 

Stephen looked up from his tablet and gave you a curious look. When you turned to make dinner, he looked back down at the tablet, smiling softly. He didn’t think you could see it, but you could.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[vorta-whore]

Transition of Power, ch. 3

The two of you go for a stroll.

Weyoun 5 x female reader

Chapter 1: An Introduction | Chapter 2: A First Date | Chapter 3: A Walk Together | Chapter 4: A Night on Bajor

---

You don’t consider yourself a particularly religious woman. You have always had faith in the Prophets, of course, and you attend weekly services whenever you can afford the time. But in all your years aboard the station, you can’t recall ever stepping foot in the temple outside of service hours simply to pray.

You’ve done so three times this week.

The silence and stillness of the shrine seems to help, for a moment. As you kneel onto an empty pillow and bow your head, your chaotic thoughts begin to subside, replaced by a single, focused prayer.

Prophets, you think, though you sometimes sense you’re talking to yourself more than to them. Please, guide me. I didn’t think I had a choice, at first, with this man. He wanted me and I could not deny him, for fear of what would happen to me. But the more we talk, the clearer it is that he isn’t forcing me into anything. I’m continuing it of my own free will.

You lace your fingers together and squeeze your eyes shut in concentration.

I know he’s a dangerous man. An evil one. He represents the empire that could tear the Alpha Quadrant apart. And I know he must have committed atrocities of his own as well. I shouldn’t want to be with him – I should be repulsed. But I can’t help it. When he leaves, I miss his presence. I think about him as I lie awake at night. I wonder what kind of a man he is, under that diplomatic persona. I want to get to know him. And I...I like how I feel around him. He makes me feel interesting. And wanted. Desirable, but respected. He treats me kindly, with a gentleness I never thought him capable of, that I’ve never experienced from another lover. And I know the right course of action is to end this before it begins, to reject his advances before they can go any further...but I feel in my heart that I would regret it forever.

A heavy sigh falls from your lips.

You gifted us with the ability to love so we could appreciate being bathed in your holy light. It is the purest, most powerful force in the world. So how could it ever be wrong? Would I...be a collaborator if I continued this? Is the only moral course of action to forget this affair? Or is this part of my fate – to capture the heart of a powerful enemy and help save his soul, and maybe some lives in the process?

You pause, your heart laid bare, and wait for a response. But you don’t really expect one. The Prophets have never spoken to you – not directly, at least – and you don’t expect them to start now. Even if you are in terrible need of guidance. For a moment you consider asking the vedek for advice, but you suspect he won’t give you an entirely unbiased answer when he realizes the object of your affections is none other than the station’s Vorta oppressor.

The musky scent of incense swirls in the air around you. Quieted but still frustrated by your own uncertainty, you take a moment to breathe and center yourself as best you can before heading back out to the Promenade.

The serenity you found inside the temple begins to fade away as soon as you leave it. You pause to survey the station inhabitants shuffling to and fro, their heads bowed, their faces weary. As much weighs on their minds as on yours. 

A sudden call snaps you out of your reverie.

“Y/N!” comes the excited, familiar voice, and you turn with surprise to see Weyoun flanked by his Jem’Hadar guards. Caught off-guard, you gape for a moment as he approaches.

“Hi,” you manage. He beams at you in response.

“Will you walk with me for a moment?”

Your answer follows before you can give it even a moment’s thought: “Of course.”

The Vorta turns and you fall in tow as the four of you cross the Promenade. You’re not entirely pleased to be seen in public with Weyoun – you keep glancing about as though fearful of the judgmental glares you’re bound to receive – but the majority of people you pass seem entirely uninterested in your little rendezvous. Beyond, of course, the usual uneasy glances they direct at Weyoun.

“I really did enjoy our dinner last week,” he says with a hum. “I apologize for not contacting you sooner.”

“It’s alright. I’m sure you’re a very busy man.”

“Oh, you have no idea the extent of it. I’ve rarely a moment to myself, let alone time to enjoy the company of others. Which brings me to my point.”

He pauses in front of a window and turns to gaze out at the stars. You do the same, and a faint wistfulness tugs at your heartstrings as you stare at the space where the wormhole hasn’t opened in months.

“I’d like to see more of you,” Weyoun says softly.

You look over at him with such a panicked haste that he quickly adds an addendum: “If that’s alright.”

“I – you – yes, of course it’s alright,” you stutter, and feeling sheepish, you avert your eyes and tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ears.

You can hear the smile (and notes of what sound like genuine relief) in Weyoun’s voice as he replies. “I’m glad to hear it. As it happens, my meeting with Gul Dukat later this evening has been fortuitously postponed – and I can think of no greater way to spend my suddenly free time than in the pleasure of your company.”

You glance up to see he’s turned from the window to face you, and his wide eyes glimmer with anticipation as he awaits your response.

You hesitate. Something within you is begging to say no, to run away – but you can’t fathom the possibility of extinguishing the spark of excitement in those amethyst eyes...

“Unless...you have a prior engagement?” he prompts at your hesitation, and the way his eyebrows raise and his lips tug into a frown has you scrambling to comfort him.

“No! No, I’m free. I’d love to join you,” you assure, quite earnestly in fact, you realize, and Weyoun’s expression melts back into a pleased smile.

“Excellent. I was thinking perhaps a change of scenery this time; I’ve already taken the liberty of securing a holosuite reservation. I think you’re going to like the program I’ve selected.”

Before you can inquire, Weyoun reaches for your hands, and the feeling of his soft skin brushing against yours steals the words right out of your mouth. You find yourself helpless under his gaze once more as he strokes his thumbs over the back of your hands, and in that simple, paralyzing touch you completely forget the two of you are in the public eye.

“I’ll pick you up from your quarters at eighteen hundred hours. Dress for warm weather.”

He presses a quick kiss to one of your hands and then is gone, leaving you breathless by the window.

No one had been paying you much attention before. But after that public display of affection, you notice several pairs of eyes quickly dart away as you turn back toward the Promenade.

You suppose you’d better go find a dress.

---

The door-chime rings at eighteen-hundred hours exactly, and you wonder if Weyoun had perhaps been standing there waiting for the precise moment to strike. With one last glance in the mirror to straighten your hair, you answer the door, and the sight momentarily stuns you.

You hadn’t seen Weyoun in any outfit other than his typical – was it a uniform? That strange, asymmetrical garb he always wore. But as an ambassador, it made sense that he would have a variety of clothing suitable for multiple climates, and he had donned one such outfit here for the occasion. It resembled his usual attire, in all its intricately-patterned, multi-textured glory, but revealed much more skin than you were used to seeing on the Vorta. Lapels of thin leather stretched out to just barely cover his shoulders, leaving his arms completely bare. The pleated mauve undershirt (though you doubted it was its own garment entirely, more likely just a piece of fabric sewn into the vest for modesty) dipped down low to reveal both collarbones, and the asymmetrical hem of the garment jutted out just above his hips. His trousers – a shade more form-fitting than usual – were cuffed at the shin, revealing a sliver of calves between the hem and the ankle-high boots he wore.

You had worried about feeling a little too dressed-down, in your flowing sundress and delicate sandals, next to the stiff and regal Vorta. But the casual outfit assuages your fears and you both grin – you a little giddily – to see the other in a new light.

“You look stunning as always, my dear,” Weyoun notes, “but especially so tonight.”

You hesitate as he offers you his arm, but the reality is that after this morning, the whole station likely knows about the two of you; there’s no point hiding this courtship anymore. You take his arm.

“I could say the same of you,” you tease, a little emboldened by the feeling of walking on the station commander’s arm. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you show quite so much skin.”

A smirk tugs at the corners of Weyoun’s lips, and you sense he’s debating saying something, but quickly decides against it. He simply chuckles. 

“I’m glad you like it.”

A thought occurs to you and you voice it tentatively as the two of you (followed, as always, by the Jem’Hadar guards) make your way down the corridors.

“Weyoun – is it true your people don’t have a sense of aesthetics?”

“Yes. The Founders did not deem it necessary for our purposes.”

You think you detect a hint of bitterness. But he continues on cheerfully: “Personally, as a diplomat, I do see the advantages; every culture has its own unique sense of style and taste, and if I had my own personal preferences among them, I might find it more difficult to establish relations with races whose appearances or architecture I disliked.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you mutter, not really agreeing. “I just wondered – you always compliment my appearance…”

“Ah,” he chuckles, “yes. I assure you those are genuine.”

At your look of confusion, he furrows his brow, trying to find the easiest way to explain. 

“...Allow me to illustrate it for you with an example. If you showed me two dresses – one horribly tacky, the other beautiful and elegant – and asked me to label which one was which, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. To me, they’re both slips of fabric in various colors and patterns woven together to make a garment. I cannot detect whether certain colors clash with one another, or if certain shapes are unflattering on one’s body. But what I can appreciate is the woman wearing the dress. Her whole demeanor often changes when she slips into a garment as beautiful as she is; she becomes more comfortable, more open, more in tune with her inner light. When I compliment her, I’m voicing my appreciation for things like...the way her smile lights up the room. The tinge of color on her cheeks and the spark in her eyes. The grace with which she carries herself. Her confidence in flaunting such a flawless appearance.”

He pauses to drive his point home by setting his free hand gently over the one you’ve laid on his arm and meeting your eyes with a suave smile. Your foundation does nothing to hide the blush that rises to your cheeks, and you to your horror a giggle bubbles up from your lips.

“Regardless,” Weyoun sighs, pleased at the response he’s elicited, “I can certainly appreciate the effort you’ve expended going out of your way to gild yourself for my enjoyment.”

Heads turn as you enter Quark’s, and for a moment you avert your eyes and stare to the ground in embarrassment – but Weyoun doesn’t falter an instant, and the sheer confidence with which he carries himself bolsters you. You lift your head with some effort, clinging just a bit more tightly onto his arm. 

Quark has the data rod with your holosuite program in his hand as you approach the bar; his expression is unreadable. Weyoun thanks him and takes it, and you continue upstairs.

“I do hope you like it,” he says, a little more loudly over the noise of the bar, as he slots the data rod into the panel. “Having never been to Bajor myself, I can only hope it is a faithful reproduction.”

You turn to fix him with a questioning look, but he only bows and gestures for you to head inside.

“After you.”

The doors part and you immediately feel a blast of warm air, a welcome feeling on your bare, goosebump-prickled skin. You step inside – followed closely by Weyoun – and the Jem’Hadar take up post outside the holosuite just before the doors slide shut.

The program, to your wonder and delight, is a perfect re-creation of one of Bajor’s most famous forests. Your home planet is well-known for its natural splendor – sprawling mountains, rolling hillsides, breathtaking falls – and this woodland is a shining example. Impossibly high, purple-barked trees stretch toward the endless sky, their leaves casting a shimmering dappled shadow upon the needle- and moss-covered ground. A brook winds and weaves through the web of tree trunks and their gnarled roots, its water crystal clear, its shores adorned by smooth pebbles and stones. Small woodland creatures dart to and fro throughout the underbrush, and you watch with quiet fascination as one of them – a long-eared, round-eyed lagomorph – pauses to nibble at the bud of a crimson sunset-lily.

You’re sufficiently awed.

“I take it,” Weyoun says softly from behind you, and you startle a bit, having all but forgotten he was there, “the program passes muster?”

“More than,” you reply, and turning to face him, you offer a genuine smile of gratitude. “I feel like I’m home again.”

A warm smile touches his lips, creases the corners of his eyes.

“I’m pleased to hear it.”

As the two of you approach the trailhead, Weyoun slides a graceful arm around your shoulders. He holds you firmly, but not tightly, and his embrace – the tingling sensation of his soft skin on your bare shoulders, the feeling of safety under his grasp – transforms you into a blushing maiden, clinging onto your shining knight. You wrap a reciprocating arm around his lower back as you both begin down the dirt path.

“I’m glad to be able to see some of your homeworld,” he muses after a few moments of contented silence, interrupting the cheerful sounds of birdsong. “Even if it is only a facsimile. My occupation, unfortunately, does not allow me much vacation time.”

He says this with a chuckle, intending the comment to be light-hearted, but you can hear an undercurrent of bitterness – the same subtle tone you noticed in your earlier conversation. The polite thing to do would be to move on; talk about the places in Bajor he should visit if he ever gets the chance. But you know it would be an empty gesture. There’s an opportunity here, and you’d be remiss to let it pass you by.

“...Weyoun,” you start carefully, and he glances over to you, attentive at your sudden tone of concern. “Do you ever…wish things were different?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he fires back, a little too quickly. His eyes slide back to the path in front of you.

“Yes, you do.”

Silence stretches out between you as Weyoun contemplates his answer. His arm around your shoulders has slackened a little and you aren’t sure if this risk is paying off the way you intended it to. After several long moments, he heaves a sigh, laden with a burden you sense he’s reluctant to acknowledge.

“Sometimes…”

He stops himself. You try to decipher the expressions crossing his face but they’re entirely unreadable. He glances back to you – looks down – sighs again. When he speaks, his words are deliberate, chosen with laborious care.

“Sometimes, I do harbor thoughts of what life might be like if circumstances were...different. There are many pleasures in this world unknowable to me; the taste of a home-cooked meal, for instance. Art in any capacity. Music, especially, I wish I could appreciate.”

“You can’t even enjoy music?”

“When I listen to a song, it’s as if I’m…” – his hand dances about in the air, searching for an apt comparison – “...looking at a sheet of mathematical equations. I can pick out the individual instruments, note the changes in their pitch, recognize patterns and motifs. But the whole of the song, the heart of it, escapes me.”

You both ponder this sad reality.

“I do think it would be nice to be able to carry a tune,” he laments after a long moment. “Or to dance. I’m a truly terrible dancer.”

The image of lovely, graceful Weyoun stumbling around a dancefloor elicits a burst of laughter from you, despite the heavy subject matter; Weyoun laughs along, relieved his attempt at cutting the tension was successful.

“That’s a shame. I don’t know how the Vorta usually woo their women, but on Bajor, dinner and dancing is usually part of the package at some point.”

“Well, I’ve managed to woo you without having to resort to dancing just yet.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” you retort, grinning.

Weyoun agrees with a hearty chuckle.

“Let’s hope not.”

---

The two of you make your way down the winding trail, enjoying the sights and sounds of the woodland as you go. Weyoun, ever the gentleman, leads you by a hand over the fallen logs and stepping-stones that serve as bridges across the stream, his grip a comforting assurance. He waits ever so patiently when you pause to beckon to the furry little creatures eyeing you from the underbrush, and he is adequately fascinated by your explanations of the various flora and fauna, even humoring you when you pick the occasional flower and offer it for him to smell.

“Do you even have a sense of smell?” you question him at one point, twirling the stem of a flower between your fingertips; those of your other hand are laced comfortably with his.

“I do,” he assures, a little amused by the question but understanding of its necessity. “Scent plays a pivotal role in making good first impressions; it’s one of the first things a person notices. I find it helpful, actually, to tailor my own scent to match the preferences of those with whom I wish to establish good relations. It’s a subtle enough gesture, but effective.”

“Is that why you always smell so sweet?” You give him a light jab to the ribs.

He grins at your playful tone, shoots you a look of mirthful defeat.

“You caught me.”

“How did you know I’d like that scent in particular?”

“Well…”

Weyoun trails off, and in the span of that one word the tone of the conversation has shifted to something decidedly less lighthearted. Your attention is drawn to him as he withdraws his hand from your own and clasps it with his other; you wonder if that might be a nervous habit.

“Being station commander has its...advantages. There is very little that goes on here without my knowing, and likewise very little information inaccessible to me. If I wish to know...say...a particular occupant’s work schedule...or shopping habits...”

“You stalked me!” you accuse, and although the offense rings clear in your voice, you can’t honestly say it runs all that deep. Either way, you aren’t surprised.

“Stalk is a strong word!” Weyoun insists, the pitch of his voice rising as he hurries to defend himself. “I merely – gathered some basic information – to give myself the best possible chance of ensuring the outcome I wanted.”

“Which was?”

He looks at you a little strangely. The answer is obvious, of course, but you want to hear him say it.

“To win your affection. Which, it seems, I have. Or am I mistaken?”

His turn to ask the obvious question. You smile and lower your gaze to the ground.

“You have.”

“Then the ends justified the means.”

The trail opens up into a clearing, and you come upon the shore of a vast lake. There’s a stretch of fence close to the shoreline and you lean against it as you take in the sight: the rippling surface of the water glimmers like so many gemstones, reflecting the deep orange and violet hues of the Bajoran sunset.

It occurs to you that your Vorta friend may not be able to enjoy this painterly scene to the same extent you can. You glance over to him – and startle to see his gaze is fixed intently on you. It doesn’t waver as you meet it, and the unabashed eye contact brings a sudden warmth to your cheeks.

“What?” you finally ask, a little sheepish.

Weyoun’s smile grows just a shade deeper as he answers.

“You enjoy looking at the sunset. I enjoy looking at you.”

The simplicity of the statement only excites the butterflies in your stomach. You smile nervously, self-conscious, as Weyoun studies your face with a sudden, urgent interest; his smile fades and his brow creases with concentration. He’s searching for something – and whatever it is, he’s desperate to find it.

You’re just about to ask what’s wrong when his hand lifts to your face, and the gentle hold he takes of your cheek steals your thoughts away completely. His palm is soothingly cool; his touch, comforting and still. You notice his eyes slide down to your lips and you realize with paralyzing clarity what it is, exactly, he wants.

The next few moments happen in slow motion.

You allow the hand cupping your cheek to guide your face upwards, and Weyoun’s head tilts to the side, making room for you. You spare a glance down to his lips, then back up to his eyes, tender and heavy-lidded; your lips part and you suck in a small, quiet gasp of air, the last you’ll get for the next several seconds. As Weyoun leans down to close the last inch of space between you, your eyelids flutter shut – and an infinite, breathless moment passes before you feel his soft lips press, tender and sweet, into yours.

He lingers there motionless for several moments, the pad of his thumb stroking your cheek, before beginning to pull away – but you don’t let him. The instant his lips leave yours, your hands shoot up to grasp the sides of his face and pull him back down for more, and he obliges, gladly; you press up into him with more force, mashing your lips together in a hungry bid for intimacy, and he exhales heavily into the kiss, returning every ounce of passion. His hand slips from your face and you feel his arms wrap tightly around your middle, pulling your body into his, and for several long minutes the only sounds around you are the distant calls of the waterfowl and the lapping of gentle waves at the shore.

Neither of you wants to end this perfect moment. But, inevitably, one of you must break for air, and of course it happens to be you. You pull back just enough to breathe; your eyes blink open to meet Weyoun’s, and as you relocate your hands from his face to rest upon his shoulders, you notice with some amusement the faintest tinge of purple in his cheeks.

“Wow,” you exhale, lightheaded.

“Wow,” he agrees.

His grip on your waist loosens and, self-consciousness returning, you turn back toward the lake and allow the cool breeze to soothe your burning face. Weyoun releases you to instead rest a hand on the small of your back, and you lean into him, heart aflutter.

A few minutes of silence – of perfect, serendipitous peace – draw to a reluctant close as the automated voice of the computer informs you your holosuite reservation is at an end. You release the fence posts just as they disappear from beneath your hands and frown as the beautiful expanse of forest before you gives way to the cramped and machinery-cluttered interior of the holosuite.

“A pity,” sighs Weyoun, turning to you and taking your hands in his own. “I was hoping that hour might break the rules of spacetime and stretch out just a bit longer.”

It’s a little cheesy, but you giggle anyway, and he grins to have gotten to you. Lifting a hand to his lips, he presses one of his signature kisses to the back of it, and you sigh, squeeze his hand in return.

Emerging from the holosuite on Weyoun’s arm once more, you cringe at the din of the bar, so cacophonous compared to the quiet of the forest. But nothing can shake the absolute serenity now instilled within you. You practically float down the walkway, and though pairs of eyes follow your progress as they did before, this time you find it quite easy to pay them no mind.

Weyoun notes your confidence with an approving hum. “Not so self-conscious now, I see.”

You grin a little, shrug your shoulders. He responds with a chuckle and teases you in that lilting, singsong voice of his: “I wonder why.”

The walk back to your quarters is shorter than you’d like it to be, and before you know it you’re standing at the entrance to your quarters. Frowning, you turn to face Weyoun, not quite ready to part ways.

“It was a pretty short hour,” you say.

“Indeed it was.”

“It doesn’t...have to be over so soon. You could come inside…”

“I’m afraid not, my dear,” he sighs, and there’s genuine disappointment in his voice as he cradles your hands in his own. “I’m due elsewhere on the station in five minutes’ time.”

He soothes away your dejection with another quick couple of kisses to the back of your knuckles – and then, with a coy smile, one to the very corner of your lips. You turn your head to try to catch it full-on, but he dodges you deftly – ever the tease. You understand the purpose behind this tactic of leaving you wanting at the end of each of your encounters, but it frustrates you all the same, and Weyoun grins infuriatingly at your pouting.

“Try not to fret too much. I promise I’ll be in touch again very soon.”

You can only swallow, nod, and linger on his gaze as long as politely possible before allowing your hands to slip from his and turning with great reluctance to enter your quarters.

Sleep hasn’t been coming easily to you these past few weeks. But tonight, it greets you kindly, and you drift into an easy slumber with a smile on your lips.

[onlyhereforangst]

2020 IN WRITING

tagged by @indestinatus 💕

tagging whoever wants to go thru this journey with me & see their accomplishments in this terrible terrible year!

1. List of works published this year:

Oh god there’s a lot, like 70 total in just 2020. I’ll try to categorize them so this doesn’t get too long 😅but here’s a cut for aesthetic on your dash.

Sequels/Partner Fics: Risk It All (for @hellokaelyn), Finally Home (to Come Back), They Always Do & Could She?, Lucky Day & Completely Yours, Fiery Trance (Two Can Play series), Obsessed (Particular Taste), Soul (to Ignited)

Smut: My Turn (sequel to My Pleasure), Worth It, Maybe We Should, Make it a Double (also a fic request), Shall We (AU)

Fic Requests: Coffee Run, Hold Still, Typical, Deal, Needed It, I’m Home, For Science, Cry Me A River, From Your Dreams (AU), Crystal Clear, Tempt Me, Your Fault, Prove It, Silent Proclamation, A Hundred Suns (angst smut), Duly Noted

Stand Alones: No More, Never Let Her Go, Life is Fragile, Pandemics & Peach Drinks, To Need and Be Needed, Never Let Go, Coming Home, Priceless, Behind The Mask, Need a Hand?

Angst: My Daisy, Status Quo, Can I Stay, I Refuse, Deal

Series/Multi-chaptered: Back Off (Better Apart, Missed The Mark, Change Her Mind, But You Do, Layered Love), Electrified (Don’t Stop (Senorita)), Here By Faith, Forgive & Forget, Angstober ‘20 (Never Has & Never Will, Only In My Head, Long, Long Gone, Do Something, Take Care, Waiting to Burn, Survive the Hell, Find Her, Never Ended Well, At All Costs, One Thing Right, Stay Away, Echoed Back, Smart Man, Not Interested, Flake Again, Release, Slipping Away)

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

Here By Faith mainly because of the topic. Pregnancy & Infant loss has been such a taboo topic for so long and something I have personal experience with so writing this was very therapeutic. 

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

Shall We and only because I truly wanted way more plot in this and it turned out to be essentially just straight smut with a tiny bit of plot. But it is what it is 🤷🏻‍♀️

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

Ok I had 70 fics to choose from not breaking down chapters so I’m sure I’m missing something, BUT I do love - omg typing this out I realized it’s from a fic in 2019 so I can’t use iiiiiit 😩 ok so here’s a couple excerpts. I loved typing out this stream of conscious partner fics (They Always Do & Could She?):

They Always Do:

Yet this time, this time she didn’t have the chance to rebuild. Like a Trojan horse, he waltzed right up to her and slowly dismantled her defense. Joke by joke, smirk by smirk—Nick took each brick down with care. The worst part? It was so subtle, so thoughtfully done, she didn’t even notice it was happening. Didn’t see her chest being pried open, beating heart on display for him to see, and take. Never realized her greatest defenses were missing until it was too late.

That love- precious, fragile, delicate love- had managed to grow again. In her desolate, cold heart, Nick managed to bring to life an emotion she had long given up on. An emotion she was too afraid to ever feel again. Because with it came agony.

They leave, and you’re abandoned- picking up the pieces of a shattered heart.

When you love, you lose. Always.

Could She?:

But-

Even if that was love, even if he loved Ellie with his whole heart, his entire being. Was that enough? Was Nick enough? Was he deserving?

A resounding no clanged around his skull like a church bell in a Southern town on Sunday morning. He wanted to silence it, stop the shrill metal sound that started any time he pictured forever. Any time he truly thought he might deserve to love, even after all he’d done. After all the unimaginable things he’d done, the horrors he’d seen, the pain he’d caused. That bell sounded, loud and clear.

How did he deserve love when he couldn’t bear to love himself?

[...]

Could she love him despite all his misgivings? Could she love him even when he didn’t love himself? Could she love him when there was a risk he’d be taken from her too soon?

Could she?

Please love me.

But please be sure.

There’s been a couple of other inner monologues that I have absolutely loved (I like to think it’s semi my speciality? But maybe that’s super arrogant of myself?) but that’s a different post for another time.

5. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

I said it recently but I *love* when people pick out specific line(s) from my fic and choose to comment on those. More often than not it’s a line I was so proud of either prose-wise or foreshadowing-wise or whatever and I get literally giddy with excitement that someone not only noticed it but also loved it enough to comment on it 🥰but truly any kind of comment is dopamine-inducing 😉

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

As some people may have noticed (& maybe not because I did still semi-run the other main ellick blog despite it) I was somewhat absent for most of the summer/fall. I struggled for the first time in my life with mental health issues, borderline depression after being in a shit work environment, an essential worker with a company that claimed to “care” about us, a community that I once loved but showed their true colors in the midst of the pandemic & election, add in a rough pregnancy & it was a recipe for disaster. I didn’t want to even move from the couch most days let alone write. 

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

I had a lot of fun writing short excerpts from different characters’ perspectives (Jimmy, Kasie, McGee & Gibbs) in my Angstober series & honestly wouldn’t mind doing that again!

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

Honestly not sure, I think I’ve just generally grown as a writer - better descriptions & descriptors, better dialogue, better plots. But that could all be me seeing things 😂

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

I’d love to look into writing more seriously. My husband is convinced I could write an episode script or a novel, so I may look into trying my hand at that (even though I feel I’d be god-awful at it 😅)

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

Hmmmm I always appreciate the support I’ve gotten from the ellick fandom despite it being rough this year for us, wonderful people like @erinchristmaselvis, @thekeyboardninja, @hellokaelyn & @wanna-be-bold are always there to either hear me vent or cheer me on ☺️

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

Haaaaah yes. Lots of it (but I bet you can’t tell because I only add mini snippets so have fun finding those easter eggs 😏)

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Always, always, always write for YOU. Not for anyone else, the kudos, hits, comments, none of it. Write for YOU. And I say this as a reminder to myself as well, it’s so hard to get bogged down in that dopamine-induced craze we search for in recognition but it’s so important to not externally validate yourself rather internally validate yourself on baby steps of growth & accomplishment. 

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

LOL how about all my WIPs? All of those stories I started forever ago that people call me out on not finishing months later when I swear they’ve forgotten about them 😬

14. If you could recommend only one work from yourself published this year:

Hmmmm lemme pick one from each category because I’m indecisive 😉

Sequel/Partner Fics: Lucky Day & Completely Yours (the aaaaangst)

Smut: a tie between Maybe We Should & Make it a Double

Fic Request: A Hundred Suns (because I love me some angst smut)

Stand Alones: Pandemics & Peach Drinks (hahahaha because this was in an Insider news article at the start of the pandemic hahaha so on brand #2020)

Angst: My Daisy (I looooooove this one, but also all of the angst category lol)

Series/Multi-chaptered: literally not one of these is finished and they’re all heavy angst so take your pick 😂

15. Year word count: 103,050 in 2020 which seems like so little 😅

Here’s to 2021 being the year I finish WIPs! she says knowing she’s lying

[petersasteria]

What’s Your Plan, Genius? - Harry Holland

Pairing: Harry x Artist!Reader

Requested? Yes! By @unsaidholland​ <3

Hamilrequest #21

“What comes next? You’ve been freed.”

They’re older in this one. You’ll see. It fits the one shot I swear.

Harry and Jasmine have been together since they were 13 years old. Jasmine was Harry’s first girlfriend and she was his only girlfriend. They dated for about 10 years and the ‘magic’ faded as each year passed by.

One faithful day, Jasmine thought it was best to call it quits. Harry wasn’t surprised, but he was disappointed that they didn’t even try to fix or save their relationship. He really thought that they were each other’s endgame.

But he understood her reasons and he let her leave without hesitation. They didn’t have bad blood with each other, though. Jasmine even told him to not be a stranger if they ever bump into each other.

Harry didn’t cry when they broke up. He cried a long time ago when the ‘magic’ first started to fade. He was just really sad and he felt empty. After all, he’s been with Jasmine for a long time that he forgot to function as a single man. The last time he was single was at 12 years old. So, he couldn’t just ‘go back to the way he was before’, because last time he checked, he was still playing outside at 12 years old. Now he’s 23 and it’d be weird for him to play outside like his 12 year old self.

It had been three days since the break up and he never left the house. He was okay enough to leave his room, but not okay enough to leave the house. He’s scared to go outside, because he wouldn’t have Jasmine without him. He felt that if he went outside on his own, it wouldn’t feel right. Jasmine was his sense of familiarity. Now that she’s gone, he didn’t know what to do next. He sometimes stopped himself from calling her to ask how she’s holding up and how she’s able to do things on her own without him. He was happy for her, though.

He just wanted advice, s’all.

The Hamilton soundtrack blasted through Harrison’s speakers in the living room where everyone currently is. 

“Do you know how hard it is to lead? You’re on your own. Awesome. Wow. Do you have a clue what happens now?” Tom sang loudly as he played a game on his phone.

“Oceans rise, empires fall! It’s much harder when it’s all your call. All alone, across the sea. When your people say they hate you, don’t come crawling back to me.” Harrison continued as he scrolled through Instagram.

“Da da da dat da dat da da da da ya da da da dat dat da ya daaaaaa!” Tom and Harrison sang together. They looked at each other and chuckled, “You’re on your ooooooown.” 

“You guys are weird.” Harry said, not looking up from his phone. 

“Hamilton is art, Harry.” Harrison said. Tom nodded, “Yeah, Lin-Manuel Miranda is a genius.”

Harry playfully rolled his eyes, “Okay.”

The room fell silent for a while when Harrison broke it, “I’m going to the park to let Monty out for a bit. Who wants to tag along?”

“I will! I’ll take Tessa out.” Tom said and he looked at Harry, “Come with us, Harry.”

“Hard pass.” Harry said sharply.

“You need to go outside, Harry. You can’t stay here forever.” Harrison pointed out. “Besides, you’ll be with us.”

“Fine, but only this one time.” Harry sighed.

-

Upon arriving at the park, the three men walked the dogs. They talked about random things until Tom brought up the break up.

“So what’s your plan, genius?” Tom asked. 

“What do you mean?” Harry furrowed his eyebrows.

“You know, when will you start dating again? Will you even start dating again? I mean, I’ve seen Jasmine’s posts on Instagram and she’s out there socializing and shit.” Tom shrugged.

“You follow her on Instagram?! Since when?!” Harry asked in surprise.

“That doesn’t matter, Harry. Just answer me.” Tom said. Harry huffed, “I don’t even know how to go through the day without Jasmine helping me. How will I start dating someone else? I was 12 years old when I was last single.”

“Yikes.” Harrison chuckled.

“I don’t even know what my type is, because I never got to know other girls. Jasmine was my only girl and she was the only girl I’ve been with. I don’t have a wide range to choose from.” Harry said shyly.

“You’re lucky we’re here to help you.” Harrison said as he nodded towards an empty bench for the three of them to sit on as they let Monty and Tessa play with each other.

They sat down comfortably and they looked around. Some were jogging, having a picnic, taking photos for Instagram, but one girl stood out. She was standing up with a palette on her hand and a paintbrush on the other. In front of her was a canvas on an easel. She had paint on her clothes and some on her cheek. She didn’t seem to mind, though.

Harry stared at the artist longer than intended and Tom and Harrison took notice of this. Tom smirked and glanced at the girl before talking to Harry, “Go up to her.”

Harry snapped out of it and shook his head, “No, thank you.”

“You’ll be fine. Just start off as friends.” Harrison said.

“Jasmine and I started off as friends and where did that get us? A failed 10 year relationship.” Harry sighed in defeat. “Maybe love isn’t really for me.”

“Don’t talk like that, Harry. That’s bullshit.” Tom chuckled. “You’re 23. You’re still young to give up on love.”

“Yeah! Besides, Jasmine is different from that girl you were staring at.” Harrison added.

“Fine. I’ll talk to her so you could get off my back.” Harry shook his head and stood up.

“Thank us later when your relationship works out.” Harrison winked.

“She could be your endgame, you know. Just think about that.” Tom smiled positively at his younger brother.

Harry walked up to the girl and stood next to her. The girl felt Harry’s presence, but didn’t say anything. 

“It’s beautiful.” Harry commented. “I can’t paint for shit.”

The girl chuckled, “What do you do, then?” 

Her voice was different from Jasmine’s, but he didn’t care. He liked it.

“I, uh, I’m into photography. Although, I haven’t been taking photos recently.” Harry stammered.

“Oh, how come?” the girl frowned as she took a step back from her painting to check on it before going back to her previous spot to continue.

“My girlfriend of 10 years just broke up with me three days ago. Since then, I was too upset to do anything. This is my first time outside.” Harry chuckled bitterly at his own explanation.

“Oh, well I’m sorry for what you’re going through.” the girl turned to him and smiled. Harry looked at her and felt his heart beat quickly. If he had his camera with him, he would’ve took her picture already. It would’ve had an aesthetic vibe.

“Thanks.” Harry smiled too. “I’m Harry, by the way.”

“I’m Y/N.” she said before turning back to her painting.

Harry stayed there and talked to her for a while before it was time for him to leave with Tom and Harrison. He learned that she was at the park everyday at the same time and place, so it’d be easy to find her.

He didn’t know what happened, but for some reason, he felt at ease. He felt like his sadness was gone and was now replaced by pure bliss. Harry just met her, but for some reason, something was telling him that he indeed found the one.

All he needed to do was plan for his next move.

* * * *

idk if y’all noticed but if you look at Tom’s first line in this one shot, you’d see that it’s the continuation of the line that I used hihihi 

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @sufwubi​​​​​ @abrielleholland​​​​​ @osterfieldnholland​​​ @purplepizza-summerrain​​ @euphorichxlland​

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell​​​​​ @justasmisunderstoodasloki​​​​​ @rubberducky-jrr​​​​​ @petersholland​​​ @osterfieldnholland​​​ @miraclesoflove​

[jacscorner]

Pokemon All-Stars: A Fan Region/Game/Alternate Universe Idea

I like watching and rewatching Original Pokemon Game/Region videos. Like Mr. Buddy's "What if X was a Pokemon Region" and stuff like that. I wanna make-or, I guess, write-my own. Since Regions are kind of a character all their own and I'm a Wannabe Character Artist, I wanted to try and make one my own.

I've got no skills in coding, pixel arts, or anything, so this will forever be just some kind of dumb fanfic that sometimes incorporates Game Mechanics to justify things if it were able, for some Godforsaken reason, 'stolen' for a game. Cause, in 2021, no idea feels too big or too dumb. And, uh, trust me, this'll be a dumb fanfic of an idea. So be aware for the subpar writing talents of some wannabe writer who doesn't know shit.

Small disclaimer though:

>This region is being made with the intention that every extra feature will be available in it. Z-Moves, Regional Variants, Gygantamax, Mega Evolutions, and maybe some things I've forgotten. This probably won't matter cause it's just a dumb fanfic plot bible with mechanics peppered in. Competitive balancing be damn! Pokemon Fans can create their own balance! That's what the Battle Simulator is for! In fact, if this was a real game, then it'd have a Battle Simulator like Showdown built into it.

>This is an open source Fanfic Bible. You can take this idea and run with it if you want. You can omit all my bad ideas even!

>I won't be making my own Fakemon. I don't like a lot of Fakemon that exists out there and, trust me when I say this: I am no better than them. In fact, I'm fucking worse.

>If this WERE a game, it probably WOULD still have to cut some Pokemon. I doubt that kinda, and I won't get into why I think dexit was dumb personally, cause it doesn't really matter. But, like, my fan game/fanfic will have a lot of shit going on in it. So, like, realistically, there would probably need to be a cut, if not for data, than just cause there's a lot of work to do as is. But, like, again, under the context of a fic, this wouldn't be an issue.

>With THAT said, I'd want this game to have a Gen 2 Sprite aesthetic. My fangame, don't care if ya'll don't like that.

>I'm probably gonna copy a LOT of stuff from other Fangames I've played. My shit memory probably won't allow me to remember what I'm biting from what, so be free to call me out whenever. Cause if I stole the mechanic, I probably liked it the game. And if not, well, I'd like the recommendation.

Fuck, this was long already. The rest is under the cut, so, like, if you're already turned off, you can stop reading. I understand. I'm kind of a windbag.

Okay, so how many of you guys have seen this picture on the internet? It's a picture of a ton of Pokemon regions all...basically stitched together, since not only could this never be canon, but this goes beyond the size of even most open world games today. But this was the inspiration for this project. The map probably wouldn't, and probably couldn't, look like this, but it perfectly sums up what I'd want out of this game. Thus, it'll be our placeholder.

Our hometown of Capricorn Town is home to Professor Chestnut, and you, her faithful assistant, are about to set off on a Pokemon adventure of your own! The Professor is encouraging you to see the region of Sidus for yourself and is even willing to give you a Starting Pokemon!

Starting Pokemon

Now, if I'm not making new Pokemon, which Starter will it be? Well, the game will have the data for all the starters and will randomly select a Grass, Fire, and Water Type for you to choose from. Those will be your starters, with the option of also choosing Pikachu, Eevee, and Riolu, the two mascot mons...and Riolu, who is kind of a mascot mon, but a lesser one.

Let's say for this example, your options are Torchic, Piplup, Rowlet, Pikachu, Eevee, and Riolu. And, uh, get used to the words 'random' and 'generator', those are our keywords.

Anyway, once you get your pick, there'll be some kind of tutorial mission the Professor will send you on. This will introduce you to two very important things;

1. One of your Rival.

2. An Evil Team Grunt.

Rivals?!

Now to start getting into why this game might still be pretty big still be big despite the sprites on modern consoles.

Each of your Rivals would be one kid from each region of the 8 Mainline Games from Kanto to Kalos. How this'll be decided is that each pair of kids will be plugging into a generator and will pick between either the boy or girl version.

Ex. Brendan and May both cannot be in the game. Instead, they'll be plugged into this generator. Let's say the generator fell onto May. She'll be one of your Rival. Repeat this process 7 more times until you have 8 Rivals sprinkled throughout the world, each one given a defined personality and better AI to make them harder trainers to fight.

May will have one of the Hoenn Starters, sans Torchic. Regardless of whether or not Protagonist-San picked Torchic, May will either have a Treecko or Mudkip, again, chosen at random per kid. Whichever Starter you picked, your first rival will have a starter that beats yours. So, let's say moving forward, May has a Mudkip and you a Torchic. The other kids will have random starters of the various regions they originally hail from.

Anyway, your rivals will wander the overworld. If they see you, they'll battle you on sight. If they lose, they'll be gone after the next time you turn the game off. They won't battle you again until they respawn, but you can hang out with them. In fact, you can even recruit them to be in your party for a few days and they'll follow you around and just generally be your friend. It'll make every battle a double battle, but they'll battle you again before their timer runs out, so be prepared!

BANG! BANG! ENTER! Team Wild!

The two of you will have to face off against Team Wild! They have a Cowboy theme to them, using a mix of Ground and Steel-Types, with a few Pokemon being added in for good measure like the Ponyta Lines, Cacnea Line, and Remoraid. Cause...it's a gun.

They're an outlaw gang, they're rough and tough (or, at least, a mild threat) and will always throw down when they spot ya. Something I'm just sniping from JelloApocalypse is that they'll appear sporadically and act as Timed Events across the map.

You and your new Rival beat them and send you packing. I'd imagine May and the other Rivals would mostly be friendly, but I'm sure there's one or two that'll just be jerks to you. Regardless of personality, they'll be pretty tough and programmed to skill with you. Your strongest mon you have on hand when you fight them will be the level their entire team.

With your tutorial done, the world is opened up! Your mom gives you your running shoes, some Pokeballs, and your...I don't know, PokeCelular or something, just the regional gadget that does a bunch of stuff. From holding your map to holding your VS Seeker.

The PokeCelular will also give you notifications on where Team Wild are! You can choose to ignore the events, but if you do, then they'll start to appear in the overworld know and will get progressively stronger.

A Balancing Act

This game will be an open world, 8-Bit Sprite Game for you to explore after you leave Capricorn!

So how do we balance that?

Well, we got our Rival out of the way already, so let's move on. Gym Leaders will have a pretty linear progression. However, regardless of which Gym you tackle first, they'll all be at the same level.

It doesn't matter if you decide to go across the map and battle the Bug Gym, he'll stay at Level 10, just like the Normal Gym. Whe you get the second badge, they'll all jump to Level 15. NPC Trainers will follow the same progression; the higher your badge number, the stronger the number of Pokemon they'll be.

Wild Pokemon will also get stronger. The more badges you get, it'll attract stronger wild Pokemon because they'll see you're stronger and will come out more.

The overworld will also have various dungeons in them that'll be Level Locked. Say, you go through a forest and you're just trying to reach the end of a maze. The Trainers and Pokemon will function the same as I've mentioned before. But, you can decide to go deeper into the dungeon. These Pokemon will be level locked, usually something of a high level, because this is a more dangerous part of the dungeon. But, there'll be some goodies down there, like rarer Pokemon and some kind of really rare and good item like a TM or something.

How will you traverse? Well, first of all, HMs? They're semi-back. BUT, instead of having to deal with teaching Cut to a Pokemon, you just need the move Cut and a Pokemon that can use the move and you'll be able to use Cut. A few other Pokemon that are reasonable candidates, but don't get cut, will be allowed to do this too. Like, Gallade can use Cut. It can't learn the move, but just holding the HM will get the job done.

Controversial opinion, but I think I've always liked the idea of HMs. On paper, they give you a reason to explore the world and go back to areas you couldn't before for goodies and make for a good way to get off dungeons until you get the needed item. Even something like Cut can be used to open up new areas for exploration for your squad of mons.

BUT, well, HMs suck. As moves, they suck save for, like, 2...MAYBE and they're only for, like, a handful of areas. You either hand them out as evenly as possible, forcing mons to take moves you don't wanna use, or you just get an HM Slave or two to use 'em all. But like they, they serve their function and all you need is the Pokemon in question and NOT teach them the move. If you need a Move Deleter just so people aren't stuck having to use Rock Smash for three towns, then there's a problem with your RPG. Imagine playing Final Fantasy and you had to give your Fighter the Bronze Axe to get through a forest and still had to fight with it, even though you got a +12 Silver Sword! It's no wonder people hated these things! But I don't think getting rid of them and introducing Rental Pokemon was a good solution either and adds a different, albeit less intrusive problem.

Gym Leaders

So, how do Gym Leaders work?

Much like your rivals, they'll be randomly generated. Let's say, hypothetically, there's a pool of 60 Gym Leaders and Elite Four members. The game will randomly generate 16 to be Gym Leaders. The generator will have some kind of complicated math (at least, too complicated for me) so that you don't have more than 2 gyms of the same type. (Example: Misty and Nessa might be Active Gyms, Siebold can't be selected for a Gym cause the Water Slots are taken).

As a trade off, some Gyms might have special conditions before you can challenge them. Like, if you got stuck with Koga as a Gym Leader, than he'll only let you in if you complete a nearby dungeon and help his daughter out cause he doesn't trust her to make it back on her own. Or, like, Claire's a Gym Leader, but she won't battle you unless you've collected 7 Gym Badges prior at least.

The Gym Leaders, as mentioned before, will get progressively stronger with each badge obtained. After the 8th badge, you can go and climb Victory Road, face the E4 and confront the Champion! You can keep hunting Gym Leaders, but just remember that the E4 will always be 10 Levels above the strongest gym you beat. And they'll just get stronger with every one you beat until all 16 are slain.

Another handful, let's say 8, Gym Leaders/E4 Members will be wondering around as NPC Trainers. The justification is that this big super region is in some Alternate Universe Pokemon Game that has all the Pokemon and other important trainers in it, hence why we can have a game where Roxanne and Lenora are hanging out at a coffee shop. They're not Rivals, more like stronger NPCs you can rematch and wonder the map. They're not here to be the very best like no one ever was.

I mean, I'd like, like, 10-20 instead of 8 extras, but let's not get TOO greedy...yet...

Elite Four

And now, it's time to flip the script. Cause if E4 members can be Gym Leaders, then who are the Elite Four?

Easy. The Rivals.

All the Rival characters will be put in a random generator as well. The four that are chosen. You can have an Elite Four made up of Wally, Marnie, Hau, and Barry and you gotta deal with it.

This is excluding Brendan and May, Blue, and Calem and Serena. Anyone else is fair game.

Champion

So, the Champion. Who would it be in this? There was a funny idea I had, but this is a Pokemon Game. So there would be two versions. We'll call them Pokemon Dawn & Dusk. The difference between these games is the game Champion!

Benga would be the Champion of Pokemon Dusk, the grandson of Alder! His final Team will include Volcarona, Garchomp, and Dragonite, Pokemon he used in Black and White. I'd also include Scrafty, Rampardos, and Golurk, Pokemon used against you in White Treehollow and Black Tower areas.

Meanwhile, the Champion of Pokemon Dusk will be Zinnia, the Lorekeeper! Her team would include the Goodra, Tyrantrum, Altaria, Noivern, and Salamence she used in her original team, with her plucky Whismur sidekick becoming an Exploud and her ace.

You would've met them in the beginning of the game and would've showed off a bit by helping you with Team Wild before. They'll pop in and out throughout the game, at first amused by your tenacity, but not wanting a rookie like you to get hurt. But if you keep bonking Team Wild, they'll be impressed with how strong you are.

The show up to chat again when you beat 8 Gym Leaders, and will pop in if you White Out to give you some advice. White Out three times and they'll feel bad for you and give you an egg. Benga will give you a Larvesta Egg and Zinnia a Bagon Egg.

EXTRAS

So I don't got a lot of ideas for the Post Game, but there is one idea I thought would be cool if, if after you defeat the champion, they give you a call. They'll tell you that there are strong trainers wondering the Overworld and to be careful.

Because dotting the overworld will be Champions passed and proper! Cynthia, Blue, Lance; all of them are rocking Lv 100 Teams and are out for blood. They won't challenge you, but if you talk to them, there will be no backing out of the battle! You come with your A-Game!

sI'm not exactly in love with the idea of Team Wild. Maybe the Evil Team should go full fanservice and just be Team Rainbow Rocket. Or maybe go half-and-half; having past Evil Team members and leaders walk around in cowboy gear and acting as Team Wild executives.

I'd also would love Tournaments. Like, maybe that could be a weekly event in some town, they'll how tournaments and the characters that aren't designated as Gym Leaders and such will attend. Maybe there's a cash prize, maybe you'll win Pokemon Eggs of rare, guaranteed shines, or maybe you'll get some kind of important quest items.

Yeah, I want quests! All sorts of side quests! And can't forget what I'd do with Legendairs;

If you know Bengal's team, you'll know he's got the Lati Twins. I don't like that personally and would prefer Legendaries to be Super Bosses. Like, you gotta do a lot to find them. And when you do, their stats are boosted and they become an Uber Boss! You catch them in a cutscene after you beat them!

There's also just a ton of characters I didn't get around to or really have a place for. Emma, Looker, N, and the Stat Trainers all come to mind. Overall, I'd want them to pepper the world as well, but don't have anything to say except this: Pokemon has made a lot of memorable characters. Both good and bad. And this is probably my dream Pokemon Game; one where you can hang out with your favorites

[boopypastaissalty]

Here sre some of my Sanders Sides theories. Long post btw so yee

Roman and Remus were originally one all-encompassing creativity, then they split and become the two different sides of creativity, or the "Creativitwins". Their names seem to follow a theme: Ancient Rome, specifically the legend surrounding the creation/beginning of Rome. I think that the original creativity's name was Romulus. Here's why: Remus killed Romulus over a land dispute and then started the city of Rome in his brother's name. Citizens of Rome are called Romans. Though it could be argued that Thomas's moral sense as a concept, not necessarily Patton, separated the two, thus "killing" the original creativity.

Patton may have suffered from anxiety and could have created Virgil as a way to relieve some of his stress, therefore making him Virgil's "dad" in a sense, in Patton's mind warranting him calling Virgil "kiddo" all the time.

We all know that Patton is allergic to cats, but what about the others? What are their weaknesses? My speculations are that Virgil is iron deficient, as he doesn't like to rise up because it makes him dizzy, he is also described by Roman to be the "fairest of them all" and then admitting it was a pale joke in Virgil's expense. Roman is lactose intolerant, as when Patton is feeding him cream of broccoli soup, Logan says that it will "upset Princey's stomach". Logan is OCD: Always planning and organizing things. He gets upset when things don't go exactly as he plans it. He also feels the need to always be right and to make sure everyone else is kept in line. Also: Patton seems to suffer from depression. Oftentimes depressed people crack jokes and give people the general idea that they are happy. They also try to make other people happy. Patton also sometimes gets into these sad funks and even says "I had this problem where I'd hide my less than awesome feelings, so when I would feel like sobbing I'd just smile and crack jokes. I thought that was coping, only joking, never showing sadness, hoping it would just go away".

The thumbnail for "Putting Others First - Selfishness v. Selflessness Redux" has a character selection screen telling the viewer to "select a side", but one thing I noticed is that there is a blank box, indicating a locked character or a character who hasn't been revealed yet. Another thing I noticed is that the sides have a rainbow theme going on. Thomas even says that he is "full rainbow all the time" as an allusion to his sexuality, and possibly even the sides in general. Roman is red, there is no known orange side, Janus is yellow, Remus is green, Patton is light blue, Logan is indigo, and Virgil is violet/purple. Red is the color of physical strength, power, confidence, and passion, which suits Roman's personality. Yellow can be happiness and joy, but also directly means cowardice and deceit, which is self explanatory. Green is a color of healing, life, and vitality, but the flip side being greed, jealousy, pessimism, and superficially. Blue is the color of trust, loyalty, faith, wisdom, truth, patience, and understanding, which sums Patton up pretty well. Indigo resembles wisdom, integrity, fairness, impartiality, and justice, which is all right up Logan's alley. Violet is the color of ambition, dignity, devotion, pride, mystery, independence, magic, being cynical, and mourning, which all makes sense in Virgil's case. Now to orange, which resembles joy, sunshine, risk taking, adventure, enthusiasm, creativity, attraction, success, rudeness, frivolity, and untrustworthiness, which is a balance of traits that both Roman and Remus have and directly resembles creativity, so orange could be a fusion of Roman and Remus, the original creativity before they split. Another possibility for the next side is someone who resembles ethos, as we have pathos and logos (Patton and Logan).

All the sides have an ancient Rome theme going on. Roman and Remus, after the legend surrounding the beginning of Rome. Virgil, after the Roman poet Publius Vergilius Maro, who is often called Virgil. Janus (formerly known as Deceit) after the Roman god of the same name (Janus is the god of new beginnings and transitions, often depicted with two faces facing in opposite directions, one for the past and one for the future). All of the sides except for Patton and Logan, whose names are derived from pathos and logos, an ancient Greek concept proposed by Aristotle. And have you noticed that they mirror each other in almost every way, suggesting that, much like Roman and Remus, they are brothers, possibly even twins?

Dukes tend to not be a part of the royal family, but if so they are princes who have gotten married. Does this mean that Remus is married?!?!? If so to whoooo?

Welcome to me overthinking things again! What if Roman has control over the other sides? Like he's creativity and the sides are figments of Thomas' imagination, so like what if one day he was just done with Logan's nonstop fact train he just (this is extreme) went: "Fuck you, Logan, you're dead now" and Logan straight up dies? Like where would his power end if he could do that? Overthinking things can be scary kids, let me do it for you.

If you overthink it: Patton basically just was like "Nah" in POF SvSR. So he said in SvS that going to the wedding would make Thomas feel good, something that he basically controls because he is Thomas' moral sense and at the center of most of his feelings. Basically Thomas went to the wedding and Patton was like: "This is nice and all and you did the right thing, but uhmmm about those happy feelings. No." And then got all sorts of frustrated about being wrong. So yee. I am just doing the overthinking things thing again.

What if creativity split solely as a big "Fuck you, Logan"? Like I just imagine: C: "Hey Logan, I'm performing mitosis"

L: "Yes, your cells- *he looks up* Whaaaaa?"

R&R: "Cha cha real smooth, Logan"

And thus the twins were "born"

Logan thinks feelings are bad and claims to not have feelings, even though he clearly does (cough, cough, Crofters the Musical? Getting angry in some episodes? Logan, you're a bad liar, bud). So he bottles up most of his feelings, for all practical purposes making him a ticking time bomb. Something's probably going to happen and he won't be able to hold it all in and he'll have an emotional breakdown of sorts. Another thing is he will not duck out. He knows he's too important to Thomas' mental wellbeing for that. He is also getting progressively more angry as the others listen to him less, so he's probably going to overwork himself trying to get everyone to listen to the point where he physically can't be there for Thomas. Cuz like I suspect Logan leaving would have the same effect as Thomas having a massive stroke: The right side of his body wouldn't work, he wouldn't be able to talk/communicate, and his reasoning skills would be gone.

Janus just loves philosophy. Every episode in the main timeline, he makes references to famous philosophers to get his point across.

Patton is always the first of the light sides to accept the dark sides. First with Virgil and then with Janus. He may be taking them in as his troubled but lovable children who he will defend under almost any circumstance.

Virgil's name is not Virgil. People think his full name is Virgilius, though Thomas and Joan have previously stated that it isn’t. Bc of that, some people have theorized that Virgil was lying about his name, or that when he moved to the “light sides” he changed/used a different name, and maybe they’re going to reveal that sometime. Like the scene with Remus and Vee where Re goes, “I would never hide anything from you” looks pointedly at Virgil, and you assume it’s bc he took forever to tell Thomas, but what if it’s bc he was lying about his name from the moment he told Thomas??? And also the moment when Janus says "It takes a liar to know a liar" and Virgil says "Don't" and the response was "What? I'm only talking about your name" I think his name could be Acanthus

Ya know, Patton probably has an indirect role in how the other sides look. Not like "But you're anxiety, you wear the hoodie" but closer to Thomas beliefs of stuff like lying is bad and the fact that Janus often plays devils advocate, so he has a snake face

Random thoughts:

Virgil has the most ace/demi aesthetic and I love that

SvS: Multi part episode, "bad/evil/dark" side gets accepted, the FEELS, angst. Hmmm…

The twins getting along and just like sitting at a table causing minor chaos.

Patton randomly hugs everyone. He just does.

Janus and Patton: animal bros