#sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do

[thisweknow]

I very much understand your frustration with the "you! are! valid!" Tumblr culture from the mid-2010s, that was something that honestly made me feel so isolated as a teenager. I hated hearing "it gets better!" and watching my life fall further and further apart with everyone telling me that it would all be fine one day. It felt hypocritical. It WAS hypocritical—to tell me my feelings and my experiences were valid and then to just absolutely steamroll me when I expressed my frustrations and fears.

I started to favor the phrase "everything changes" around the time I turned 16. I liked the idea of neutrality, it was something I'd seen as a suggestion relating to body positivity, which I struggle(d) with greatly. The basic premise was that if you couldn't say anything positive, try saying something neutral. Everything changes is neutral. It's not saying it'll get better necessarily, but not that it would be worse, either. It felt like the closest to a truth I could have. What I was dealing with in any given moment wouldn't last forever. Everything changes, my circumstances today are entirely different than my circumstances tomorrow, even if it doesn't always feel like it.

I've let that phrase carry me for years. In the bad moments I remind myself that everything changes, and the world parts that suck won't suck so immediately forever. In the good moments I remind myself that everything changes, and I should hold on to those and savor them for what they are, even if they're peppered in with the worst moments.

It's not to say that I don't remember the bad moments now—I very much do. I can remember a lot of the trauma of my childhood and if I let myself sit with it for too long I can feel what it was like to sit awake at 3 AM sobbing in my room wishing that I was no longer here. I don't think I will ever truly forget that. I can say that those parts aren't the part on my mind anymore. When I look back at my life I tend to look with rose colored glasses at the parts that were good. The moments I spent with my friends, the nights I'd sneak out to ride my bike in the peace and silence of the small town I lived in, the rehearsals for plays that I dreaded going to but loved being in, the way my dog would curl up at my feet and sleep there all night when I was sad—the list goes on. The bad parts are still very much remembered and acknowledged, but the good parts are the ones I think about and the ones I miss.

I know that I struggled for a long time with feeling guilty about having moments I looked back on that I didn't hate. This was especially true after leaving an abusive relationship. I knew the person I had left had been abusive and had done horrible things to me, that I had sustained damages that I wasn't sure I could recover from. Yet I still had moments I looked back on fondly. Moments where I had genuinely cared for my abuser, moments of sweetness and moments of joy, moments of calm and peace that I hadn't had with anyone else. I felt like looking at those moments somewhat fondly cheapened my experiences, as if it was somehow an admission of fraud to acknowledge that even the worst thing that had ever happened to me had its silver linings. It took years of therapy and dedicated self work to finally understand that abuse doesn't happen in a vacuum and that it's okay to miss those good moments, however many there might be, even when we know the overall situation was awful.

It's okay to savor the good things when they come your way. A journal entry from when I was about 17 sums it up really well: I don't want to be happy all of the time. If I was happy all of the time I wouldn't really feel happy anymore, would I? It would just be my normal, my neutral. I want to feel positive at least 75% of the time, that's my goal. I want to feel sad sometimes, too. I want to feel angry and hurt, I want to feel excited and happy and in love, too. I want to experience every emotion life has to offer, even the sucky ones. I don't think I would appreciate happiness if I didn't experience everything else, yknow?

btw you will miss this in 5 or 10 years. memory will smooth these circumstances down like a river stone, and you will find yourself longing for a shade of light or a moment of this particular innocence. you don't know about what happens next, and one day that will be the most alluring thing of all. don't leave it all for nostalgia. have a nice night now, whatever night it happens to be.

[hoshifighting]

Hi. I've been here for 2 years but it's the first time I've sent a request, idkw. 1. I love your new theme. 2. I love u. 3. I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, ignore me if it does. 4. I'm curious about how svt vs body hair are like. Are they hairy or do they shave? How do you like your s/o, waxed or hairy? Idk. Let me know your thoughts.

a/n: welcome anon! thank you sooo much! i love you too! ❤️ and I think this is actually interesting? I've never really thought ab it, but we're just playing out there, nothing serious

seventeen + body hair

WARNINGS: shaving and ... body hair? [all i can think about, is chan with his shaving machine]

seungcheol: trims neatly but doesn’t fuss over it. for him, it’s more about feeling comfortable than appearances. if he’s in a long-term relationship, he might even ask what his partner prefers

jeonghan: jeonghan strikes me as someone who could go either way, depending on his mood. he might keep it completely shaved for that super smooth, or let it grow out

joshua: probably shave it all off? i would even risk to say that he might wax. prob shaves like everything bc he just doesn’t like the feeling of hair

junhui: keeps it natural but pays attention to it occasionally. he doesn’t obsess over grooming but will trim or clean up when he feels it’s necessary

hoshi: i see him doing fun shapes 😭 you just never know with him... but definitely a "leave a lil line" kinda guy bc he thinks it’s tasteful. tries to do cute lil designs sometimes but always messes it up and ends up shaving it all off

wonwoo: neat but natural. wonwoo seems like the kind of guy who trims enough to keep things comfortable but wouldn’t bother shaving it all off. it’s more about maintenance than aesthetics for him

woozi: trims everything neat. might even shave in certain spots bc he knows he thinks he looks good smooth there, and it’s about aesthetics for him. but he’s not doing it daily.

minghao: trims out of pure aesthetics. like, he doesn’t mind some hair, but it’s gotta be controlled. probably uses fancy-ass scissors for precision.

mingyu: trims, but only bc someone roasted him for not doing it once (def a svt member). now he keeps it neat out of spite. he’s not overly hairy, so it’s not a huge job, but he does it like he’s clocking into work.

seokmin: probs trims bc it’s just easier for him to move around???, but he doesn’t stress about it. lowkey asks you to help sometimes bc he’s scared of nicking himself.

seungkwan: not fully shaved bc he thinks it looks like a naked mole rat (his words), but he keeps it clean. manscaped but not bald

vernon: trims, but he doesn’t stress about it. like, if he remembers, cool. if not? “it’s winter, who’s gonna see it?” he probably doesn’t have much body hair to begin with

chan: shaves EVERYTHING. no hair except for his eyebrows and the hair on his head. if you asked why, he’d just shrug and be like “it’s efficient.” smooth like a damn wax figure down there, and somehow, it’s extremely on-brand for him.

[ellesthots]

iiiii have a one shot prompt!! (if that’s okay)

Bruce and reader in a long term relationship and one day they hit him with “I want a baby” and scare the living Christ out of him?? (the idea came to me in a dream)

u don’t gotta write it if you don’t wanna I jsut thought I’d try to suggest :)

“with you”

bruce wayne x reader

words: 1.3k

“I want to have a baby.”

The statement fell out after feeling Bruce’s gentle hands on you as he maneuvered to the cutlery, his soft laugh lilting in your ear. You couldn’t hold it in anymore. You’d already almost cracked the night before when he opened a new box of condoms. Your words echoed across the suddenly silent kitchen, and his hands dropped from your waist.

The only indication he’d heard you—or that he hadn’t disappeared—was the breathy, nearly inaudible “What?” a foot behind. You turned to look and he took a step back. His face was ghostly pale, eyes wide. In four years together he’d never looked so petrified, let alone of you.

He prayed he hadn’t heard you correctly. He never prayed. Maybe you wanted to start babysitting, simply have babies around. Surely you didn’t mean…

You cleared your throat, wondering if he truly hadn’t comprehended it. “I want to have a baby with you.”

You’d anticipated some apprehension, sure, it was why you’d wanted to wait until after dinner when you were both relaxed. But Bruce loved kids, and kids loved him. Every holiday with your family all the little cousins, nieces, and nephews flocked to him like a shiny new toy, pouting when he’d have to leave. On your second date (after realizing he was more than just a pretty face—and damn was it pretty), you’d asked the usual questions to filter out mismatches.

“Do you want kids?” You crossed your fingers under the table, conjuring the power of the universe to make this perfect, perfect man be in total alignment.

“Someday, yes. Absolutely.” He smiled, directed the question to you (‘Yes’, and by this point you were absolutely swooning), and the date continued without a hitch.

Now he stared at you like you’d asked him to bury a body.

The pit in your stomach morphed into a boulder as he stumbled out of the kitchen toward the hall. “I need a minute.”

He didn’t hear you say anything else, so he took off down the hallway. Then turned back around, his body buzzing. You stared limply at the bags of groceries adorning the countertops, your eyes flickering up to his in surprise.

“A baby?” The words felt foreign on his tongue. Already the responsibility tore at him, making the edges of his vision white out.

“You said you wanted kids.” Your eyes narrowed when you noticed the shallow heave of his chest. Was he scared?

He wheezed a nervous laugh and leaned against the hallway entrance. He had no clue how to articulate that it was still true with the wind knocked out of him. Not in any way that would be convincing. But so soon? Four years was… not nothing, but he suddenly felt like a helpless child.

He had panic attacks sometimes, and this looked like the beginning of one. As you left the kitchen to close the distance between you, you ached to think that you wanting to start a family would induce such a state. Your voice was softer, tentative. “Do you not want to have one with me?”

Your somber gaze met his like a caress. “Of course I do.” Your face, your eyes, your heart… he couldn’t imagine starting a family with anyone else. The thought was outright blasphemy. He’d thought he wanted kids—no, he knew he wanted kids, but the way you said it made it not only feel real, but within reach. It brought all his fears to the surface.

‘Of course I do’, but he looked devastated, frozen. His hand was quivering when you took it, and when your fingers interlaced, he squeezed. Staring at you with unblinking, timid eyes that broke your heart. His mouth opened but nothing came out. You released his hand, upset you’d even brought it up. “Let’s make dinner, okay?”

Ten minutes prior, the kitchen was full of whistles, jokes, and the crunch of snacking on groceries. At present, the hollow sound of knives slapping wood cutting boards filled the space. You lamented on the terrible timing of your ask, kicking yourself for not taking greater care. Talking about getting pregnant, about having and raising a child, starting a family, it wasn’t something you could be so flippant about. No wonder he’d reacted like that.

Dinner was tense. You ate in silence, punctuated only by an occasional scrape of metal on ceramic. Bruce was so kind, probably preparing how to let you down easily. Ask to push it back a few years. Promise to be ready by then, apologizing for making you wait.

He got up abruptly, leaving to where you could only imagine was the Batcave. You put your head in your hands. Or he’d changed his mind, and was about to break things off with you. You shoved your plate away, tears springing to your eyes. You knew it was too good to last. It would always end up here eventually.

Bruce didn’t come back for hours. You tried to distract by vegging out on the couch to a show, but your stomach swam with tight, jumbled knots. On a constant loop were memories you’d never experience again. Last holidays together, last nights sleeping in the same bed, soon to be last hugs. Hopefully he’d at least give you a kiss goodbye. You pulled a blanket over you as a chill swept your bones. It didn’t warm you.

By the time you heard movement in the house, you’d migrated to your shared bedroom and tucked under the covers. How would you explain it to your parents? That the man you loved more than anything in the world would now be relegated to pictures stowed in their attic? His footsteps drew closer. You held your breath. This is it.

He stood in the doorframe, illuminated in the night by a single bedside lamp. You’d miss this. You’d miss him. So much.

You spoke at the same time. “I’ll get my stuff.”

“Let’s do it.”

Your ‘what’s stacked atop each other. His brow furrowed as he stepped into the room, crouching beside the bed. The air had been removed from your lungs. “I thought…” You searched his face, dizzy. “With the way you were acting,”

He shook his head, horrified he’d left you like this so long. “I’m so sorry,” he took your hand and drew reassuring circles along your palm. He’d come up as quickly as he could get a reign on himself, get his body to stop shaking and his mind to stop racing. He’d wanted to ensure this moment would be a good one, not ruined by his anxieties.

“It made it feel tangible when you said it, and…” he trailed off, thoughts swirling again. He swallowed hard. “I was nervous. I am nervous. I don’t have experience with it, of even being parented.” The rumination he’d tried to leave in the cave came back to him. “What if something happened to us, or something happened to them?” He struggled to blink away the sting in his eyes. “I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

And everything clicked into place. You cupped his cheek with your cold, clammy hand, soothed by the heat off his skin and the roughness of his stubble. He leaned into your touch. For a minute you both sat in the tenderness, soft waves of wondering how you could convince him he had nothing to worry about. That even if he did mess up, or something did happen, he was persevering, loving, and everything good in the world.

“But I want to try." As his panic had subsided, he'd been left with a thought so hopeful and persuasive it threatened a sob: he didn't want the possibility of tragedy to stop him from living.

"I’d do anything with you. I want this.” He wore his earnestness on his sleeve, his words mushy and saccharine, if a little shaky. Looking into your glowing, radiant face, imagining it mirrored. A small smile tugged up his lips. “As long as they have your eyes.”

a/n: this was such a cute idea!! i can imagine him becoming overwhelmed almost thinking he's a living curse, down there freaking out about potentially traumatizing someone like he'd been traumatized, or the fear of having his heart walking around outside of his body. thanks so much for the prompt!!! <3

[wandering-pirate]

Headcannon: controlling jimmy like your evil little dog. Is he lowkey a psychopath? Yes. Will he do literally anything for you? Also yes

a/n: To the lovely anon who sent this, mwah, chef's kiss🤌🏻 you’ve unleashed something unholy. be warned tho, this entire thing? no thoughts, no logic, just pure, unfiltered degeneracy for our co-pilot (sometimes you just gotta let the intrusive thoughts write the headcanon, y’know?)

So enjoy the ride—you sicko. (cause girl, same.)

Jimmy x Reader

Jimmy Zane is one peculiar man, and somehow, he became your boyfriend. How'd that happen? You better blame your slasher-film obsession as a kid.

Your Human Guard Dog

The man acts like you're gonna get snatched from him 24/7. Imagine being in public with him. Scaring some, unnerving many.

Some guy accidentally brushes past you, and Jimmy’s already stepping up with a cold smirk

“Apologize. Or don't. Been looking for an excuse today.”

You have to grab and drag him away (not helping that the man's built like log) before he ruins a face for the second time this month. “Baby, please, we’re here for snacks.”

But the moment you give him a subtle signal, tho? Oh, it's game over.

Some creep starts chatting you up with a repulsive smile, and Jimmy doesn’t even raise his voice when he appears behind you. Just leans in, looking them dead in the eye:

“You wanna keep those teeth or should I start counting them out.”

You casually mentioned being annoyed at your co-worker for being too yappy and Jimmy?

Yeah, already halfway out the door

“Say no more, princess.”

Physically stopping him was impossible and you wagered with the pervert, all night letting off his steam through you

Your Unhinged Yes-Man

After the restaurant's reception was rude on your friends' night out. You texted him

“Ugh, I’d love to see this place burn to the ground.”

No replies from him, but 5 minutes later, you nearly drenched your friends with the wine you're drinking when you saw him outside, holding a can of gasoline

One time, you complained about someone’s annoying laugh. Jimmy didn’t say anything, just calmly glanced your way with that familiar glint in his eyes.

“Don’t even think about it,”

“What? I didn’t say anything, love.”

Later that night, he casually asked

“How much do you hate that laugh? Want me to rip their throat out? No more ha-ha’s ever again.”

“STOP TRYING TO SOLVE EVERYTHING WITH VIOLENCE!”

The man's pride was more hurt than his face when the pillow landed, you paid for it tho ;)

Your Deranged Liaison

Want something without spending a dime? You can get it by the magic effect of compliments!

"Oh, I love your jacket!" Boom, appeared in your closet the next day, suspiciously smelling like someone else’s perfume

"That scarf’s so cute!" Already folded on your pillow the week after, and you’re 90% sure you saw a TikTok about it missing

“Jimmy, why is there a name tag stitched into this shirt?”

“Souvenirs are better with backstories.”

"Is-- is this blood?"

You finally confront Jimmy: “Isn’t this… someone else’s?”

He just shrugs, smiling sweetly (unnervingly wide) “Not anymore.”

[misty-surveys]

if you have a lighter, what color is it? we have a green one with fern on it but we don't use it, in hs Nat is using one with art reminding us of Alfons Mucha, others choose whatever

pepsi box blue or cheetos bag orange? pepsi box blue

do you like pasta? we do

how often are you on tumblr? everyday! usually in the morning and evenings sometimes

are you only doing this because you’re bored? yes and no

what blogs do you mostly interact with? our favorite ones obviously, we follow over 200 blogs

have you had water today? yes, of course

which do you prefer, cotton candy or funnel cake? funnel cake I guess

bass or drums? drums

favorite tv commercial? host has few of 'em she might list someday maybe

can we be friends? don't know you :x

do you admire the clouds and color of the sky? at times

what’s the weirdest thing that’s happened to you? so many weird shit!

a netflix series that’s your favorite? can't choose

an earliest obsession you remember? host had an obsession on collecting monkey photos from newspapers/magazines and just articles about animals, she was constantly browsing her small encyclopedia on animals and it's still right next to me on the desk, one of few reasons we became animals ourselves...

do you play video games? not really

zombies or vampires? none anymore

your first celebrity crush? unsure who was real celeb crush for our host tbh

do you have a collection of cool rocks? yes, host does

five words that describe you? system, us, we, headmates, alters; for host - collector, sidekick, childish, small, clown

what have you learned about yourself? we know ourselves/each other better everyday!

can you tie a cherry stem with your tongue? nope

do you believe in aliens? dunno, don't care much

books or films? movies 100%, host read a lot during her childhood, when it comes to Brie he is reading way more in head space and isn't a big fan of movies but still watches them from time to time

an unusual song that’s your favorite? probably plenty of unusual songs for us ;)

the last thing you ate? host ate cookies with family

have you gotten bit by a dog? yes, host was bitten by a dog before and we were bitten by dogs in the inner world too

do you write better with a pen or a pencil? pen

a song that gets stuck in your head? none currently

when you hear “ peace ” what do you think of? hand sign

a school subject you're good with? depends

how many alarms do you have set? none, mom wakes us up

do you shop at thrift stores? host loves it!

what’s the meaning behind your url? it's our collective name

is there wise words you live by? nah, not really

you gotta have a favorite beatles song, what is it? Lio loves them but dunno which one is his favorite

earphones or a speaker? speaker more

what do you remember from your childhood? host remembers quite a lot actually

do you collect anything? she does - lots of stuff, we don't irl but some collect things in hs

favorite tea? black, sometimes with lemon but cold one

a christmas song you secretly like? why secretly? XD

book stores or record stores? book stores but Jacob would go to the record store

how weird were these questions? not weird at all

what scents do you like? we dislike most of scents, we're too sensitive

by Benji

weird asks because i’m bored

if you have a lighter, what color is it?

pepsi box blue or cheetos bag orange?

do you like pasta?

how often are you on tumblr?

are you only doing this because you’re bored?

what blogs do you mostly interact with?

can you swim?

have you had water today?

which do you prefer, cotton candy or funnel cake?

have you ever [insert question]?

bass or drums?

favorite tv commercial?

can we be friends?

do you admire the clouds and color of the sky?

what’s the weirdest thing that’s happened to you?

a netflix series that’s your favorite?

an earliest obsession you remember?

do you play video games?

zombies or vampires?

have you listened to [insert musician/band]?

your first celebrity crush?

do you have a collection of cool rocks?

five words that describe you?

what have you learned about yourself?

can you tie a cherry stem with your tongue?

do you believe in aliens?

books or films?

an unusual song that’s your favorite?

the last thing you ate?

do you have a favorite [insert question]?

have you gotten bit by a dog?

do you write better with a pen or a pencil?

a song that gets stuck in your head?

when you hear “ peace ” what do you think of?

a school subject your good with?

how many alarms do you have set?

do you shop at thrift stores?

what’s the meaning behind your url?

is there wise words you live by?

what’s your favorite [insert question]?

you gotta have a favorite beatles song, what is it?

earphones or a speaker?

what do you remember from your childhood?

do you collect anything?

favorite tea?

a christmas song you secretly like?

book stores or record stores?

how weird were these questions?

what scents do you like?

is there [insert question]?

send me some!

[zombieewrites]

smoking w logan...

logan howlett x reader, friends to lovers

summary: the stress of being a new professor at this school is catching up to you. luckily, you have a good friend to help you take that stress away, in more ways than one.

warnings: weed usage, fem compliments, illusions to sex

word count: 2, 574

I’m fairly new to this school. About 4 months had passed since I had first gotten my invitation from Charles. Which, of course, I happily accepted, excited at the thought of teaching my favorite subjects to people like me. I get the opportunity to share my love of literature through my teachings. The class seems to like me so far, and there’s always a few students straggling behind after class to share a laugh. Being able to connect to my students like this is a treat, and working at this school is just the cherry on top.

The classroom I teach in just so happens to be right across from Professor Howlett's room. His creaky wooden door opens and closes in between classes every period. Being right across from each other means that he and I frequently see each other. Logan often takes advantage of this opportunity to visit the classroom. He’ll do things like bring me coffee, give me papers that I copied off the printer, or just have a little chat. Sometimes, when he's on missions, I'll often sub for his class. It fills me with content to know that Logan trusts me with the care of his class. Being new to the school, I’m highly afraid of what the other professors think of me, but these small interactions with Logan take all of my insecurities away.

“There’s my favorite literature teacher right there!” Logan says with a smile, interrupting my lesson. Interactions like this were common between Logan and I, but every time they happened, the classroom went ballistic. The nosy students love to engage in Logan’s and I's friendship.

“I’m the only literature teacher here, Logan.” I respond with a blank stare, trying to hide my laugh.

“You’ll always be my favorite, though!” The man tells me with a wink before entering his own classroom to return to his teachings. I try to hide my smile and attempt to quickly pull the attention back to my lesson. This interaction made my whole class gasp and snicker.

“Ooo your boyfriend says that you're his favorite!” A student yells, resulting in the whole class to chuckle.

I giggle at their immaturity. “Alright, alright, there's no need for that. Let's get back to Pride and Prejudice now, please?”

Before I know it, the day is done. I stayed behind grading like usual. Lately, I've been so behind in my classwork that I haven't had any time to myself. As a new teacher, I feel as though I have so much to prove, and I have a strong fear of letting everyone down.

A red pen marks a check across my paper as I continue to grade another assignment. My ears are met with the sound of a knock on my door.

“What are you up to here, pretty? It's 7:45 and the sun set hours ago. All the kids are probably just about finished with dinner. You need to get your ass outta here.” Logan tells me as he leans against the doorframe.

I take a quick break from grading to look at the clock on the wall of my class. “Its 7 already? Shit I didn't even notice. I'm just grading some things right now, like always. Seems like that's all I ever do.” I respond with a chuckle, not even lifting my head up to look at him.

Logan comes behind me and begins to rub small circles on my shoulders, massaging out any tension in my body. His presence alone fills me with comfort. The knots in my back loosen with every soft touch.

“Pride and Prejudice, huh?” Logan says as he notices the papers on my desk.

“Yeah I bet your old ass was there when it was written.”

“Haha. You're very funny.” He replies in a sarcastic tone. “Damn with all these knots in your back, I gotta ask if you've been sleeping on a pile of rocks? Who's stressing you out like this?”

A sigh escapes my lips, “I don't wanna sound like I'm complaining or anything because I'm more than happy that I get to work here…it's just…all these papers are really stacking up on me…”

He continues to break up the knots in my back. Another red X on my paper. Then I feel Logan leaning down to whisper something into my ear. “Y'know with all this stress… I think you deserve a little somethin’. Lucky for you, I just went to town and restocked for us.”

I finally take a break from hunching over my papers and turn to him with a smile, already knowing what he had planned. “You don't say, Professor Howlett?”

“Yes ma’am. Got it right in my room. How bout we roll up and then after I'll help you with your papers? We can get 'em all done, even if it takes all night I'll stay here and finish for you. Promise.”

The gesture warms my heart. “That sounds perfect,” a groan leaves my lips, the stress escaping with it, “I appreciate that so much you don't even understand.”

“Yeah yeah, now c'mon and go roll cause you know I'm shit.”

We make our way down the long dimly lit halls to his room and quickly close the door behind us. Logan and I have been smoking together ever since he found me alone with a joint late at night, during one of the first weeks I was here. I'm surprised he even found me because I was hiding out on the roof of the school. Knowing him, he must've sniffed me out, hoping to get some. He told me he wouldn't snitch to Charles if he could smoke with me. I know that he wouldn't have told me either way, but I happily invited his company, especially since I wasn't familiar with anyone here yet.

These late night smoke sessions made our relationship grow stronger. We would hop from topic to topic as the smoke left our lips. Sometimes, covering our childhood, our favorite shows, war stories, gossip, and then laughing to the point of tears the next moment. He found out where I buy from, and ever since that day, he has refused to let me buy my own weed. I tried to tell him that he didn't have to do that, and he said that as long as I rolled for him, then he didn't mind.

He told me that the singular time he attempted to roll it was to impress this girl. He ended up unsuccessful, to say the least. The joint ended up covered in spit with half of the weed on the floor. By the time he told me the end of that story, my face was covered in tears of laughter. This is when I knew that this would be the beginning of a genuine friendship.

The joint is finally finished as I seal it with my tongue. Logan and I only smoke together when it's late at night and everyone is in their own respective spaces. Sneaking around like I'm a kid hiding the fact that they smoke from their parents is honestly kind of fun. It fills me up with just the right amount of adrenaline, and I'm happy that Logan is the one beside me.

We make our way to the roof, and the bright moon greets us. The night sky is clear and filled with gorgeous constellations. The chilling breeze of the night tickles my skin as I take a seat. Of course I forgot to bring a jacket. I try to hide my shiver and lessen the sound of my chattering teeth, but Logan quickly notices. He shifts to take off his brown leather jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. The warmth of his body heat was still trapped in the jacket, and it quickly comforted my senses.

“Logan, you're gonna be cold.” I pleaded.

“ I'll be just fine. Can't have you freezing to death now. Then I won't have anyone to roll for me.” He jokes.

I let out a chuckle as I took the joint out of his coat. Logan holds the lighter to the joint and cups his hands in order to hide the wind from the fire. The lighter makes a clink sound and sparks. The comforting scent fills up my nose as I take a huff. I release the smoke with a happy sigh.

“God, I needed this so much you wouldn't even understand.” I responded. My attention rests on the beautiful night stars.

I passed it to him after a few more hits. Our fingers touch, the feeling heats me up. No matter how cold it is, Logan always manages to stay hot. The joint gives me the courage to rest my head on Logan’s shoulder. The joint lets out a small sizzle as he takes a big inhale.

“Trust me, I know, sweetheart. You've been frantic all week, and I notice it even though you're damn good at hiding it.” He takes another hit in between sentences. “Plus,” Logan then suddenly takes my cold hands and intertwines my fingers with his own, “you bite your nails like crazy when you get stressed.” I look down at our joined hands in shock, trying to contain how much this is affecting me. I quickly bring my attention back to the stars in an attempt to hide my emotions. Logan and I have always shared these small touches but nothing as romantic or intimate as this before, and definitely not for this long. The tension between us has always been there, but it's easier to ignore it than shed a light on it.

The smoke leaves his lips before he passes it to me again. “Yeah I know. It's always been a bad habit of mine when I get a little anxious.” I take the j up to my lips with a long drag. With each hit, I hope that it will make my nerves melt away.

Suddenly, a soft peck is laid on my hand. This action draws my attention away from the shimmering constellations. I'm greeted with kind hazel eyes staring back at me. Logan's gaze is intense as he pays attention to my reaction. “You can't keep doing that. You know it's bad for you.” He gently tells me. Logan’s lips attach to my hand as he lays another peck. He does this as if he could take my stress away with a single kiss.

My attention is drawn to his lips as I watch him slowly drop our hands. His red glassy eyes never left my own, which were magnetized to his lips like magnets. He has me right where he wants me, and I'm more than happy to be here. I have him right where I need him. Logan’s passionate gaze leaves my breath shaky and my body fuzzy. The air is thick, and the nerves aren't going away.

“You're babysitting the joint. Are you gonna hit it or just keep holding it, darling?” He asks me, breaking me out of my thoughts. Logan always looks good, but he especially looks good when he stares at me with those low hanging glossy eyes.

“What? Oh yeah! Sorry about that, here.” I let out a breathy giggle as I passed him the joint.

He simply responds with a laugh before inhaling the smoke. Logan knows what he's doing to me. He's pulling my strings like a puppet, and I'm loving every minute of it.

In an attempt to break up the tension, I turn to Logan. “Enough about me. How are your classes going? It must get tough balancing missions and classes sometimes. I don't know how you do it, to be honest.”

“Yeah it can get you worked up a little. I've been doing it for a while now, though, so it's definitely less of a hassle than it used to be. Some missions still knock you out, though.”

“Yeah I can only imagine how that must be. Some of the missions you've told me about are absolutely insane. Can't believe you come back from all that and still teach, too."

“Well it helps when you have a pretty literature teacher holding it down while you're gone.”

I smile up at him as a laugh escapes my lips. “My God, Logan, what is up with you tonight! You got a little crush on me or something?”

“Pshhh. Don't get a big head now. You're a cocky little thing, aren't you?”

“I might be cocky but you're the one adding fuel to the fire.” I responded. The effects of the weed are hitting me strongly. My relaxation brings me the confidence to take his hand and hold the joint up to my lips. I keep eye contact with him as I draw in the smoke. He smirks down at me as a result of the action.

“Y'know I've been thinking…”

I cut him off, “Oh no, that's never good”

He looks at me with a face of fake annoyance. “With all of this stress you've got going on, it would be nice to escape for a bit. Get away from these kids for a day and hit the town on the weekend. Maybe even get some dinner.”

“Wait a minute…are you asking me out, Professor?’ I ask him with a smile on my face.

“That depends on your answer, Professor.”

“I think I can fit some time in my very busy calendar for little ‘ol Logan.”

“Aww how sweet of you.” He jokes back.

He holds the joint up to my lips and watches as I breathe in the smoke. Any kind of anxiety I had before is gone now. The air shifts and is now filled with a different kind of tension. Stars reflect in Logan’s red eyes. I stare back at him as his eyes follow my lips. I'm filled with happiness to know that he wants this just as much as me. A soft hand cups my jaw as he brings his head closer to mine. My nose is filled with the scent of Logan and weed. Our warm breaths entangle each other in the cold night.

“Gimme some.” He tells me.

I release the smoke from my lips, and he quickly attaches his lips to mine. He inhales my smoke and quickly unlocks his lips from mine, exhaling the smoke.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

“Anytime.” I whisper back. My heart is beating out of my chest. Everything he does to me heats up my soul. That familiar fuzzy feeling greets me in between my thighs. Logan is getting tired of restraining himself, and it's easy to tell. I'm sure he can hear the way my heart erupts for him. I love this game he's playing.

Just then, he takes his hand and guides it to the back of my neck. Looking into my eyes for reassurance, I respond with a nod. Just like that, he kisses me. The kiss is strong and concentrated. Everything about the way he moves tells me that he's been wanting this for a while. His kisses are sloppy in all the right ways. Logan flicks the joint off the roof without a second thought, knowing that he has something much more valuable in his hands. He gladly explores my body and groans into my mouth with pleasure.

Logan and I most definitely didn't get around to grading those papers that night.

[souljahwwitch]

MY LIVING LEGEND! 𓂃⋆.˚

𓂃⋆.˚ hc’s about thanos x dancer! reader who has a big crush on him >_< (slightly angsty)

(no squid game here!) (mentioned that the reader is very pretty (because ya’ll are!!!!)) (drugs mentioned)

𓂃⋆.˚ being thanos’s main dancer was—exhilarating to say the least, going on tours with him, being on every spot, even sometimes get interviewed because of your otherworldly beauty

𓂃⋆.˚ thanos tolerated you, he usually doesn’t get involved with the dancers but you were a different story—he got more successful because of you and your beauty, and you were just timd, so he liked having conversations with you (not the one where he tried molly with you..that was a slip-up, a mistake he promised never would happen again.)

𓂃⋆.˚ you thought thanos was blind, because how couldn’t he saw the way you look at him, as if he had the whole world in his hands, everytime he even much as passed by you—you felt like you were starstruck.

𓂃⋆.˚ you two had many slip ups, as in trying stuff together and both of you waking up confused and..half naked. but he never wanted to talk about it—never. he’d always just call his private driver to drive you home, and when dance practice came—he had to touch you, because of the choreography. and it was damn near infuriating

𓂃⋆.˚ you couldn’t even count the times you cried to your friends—cried alone even, because of him. but you couldn’t be mad either, your relationship should’ve been purely professional, right?

“you gotta stop looking at me like that, angel.” he’d hiss, making you blush—but you’d just brush it off

“likeeee what, thanos?” you’d say, smiling prettily, and as mad as he is at himself for wanting you as much as you wanted him (though he was completely blind to your feelings towards him) he couldn’t help but crack a smirk.

𓂃⋆.˚ you noticed thanos taking those little pills from his cross before every performance, and once, unfortunately, you had to say something.

“you don’t need those, you’re already great.” you mumbled and he looked at you—angrily?

“you don’t know shit about what i need or not, just dance and look ethereal like you always do, got it?” ouch.

𓂃⋆.˚ it was positively awkward between you two after that, which was strange—he shouldn’t feel awkward with you, not when you’re the only one keeping him fucking sane.

𓂃⋆.˚ he’d catch you crying because of him, and he knew—he fucking knew it was because of him, but he’d just look at you, not having the words or the courage to say something—until now

“don’t waste your tears over me, sweetheart. s’not worth it.” he mumbled, sitting beside you as his tattooed hand reached for your cheek.

“you-you don’t understand.” you said between hiccups, blushing even now at the smallest contact

“then make me—make me understand and we’ll figure something out, yeah? like we always do, sweet girl.”

[silentheiss]

Shen Yuan is not a parent. He’s lazy, he’s a shut-in, he barely has a job. His parents pay for everything he owns. Plus, he’s not even thirty! Children can’t raise children!

All of this, though, doesn’t change the fact that there’s a mean little six year old sleeping in his apartment at least four nights a week.

“Yuan-ge, did you know young children sometimes die of hunger? Like, in poor countries. They don’t have food, so they die. Of hunger.” Shi Hai says, blinking up at him from where she’s sitting on the floor by the low table, dragging her chopsticks through the noodles in her take out container.

“Yes.” Shen Yuan answers distractedly. They’re watching the second episode of Love Game in Eastern Fantasy, and it’s kind of good. “Why?”

“I think I might chose that over this stink.”

“Ay, don’t be rude!” Shen Yuan gasps, turning to look at the girl fully. Her bangs are getting too long, falling past her eyebrows. They’ll have to get it cut soon. “I thought you liked that?”

“It’s better than beer.” Shi Hai shrugs. “But I’d maybe like a vegetable.”

Shen Yuan swears internally. He’s not equipped to do that. He should call Child Protection Services or something. They will contact the police, arrest Shi Wen, for some time at least, until her father gets her out of jail and back into the big, alcohol-filled apartment. And they will find a better home for Shi Hai. The one with actual adults, who can feed a child. Yes, he should do that.

He will.

“There’s a bell pepper in your noodles.” Shen Yuan mumbles. “Finish up, it’s time for a bath. You have school tomorrow.”

Shi Hai sighs.

“No.” Shen Yuan says, knowing well where this is going.

“Yuan-ge. School is ass.”

“Stop that. Kids don’t talk like that. Be cute.” Shen Yuan grumbles, turning back to the screen.

“This book is shit.” Shi Hai says in a low voice, clearly copying him. “What dumbass thought it’s worth my time. Idiot author.”

Shen Yuan throws a pillow at her.

“I don’t swear that much.” He says to himself.

“Uh-huh, Yuan-ge.” Shi Hai smiles. “Will you curl my hair before I go to bed? With the sock?”

“If you actually wash your hair, and not just stick your head under the water.” Shen Yuan says.

“Ugh.” Shi Hai groans. She puts her container back on the table and stomps away in the direction of the bathroom. Shen Yuan pauses his drama and gets up, too, to clean up. He’s been scolded by a child enough for one evening.

He throws away the trash, wipes the table and once he can hear the water running, he steps out of the apartment to knock on the next door to the right.

“Come on, Shi Wen.” He mumbles, when there’s no answer. “Don’t you care at all?”

Shen Yuan knocks again, louder. And again.

“I don’t think anyone’s home.”

Shen Yuan turns sharply and comes face to face with a man who, by all accounts, shouldn’t be real. He’s tall, exceedingly handsome, with long flowing hair and- he is holding a box filled with books as if it weighs nothing at all.

“She’s home.” Shen Yuan says dumbly.

The man smiles at him. Shen Yuan knocks on the door again, just for something to do.

“Neighborly visit?” The man asks, looking quite pointedly at his sweatpants and bare feet.

“Something like that.” Shen Yuan nods. “You’re moving in?”

“Yes. Luo Binghe.” The man says. “Got an apartment just down the hall.”

“Oh. Welcome, then. I’m Shen Yuan.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Shen Yuan.” Luo Binghe says. His smile is a little distracting. It looks soft, but actually isn’t.

“Nice to meet you.” Shen Yuan nods. “I-

“Yuan-ge!” Shi Hai yells. “I forgot my towel.”

“Gotta go!” Shen Yuan smiles and rushes back to his apartment.

He fetches Shi Hai’s towel, her pajamas and soft slippers. Next hour or so is spent combing her hair, oiling it and curling it onto a sock roll. If it turns out pretty, maybe she won’t make a fuss about going to school tomorrow.

Shen Yuan gets Shi Hai into his bed, reads one of his more kid-friendly novels outloud for half an hour to get her to actually fall asleep, and then goes to the guest bedroom to sleep. He tried to appoint the guest bedroom for Shi Hai, but she wouldn’t have it, and he is, apparently, a pushover when it comes to bratty kids.

Shen Yuan doesn’t think about Luo Binghe until the next morning when he drags protesting Shi Hai through the door.

“Come on, Hai Hai, the taxi is waiting.” He says.

“Schools is-”

“No! Stop that!”

“Shit, ass, poop!” Shi Hai yells.

“Fucking- Shi Hai!”

“Good morning, neighbors.” Comes a bemused voice comes from somewhere behind his back.

“Good my ass.” Shen Yuan grumbles, still tugging on Shi Hai’s hand. He turns his head briefly to see who’s day they’re ruining. “Oh, hi, Luo Binghe.”

“Yuan-ge.” Luo Binghe smiles slowly. He’s dressed in all black, leather pants and silk shirt. He looks like a model.

“He’s my Yuan-ge.” Shi Hai grunts, gripping Shen Yuan’s hand tighter. At least she’s not swearing anymore.

“You don’t seem to respect him very much, do you?” Luo Binghe asks.

“What do you know.” Shi Hai says. “Ugly.”

Luo Binghe opens his mouth, but doesn’t say anything. Shen Yuan feels like all of his blood has flown into his cheeks. Shi Hai’s looking down at the floor, clearly embarrassed but no, too little too late, little one.

“Shi Hai.” He says sternly. “I’m very disappointed right now.”

He then looks at Luo Binghe, still gaping at them.

“Luo Binghe, I’m sorry. You’re very pretty.” Shen Yuan knows his attempt at damage control is faulty, but he’s not a parent. He doesn’t know how to do that.

He sighs, locks his apartment door, and walks away with a very docile child. They’ll talk in the car, he decides.

[paverage-blog]

As someone who is relatively new to fanfics, I have to say I don’t really understand some of these interactive processes. To me, a fic is like a home cooked meal. I may taste something and decide it’s not for me or I may go back for thirds — but my ability to consume or enjoy it at all is due to the person who created it. As I would never sit down and eat a meal someone cooked without saying thanks (and gushing about what I loved most), I can’t really fathom reading and just walking away without saying thanks. In all but a very few instances I hit the kudos button because it cost me $0.00. Even if I didn’t think it was the greatest thing I’ve ever read, I’m at least saying “thanks, you did the damn thing and kudos to you for putting it out there.”

It seems like a level of rudeness I can’t fathom to not say how much I enjoyed a story if I did (to the point that I’ve been mulling over a fic I read last night all and it’s bothered me I didn’t leave a comment and only a kudo - I will be fixing that when I log in tonight because even if the fic is “old” or other people already said it, the author deserves to know the story haunted me all day and that I enjoyed it.) You’re privileged enough to enjoy someone’s art (which sometimes is a huge investment of their time and efforts) for free. It feels like the least I can do is acknowledge (again, for free!) that I enjoyed it or that I want to show the author support to keep writing.

As a writer, I admit that I spend a lot of time squinting at hits vs. kudos and trying to extrapolate if people enjoyed. I assume that if my work has hits but not kudos that someone read (or attempted it) and decided they didn’t like it/it wasn’t for them and that it was so bad they didn’t want to even give me a thumbs up for making an effort. I assume this, because I assume other people consume fic like I do. Reading OP’s story really makes me scratch my head… like people may pull up a chair to my table where I’ve spent weeks “cooking up” something, enjoy it, and walk off without even saying thanks…and then go tell other people how great it was? No disrespect to people who don’t kudo/comment on everything they enjoy, but I guess I’m just stunned people wouldn’t even bother to click a button to say thanks if they thought it was a worthwhile effort.

Idk, I gotta go log in and tell someone how much I enjoyed something I read yesterday and keep being an outlier, I guess, lol.

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[centrally-unplanned]

Anyway I wanted to write something a little more serious about the politics of the day - a trend many noticed in the 2024 election, and its aftermath, is all of these notable non-politicians jumping onto the Trump ship. You have certainly noticed the big ones doing it, the Musk-types. What I have also seen is the middle-road types - the podcasts slotting the admin into their current healthcare fad, the policy bloggers being like "Dear Trump, this is how to truly reform the government - my pet idea" and offering support. A sort of opportunistic bandwagoning. This does happen every election to some extent, but it is notable that it happened way, way less when Biden was elected.

Some view this through the lens of fear, of Trump's open willingness to tax or prosecute those who don't bend the knee. That is part of it, for sure. But the other part is that Trump doesn't really believe in all that much - and that is actually a pretty big asset in politics. If you are a "Progress Studies" blogger or a union rep or a tech CEO, does Trump disagree with any of your key issues? He might not! You can just "convince" him, that is actually on the table, and he might take up your cause. And the Republican Party - not always, absolutely not always, but sometimes - will be browbeaten into going along with his whims even if they contradict their previous ideology. If you are ambitious and play your cards right, the structure of the Trump admin can very much reward people along the lines of these pet issues.

This is something the Democratic party could not do. All policy from the Biden admin came from a decade+ process of being discussed within the party. There were absolutely, 100%, "factions" jockeying for influence, but it was insiders, pre-established orgs along known lines, who were doing that jockeying. Is there any big policy that the Biden admin pursued that truly surprised you? That you were like, "woah, where the fuck did Biden get this idea from?" Not really, right? Because the admin was in so many ways an extension of the party.

Now this can be a real strength when your political parties are strong. When the locus of politics is within parties, then naturally they should be informing directions, and your goal as an admin is to court them. But that is pretty much the opposite of the current US political landscape - political parties have never been weaker. Voters hate political insiders, primaries are completely open and people who openly oppose the party sometimes sweep them, voters don't get their political opinion or w/e from politicians or party orgs. Parties are downstream of where more and more political influence comes from (though ofc they are by no means powerless, this is all trendlines). If you are one of these political outsider types, the Joe Rogans or Progress Studies bloggers or crypto coalitions or whatever, the Democratic party is just not going to work with you? You will be "heard", but if you want influence you gotta put your decade+ into the party first.

But Trump? You just gotta show up and kiss the ring. For talented people, this is actually a much better deal. It probably won't work, but the odds are still better than the alternative. And the biggest looming wrinkle is that this strategy is being hamstrung by Trump being a total idiot and backstabbing asshole - imagine how effective these strategies would be if someone competent was doing it. His left-field ideas are not only "annexing Greenland", but also doing it in the most hamfisted way imaginable. The core idea here isn't that crazy btw! Greenland is pushing for greater independence from Denmark, but gets a ton of subsidies so is loath to lose them if they go solo. You can see how an intelligent operator charting some soft power politics here could maybe make something happen, but Trump is a fucking nob and can't do that. So he is often a bad vessel for your niche ideas. But at least he shows up to the game!

People sometimes really want politics to be ideological. They want a coherent political party with a unitary philosophy to implement a cohesive agenda. I get this appeal, but this just isn't how US politics, or democratic politics more widely, works. It is an endless process of factional recruitment for one-off reforms, and otherwise managerial policy (in)competence. Ideology is not elected, a "mandate" does not run for office. Some individual people win and then they invent a mandate afterwards. Democracy does not reveal consensus, it manufactures it. And the US is moving more towards that direction, not less.

My fear is Democrats, in "widening the tent", will focus too much on that internal party process, on trying to make the Democratic Party "coherently" something that is more appealing to the median voter. Valuable work, to be sure, but the other side is you need to make it more appealing to people of influence or talent. As others have commented, it is kind of baffling how the Biden administration committed itself to a policy of green electrification and banning foreign car imports, and somehow made an enemy of America's biggest domestic green electric car manufacturer. You need to be, on the margins, less committed to any specific ideology at all, and instead open to actually winning support from diverse factions. Otherwise the other side will always be more appealing to anyone not of your ideology, because they kind of don't care about ideology. The Dems are already the "bigger tent" party, this should be their wheelhouse. They just need to update their tactics for the modern era.

[ragingbookdragon]

Ain't No Sense In Closing The Gate

Tyler Owens x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1.2K Warnings: Angst

Author's Note: My mom made me watch Twisters and all I know is that I want to bang Glen Powell like a door in a tornado. Enjoy.

**********************************************************************

She sat at the bar, nursing the glass of brandy that seemed to mock her with every swirl of amber. Laughter and conversation flowed behind her, but she sat with her back to it, more focused on the lull of liquid. She tugged her hat down lower over her furrowed brows, a stemming anger and yearning ache in her chest that seemed to rise like bile in her throat every time she heard his laughter echo from the pool table. She’d been so stupid. So foolish to spend all this time chasing him when he’d never even noticed, hell, she hadn’t even noticed until he’d found greener pastures.

“Can I sit with you?”

She looked up, barely managing to suppress the scowl when she saw Kate standing there.

“Yeah,” she muttered, gesturing vaguely to the stool beside her, and watched as Kate sat down and ordered a gin and tonic.

They sat in silence for a few moments, neither really wanting to engage with each other until Kate cleared her throat and admitted, “I get the feeling that you don’t like me very much.”

“It’s not for a lack of trying,” she replied, taking a sip of her brandy, then sat her drink down. “I don’t like you,” she added. “But not for the reasons you think I do.”

Kate’s brows furrowed. “Did I do something to you that made you not like me?”

“No.”

“…then why?”

Laughter peeled from the pool table and they both looked over, watching as Tyler put Boone in a headlock and noogied him. It suddenly hit Kate at that moment and she looked down at the bar.

“Oh…” was all she murmured.

It made her blood boil.

“Don’t do that shit,” she scowled. “God, it’s so fucking annoying when—just,” she inhaled and exhaled. “It’s fine. He deserves to be happy. You both do.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Kate,” she interrupted and looked at her beneath that big Texas brim. “I’ve spent my entire life chasing Tyler Owen’s heart. I’ve done everything I ever thought would make him look at me the way it took you literal days to make him look at you.” She let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t hate you. But I can’t say I’m fond of you either.”

Kate pursed her lips and nodded. “For what it’s worth…I think the two of you would be beautiful together.”

“Thanks,” she muttered with a sardonic smile. “But I’d rather him be with you.”

“Why?” she asked. “I thought…”

“I do, but I also recognize when a man’s heart is truly set on something. And…” she looked at Kate, really looked at her, the way her eyes were gentle, nothing like her own, hardened from years of chasing storms and steering cattle. “He needs a woman like you.” She sipped her brandy again. “I know when a horse needs to run. Ain’t no reason in closing the gate.”

Kate felt her own heart ache for the woman’s heartbreak. “I don’t know if it makes a difference, but I would like to be friends with you.” She didn’t let the woman’s arched brow and seemingly look of disgust deter her. “You’re amazing. And gorgeous. And funny, and—”

“Careful, Kate,” she murmured. “Making me think you’re into me too.”

Kate’s laughter bubbled from her without realizing it as her cheeks dusted pink.

She smiled tightly. “Keep him in line, yeah?” she asked, sliding a twenty on the bar before she downed the rest of her brandy and stood from the bar.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Kate replied, turning on the stool. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

“Nah,” she said. “I’ve gotta go home.”

Kate’s expression saddened. “I don’t want you to leave because of me,” she expressed. “Really, I don’t want you to leave.”

“I’m not,” she answered. “But…I’m getting to old to be chasing storms, men…” she reached out and placed a hand on Kate’s shoulder. “Sometimes, it’s best to listen when home is calling.”

As she pulled away, Kate hurriedly reached out and took her hand. “Will you ever come back?” she tried for a hopeful smile. “We’ll…we’ll all miss you.”

She nodded. “Maybe a visit or two in a few years, yeah?”

Kate nodded and let her hand go, watching as she weaved through the patrons of the bar, not stopping to say goodbye to the others as she disappeared through the wooden doors and into the parking lot.

***

She re-adjusted the duffel bag in the back of her black Dodge, setting it snugly behind her seat before she pushed the front back, dropped her hat in the driver’s seat, and stood straight. Her eyes drifted up to the stars above in the Oklahoma sky. It was practically the same clear view she saw back South, no clouds, no pollution, just bright stars blinking back at her.

“Leaving without saying goodbye?”

His voice startled her and she jumped a bit as she looked back, watching Tyler walk over to her.

“Road’s long to the mountains,” she said, tugging on the Carhart sweatshirt over her head.

Tyler smiled at her. “That it is. Ten hours, right?”

She looked at him. “What do you want, Tyler?”

His gaze turned solemn and he stepped up to her. “You’re leaving because of me.”

“Now that’s the most egotistical BS I’ve ever heard you say,” she laughed. “And I’ve heard you be egotistical before.”

“Pretty girl,” he started lowly, and she felt her insides melt before she inhaled sharply.

“Tyler, stop.”

“No, I want—”

“It doesn’t matter, okay,” she said. “It’s okay.”

He frowned, feet shifting in the dirt of the parking lot. “I didn’t know.”

“You did,” she replied. “You just…wished you didn’t.”

His gaze met hers. “I never meant to hurt you, pretty girl.” He reached up, knuckles gently grazing her cheek and she knew in her heart this was the only love she’d ever get from the man in the way she wanted.

She blinked furiously at the tears in her eyes and, unable to stop herself, leaned into his touch. “I know,” she whispered, throat tight with unspoken affection and desire.

Tyler took another step towards her, cupping her cheek in his hand.

“Tyler,” she stressed and he let out a low hum deep in his throat as he brushed his nose against hers.

“Let me,” he whispered in that smooth drawl. “Let me make it better.”

“Please, don’t,” she begged. “Tyler, please,” tears dampened her lashes. “Don’t do this to me.” She felt his lips almost brush against hers. “Tyler, I’m not…I won’t be strong enough to let go if you do.”

His jaw tightened, muscle twitching as he pressed his forehead into hers, and exhaled slowly. “Okay,” he said softly. “Okay, pretty girl.” He pulled back enough to look into her eyes, his own a mix of regret and pain. “Text me when you get home?”

She swallowed hard and nodded, every fiber in her screaming as she pulled herself away from him. “I will.”

He watched as she climbed into her truck, the window rolled down and he stepped up to it. “Will you ever come back?” he smiled sadly. “Awfully lonely without you chasing with us.”

With me.

Her eyes met his once more as she roared the engine to life. “So long, cowboy,” she mused and rolled the window up, leaving him in a whirl of dust.

[voidbrood]

this. all of this.

folks -- and this is aimed at adults as well, I know far too many around my age even who are just as clueless as those 16yos prev mentioned -- you gotta learn this stuff. I'm serious.

you may be fast and and feel all competent swiping across that overpriced touchscreen (also, do you ever clean that thing, like, properly?), but do you have the faintest idea what's going on inside this device you carry around everywhere?

do you even look at your phone's app permission settings? notif settings? alternatives to google (there are many)? privacy settings in general? do you know what the web was like before it was infested by madverts?

or do you just go with the easiest, the fastest, the recommended (esp if your fav influencer says so), the option that lets you get away with the least amount of thinking

why does it matter, you may ask? bc you're handing everything there is to know abt you to some big-ass corporation or three, and all those care abt, is to suck you dry -- of your money, your labor, your time, your attention, of everything that matters to you that could make them even a little richer -- and once they've taken everything from you, they'll leave to die in a ditch (sometimes literally)

if you're okay with that fate in return for the short-term, mind-numbing, senseless and addictive gratification they provide? well, it's your life

and don't get me wrong. you don't need to become an expert or anything close. just, ya know. start giving a fuck abt your personal tech skills in a world that's full of tech while corporations are doing their best to keep you clueless so you're easier to take advantage of

not to enforce gender roles but a computer should NOT fucking have apps okay. if I wanted an app I'd go on my phone my laptop is for Programs. I mean this.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter Map Twenty-Nine

TW: violence and harassment against women, police brutality, nsfw, pda

The week goes on, with no official news from the LAPD about your break in. Tom assures you it’s no great surprise. He’s running his own inquiries, and if you’ve lost your faith in the system, you believe in him. You clean up your apartment a little bit, and find a little optimism in the fact that this hotel room actually has bigger windows for your plants. 

Tom babies them, handling the delicate stems tenderly, watching and mimicking the soft way you arrange their leaves, carrying the pots as gently as he carries you. He catches you watching this with abject fascination and admiration, and grins as you look away, flushing, caught in the act of falling more in love with him. 

Needless to say, you are surprised when Tom asks you to go to a party on Friday. He’s laying on your tummy, using it as a pillow while you both giggle at a funny movie and mindlessly shove chocolate and popcorn into your faces. 

“It’s for my boss to meet you,” he says, “for the case.” 

“What do you mean?” you ask, not quite understanding. 

“Sometimes…we get jaded as cops. We shovel a lot of shit. But putting a face to a problem…it helps it get solved, sometimes.”

“Oh. Ok.” You understand all too well, how you start to guard yourself when you work an emotionally taxing job involving people at their worst, their most vulnerable. It does all start to run together, after a while. Maybe it shouldn’t, but it’s the human brain’s way of defending itself from the overload. 

“I think…” he goes on, playing with your hair. “It might help, if he sees what you mean to me. You’re the only girl I’ve been serious about, since…my wife.” 

You close your eyes at hearing that, as if you weren’t already head over heels enough for this man. All the love you feel for him stews with guilt for the thing you’re going to have to do on Saturday, and you can’t stop the welling of tears in the corners of your eyes. “Ok,” you agree again, somehow speaking past the lump in your throat. “We gotta put on a show or something?” 

Tom grins wickedly down at you, his light touch making its way down to trace the neckline of your shirt. It soothes you, somehow, makes the gnawing demon inside quiet down, even if just for a little while. It’s going to be ok, you tell yourself, even if deep down you know you’re lying.

“Nah, baby. All we gotta do is show up. The rest is obvious.” You take his paw of a hand, kissing his palm before holding it over your heart. 

It’s going to be ok, you tell yourself again. You’re going to get through this shitstorm, and then the two of you are going to live happily ever after…

You tell yourself this, because if you don’t, you’re going to start crying again and you’re not going to stop until they sedate you in an institution. 

***

Your first thought, when you snake up the winding mountain road to Captain Wander’s aerie of a hillside mansion looking out over the glittering lights of L.A., is ‘Goddam, do cops really make this kind of money?’ 

You know he’s management and all but Jesus Christ, you thought only movie stars and drug dealers could afford to live up here in the Hollywood Hills. 

The place is bumping, and a line of cars are parked outside, clogging the narrow road. The parking style looks amusingly familiar–you suppose Tom is not the only LEO who just puts his car wherever he wants. You wonder what Wander’s well-heeled neighbors think about all this. Maybe they know their complaints will be ignored tonight. 

He can tell you’re nervous, judging by the way he’s got his arm around your shoulders snugly and his side molded to your own. “You okay?” he whispers, leaning down to kiss the top of your ear. 

“Never been better…” There are a lot of people here, and they all seem to know each other…talking and laughing and hanging out on the back deck with the fancy string lights and the big metal tiki torches illuminating their celebration. 

You hobnob in, doing your best to mingle and shake hands and smile and let Tom lead you around to meet his coworkers and their plus ones. 

He pops you sparkling champagne and grabs himself a beer from the mini fridge, and you actually start to settle in a little bit with some liquid courage and the niceties of strangers. A nurse that works the third floor at your hospital is here, and that makes you feel ten times more welcome. Her husband is a senior detention officer in Tom’s office, and while you talk and laugh with his wife about healthcare antics, he and Tom awkwardly stare at each other and try to discuss work. 

“See?” Tom says, nudging your shoulder and handing you another tiny champagne bottle. “You’re doing just fine, pretty lady.” He leans on the back railing with you, looking absolutely long and delicious in denim and a silky button down, and once again you have to stop yourself from climbing him like a feral squirrel. 

Out for his nuts. 

The thought catches you off guard, and you choke on laughter. 

He raises his eyebrow at you. “I was right.”

“What?” You chuckle, hiccuping into the back of your hand. 

He gives your ass a covert squeeze, making you jump and gasp. “You are a little weirdo.” 

“Tom!” You slap his bicep, lightly, and he pulls you against him just a bit too close for social gathering standards, but you don’t care, because pressed against his hips with his arms around your waist, looking up at the light clogged night sky, is exactly where you ought to be. 

He grinds against you, and you stifle a moan-giggle into your arm. “Have another drink, y/n,“ he teases, mouth pressed against that thin piece of tender flesh behind your ear. 

“Shutup, meathead.” You grin up at him, twisting around to press your ass more firmly against his legs, heavily amused by the subtle flair of his nostrils and tightening of his fingers into your plush flesh. 

“I have half a mind to take you right back to my car and make you sit on my cock.” 

A delicious quiver runs through you, and like that cat in perpetual heat you’ve become, you lean back into him, giving up so easily, arching against his sturdy form. “What are you waiting for?” 

“Meet my boss, then we’ll talk about it.” 

Captain Wander is in the kitchen—if you can call it that. It’s massive, open and warm, with long polished granite counters and sleek appliances. Everything is spotless. Uncluttered. You overflow with envy for a moment, looking around at the high ceiling and neon beverage displays. 

Tom places a hand on the captain’s shoulder, grabbing his attention from the other guests at his expensive bar table. “Jack, this is my girlfriend, y/n.”

“Hi, I’m y/n,” you say, and then flush with the realization that Tom already introduced you and you’re embarrassing yourself in front of his boss of all people. 

However, Wander is gracious about it, smiling kindly at you and pressing your hand in his. You can't help but notice how soft his hands are compared to Tom’s. Manicured, well-kemp. He’s been behind a desk for a long time…

“It’s nice to meet you, y/n. You must have a high pain tolerance, if you’re into my boy Tom here.” There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he says it though, and Tom rolls his eyes with a sideways smile. You can tell by this downright deferential reaction (for Tom) that he looks up to Wander. 

“Nice to meet you too.” 

Wander grins. “Seriously though. You couldn’t be in better hands. Tom is a great guy.” He claps his subordinate on the shoulder, and fuck if Tom isn’t like a puppy rolling over to get his belly scratched. You’ve never seen anything like it–except maybe, with you. 

“Hey,” says the Captain, looking directly at you. “Can I steal my man for a second? We gotta talk some shop.”

Since that’s pretty much why Tom brought you over here, you nod agreeably. “Sure. Don’t keep him long though.” 

Wander winks at you before throwing an arm over Tom’s shoulders, leading him down a hallway where you suppose there might be an office or something. Tom looks over his shoulder at you, mouthing, You ok?

You nod, even though you hate navigating a crowd this big alone, and you miss him already. You decide to get some air, wandering out back to sit by the pool. The view is spectacular, the glittering lights of the city spread out below you. Plenty of people had the same idea as you, and you take a seat with your drink, trying not to look half as awkward as you feel without Tom’s steady presence at your side. 

Some of the other wives and girlfriends whose other halves have wandered off chat you up before drifting away. The lighted pool looks inviting, and you almost wish you’d brought your suit. 

“Oh shit, look who it is! You’re not still with that loser Ludlow, are you sweetheart? Come over here if you want a piece of a real man.” 

Your head turns as though on a swivel, disbelieving that this fucker would dare show his face here, and that he would have the guts to talk to you again. McCauley, the douchey detective from the bar on your first date with Tom, is seated on a lounger back in the shadows. You realize that everyone has pointedly been avoiding him. He’s clearly drunk, his speech slurred. When he stands he almost falls over, but somehow manages to stumble towards you. 

“Give it a rest, Kevin,” your newfound compatriot yells over, rolling her eyes at the drunken idiot.

You decide to ignore him and get closer to the other pool patrons, but his tough grip clamps your wrist before you can run, and instinctively you pull back and hit him in the face.

It’s not like you, to be physically violent, especially not with men twice your size who are stupendously drunk—after all, you know how that usually works out in the end—but over these past few weeks your inner cavewoman has been woken by Tom Ludlow, and then right after that, your inner scratching, biting, kicking, screaming, trapped child by Julian. 

You look at your hand in disbelief, then up at McCauley, his fingers delicately pressed to the blooming bright red handprint on the side of his head. His expression is surprise, then seething rage, and he yanks you forward just a little, tiny bit…but that’s all it takes to incite screams, to make you shield your face, to make you cower before him like a little bitch.

Ludlow is on him in a second, so fast you wonder, later, if he jumped off the porch deck just to get over to you, and he grabs him by the collar of his nice button up. You watch McCauley’s feet leave the ground, you hear a loud, blunt thunk, and then the drunkard is flying into the pool, splashing a chlorinated wave over you and the man now at your side with his warm hands on your face, protecting you from the outside world, from the people that otherwise would be seeing you cry. 

If they were paying attention to you, that is, and not losing their shit laughing at the groaning, bloody man surfacing from the water with his hand pressed over his nose. 

“You okay?” Tom asks, tucking your hair behind your ears and kissing your forehead, and if it wasn’t so heart warming you’d be embarrassed. 

You nod, wiping wetness from your cheeks. “He scared me, I hit him.” 

“That’s my girl,” Tom tells you, grinning wide, and you preen under his praise, smiling despite yourself.  

Tom pulls you against his side protectively, and addresses McCauley. “Either you get the fuck out of here,” he tells him, calmly, almost cordially, “or I throw you over the fence into the freeway next.” 

McCauley is all eyes, and you can tell by his expression, all rage, for you, but you stand your ground, chin raised, and you think of the chihuahua again, so brave when tucked behind its big bull mastiff guardian. You feel…good. Guilty about it, but good. Powerful, with this novel feminine energy pulsing through your blood. It’s so strange and melodramatic, to feel as if you’ve been possessed by Lilith herself for hitting some guy that touched you without your permission at a pool party. 

Your new friend loops her arm with your own. “Uh, you wanna transfer to med surge?” she teases.

Tom lets you go with her to talk and grab a drink while he makes sure McCauley gets to a taxi…safely. You’re much more relaxed, now, as if all the nervous energy transferred from your right hook into McCauley’s skull on impact, and you settle in to talk to Abby from medsurge and her cop wife friends, equipped with frosty Chardonnay bottles. 

Before long, and when the alcohol is really brushing your hackles down into soft fleece, Tom, Wander, and the cop husbands join you. You lean into your fierce protector, and he kisses your temple, like he can’t help but put his lips on you even if you’re surrounded by other people. 

It’s good here—better than you thought you’d ever get, especially in a place like LA—nestled by Tom Ludlow and laughing and drinking and talking. The stories that cops tell are wild, heart wrenching, hilarious. You’re gasping in horror as often as bursting out in laughter. 

Captain Wander—Jack—sets his beer down and commands the attention of his guests, a small wayward smile directed in Tom’s direction, and your tough detective bristles and squirms under the attention of his superior. You almost feel a little jealous of the way Wander subdues him. 

“Now Tom,” Jack says, looking directly at you. “I have some store-eees about Tom.”

Tom grumbles, and you push him playfully. “Oh yeah?” You ask, matching his grin. “Let me guess, he saved a toddler from a house fire and then went back in for their pet kitten?” 

This earns you a laugh around the table, even from embarrassed Tom. 

“Looks like she’s got your number, Luds,” one of his colleagues teases, patting his shoulder. 

Tom looks at you like you’ve got more than just that, and like when you get out of here he’s going to fuck you silly, but the problem with that is you want to be fucked stupid, so you continue, “okay, let’s hear it! I want all Tom’s stories, especially the really embarrassing ones.” 

You are in so much trouble, for egging this on, says his hand gripping your thigh firmly, sending a delicious, achy twang deep into your pussy. 

”Tom’s always the guy you call when you need to get shit done,” Jack starts, speaking directly to you. “Few years back, we had a big time dealer in holding. This guy was real scum of the earth—I’m talking famous among his kind. Every junkie from here to Sonoma had his number—“

“Sonoma?” You interrupt. “Is that far?”

A murmur of laughter ripples through Jack’s guests, and the Captain smiles at you as if he finds you endearing. 

“It’s about 400 miles away,” says Tom to you. Then, to Jack: “she’s from Kansas.” 

“Have you shown her around yet?” The Captain asks, and there is some underlying innuendo in his tone that you can’t quite decipher. 

“Yeah, a little bit.” You look up at Tom, and his jaw is clenched just a little too tight for your liking. To loosen him up, you grab just above his knee, in that sensitive alcove, and squeeze. 

This earns you a jump, and then a brutish grumble of annoyance. You want to ask him if he’s okay, because of his sudden change in demeanor, but Wander is already continuing with his tale. 

“Anyway, we had been trying to get this guy for years, and finally we had him in holding. Only problem was, without a confession, we couldn’t go forward with the conviction...and we had to let him go. That’s where Tom comes in.” 

“Like a human wrecking ball,” one of his coworkers chimes in. 

“Hey,” Wander shrugs, “that’s always been Tom. He’s the guy you call if you want shit done.“ He toasts to the ever-stiffening man beside you, and you grab two of his fingers, wrapping your palm around them in what you hope is a comforting gesture. 

“Anyway, we got that confession,” Jack says. “And then some.”

“At first I didn’t know what the hell he was gonna do with that 91 directory,” Tom’s colleague adds, patting him on the shoulder. 

“They had to screw that scumbag’s jaw back into place,” another says. 

“That’s why he’s the best of the best,” Wander tells you after a big gulp of beer. “You’ve got a good man here, y/n.”

“No doubt about it.” 

But doubt is a funny thing. It plants a seed deep inside your brain, and before you know it that seed has sprouted into wisteria vines and begun to wrap all around your squishy pink organ, binding its thoughts in chaos…

[what-even-is-thiss]

Advice for a non-writer who wants to start creative writing? Mostly in the logistics department.

Is just writing random bullshit for 10-30 minutes a day or so good enough to kind of exercise that skill?

If I want to share my writings but don't want to lean too hard into genres or fanfic what's a good way to approach that? Are writing clubs a thing that exist?

Literally the sum total of my writing education is high school (didn't focus) and 2 semesters in college (fun but I was too busy dealing with other shit to really hone my craft)

There are writers clubs, especially in larger cities. Sometimes there’s classes in community centers, sometimes there’s groups where people workshop their novels together. There’s also Reddit groups and discord servers if online is more your style or there’s nothing like that in your area.

A good place to meet writers is at public readings, book launches, book signings, slam poetry nights, and university events. Sometimes people also post notices on town Facebook pages or physically in bars or cafes.

As for getting started with writing, you just kind of have to do it. I could tell you that there’s a particular thing that you have to do but writing is one of those things where there isn’t one correct way to do it and so everyone has their own personal insane methods.

Here’s some common ways to do writing. Some may work for you. Maybe none of them will.

Write when you feel like it. This is how I do it. I often feel like writing though. This generally doesn’t work for people who aren’t often motivated to write or don’t do well in fits and spurts

Keep a journal and force yourself to write in it every day even if you just write “I didn’t want to write anything today”

Set aside a specific amount of time every day at the same time that you will write. Maybe 5 in the morning, maybe 10 at night. Depends on when you personally work best

Set a timer for ten minutes and don’t stop writing. Don’t stop. Tools like the most dangerous writing app can help with forcing you to do this if that’s what works for you

Set aside a large block of one day a week to be your writing day. Only writing may happen during this writing day.

Set yourself a specific word or page count every day and don’t stop working until you reach that word count.

Collaborate with other people when writing. This may or may not involve a bunch of different people taking turns looking insane in front of a whiteboard and aggressively pointing at flow charts.

And as general advice, I’d say read a lot. Read things you like and things you don’t like. You often learn a lot of things from reading. Especially reading a wide variety of things. Audiobooks count as reading if you’re paying attention btw.

A big part of getting started in general is finding your creative process through trial and error. And your process could change over the years. At some point you’ve just gotta do it.

[speed-world]

Hello!! If it's not too much to ask, can you write a cookie run kingdom au where y/n is a traveler? I just think that's the most logical way to somehow get them involved into stories and meet different cookies altogether. Maybe a few scenarios in which involve their encounters with the ancients before the main plot of crk?

A cookie stood with his sheep, observing the lands before him in silence as the winds howled and blew beside him. He was making his last few preparations before his journey, but as he turned around, he saw an unfamiliar face that appeared to be in awe of the lands much like he was…

“Oh, pardon me, but I’ve never seen a cookie like you before. You look so incredibly well and unbothered, may I ask if you have a secret to keeping your dough so healthy?”

“Oh, me? Hehe, I don’t think I have any ‘secret’ to my healthy or anything like that. I’m simply a traveler wandering Earthbread.”

“Really? So am I! I’ll be taking a pilgrimage to the Sugar-Free Road, and complete its 12 trials. What about you, where are you headed?”

“Wherever the earth and winds take me, I suppose. I don’t have a destination in mind, per se, but I’m so interested in exploring the marvelous depths across every corner of Earthbread! But, if you don’t mind me asking, what makes you want to venture to the Sugar-Free Road alone? Surely those trials can’t be the only reason.”

“You sound like you’ve been there before, is there something I should be aware of before I go?”

“Yeah, maybe don’t go by yourself. It’s a treacherous path that’ll leave you wishing you never went. I myself turned back when I was there because of how worn out I was. I would want to go back sometime, especially since I feel more accustomed to traveling to do so, but doing so alone is not something I’m doing again.”

“I see…well to answer your question, I strive to find the truth as to why cookies - those crumbling, incomplete, and not-so-sweet - all must suffer so. I wish for all beings of dough to be happy, and that is I will accept those trials. Hopefully I’ll find the answers I’m looking for at the end of the path.”

“That’s…that’s actually really nice! I respect that a lot, and I kinda feel the same way; wanting everyone to not suffer. But you won’t do well by yourself, would you mind if I tag along?”

“Really? Are you sure my goals won’t get in the way of yours?”

“Nah, of course not! You get to complete the trials and, hopefully, find your answers, while I get to see everything of the Sugar-Free Road and document it! Plus, I get to make a new friend too!”

“New friend..? Ahaha, I’m honored to call you friend too! My name is Pure Vanilla Cookie, and you are?”

“Y/N Cookie, a pleasure to meet ya Pure Vanilla Cookie!”

“Likewise, Y/N Cookie. I’m glad we’ll take this journey together!”

————————————————————————

The screeching roar of a dragon fills the air as it gradually got more distant. The dragon’s pursuer was aggravated, but still determined…

“Huff…huff…darn that dragon getting away, again!! I think I’m starting to loose count, is this the 80th time? No, it can’t have been that much…..argghh—! No matter, I’ll keep hunting it down and—!”

The bushes ahead of Hollyberry Cookie rustle as an astonished cookie stepped out, and looked to the sky where the dragon flew off. They were completely in awe and wanted to get a better look at the majestic creature.

“Woah!! Was that a dragon just now? I’ve seen glimpses of them on my travels, but that one was so close!! This could be a chance to really meet a dragon, maybe even feel its scales!! Hahaha, I gotta go now and—“

“Hey, hold it right there!”

“Huh? Oh, hey there! Are you after the dragon too?”

“That’s one way to put it; I’m hunting that dragon. I need to defeat it for the trouble its caused the Hollyberry Kingdom!”

“Oh my, I had no idea. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s quite alright, that dragon won’t escape me so easily! But, what brings you out here? And why do you want to see that dragon?”

“Ah, well I’m a traveler, you see? I want to explore every neat corner of Earthbread and all the specialties in between!”

“Really now? Interesting, it’s been awhile since I’ve met such an adventurous cookie like myself! I’m Hollyberry Cookie, pleased to meet you friend!”

“Y/N Cookie, the pleasure is all mine Hollyberry Cookie!”

“Well Y/N Cookie, what do you say we go hunting this dragon together? It’s always more fun to travel with a partner, and I’ll promise you to see every bit of the dragon up close!”

“For real?! Awesome!! Ohohoho, this is gonna be fun, I can’t wait to go!”

“Why don’t you tell me about your travels on the way? I’ll, of course, share you many of my own! I’ll even treat you to the finest berry juice my kingdom has to offer when it’s over!”

“Why thank you! I’ve never had berry juice from the Hollyberry Kingdom before, I can’t wait!!”

“It will be the finest you’ve ever had, you wouldn’t want any other! This is already becoming a fine adventure, hahaha!!”

————————————————————————

Black lightning and dark clouds...What's next, a blizzard that freezes your very breath? The scale of the anomalies is growing. The Cookies in the Frozen Snowfield are perishing one by one. While it seems logical for any cookie to avoid venturing out to such an extreme treacherous environment, two cookies were individually hiking up anyways. Although for their own reasons, their ambitions may align with one another’s….

“Hmm? Oh hey there, I wasn’t expecting any company here!”

“Neither was I…are you a cookie from one of villages affected by the blizzards?”

“Me? Oh no, I’m just a traveler passing by to witness something spectacular!! Here, listen closely—“

“Grrrrrr…..”

“Hhrrrrrraaaaaahh…..”

“The growls of not one, but two dragons-in one place!! I wonder what it is here that could’ve brought them here; ooohh I’ve got to see them up close!”

“You’re here for…sightseeing dragons? How strange.”

“You sound disappointed, is everything alright bud?”

“No. I am here to know more of the weather anomalies occurring through this continent. This harsh weather has caused cookies to suffer and crumble, and I refuse to let it endure another minute.”

“Oh my, I had no idea that was happening. I’m so sorry…”

“Pick your head up, you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Ah, r-right. *ahem*…let me help you.”

“What? No, I’m afraid I can’t. These cookies have suffered for too long, and I can’t risk another getting in the way and—“

“I promise I won’t get in your way. I’ll help aid those cookies with you; I have plenty of supplies to offer some kind of help, be it food or water or anything in between.”

“Hmm…very well then. I believe our interests might be more in common than I realize. Let’s not waste any more time and be on our way.”

“Of course! I’m Y/N Cookie, by the way, pleasure to meet you sir.”

“Dark Cacao Cookie, don’t mention it. Let us do our absolute best for the cookies!”

————————————————————————

Under the intense, near-intolerable heat of the desert sun, two cookies traverse the sands bearing wide smiles of determination. Both hold their own greedy ambitions, yet aren’t driven apart by each other’s desires.

“Hah, you know, I’m still amazed as to why you’re traveling with me to the old ruins. I was wandering the desert to find this marvelous treasure, but you just want to look at them, document them, and that’s it! Why go through such risks if all you want to do is go sight seeing?”

“Hehe, well I guess you could say that’s the treasure I’m hunting for. To see all the wonders of Earthbread, its beauties in its dangers, the uniqueness of every continent, I want to capture all of it and learn everything about it! Plus, it’s super fun to meet all kinds of desserts along the way, especially one as dynamic as you!”

“So interesting, you almost make me want to share the treasure I find with you; almost, of course.”

“I don’t blame you, heh. You wandered all this way for it, it’s only fair that it all belongs to you.”

“Right? I would’ve heard if someone on Earthbread had laid their hands on it first. But then again…I want to show my gratitude for your help. This journey would’ve been boring and perhaps fruitless if not for you; what is your name?”

“Y/N Cookie, a pleasure!”

“Y/N Cookie, I am Golden Cheese Cookie. I shall never forget all you’ve done for me! Your greed for the world is something to admire for eons; nearly as great as my greed for my treasure. You and I together shall be legendary!”

————————————————————————

Somewhere, in a secluded area relatively distant from the nearest cookie civilization, a lone cookie was weeping as she was suffering from a nightmare. A passerby cookie heard her cries, and wanted to know what troubled her so…

“E-Excuse me, hello? Are you okay ma’am?”

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I… Oh…it was that same dream again. I’m sorry, I didn’t know another cookie was here…”

“No no, it’s alright, you didn’t bother me. I was just traveling by, venturing out to find some incredible things about Earthbread!”

“You were…traveling? Just freely and…eagerly going about across Earthbread alone? …..why?”

“Ehehe, I suppose why not? There’s so many incredible marvels about this world that I wanna see and experience for myself! There’s just so many things and secrets that I want to know about, how could I not be eager to see it all, ahaha!”

“….s-so carefree and curious…they’re just—“

“Hmm, you say something?”

“N-no, I was just muttering to myself…”

“….Hey, you hungry?”

“What? How’d you…—“

“You have crumbs falling from your hands, how long have you been without something to eat?”

“I…I do not know. I suppose it’s been a while since I’ve eaten something. Maybe I’m getting too lost in my thoughts…”

You pulled out a lot of food from your bags and laid it out in front of the cookie.

“T-that’s so much food! Shouldn’t you keep some for yourself if you’re traveling?”

“I got plenty more, don’t you worry. But if you were here resting from traveling, then it looks like you weren’t fully prepared. Is there any reason why you’re traveling out here?”

“Yes…I want to know the truth.”

“….the truth about, what?”

“Why were we, the cookies, created? Why were we brought into this world? Why were we created so small and fragile? If only all cookies were born strong, unbreakable. If only then…I…”

“Shhh, calm down, alright? Take a break for now, eat up. You can tell me more when we’re back out on the road.”

“I-we?! What do you mean, ‘we?’ I’d get in your way with whatever it is you’re after.”

“I’m not after anything in particular, remember? I wanna traverse and see all of Earthbread, and from the sounds of what answers you’re after, it seems like we may be going down similar paths.”

“….Perhaps you’re right. Okay then, I’ll go with you, to find the answers I’m seeking. …Who are you, exactly…?”

“I’m Y/N Cookie!”

“I’m White Lily Cookie. I’m…thankful for you, Y/N Cookie. I never thought I’d have anyone to help me with this, I figured I’d just burden someone else with my struggles…”

“Don’t mention it, I’m perfectly fine with it! No one should really be alone for a long journey; especially for the one you want to take. I’m more than happy to go with you, White Lily Cookie.”

“Thank you, Y/N Cookie…I will never forget your kindness.”

[lockpickingliar]

We ran out of tags so I guess we gotta do this in the body of the post. Sorry.

Not sure who's at the helm right now muse-wise, but it's nice to see the acknowledgment. It's probably Cookie or Gemini or another who's experienced Chapter 4. Kichi? Moonpie? Joker? Maybe it's several of us in a lump. We do that sometimes.

But anyway. It's like...

Yeah, Gokuhara and Iruma were important to us.

Then imagine our turmoil when we figured out that Iruma was planning to kill us.

It makes sense. She could lie about whatever she wanted with the program without us around. Aside from the fact we were carrying the trials when it came to lies, we were the only one who knew anything remotely useful about the program because we helped he set things up and had an opportunity to snoop beforehand. Without us to contradict her, she could say whatever she wanted and she'd get away with it.

Everyone would die, so it had to be done.

But then imagine our NEW turmoil realizing we couldn't just get the job done ourselves.

If we wanted to avoid the program altogether, then everyone would think it suspicious of us. They all had a hate-boner for us for whatever reason, so any complaints from us would be regarded with suspicion at best and malice at worst.

If we tried to kill Iruma ourselves, we'd die because of the way she programmed our avatar. Iruma's not stupid, she knew who she was dealing with and wanted to room for us to be able to fight back at all.

So we had to get someone else to do it.

And the only person who left who listened to us at that point was Gokuhara.

Maybe we should have made our own post. An X on Y Essay or something, we don't know. Not a lot of people take kindly to the first person speech on analysis posts we've seen.

But we had to say it.

It hurt.

It hurt it hurt it hurt.

In one fell swoop we were forced to lose both of our only remaining companions. We would've been content with the 50/50 split and going down with the ship. That would have been fair, we think.

But that's not what happened.

Even then, nothing seems to go out way and we had to survive and reckon with what we'd done.

You all know the rest of the story. How much of a wreck we were after the trial. Our downward spiral after that. Our doubling down.

We were alone. And we always would be.

honestly everyone in v3 who survived up until chapter 5 is such a clown for believing kokichi was the mastermind