#stellar assault

[contac]

[the-woman-upstairs]

Challengers, but for middle-aged spies:

[furryprovocateur]

honestly we need a historian to document and analyze the fanfiction liberals made about joe biden to like, sell themselves on voting for him. "he's such a standup and virtuous guy unlike trump" ma'am he was credibly accused of sexual misconduct/assault by multiple women, actively fought against and impeded integration, and has said stellar things like "poor kids are just as smart as white ones". the man you are praising is not real, you imagined him to cope.

[spitblaze]

Mouthwashing spoilers below cut, played through it again today bc i accidentally nullified all of my achievements through the dev console. oops

Okay so the first time I played through it I was high and it was very late at night. Already a great start but it means I missed some shit my first time through and I'm already not exactly stellar at more abstract literary analysis. LUCKILY this site is full of people who are way better at that than I am (and im convincing my partners who are also way better at it than I am to play it soon too).

Luckily I'm better at lit analysis than whoever the weirdo on the Steam forum saying this game is bad because it 'doesn't punish Jimmy for his actions enough' as if this isnt a horror game primarily about his guilt-induced mental breakdown and if i have to see anyone else say that anya is a poorly written character im going to poorly write them out of existence because I'm inclined to believe that if you think that you either weren't fucking paying attention or have subscribed to the Joss Whedon school of feminist writing which is 'good writing of women is when they are girlboss'. like sorry shes too much of a depressed traumatized Fawn Response rape victim for your liking. jesus christ

Anyway the game being short DOES lend itself well to multiple playthroughs, which honestly is for the best because its really one of those stories that reveals a lot more on a second viewing. There's a Lot going on here but as far as I can tell, the biggest themes here are what it means to 'take responsibility' as well as autonomy and the loss thereof. The responsibility one is for sure the most obvious one, how many times in the game does it directly say 'take responsibility'? How many times does Curly say 'I'll fix this', how many times does Jimmy say he'll 'fix this'? And ultimately, how successful are either of them?

Curly's a good leader, sure, but how much does he just let slide for the sake of 'the big picture'? Daiske was a last minute addition. He's a good kid, but he didn't make a stink about it. Gotta think about the big picture. Anya has told him about what Jimmy did to her. Nothing. 'What would you do?' 'Anything.' But nothing. Absolutely nothing. I'm not gonna sit here and say that Curly is 100% every bit as evil as Jimmy, if someone is raped the blame falls squarely on the rapist- but it's completely on Curly for not taking action against Jimmy for the sake of the big picture. He really could've done anything. Fucking anything. It's not necessarily on Curly to foresee that Jimmy's stress response would be to end it and take everyone else with him. But it was on him to do something about a known violent assault and its perpetrator before anyone else got hurt. He's not a perpetrator, but he's an accessory. He may not have deserved the punishment he got. But he's nothing if not agonizingly aware of the consequences for not taking responsibility for the actions of his crew.

Jimmy, meanwhile, is obsessed with responsibility despite the fact that he's incapable of actually handling it, from the very start. It's not clear when exactly he assaulted Anya, but I assume it was after Curly broke the news to the crew. The moment even a shred of consequences emerge, the minute Anya tells him that she's pregnant, his first course of action is to deliberately sabotage the ship. Murder-suicide. He says he's sorry. That he made a mistake. As if there were not multiple, deliberate steps at which he could've stopped and realized what he was doing. After everything, he tells the crew it was Curly's fault so he could have more of that responsibility he desired so much. Not that anyone respects it except maybe Daisuke.

But he can't handle even the most basic of responsibilities there, either. A handful of menial tasks and he fucking snaps at the woman he hurt to begin with, even when she only ever acts the way she does around him to avoid further hurt. 'Take responsibility'. But he can't. Over and over he'll tell the vision of Curly he's made in his heads that he's sorry, that he'll fix things, that they'll all make it. And then he just keeps making things worse. And worse. And worse. Anya's going to hurt Curly, she's suspect and violent. Swanson won't let them into Utility. That's suspect, he's going to get out of here and leave everyone else behind. They both have to be stopped. Don't you trust me, Daisuke? Don't you trust your captain? That's why YOU have to go through the vent. He cannot fucking take responsibility, only goad others into doing things and handling things as underhandedly as possible. No wonder Curly laughs when he takes the gun. Anya spent all this time trying to keep it from him. And he got it anyway, because that'll all Jimmy knows how to do. Take and resent and hurt. His own twisted version of 'responsibility'.

It genuinely pisses me off how many people write off Anya as being 'badly written' or write her off altogether, especially considering the VERY OBVIOUS character she's based off of, being Wendy Torrance in The Shining (Yes I'm aware there's baggage around that particular character's strength of writing too, but I'm not about to go off on a rant about a movie ive only absorbed through cultural osmosis). Like...she's not a perfectly written character, no- her arc is less about her as a character and more about the things that have been done to her. Sexual assault used as a narrative device, nothing new there- it's at least less egregious in a horror story, where fear and trauma and terrible things happening to good people is kinda the whole thing. My big issue with Anya's writing is that we didn't get more of her- more exploration of how Jimmy's actions affected her, more exploration of how her and Curly are that much more alike after the crash- it's not a very long game to start, and given her character and the situation I don't necessarily disagree with her going out the way she did at the time she did. It just would've been nice if they'd utilized the nonlinear structure of the whole thing to explore her more, y'know?

Given Jimmy's PoV it makes sense that he's more fixated on the consequences of raping her than on the woman herself, but from the Doylist perspective, like...c'mon, give us SOMETHING more to work with. And like I said before, it pisses me off that people see a woman who doesn't immediately fall into the 'girlboss' role when shit hits the fan and then write it off, as if the premise of the story isn't about everyone's reaction to a hopeless situation spearheaded by a violent, manipulative, self-centered shithead. Swansea's the most capable person here outside of Jimmy and Anya, and I've yet to see anyone saying his character was weak because he spends most of his time drinking and raging instead of taking action. I'm mostly just upset that I don't have much more to say about her outside of her relationship to the rest of the crew. One could argue that most of what we are is defined by our relationships to others, and the nature of the game means that we don't really get a deep peek into anyone's psyche besides Curly and Jimmy.

I like how she invokes the metaphor of that dead pixel, the detail that sticks out like a sore thumb to her, always in the back of her mind, ever-present, that Curly can't see and never will because he's too busy looking at the big picture. I like how they establish the nature of Jimmy and Anya's relationship without being too direct, putting up that brave fawn act while he's there- she has to, the ship is only so big and they're so off course that rescue seems impossible- but she doesn't sleep in the same room as everyone else, she won't confide in Jimmy, and his mistreatment of her was what finally drove her over the edge. Jimmy's more concerned about what she might do to Curly that what she might do to herself, and he KNOWS that she's prone to mental breakdowns- often caused by himself, if not by Curly's state. The whole thing is tragic, but Anya's case is particularly saddening. Even after her death, she's paraded around like a puppet so that Jimmy can have his macabre little party. He doesn't care about her. He never did. And yet he's haunted by her, the 'sexual thoughts of cartoon horses' intermingling with his strange psychosexual hatred of the nurse just trying to do her job, haunted by the consequences of his actions because he's too much of a fucking coward to really, honestly and truly, take responsibility.

Swansea and Daisuke I have less to say about, ultimately. They feel a lot more straightforward in their narratives, at least from my perspective. Daisuke's a dumb kid with a shitty internship and he's so upbeat and positive that it genuinely pisses Swanson off, which means that he does ultimately care about the kid. A+ dynamic. Seems like a prick on an initial playthrough, but on the second run through I get it. He's old enough, he's seen enough, he knows exactly what Jimmy is and doesn't buy his responsible act for a second. He's not a captain. He's just some shithead who acts like he can handle it but flees in the most destructive way possible the second the consequences rear their head. He's a man that, even in the throes of substance abuse, does a better job of taking responsibility than Jimmy ever could, and arguably better than Curly ever did. Instead of just shrugging his shoulders at a last minute intern, he took him under his wing and started training him. When shit hits the fan, his instinct is to protect Daisuke- the one person who IS his responsibility. When he really, truly does not believe there is anything else that can be done, he puts him out of his misery. Maybe he was saving that cryo pod for him, too. It's hard to say, but the fact that he's the only one who stood up to Jimmy and saw him for what he was makes him that much more likable.

Daisuke...oh, Daisuke. He couldn't have known this was coming. He was doing his best, he just did what he could, he tried to be helpful and kind and be a good person. And for that, Jimmy used him and got him killed because he was too much of a goddamn coward to apologize to Anya, to see her as anything besides a nuisance at best. I get why Jimmy is so fixated on his death- as far as he's concerned, his first real failure, since Anya was such a non-issue that he didn't even have anything to say about her lifeless body. It wasn't just his inaction that got this kid killed, it was his actions. He had every opportunity to use even a single ounce of his brain and recognize that there are other people on the ship besides him and Anya, to recognize that these psych evals aren't just for the sake of the individual. And for that, Daisuke died. Way to go, hero.

The autonomy shit...god. Psychological trauma can be just as incapacitating as physical harm, can't it? Anya completely changing her demeanor after being assaulted, her body no longer just her own. I want to see the horror of that from her perspective, the invasion and the terror and revulsion of having something like that growing inside you. How sickening it must feel, how just the knowledge of its existence makes living that much worse. How the man who did it is still nothing but despotic. Curly, finally seeing Jimmy for who he truly is firsthand. It's all well and good to believe in someone, to trust them and want to help them overcome their struggles. But being choked and beaten and abused by them, day after day after day, because you had the audacity to sit a little higher on the totem pole than they did, because you had what they wanted, because they couldn't stand seeing someone better off then they were.

It's kind of mind-boggling, honestly. I've...kinda been there, with people who I know are still there, they're fully in there and aware and the same person they've always been, but their means to communicate with the outside world is cut off. I was fortunate enough to have been listening to a lot of disability activists around the time my aunt started losing her speech. It seemed a lot of times that the only people who really recognized that she was still there were me and my uncle. Even my mom, her older sister, inseparable for life, started treating her like she was suddenly a different person, not capable of really understanding her or wanting or doing things for herself.

So, like- not trying to be selfish or anything, just doing the autistic 'oh i can relate to this' bit, particularly about Jimmy projecting all of this shit onto the captain when he barely has the capacity to laugh or cry, let alone speak. His savior. His best friend. His bitter enemy. Beating him relentlessly while giving him his medicine for having the audacity to be an inconvenience. Let's eat some cake. I want to go home. Curly is just a man, and Jimmy regards him as helpless, antagonistic, and a god all at once. He'll thank me for this one day.

So uh. Many thoughts, head full. After the end of the bizarro sequence with Curly heading to the cockpit, the door is very small. A black pixel, the one stuck in the back of Anya's mind. A graveyard full of mausoleums, every one of them with the same epitaph as the bizarro one for Daigo in ch 14, and the one you can enter with his face on it. Not a single one for Anya. The Polle at the end having the same blue text as Anya, haunting the narrative just as much as Curly, just less overt. I'll fix this. I'll take responsibility. God. God jesus fuck damn hell christ son of a bitch. Fuck capitalism for putting their employees on such tight strings and skeleton crews that a collective pink slip can send people into this kind of spiral (or rather can give Jimmy a good reason to convince everyone else that all of them are completely fucked except for the captain and Daisukle) and fuck Jimmy. Fuck him. My one other complaint besides the feminist critique above is that theres some sequences that go on a bit longer than they really should (ch. 14 getting the mouthwash, most of the vent segments).

Fuck you, Jimmy.

I hope that gunshot hurt.

[roo-bastmoon]

IN-DEPTH ANALYSIS OF THE CULT'S DYNAMICS

Disclaimers: Sensitive topics are discussed below the cut; please do not incite drama, speak hate, or engage in bullying. I am not a mental health professional; I make no claims of expertise (in anything). This is a collection of my thoughts about what is currently happening on the Taekook side of ARMY, in the hopes that it may help us as a community respond more effectively to the toxic parts of our fandom. If you click below this cut, you are assuming responsibility for your own behavior and agreeing to engage with my blog respectfully, or you will be blocked.

THE NARRATIVES AT WORK

I submit that shipping Taekook is both an evolving conspiracy theory and a living cult.

There are various narratives within this subgroup, but in general, to ship Taekook, one must believe Kim Taehyung and Jeon Jungkook are in a closeted gay romantic relationship.

One also likely believes that their company (both BigHit and Hybe) and everyone around them have always actively hid their gay relationship.

Initially, Taekook (the “real” gay couple) was being hidden by Jikook (the “fake” gay couple) because Jikook was somehow more popular in Korea and therefore considered to be more profitable.

And this was the main narrative for years. It got Jimin dragged and hated online and in real life, to the point there was even a credible shooting threat at a concert.

Now, the narrative is being modified in light of the video footage revealed this week involving Taehyung and Jennie.

If Taekookers accept at all that Jennie and Tae were indeed photographed holding hands in Paris this week, then they likely believe both their companies are using this as a PR Relationship stunt to hide their real gay relationships before military service and comeback projects.

This belief includes:

1) assuming Taehyung and Jennie are not being honest;

2) believing Taehyung and Jungkook have no agency or power within their own companies; and,

3) all of their members and managers are also in on this nefarious plot.

Whether they believe Taennie is just cosplayers in an orchestrated smear campaign, or two actual idols in a PR Relationship, regardless, a large segment of this subgroup still believe that Jimin is the company favorite who gets special treatment.

Therefore, things that should be Taekook’s (such as songs and subunits and couple-like interactions) are instead given to the company’s king of fan service, to the point where Jimin “assaults” Jungkook with “unwanted” attention and physical contact.

THE LOGICAL FALLACIES

As amazingly popular as our Korean It Boy is, I have serious doubts about Jimin being the “company favorite” ever since Hybe took over two years ago.

As the “company favorite,” I’d love it if he got more lines in group songs, or was allowed to film as many music videos as he wanted, or could be given more than 10 days of promotion time for a project he spent a year working on. It would be stellar if the “company favorite” had in-ears that worked correctly during live broadcasts, or was invited onto IU’s show, or could host streaming parties or sell exclusive merch. To say nothing of the “company favorite” getting far more reality show appearances and magazine interviews and a Disney documentary with behind the scenes footage! Heck, I’d settle for his songs not being split on Spotify, his views not being culled on YouTube, and maybe just one congratulatory statement to the press or even just a CAKE celebrating his historic Hot 100 #1.

At least Jimin was “allowed” to include a hidden track with Jungkook (that wasn’t advertised or available to stream, so not fan service) and he was allowed to queer code his Like Crazy music video. So I believe he has some agency and say over his projects. I’m not sure he’s entirely understood or appreciated by his company—frankly, I think his potential was underestimated—but I don’t claim he’s a victim. Victim narratives play into cult dynamics.

But I digressed. I was talking about logical fallacies.

Let’s entertain the idea that for more YEARS, Jungkook and Taehyung have been horribly abused by their management and forced to hide their relationship.

They never thought to address this issue when they were renewing their contracts?

Also, what’s up with all the footage during RUN episodes when they are standing together, or on the same team, or hugging and cuddling, or leaning their heads on each other’s shoulders and legs?

Why were they allowed to flirt and dance and do skinship on stage—and all that stuff even made it into official footage?

Now let’s entertain the idea that Taennie is a PR Relationship.

So… two rival companies, just coming out of a bitter failed deal around a music industry monopoly, are now working together to make people believe Jennie and Tae are dating?

Even though idols LOSE popularity and company stocks take a DIVE when couples are revealed?

So Taennie is the strategy to promote solo albums and upcoming projects?? And both companies’ PR teams say “We can’t confirm it as it is their personal lives.” So no PR statement is the PR strategy??

We know it’s bullshit. It makes about as much sense as Hillary Clinton running a child sex trafficking ring out of the basement of a pizza parlor that doesn't have a basement.

But many in the cult believe it’s Absolute Truth.

The question is why?

The answer is in the dynamics at play here.

CULT DYNAMICS

It starts with a MISINFORMATION CAMPAIGN.

Baby ARMY get curious about BTS, hop on YouTube or TikTok, and are bombarded by the algorithm that claims Taekook is real.

Unless they go searching for original content (which takes up dozens and dozens of hours to sift through and much of which sits behind a paywall), they will not have much to contradict these claims.

Most older ARMY are understandably so sick and tired of the ship discourse that they don’t go into Taekook spaces and duke it out in the comments. Plus, content creators know that Taekook content gets hits and likes, which translates into passive income, so they keep making it.

See this video where a cult leader shows you she made over $109,000 in a year just from her Taekook edits:

So in the din of all this nonsense and noise, it’s up to Baby ARMY to seek out other voices, other input, to form an opinion. They have to be proactive. And sadly, a large segment of the population lacks critical thinking skills and do not WANT to seek facts.

We live in a very busy, post-fact world, where “credible messengers” (i.e., someone you know and trust) tell you their opinions. Then you try those opinions on for size, and they eventually become your opinions. It’s faster, it’s easier, and…

It lets you be part of the IN-GROUP. Next thing you know, you're part of a group chat with 400 indoctrinated members, spitting conspiracies like gospel truths.

In today’s globalized, fast-paced, hyper digital world, most people cannot tell you the names of their neighbors or local butcher or even their state’s politicians, let alone what all they stand for. But they can tell you how the Kardashians feel about organic salad in a plastic bowl, or what Trump believes about election results.

There’s a lack of real-world relationships that tether people to a shared reality.

And yet, there is a human need for Tribe.

A cult uses that instinct for TRIBE by constantly re-enforcing the notion that People Out There don’t understand, aren’t very nice, will even persecute you for knowing the truth.

But People In Here, the IN-GROUP, they appreciate you, they are reasonable and open-minded, they will be there for you when everyone else turns their backs on you and puts you down.

All you have to do to belong to the IN-GROUP is subscribe to these CONSPIRACY THEORIES.

First, you should think about becoming Anti-Establishment.

You cannot trust the Authority (company, government, scientists, whatever). The Authority is corrupt and will lie to you because it wants something from you (money, votes, microchips in the vaccines, whatever).

Do not trust what your eyes show you and what your ears hear. Believe your in-group. Be loyal to your found family. Your found family is SPECIAL.

Second, you need to begin to wake up to the Signs and Wonders.

Once you’re willing to see the truth, suddenly there are all these hints. All these little “Q-drops” of information. Like Taekook touching face moles during a song. Or seeing slowed-down, edited videos of facial expressions that look like evidence of jealousy. Or maybe hidden meanings behind tattoos of tigers and green mics. Or making a secret handshake or symbol with their fingers. These Signs and Wonders are FOR YOU.

*Now, I’m inclined to give Taekookers a bit of a break on queer couple coding because, culturally speaking, similar clothing and jewelry are couple-coded in Korea. And there are just as many if not MORE theories about Jikook using similar black and white clothing, matching jewelry, related tattoos, using special numbers in songs and timestamps, and even changing up lyrics as secret messages.

The issue here is that Jikook ACTUALLY DOES SOME OF THOSE THINGS. They actually deliberately type out specific numbers on some of their social media messages. They actually have dressed in the exact same outfits or worn each other’s clothes. They actually have changed up lyrics and sung them to each other.

Even so, any reasonable Jikooker will say “all of this is suspicious as hell, but not proof.” Like when Jungkook says his J tattoo stands for Jungkook—the placement over the M is suspicious, yes—but all sane Jikookers accept that Jungkook has spoken about that tattoo and he did not say it was for Jimin. We don't sit around calling Jungkook a liar just because we preferred our theory.

Taekookers, however, want what Jikook have so badly, even as they scorn it for merely being fan service.

Half the time the hints they claim are completely made up.

They see sandal footprints in the sand, and their leaders say it’s proof that Jungkook went on a secret beach date with Taehyung. Even though Taehyung went out with a friend and his parents that night.

Taekookers will see a photo of shoes all neatly lined up and say it’s a secret ski date with Hobi. Even though Jimin owns the exact same pair of shoes and there were no photos or accounts of them ever being at a ski lodge the day after Jin went into service.

Taekookers will swear they hear Jungkook’s voice off camera during Taehyung’s vlog and insist he was hiding in the trunk of the car during the drive to film. As if JK would hide in the trunk for hours instead of just… go in a different car that didn't have a camera??

All of these Signs and Wonders require a huge leap to arrive at the conclusion that Taekook is a romantic couple.

Meanwhile, evidence of Jikook spending birthdays together and couple holidays together and going on trips alone together and having integrated families and inner circles (stylists, tattoo artist, boxing coach) are ALL fan service. Every single person is in on the conspiracy.

Yes, even when JK’s mom screams “I love you!” to Jimin and makes her son eat seaweed soup on Jimin’s birthday, (JK was clearly FORCED to make up that story) it has to be fan service.

And when Jimin’s dad posts a photo of JK’s old dog on JK’s birthday (a birthday where Jimin visited him in the middle of working on his album, but Taehyung did not even though he wasn't working on anything), it's fan service. And when Mr. Park hosts a give-away event at his café where JK’s music is playing and cap and photo are proudly displayed next to JImin? Absolute fan service; he’s a money-hungry, attention-hungry cad, don’t you know? Even the charity he and his son do are fan service!

But JK went bowling with Wooga, so, Taekook are married. (Legally married. Not in Korea. But you know. They ARE married. Coming up on their third anniversary already!)

It’s all there, if you’re just willing to see the Signs and Wonders. And believe your cult leaders when there's nothing to see or wonder about at all.

Third and perhaps most important, is the Star-Crossed Lovers angle. The VICTIM CARD.

You see, it’s not bad enough that openly gay couples face pure hell in conservative countries anyway—losing their jobs, their families, sometimes their will to live because the stigma can be so bad. But on top of all that, for years and years, Taekook have been forced apart.

They’ve been just tortured by Jimin’s attention-whoring greedy nature, and made to endure fabricated fan service skinship!

(When Tae and JK look happy to be around Jimin, it’s just because they are professionals and such good actors!). Darn that Park Jimin, the abuser and sexual predator!!

And after so long being forced to hide, now in solo era, poor abused victimized Taekook can be loud. So loud. So very loud and wild and free!!

After all, during the Vegas concert, Jungkook sat on Taehyung’s lap!! He's NEVER sat on any other BTS members' lap (except for all of them).

And when Jungkook came online and said “Keep being jealous, I’ll keep holding Jiminie!” and that Jimin was HIS! Then fans kept asking him about Taehyung, so he also said Taehyung was his. It was totally his own organic idea (except for how it wasn't).

When fans kept pestering Jungkook during his camping VLive about Taehyung, he said he was forced to admit that Taehyung was attractive, he’d never seen a man so attractive! (FORCED to admit it! So romantic!)

Meanwhile, as all this shakes down, there’s this scandal in the press that Jimin didn’t pay his insurance premiums because his mail was omitted by the company. News of this dropped EXACTLY the moment his first OST With You came out, and he went totally quiet.

And then, Jungkook also went quiet for a while too. He deleted all his previous Insta photos that were personal and changed the layout to be totally professional. He went to the White House. He did a collab. He partied for JitB. He went on a Meat Tour of Korea. He did a concert with his members. He headlined World Cup. But mostly he was getting quieter and quieter.

Eventually Jungkook deleted the app entirely. Sometimes he stayed in his home for six days at a time. He stopped working out or going into Hybe; he started drinking whiskey. And nowadays he doesn’t even want to look at the comments on lives. Not because he was sick of the Taekookers or anything, but because “the company is forcing them to hide!”

Of course.

And all throughout 2022, Taehyung and Jungkook are paired up for things, and Tae's talking about a fortune teller saying he and Jungkook were “fire and water.” And rather than be taken as cute moments between friends, these are just VERY LOUD SIGNS AND WONDERS.

Then there are leaks online of all these photos that involved Tae and Jennie.

And thus begins tons of lives where he mentions Jungkook.

I'm not saying Kim Taehyung had an agenda to throw fans off the scent of his actual relationship, but I'm also not NOT saying that.

Whatever his motivations, the cult interpreted this as a direct message for Taekookers to keep the faith!

And indeed, Taekook do hang out—sometimes openly. (Sometimes where there’s press that make them hold up signs while cameras are going off—but that’s not for work, that’s a date, because the security team there wasn’t Hybe’s, and it was a friend’s premiere.) Sometimes quietly, where they share photos of hanging out afterwards.

But it cannot be just two friends hanging out. It’s Signs and Wonders!! SO LOUD!! SO FREE!!

So many reveals—mostly coming from Taehyung, but Jungkook doesn’t often deny them. And it’s mostly Taehyung stroking Jungkook’s hair or laying his head on Jungkook’s thigh or whatever—but Jungkook doesn’t stop him. And Jimin seems totally unbothered by all of it, which is strange because it sort of debunks years of his efforts at fan service.

Yet, clearly THIS cannot be fan service or misdirection.

It can’t just be friends playing games, or a TikTok made for work. It can’t be recording someone without their informed consent for attention. It can’t be going to a concert with other members and sitting in separate rows as friends. Or going to a musical or movie to support friends. Unlike all the things Jungkook has done with Jimin, this has to be Real Love!!

So just to recap:

When the cult had no evidence of Taekook hanging out, they were a private couple.

When the cult had ever-increasing evidence of Taekook hanging out, they were being loud.

When the cult had evidence that Jikook hang out outside of work, that was just fan service.

When the cult had no evidence that Jikook hang out outside of work, that was just fan service getting exposed.

When the cult has evidence that Taehyung has a girlfriend, that’s a punishment.

MARTYRDOM

You see, Jungkook and Taehyung would go on WeLives without permission, remember? And Taehyung set up a dual live chat on Insta and JK didn't seem that into it but he was persuaded. Then they giggled and couldn’t find much to talk about for ten minutes. And Taehyung said he would take full responsibility for it.

And the cult now believes that “taking responsibility” means pretending to be in a heterosexual relationship. Even their insider sasaeng accounts predicted it!

Never mind how mad all of this seems. And it would be one thing if just one or two ideas were far-fetched, like looking at a pair of shoes and making assumptions. But all of it is far-fetched.

Facts do not matter. Because you cannot trust the Authority. You can only trust the In-Group.  

And the In-Group sees Signs and Wonders. So the In-Group knows the Real Truth.

The In-Group DECIDES TOGETHER what is real.

They can make entirely fake edits; cosplay; post false witness statements; harass models, coworkers, brands, businesses… they can hire trucks to circle the building with loud speakers, protesting and shouting their truth!!

And anyone who doesn’t believe the Real Truth is a Fake Taekooker.

No disbelievers allowed. Get out of the tribe. Only the faithful can stay in the Tribe.

Right now, you might be asking yourself: Why would you stay in a tribe like this??

Because the dynamic is ever-evolving, which is titillating, and participants get a sense of power, because they are able to help craft the narratives—by being so smart as to see the truth where others are blind sheep—so they can bond over how unique they are.

Plus… TAEKOOK NEEDS THEM.

The boys absolutely depend on their support. You see, Taekookers are the real HEROES here.

They understand the boys like normal people never could. If you know you know, and they are steadfast against any and all lies presented as evidence. They are loyal.

The whole world is against their baby bear and baby bunny!! They are the boys Only Defense. Just take a look at this video of their rallying cry:

If you've got martyrs, you've also got... CRUSADERS.

Yikes, right?

So, here are millions of fans who were lied to, misled, misinformed… They developed relationships over time with people who also believe this misinformation… They get a sense of power in crafting their own reality, in which the objects of their affection are victims and they are the heroes… And the only way to prove themselves worthy of the group is to stalwartly ignore anything that contradicts these narratives.

This is a literal, textbook cult.

Cults use deception, isolation, peer pressure, group-think, and suppression of critical thought. To varying degrees, all Taekook spaces do this too. (And yes, other ships and solos and mantis ALSO rely on these tactics. But I've never seen anything quite so open or pervasive in ARMY like the Taekook cult tactics.)

I feel I should make one thing should be made clear: a LOT of people sincerely believe in Taekook.

But there are also a lot of Taekook content creators who sincerely believe in the money they make off people believing in Taekook.

Like all cults, at the end of the day, it's a scam.

Now there’s evidence of a real relationship, and of course anyone who has invested time and money in Taekook is going to be pushing back—hard.

So how do we navigate this chaos?

Well, most cults end in one of two ways: an FBI raid, or everyone drinks the Kool-Aid and dies.

But more often than not, cults don’t really end so much as fizzle out over years.

Plenty of cults are still alive and well despite amble debunking (Scientology, Q-Anon, Illuminati, flat-Earthers, Larries—what they believe doesn’t really matter; it’s how they believe that makes them a cult.)

 Cults are a bit like hydras—you cut off one head, three stronger ones pop back up.

They won't stop. They have to BE STOPPED.

HOW TO DEPROGRAM A CULT

Well, back in the 70s, in the early days of deprogramming, the only thing that was effective was to separate the individual from access to the cult (by kidnapping if you had to), then bombard them non-stop with facts (using imprisonment or restraints if you had to) and eventually they are coerced into re-integration. But none of that is humane or legal by today’s standards.

It also leads to relapses.

Really the only way to deprogram cult conditioning is for a mental health professional to slowly and methodically discredit the cult leader(s) and gently present contradictions.

(How can Jungkook really be in a relationship with Taehyung if he’s always mentioning Jimin? How can Jimin be hurting Taehyung and yet they are on FaceTime for hours, trading fan art and watching tv shows? Why would the two most rich and famous pop stars in the world need a publicity stunt?)

And even then, the cult member has to be sort of able to question things for themselves, and it just helps to have other supportive people echoing their own questioning sentiments back to them.

It can take YEARS until a cult member reaches the breaking point and begins to listen to Out-Group ideas. (On average, five years, to be exact.)

And then they may begin a journey of self-expression, where they openly voice doubts or complaints against cult narratives. They may even engage in transference, jumping off the Taekook ship and onto another (the need for tribe is very real). This is an extremely vulnerable stage and should not be taken advantage of.

At this critical moment when someone is tittering on the fence, trying to figure out what reality is, you need to REWARD THE BEHAVIOR YOU WANT.

You want them to question. You want them to express their grief and doubts. You want them to look for real sources of information.

This is NOT the time to kick someone when they are down, or look for “gotcha” moments to shame them publicly.

If you see a Taekooker wondering if they’ve been lied to this whole time—they HAVE. And that is abuse. And abuse victims need to be handled with care.

I know that Taekookers have dragged Jimin to hell and back for years so I’m not about to preach love and acceptance.

But it’s also fair to say that Taekookers have been gas-lit and realizing that can be traumatic.

Wounded animals are dangerous. A traumatized human lashes out. And you know who the prime target always is. They are already starting to take it to Jimin directly.

I strongly recommend you take a very cautious approach if you engage with them right now. Especially if you’re thinking about arguing with them.

People who defend Jimin or Jikook end up doxxed, suspended, harassed--and someday, I fear a wounded cult member will get physically violent.

Be especially careful because plenty of big accounts are closeted Taekookers. Here's a thread exposing some "mystery cult" members:

THE MOST EFFECTIVE RESPONSE

I normally don’t try to police people or preach too much, but I’m going to give you some unsolicited advice if you managed to read all this:

Don’t go into Taekook tags or spaces. Don’t debate them. Don’t talk trash about them or the members. Don’t slam-dunk or spike the ball with snarky words or memes. Don’t give them a taste of their own medicine. Don’t be cruel.

First of all, don’t do any of that because Jimin and Jungkook would be mortified by it.

But second of all, don’t do it because it just makes them dig in harder; it adds weeks or months to the deprogramming timeline.

The goal is to get the cult out of ARMY fandom. Because they thrive on a victim/hero complex, attacking them reinforces cult dynamics.

I believe there is a better approach.

First, you can and should go Gray Rock whenever possible.

Starve them of oxygen. Don’t acknowledge them. If you do, be generic in your responses—boringly bland, detachedly polite. Ignore them completely; their hot takes do not matter.

Block and report if warranted, but never engage. On some level, they really want to be persecuted for their beliefs. It's why they keep coming into Jikook spaces looking for a fight.

But their beliefs are so ridiculous that they aren’t worth our time. Instead, direct your focus on what you want, which is to promote and celebrate Bangtan.

Second, you can provide what’s called a Graceful Exit.

It doesn’t always work if they know that’s what you’re doing, but it is perhaps the most effective technique, especially if they are already questioning the cult narrative.

You see, a shamed human being gets defensive, doubles down, won’t listen. But a human being offered a Graceful Exit Out of a Bad Place gets to reinvent themselves in a way that allows them some dignity while they change direction.

A Graceful Exit has a few components to it:

“Hello, Taekooker. I also saw a lot of misleading content when I was a baby ARMY. The algorithm feeds you Taekook content almost immediately. Then you make online friends, and they all believe in Taekook. Suddenly everyone is telling you really complicated theories about how Taekook is being hidden. Once you believe that, you have to also believe that Taekook are lying by omission, that Jimin and the members are also lying, that the company executives and translators and managers and staff are all lying, that Korean ARMY is lying, that fellow I-ARMY is lying… and that’s a lot of people spreading a lie for no real gain. Now that you have some evidence that Tae is happily in a relationship with someone else, it’s only natural to question your beliefs, because YES, Taehyung and Jungkook absolutely love each other. But are they IN love? NO. For my part, I trust Taehyung. I love and support Taehyung. I don’t spread the idea that he or Jungkook engage in fake relationships. If you support them, then you’ll accept what they are showing you. When you’re ready to stop shipping Taekook, ARMY will be ready to welcome you back. We can stream together and vote together and help our boys achieve their dreams. We can watch their content and go to concerts together and enjoy fan-works. But what we can’t do is make up really complex stories around BTS’ reality. Our place as fans is to appreciate their music, and let them live their own lives in their own way. It’s time to let go of old ideas, and embrace the new things they share with us.”

This tactic allows the cult member to feel sympathy for being human. It provides understanding that they’ve been deceived. It appeals to their higher nature and love for the objects of their affection. And reassures them they could have a place in a bigger tribe if they let go of the in-group.

It invites them in, instead of calls them out.

Now, you guys might not be willing to do that. Especially considering the hate trains and rape jokes and death threats they gave Jimin for years. Believe me, I get it. I GET IT.

So if you see someone spewing vitriol, now is not the time to call them in. Now is the time to block and report.

However, if I take out my anger on them, it’s serving my own feelings.

And I’m here to serve Jimin, Jungkook, and BTS, not my own need to be right.

So I believe the best way to do that is to Gray Rock the Die-hards and provide a Graceful Exit for the Questioners.  

Many cult members are not going to believe in Taennie unless Kim Taehyung makes an announcement directly--and even then, he’ll have to do it in such an emphatic way that they buy what he sells.

So we should accept that the cult is going to be around for a long, long time. Conserve your energy, my dears.

But for the ones who just got fooled but don't intend any harm, we can either hope they let go of their own volition, or we can try to make room for them as part of true ARMY.

What we shouldn’t do is get down in the mud and start slinging. Everyone loses ground that way.

THIS WAS THE LONGEST EVER POST; I AM SORRY!

But these have been my thoughts over the last few days. I’m okay if you want to comment, but I would like to ask that you DO NOT reblog to tag Taekook and that you don’t weaponize this post by spreading it around specifically where it could cause drama.

Drama is the exact opposite of my intention.

My desire is to provide some better understanding around how cults work and how to disband them.

In conclusion: Keep it classy. Ignore assholes. Be gentle with people recovering from gas-lighting. Stay true to the principles of BTS and ARMY. Apobangpo.

Love, Roo

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

I really can't stop myself so here it goes. If you liked this episode, just don't read it. So those scenes... Since we watch Ohm get arrested until we see Ter do that, there were less than ten minutes between them. And the different ways these situations were handled is problematic, to put it mildly.

I wrote in the tags of this @lurkingshan post that I think that the reason this was done this way was because we have a redemption for Ter coming. And I was also talking with @colourme-feral about it, and like she said, maybe he will do some self reflection, come out, go on an apology tour and maybe get a boyfriend by the end. (Please do not drag Kao into this or I will lose it for real). For me that's the only rational explanation as to why these scenes were handled in such a different way.

But that certainly does not justify it. And the thing is, even if the writing wasn't always stellar, this show has been trying to say some important things. The proposal that followed the marriage equality news, the HPV psa's, all the conversations around sex, having an ace character for crying out loud, and so on. And how did they get this one so wrong.

The first scene was fine. Ohm did something really wrong (and criminal) and faced the consequences. I don't believe we will ever see him again. And then not 10 minutes later Ter does the same thing, ,and yes, it was the same thing, and we're suppose to think it's funny? We're suppose to react to this like it's an opportunity for growth for Dee or for the relationship with Yak?Or even better, a point of comparison between red or green flags? (Which, by the way, that is not the bar people. I am all for red flag and green flag discourse and banter but seriously not assaulting someone is not where we want that line to be).

It's not cute and it pisses me off because this is important. Because if you're gonna include SA or even anything close to that, you at least should keep it consistent. Either it is a big deal or it isn't. I might hate how it's handled either way but choose a side. There's already such a stigma in how we treat SA differently when it comes to gay men, and to have such a clear representation of that in the space of ten minutes was honestly outrageous. Not to mention that, just like @twig-tea wrote here, using these sa plots as a way to push romance forward is unfeeling and for me it taints anything that comes after. As gorgeous or cute as these two may be, it just doesn't land well for me at all.

All this to say, I am disappointed with this show. I will continue watching, mostly for the side couple, and Kao honestly, and because there are still nice moments in there somewhere.

[bucketsofmonsters]

Where the Light Enters - Part 1

cw: unreliable narrator, hurt/comfort, slow burn, eventual sex, enemies to lovers, past childhood sexual assault, past sex trafficking, referenced noncon, offscreen dubcon, happy ending, the tags look scary but this is mainly a story about recovery

Cole/Female Inquisitor

word count: 4k

ao3 link

Masterlist

She’d chosen the templars.

It seemed the better option. Or at least the less vulnerable one. 

Frankly, she'd barely understood what a templar was a few weeks ago. The mages seemed upset about them, but surely there were more important things than that in a war. Besides, she'd rather hide herself behind a trained militant force than these rogue witches. 

She still didn’t really understand them if she was being honest. She knew enough to see that people were afraid. No matter how evil the templars may be, at least they were stable. Maybe that was enough. 

She had hoped, assumed even, that Cullen would be doing this part. That she’d point at the templars on the map and he’d set off with his less than stellar army to collect them. That the man who’d been advocating to bring his old comrades into the fold would do the legwork and return with the mage killers and she’d be just that much safer. 

But no. She’d pointed at the map and then been sent off. They hadn’t even given her time to complain. 

Not that she would’ve. It would have ruined her perfectly crafted image of the sweet doe-eyed girl that ensured they wouldn’t throw her to the wolves. The one that changed her from a tool to a manipulable, scared girl. 

She was fine with being manipulated. So long as they thought she was weak-willed, there was no reason to hurt her. She just had to ensure that whatever was best for her was the path of least resistance for them. 

Besides, it wasn’t like she wasn’t returning the favor. The little notebook buried deep under her floorboards ran through the easiest way to get to all of them. Not to endear her to them, just to make her safe. She’d foster pity, camaraderie, desire, whatever would keep her in their good graces for the longest. 

She was always harmless. That was the one thing she had to be. Harmless above all else. Any sign of competency turned to threat under anything but the softest light. 

And yet they’d sent her fragile, bumbling self off to the templars to secure themselves some allies. Josephine had insisted she wouldn’t have to do anything, that she just had to show up while the actual soldiers being sent alongside her would do the heavy lifting. 

Iron Bull had promised much the same, posturing as he normally did. She almost always took him with her these days. He was a beast of a man who threw his weight around like it was nothing, more than happy to take blows for her. And even more importantly, he was growing incredibly fond of her, the kind of ally she needed. 

Their actual leader, the one who made the real decisions, was Cassandra. Cassandra was disinterested in coddling her, more focused on gathering troops than on the strange girl who’d inexplicably been shoved towards leadership because of an ability she’d been given by some higher power. 

Solas, the mage she’d been forced to take with her, was too busy huffing and puffing about prioritizing templars over mages. She thought about snapping at the elf, at insisting that maybe the mages should have been an organized militaristic force if they wanted to be prioritized in this fight. 

Instead, she rolled over like she always did, playing afraid until he stormed off, clearly uncomfortable with the tremor in her voice as she swore she was just trying to get the strongest possible troops so no one else would get hurt. 

Good. Let him be uncomfortable. She had never liked him much anyways. 

But even so, when they arrived at the templar camp she kept herself wedged firmly between Solas and Iron Bull, as far away from the leader of the templars, the Lord Seeker she was pretty sure he was called, as she could. 

She still didn’t fully understand who he was, couldn’t make sense of what he was doing here or why she was meant to care about him. In her defense, she hadn’t expected to be forced to come along. 

Despite her disinterest in him, despite her safe position, despite the way Bull attempted to lead the conflict, when something snapped in the Lord Seeker and he lunged forwards, he lunged at her. 

The world lurched under her feet and it felt like it had the last time, when she'd been pulled through the fade to this awful place and given the strange power that stuck her heading an army. It made her reel in her skin, her muscles and sinews feeling like they were being tugged along faster than she could keep up with, her mind stretching impossibly thin as it did.

And then she was alone. Her warriors and mages were gone, no Bull or Cassandra or Solas to keep her safe. 

Then this Lord Seeker appeared once more, and she suspected that even if she had listened when they’d told her all about the templars and their plight, she would have no better of an idea who this Lord Seeker was. 

This idea was only reinforced when the Lord Seeker began to morph, turning into eerie, hollow puppets of her now absent companions, cycling through her advisors as well. 

She allowed herself the freedom to not perform innocence for these poor mockeries of her cohorts. It seemed probable that this ‘Lord Seeker’ was a demon and as such, unlikely to respond to her usual fawning. 

So instead she got on with things, turning away from the creature that had just decided to morph itself into the face that she tried to avoid seeing in the mirror, and began moving forwards in this strange new space. 

The exploration was slow, the terrain littered with traps. The demon seemed frustrated with her persistent refusal to listen to it menace her. 

The rooms revealed little. Some had puppetted versions of the members of the Inquisition, acting out some situation or another. She decided not to devote her attention to it. It seemed to be intended to display what might happen should she die here and to be frank, she couldn’t care less. She would be dead after all. If Cullen ended up in a jail cell after she died, so be it. It would serve him right for forcing her to come here anyway. 

She explored another room, empty and strange, not sure what she was looking for. It wasn’t like she could just find a way out, she knew she was somewhere incorporeal and beyond things like exit doors. Maybe it was the fade, maybe she was in her own mind, maybe it was this demon’s territory. She didn’t much care, unless figuring it out led her to an exit any faster. 

And then, as she drowned herself in hopelessness and melancholy, a voice sounded from behind her. 

“You.”

The voice didn’t sound harsh nor antagonistic, a far cry from what she’d heard from the demon’s many faces. It was soft, almost curious in its tone. 

She turned around with wide eyes, forcing her face back into the soft façade she’d been free of whilst only under the scrutiny of the demon. 

“Thank god I found someone,” she gasped out, hoping she wasn’t laying it on too thick. “I thought I was all alone in here.”

A young man stood before her. She tried to take him in but it was difficult to due to the frankly absurd hat he was wearing. It covered most of his face, obscuring him from her, the shaggy ends of blonde hair and a stern looking mouth barely peeking out from under it. 

He also, fairly notably, was hanging from the ceiling, which did not help with the matter of the oversized brim of his well-worn hat blocking her view. 

He spoke once more, in that same gentle, inquisitive tone. It was off putting in a way it shouldn’t have been, its softness not quite managing to shield it from that. “It's not the same. Soft words, hard thoughts. You hate me. People do that but you think I’m human and you hate me anyway. Besides it, because of it. It’s hard to see, hard to understand, covered more and more, shying away from the light. The light brings eyes and the eyes bring hurt.”

“Are you inside my head?” Her tone was laced with a spite she rarely allowed to see the light of day.

He looked around. “We’re both inside your head. You’ve guessed that already.”

She shook her head. “Not here, not this place. You, what you’re saying, those are my thoughts. You’re stealing them from me.”

“Not stealing. Just seeing. Hearing.” He paused for a moment, and then said with a decisiveness she’d yet to hear from him. “You’re a bad person.”

“What are you doing in here?” she asked, brushing right past his statements, desperately searching for a way out of this. As much as she hated it, this weird creature that she’d found lingering in her mind was probably her best chance of escape. At least he didn’t seem intent on killing her.

“I grabbed onto you, when you were pulled through the fade. I wanted to go help, but getting out is hard. You made it easy but part of me is stuck up here now. You could help. If you go back I can follow you then too.”

Great, so she’d picked up some sort of mind-reading monster in the fade. She was tempted for a second to take her chances with the demon but she wasn’t stupid. She couldn’t get out on her own, and he clearly knew something. 

“What are you?” she asked, at least wanting to know what she was dealing with before she threw her life into his hands. 

“I’m Cole. What are you?”

That earned a ghost of a laugh from her, the short huff of air barely noticeable. Not that it mattered, Cole could probably feel it as she did. “I’m Rosemary.”

“You’re wrong,” he said, suddenly behind her, standing on the same floor she was on.

“About what? My name?”

“Wandering, alone, unnamed, searching for something soft on the tongue. Rosemary made people see the ghost, not the person. Rosemary earned gentle hands. What are you?” 

This was spiraling out of control faster than she could figure out how to manage it. “Can we focus on getting out of here?” she asked. “Can’t you interrogate me when there’s no imminent threat on our lives?”

Then he breathed a word out like he couldn’t decide if it was a prayer or a curse, like it was a horrible truth that had just occurred to him. “Britches.”

Her head snapped towards him, a tension she’d long since trained out of herself rearing its ugly head. “Where did you hear that?”

“You told me. It echoes in your head, the closest thing to you that there is. It’s so far, fleeting, fading. But it’s almost you.”

“We need to leave,” she practically pleaded with him. “Can we please just get out of here?”

“I’ve never heard someone who wasn’t a who before. Where did it go?”

“I promise I’ll answer all your questions when we get out. Please, we need to go.” She wasn’t above begging. There was very little she was above, in all honesty. 

His head tilted once more, as if considering asking about that thought, before deciding the promise of honesty in the future was worth more. 

“It wants your face,” he declared. “It would hurt more than you ever could, claw the people apart instead of just holding. You want to leave. I can help.”

“You can get me out of here?”

He didn’t even bother to nod, just continued speaking in his strange little riddles. “You need to make it more. Right now it’s just a few. The further you go, the further it stretches.”

“Why would I want to make it bigger?”

“The smaller it is, the closer together the power. You have to stretch it thin.”

Right, so she just needed to keep moving and eventually something in this seemingly endless demon would snap. 

She didn’t need him for that, she could travel on her own. 

His head tilted as the thought passed through her head. “We’re in you already. If you leave me behind, I stay. You want me to go so you can’t leave me.”

He was right. As much as she didn’t want to travel with this weird creature, leaving him festering inside her head seemed infinitely worse. 

“Alright then Cole, we’d better start walking.”

He nodded but did not move. “We will need to fight.”

“You will need to fight. There’s not much I can do.”

“No. You don’t fight, you move softer. Sneaking, slipping, stealing. You only have to roll over if you get caught.”

“I wish you’d stop doing that,” she said, and her voice was instinctually softer. He paid her no regard. 

“I can be quiet. We can move softly together.”

She hoped the creature actually understood what it was saying, that it could be as stealthy as it promised. Or at least hoped that it could fight. 

He still didn’t move and she wondered if he was waiting for her to go first. 

She turned and took a few steps out the door, hearing no footsteps sound behind her. 

When she turned, Cole was nowhere to be found.

A voice came from right behind her, outside of the doorway. “Should we not leave?”

She whipped around and glared at him. He didn’t seem to react to the look at all. 

To be fair, she wasn’t very intimidating. She had little practice at being menacing and she most certainly was not a natural. 

Emboldened by the fact that he did not seem to need to move to follow her, she set out, walking out the door, blowing right past him.

A scream sounded from her left and Cole said, “Keep going straight. It wants you to wind around and around and around so it doesn’t have to stretch.”

His voice echoed and she wasn’t sure if it was an audible noise or not. She turned to where it felt like it had come from and there he was, walking alongside her. 

The sound of her footsteps remained the only ones in the hall as the two of them walked. 

“We should move quietly,” she said. 

He looked around as he moved. “Envy can’t hear me. It doesn't know I’m here. You wouldn’t have either.”

“If not for safety then maybe you should be quiet for my own sanity.”

“You’re not going insane,” he declared. “You are frustrated.”

“You don’t seem to mind.”

“No,” he said. “You can be frustrated if you’d like.”

“No,” she informed him, although she imagined he knew already. “I would not like.”

She turned to look at him and saw a glimpse of his eyes under his hat, a little wrinkle formed between them. “Then you should stop.”

“You first,” she huffed. 

“The Iron Bull is out there,” he said, undeterred by her clear irritation. “He isn’t bad but he brings hurt anyway.”

She decided to try a more direct approach. “Can you shut up?”

“If you let them bite, then it doesn’t count. It only hurts if they take it, if you allow it it's still yours.”

She stopped with a jolt, whipping around to scold him. “If you can see everything in my head, why do you keep talking? You know what’s up there and I know what's up there so what exactly are we achieving?”

“I have thoughts too,” he said, almost wistfully.

“Really? I have yet to hear them. You instead seem intent on airing every thought I’ve ever had as obtusely as you can.”

“It’s hard. Your thoughts are so loud. You’re very angry.”

She huffed as she stormed onwards. “Wouldn’t you be?”

“I don’t know. I think the hurt would make me help. It just makes you want to dig your claws in and hold.”

“Fucking irritating little creature, that’s what you are. I’ll be glad when I get out of this and I never have to see you again. Then you can stew on my rotten thoughts as long as you’d like.”

His head cocked to the side. “You’re not convinced we’re inside you. You still hope this could be the fade. You think I may belong here, that I might stay.”

“Frankly, I don’t care where you go. I know you’re not staying with me though.”

“We’re tethered.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. You can see in my head, right? Do you really think they’re going to believe a demon over me? You’ll be killed in a heartbeat. Which is fine by me, no skin off my back.”

“A bad person,” he muttered to himself, hands flexing and unflexing slowly, rhythmically as he spoke. She wasn’t sure if he even knew he was doing it. 

He went silent as they heard the shouting of troops. Cole faded away and she took to the shadows. 

If this really was her mind, which she was not ready to wholeheartedly believe on the word of some creature, then she had no idea how stealth worked here. Was it really as simple as being quiet and hiding away? Surely in this space that the demon allegedly created, it could sense where she was. 

And yet she watched soldiers run in front of her, looking desperately for someone to fight as she slunk further into the artificial landscape. 

Cole made himself scarce from there on out, occasionally warning her with that strange, disembodied voice to turn now or to avoid the room ahead, although never in such clear terms. 

Eventually, she realized where she’d ended up. She was where she’d begun, where the Lord Seeker, or perhaps the envy demon, had lunged at her past her several bodyguards, most of which were standing protectively in front of her.

It wanted her. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe because of her perceived position of power. Maybe because of whatever this ability was that the fade had given her seemingly at random when she’d been pulled here.

It didn’t really matter, at the end of the day. She just needed to get out. 

And at the top of all those staircases was a dead end where she had been attacked. 

She looked around as the sound of battle-ready troops got louder. 

“Cole,” she hissed. “Where do I go?”

His voice sounded from above and she looked up to find him in the palm of a massive statue. 

“You remember it wrong. The statues don’t have faces here. You didn’t care to look.”

“I still don’t. We have more important things to be worrying about than what some weird statues look like.”

“It should end where it began. You must escape in the center.”

She made the mistake of turning her head, of looking nervously towards the false templars that resided down the stairs. 

When she looked back up, she was alone again. 

Or at least she hoped she was, looking around nervously, checking for any signs of an aggressor. 

But demons didn’t play fair. 

Before she could so much as catch sight of it, the faux Lord Seeker was slamming her back into the wall, hands tight around her throat. 

The face looking back at hers was the half-familiar one from the mirror once more, one she tried to avoid looking at at all costs. 

It was typically unfair, she supposed. To be forced to look at an imitation of herself as she died. 

She kicked and flailed, trying to break from his grasp, to get away by any means possible, but she knew it was a losing fight. She could feel the strength in its hands that far exceeded hers. 

Cole’s voice sounded from right beside her. “He is afraid of you.”

She could see no sign of him out of the corner of her eye as she thrashed in the demon's hold, but she could hear him perfectly. 

The fight began to drain out of her, sinking into herself as her kicks lost all their power. 

And then the hands around her throat went stiff and the world folded in on itself. 

She collapsed to the ground the second she saw Iron Bull in front of her, pulling the Lord Seeker away from her. She heaved in air where she sat, clutching her chest as she did, eyes beginning to water. 

It wasn’t her best performance, a bit overdone. She honestly could have just reacted as she would naturally but the sudden appearance of her companions had thrown her. In her defense, it was a sudden shift and she’d been preoccupied with other things. 

The strange creature with the stupid hat was nowhere to be seen. She wasn’t sure if she hoped he was still trapped back wherever they had been or not. She certainly didn’t want him lingering in her head but having a mind-reading creature roaming around would prove an ever greater problem. 

Bull carried her inside as the other two talked about a demon and some transformation she hadn’t been privy to, instead caught up in her own dramatics. 

He tucked her away on a chair in the corner as Solas said something, probably whining about her. Cassandra gave her a firm order to stay put and they left her inside, amidst the templars.

She stayed tucked in her corner, choking down any panic that might want to arise. 

She didn’t like being alone with groups of men, let alone groups of men that she didn’t know and hadn’t built any repertoire with.  

The fight was over fast. She stayed dutifully in her corner, not one to disobey orders. When it was over, Cassandra and Bull returned for her, Solas presumably off worrying about more important things than her. 

Cassandra did not let Bull carry her any longer, insisting she was fine without giving her the chance to speak. She rose to her feet, despite her plan to feign weakness a little longer. She didn’t want to upset Cassandra.

Cassandra dragged her back to their control room to debrief about the mission, where she would inevitably try to pull something approximating leadership out of her once more. 

It wouldn’t work. She knew any attempt to lead would upset more people than it would please.

It was safer to be weak. 

Cullen was upset about something, which didn’t make sense to her considering she’d helped his precious templars first. Josephine was upset too, not that she’d ever admit it. But a liar recognizes a liar and that calm voice was as put on as it could be. Leliana was endlessly practical, so presumably she was telling her something important. She barely listened to any of it, instead focusing on clutching her uninjured stomach in faux pain, hoping that the hands that had been around her neck left bruises, despite having been in that world between worlds. 

And then their typical, predictable chatter turned to something more panicked and she looked up to find Cole sitting on their table.

Her eyes shifted from an impression of someone trying to be brave about their pain to a very real panic, lurching away from him before she could think. 

Swords were being drawn in the blink of an eye and she did her best to position herself behind Cullen. He was already the fastest to the draw and Cole was too dangerous to her. Hopefully, if he felt he had something to protect he would be even more likely to end this creature now, before Cole could become a problem. 

“You left,” Cole said, looking straight at her, the weapons pointing at him not seeming to concern him at all.

All heads turned to her. “Rosemary?” asked Josephine hesitantly, waiting for an explanation. 

“He helped me against the demon,” she said reluctantly. “But I don’t think we can trust him.”

Cole’s head cocked to the side. “Fleeting, fearful, frantic. You need me to be gone, they can’t see what I know. We both will stay.”

She prayed the others didn’t understand that as the threat it was. 

Leliana glanced between the two of them and asked, “A spirit helped you?”

A spirit. It made sense, she’d apparently picked him up in the fade and he hadn’t done anything truly menacing so it was unlikely he was a demon. At least not yet. She wasn’t sure how Leliana had deduced this but she stored the information away. 

She nodded. “He did. And maybe I was unfair. He was nothing but kind to me, and he saved my life. We could give him a chance.”

Cullen scoffed. “Trust him? He’s a demon and you just said we shouldn’t trust him! Now you want to set him free in the camp?”

“Wasn’t it you who said I could stand to be a little braver, Commander Cullen?” she said, sitting up a little straighter. She needed to do this, if Cole was inside her head he could get her killed. “He saved me, and I say we give him a chance.”

Cole was gone before she finished defending him, disappearing with hints of fade green in the air where he’d sat. 

Josephine looked nervous but she seemed the most content with their situation, saying, “He could be a useful resource-” 

Before she could so much as finish her sentence, Rosemary bolted out the door to go find the ticking bomb that had invited itself into her army.

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Evermore - Part 8

Summary: It’s been 7 years since the love of your life left you behind for his career. When he decides to come back, is it too late to start anew? Will you decide to start over or realize what's been right in front of you this whole time?

Chapter Summary: Resentment and unresolved feelings finally come to a boiling point when you are left face to face with Eddie.

18+ Only! MDNI!

Warning: AFAB reader! Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is given the nickname Peach. Angst (would you really expect any less?). Anger. Brief assault (Eddie gets slapped and pushed by reader). Please don't try that at home folks. If I missed any, let me know.

Word Count: 4.1K

Masterlist

Suddenly all too aware of how quiet the house was made you uncomfortable. Taking a deep breath, you slowly made your way down the hall to the living room as your heart was pounding in your chest. The thought of being face to face with a sobered Eddie made you a little unnerved.

You subconsciously started to wring your hands together but willed yourself to stop the closer you got to him, opting to attempt smooth out the wrinkles on your pajama top and finally letting your hands fall to your sides.

You could easily tell him to get his shit and get out. That could be the end of it. But something else gnawed at you.

There was something in the way he looked at you the night before. The way his eyes shined for you and for just a moment you could still imagine no time at all had passed. You could picture yourselves still above the Hideout in your little apartment and taking care of Eddie after he had indulged a little too hard after a small gig. It was the way he used to look at you as if you were his entire world.

He had tried to kiss you and you almost let it happen. Your heart ached at the thought. Would you really let someone you claimed to hate so much get that close to you? You had let your guard down; let the façade you held so tightly falter.

You padded softly, approaching him from behind, slowly examining his tall and lean frame. He had his hands in his back pockets peacefully staring at your photos.

He had heard you enter, but he was nervous. He knew a conversation was far overdue and wasn’t sure which way this was going to go.

He tried to ignore your gaze which he could feel on him the moment you had entered, letting you take the lead, but the longer the silence stretched the more anxious he got. It was only a few seconds but seemed like an eternity.

“I can hear you thinking from here.” He finally spoke, smirk adorning his face as he turned to you. “You always did like to overthink.”

You were civil to each other the night before because you took pity on him but now, could you still look him in the eye and remain levelheaded?

“I… Uh…” you began, struggling to find your words as he gave his undivided attention, eyes zeroing in on you.

“Do you want some coffee?” You finally blurted out. Shifting a little from side to side.

He released a small breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and grinned wider as he spoke, “would love some.”

“And I would also love some Advil.” As he followed behind, rubbing his temples.

You laughed out then, a bright, genuine sound. “I’m sure you would Munson.”

You grabbed a mug from the cabinet and poured him a steaming cup.

“Sit,” you ushered him to a stool at the counter. As you settled on the other side, to keep some space between the two of you, setting the mug before him.  

You watched him intently as he perched himself on the seat. He looked a little rough, you could tell he was feeling less than stellar. The bags under his eyes were a little darker than the day before.

Taking a hair tie from his wrist, you watched his deft fingers pull his hair up into a messy bun. His shirt pulled taut against his chest and biceps as he worked. God, why did he have to look so good doing it? And why the hell were you thinking of him like that?

He finished and took a sip from his mug, eyeing you above the rim, quirking an eyebrow as if he knew what you had been thinking.

Your cheeks heated momentarily before you remembered the Advil turning away, and shuffling to the cabinet where you kept it. Taking the bottle and shaking a few of the pills out into your hand.  

“What did you say to Steve?” you finally asked, pulling yourself together, turning to hand him the pills. He held out his palm, as you dropped them, avoiding any direct graze of his skin with your fingers.

“Um yeah… that. I uh…” he was trying to choose his words carefully. Taking a moment to pop the Advil washing it down with his coffee.

“He pissed me off, so I asked if he just knocked you up and decided not to pursue a relationship when it didn’t work out how he wanted.”

He looked toward the floor, feeling ashamed under your scrutinizing gaze, each word coming out in a flurry, each one a little quieter than the last.  

“What the fuck Eddie?” You could practically feel the steam coming out of your ears.

“Look,” he pinched his nose, trying to put his pounding headache aside. “He started it, so I shot back. I know I don’t know the whole story, but I do know he doesn’t live here so something must have happened.”

“The whole story? You don’t know any of the story. You have no right to even make those assumptions! You have no idea what any of us have been through, especially Maddie and Steve! God you are such an asshole!”

“Well, why don’t you fuckin’ enlighten me then, Peach. I’m just dying to know all about you and King Steve.” He scoffed.

“Get your head out of your ass for starters. Maddie isn’t mine. And I don’t feel like it’s my place to tell you anything concerning her.”

His face fell. Confusion flashed as the words seemed to settle over him.

“Oh.” He finally said. “Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that? You didn’t correct me.”

 “No, Eddie, you’re completely right. I should have thought to tell you when you showed up on my doorstep out of the blue. Or when you were so drunk you wouldn’t be able to remember. Why didn’t I think of that?”

Yeah, he deserved that. He hadn’t made the smartest decisions the past couple of days. So, Maddie wasn’t yours. It sent his head spinning for an entirely different reason. You and Steve weren’t together.  

You turned to leave him there. Instead, he quickly hopped up from the stool taking just a few strides to cut you off from exiting the room.

“Move, Eddie.” He was met with fury in your eyes.

“Look, Peach, I know I am the world’s biggest fuck up. Could you at least hear me out?” When you didn’t immediately reply, he let out a small “Please. I don’t want to argue.”

“Hear you out, this shit again? When are you going to realize I don’t want to hear you out? There is nothing you could say that would make me forgive you.”

You felt the familiar sting in your eyes as fresh tears began to build. Thinking back to that night and how the following week he completely ignored your persistent calls. Any kind of explanation now would never satiate the years of resentment built within you.  

He was stunned into silence but knew exactly what you were referring to. He searched your face, but it gave no inclination of backing down anytime soon.

“I’m going upstairs to get dressed and then I’m taking you back to your car so you can go back to LA or wherever the hell you call home these days.” You shoved past him.  “Where you should have just stayed.”

He deflated with those words and watched you ascend the stairs. He pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed out slowly through his mouth. He knew he wasn’t getting anywhere with you. With each passing moment he felt like his chance at redemption was slowly fading. He did nothing to appease you, only making things worse.

Once you made it behind the safety of your bedroom door. You leaned against it, letting those unshed tears flow freely.

You were currently regretting last night’s decision to bring him here knowing exactly what the morning would bring. Somewhere deep down you thought maybe he would just slip out while you were sleeping and blissfully unaware.

You were so caught up in your own head, you hadn’t heard the footfalls on the steps leading to the second floor nor heard when they were just outside the door.

He knocked softly, but it still came as a surprise. His voice came through slightly muffled as he was also speaking softly.

“Peach, I’m sorry I upset you. Look, you don’t have to drive me back to the Hideout. I’m going to go call Wayne and get out of your hair.”

He waited a beat, listening for any kind of response but was met with silence.

He picked his head up and turned to go back down the stairs. One step away from the door and he heard it click open as you slowly came into view. Your eyes were red rimmed, you’d been crying again. He wished so desperately you’d let him hold you and wipe them away, be the reason they dried instead of causing them.

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand and sniffled.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. We’re both adults, I think I can handle a car ride with you for another 15 minutes. Don’t call Wayne and interrupt his day. God knows he’s been through enough with you.”

He chuckled at that and nodded as he made his way back down the stairs so you could finish getting dressed.  

The quiet between you was filled by the radio softly playing, not easing any of the palpable tension in the car and not really distracting your mind from replaying your entire relationship over and over. Being this close to him the past was all you could think about.

He was looking out the window for most of the trip, fingers drumming a beat on his thigh and humming a tune you didn’t recognize. You were trying to focus on the road and ignore him in the process. It wasn’t working as your eyes began to drift once more.

He still wore rings on his fingers, but they were a definite upgrade from the ones he used to wear. The ones he cherished, finding them at local rummage sales or thrift stores. Most didn’t fit properly, so he fitted them with tape, but each one hand picked and worn with pride.

Then you noticed it, he was wearing one you recognized because you had bought it for him on the last birthday you spent together. 

Your breathing hitched, as a little sound came from your throat. He heard and whipped his head in your direction.

“Hmmm? D’you say something?” he asked, your face burning hot under his questioning wide-eyed gaze.

“Nope.” You replied looking straight ahead, clearing your throat. “Throat’s a little scratchy.”  

“Oh.” He mumbled.

He went back to drumming.

It was then you heard a familiar, velvety smooth voice through the speakers.

“Oh shit!” Eddie’s boisterous voice startled you. He reached over and turned the volume up a couple of notches.

“Shit, sorry. This is off the new album. I didn’t think they were releasing it until next week.” He smiled, nodding along to his own voice coming through the speakers. His voice always made you melt. Even now you can’t deny the effect it had on you. Except, he isn’t just singing for you at a small gig, he’s singing for the entire world.

You had thoroughly avoided Corroded Coffin’s music at all costs. You’d turn off the TV or radio as soon as you recognized the tune or voice. You hated admitting to yourself how good this song was.

“It’s good.” You hummed.

“Yeah? This was the best song. The rest just didn’t feel right. Felt like… Feels like we’re just losing our spark. Or maybe I am. I don’t know any more Peach.” He chewed his lip and stared out the window once more watching Hawkins pass by.

You weren’t sure how to respond, as you pulled into gravel lot, spotting his rental car. The only vehicle in front of the bar.

“Well, at least they didn’t tow the damn thing. Maybe Hopper talked to the owner for me.” He chuckled.

“Yeah, maybe.” Trying to hold back a grin and a laugh.

You parked next to the sedan. He suddenly didn’t want to go. He had a sinking feeling of impending doom knowing this very well could be his last goodbye. He hesitated, hand held tight to the handle but not moving.

You surprised him by opening your own door and quickly stepping out. 

He followed suit and hastily exited. He watched as you started walking toward the bar. The very closed bar.

“Uh Peach, where y’ going?” he called after you.

“It’s ok, I know the owner really well.” Shaking your keys toward him as you made it to the front entrance taking one and slotting into the lock.

“I didn’t think Hank owned it anymore.” He shouted back, jogging over to you.

“He doesn’t.” You chuckled, turning the lights on as you entered.

Randy and the night waitress left the place in pretty good shape for opening. You had to take inventory, putting it off yesterday because Eddie had been holed up in the parking lot.

He followed behind you, albeit a little hesitantly.

“So, Hank retired about 2 years ago. But uh… he wanted to keep it in the family. Unfortunately for him his son, you remember Paul from school, right?” Eddie nodded wondering where this story was headed as you continued.

“Pauly didn’t want it. But fortunately, he did have an only niece that did.” Your grin was wide as Eddie let it sink in.

“You own the Hideout?” Eyebrows disappearing under his bangs as he pointed at you. Your turn to nod.

“Mmmhmm. Yep. She’s all mine.” You turn to look around the desolate space not missing the way Eddie was now gawking in disbelief.

He put his hands to his hips, studying your profile a moment.

“Full of surprises Peach.” He finally settled.

“Well,” you finally let yourself turn back him. “I need to do some inventory since someone messed it up for me yesterday.” 

“Oh, yeah. Sure.”

You went to the back room grabbing your clipboard ready to put this morning and the last couple of days behind you. The sooner he leaves the better off you’ll be. Back to life as usual.

When you re-emerged, he was wandering around the empty space, seemingly lost in thought.

The seat he was avoiding at the end of the bar last night was now calling to him. His feet were carrying him as if by their own volition.

He scooted the stool out from under the bar, squeaking a little on the floor as it went and lowered himself onto the vinyl padded top.

He ran his finger across the etching still there in the bar top as he smiled to himself.

“Still there huh?” he smirked your way as you looked up from the clipboard.

“Yeap. Still there.” Your eyes met his. “Don’t flatter yourself Eddie, I haven’t gotten around to changing the bar top.”

“Ah,” was all he could manage, his elbows sat on the edge as he looked back down at those letters that didn’t mean much to anyone anymore, he supposed. A moment captured in time. Created by someone who was very much in love. Very much still in love if he was being honest with himself.

“If you say so,” he finally muttered.

“Eddie, if you don’t mind, I’m busy. You can go at any time.” You didn’t make an attempt to look up as you spoke, jotting some numbers down on the paper in front of you. You could feel him looking at you.

“Yeah, yeah sure. I’ll go.” He stood, taking one last glance, resigning himself to failure once more. This is the longest you’d two been in a room without being at each other’s throats and it was nice. He could almost picture the way things used to be.

You brushed some hair behind your ear, as you chewed on the end of a pen. He thought it was cute the way you still did that when you were thinking. The way your nose would scrunch slightly when something was bothering you. He knew something was still on your mind.  

He got up, pushing the stool back under the bar. Inhaling a deep breath, taking a step toward the exit before your voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Eddie,” your voice was soft, and timid. He didn’t turn around.

“Why?” It was a simple question. One he had been prepared to answer since he got back to Hawkins. “You at least owe me that.”

He slowly spun around, meeting you eye to eye.

“I thought…” he took another deep breath.

Don’t fuck this up Munson, he thought to himself before continuing.

“I thought if I asked you to move out there with me, you were going to say no. We were in such different places; I knew you would never leave Hawkins and everyone here. So, I ended things before you would have the chance to do it first. I know it sounds so stupid when I say it out loud, but I hurt you before you got the chance to hurt me, Peach.”

Seven years. Seven years of heartache with no closure. This is his explanation. You felt nauseated.

You knew Eddie’s past. His dad always pushed him away, leaving for weeks or months at a time. He never properly delt with those unresolved issues and he pushed it back onto you. He was never afraid of commitment, but he always voiced his concerns about you “wising up and leaving him someday.”  

So, this was it. All of this could have been avoided had he stayed with you until morning. You would have gone to the end of the Earth with him had he asked. Time you could never get back. Time you could never replace.

You swallowed down the bile threatening to rise. Willing your eyes to stay dry. You hadn’t realized when he had stepped closer into your space, but he was suddenly right in front of you.

“Seven years Eddie. You waited seven years to tell me that? And you didn’t even give me the chance to give you an answer.” Your heart felt like it was breaking all over again.

“If you had given me the choice, I would have said yes.” His face shot up.

“I would have gone anywhere with you if you had just asked. If you had stayed instead of making that decision for me, you would have known. I had it already planned out.”

Looking a bit more confused at that statement, he furrowed his brow. You pinned him with a burning gaze.

“I was planning on transferring to be closer to you that fall. I had this big speech prepared; brochures laid out. Instead, you did what you thought was best for me but maybe you just did it because it was best for you. You didn’t give me the chance to make up my own mind. And I hate you for that!”

Tears now streaming down your face, you couldn’t stop them if you tried. You stalked over to him, determined, fists clenched at your sides. You pushed him with all the strength you had.

Stumbling a step back, he let you assault his chest with your fists.

“I hate you Eddie! I hate you! I hate you!” Repeating it over and over. The resentment you had been holding finally boiling over.

You continued this onslaught until you collapsed into his chest. Fists closing in and wringing the fabric of his shirt through your hands. He stayed silent letting you get out all that you needed as sobs wracked your body. Hot tears pooled and dampened the cotton of his t-shirt.

He cautiously wrapped his arms around you, placing his cheek to the top of your head. He started humming and slowly swaying side to side. It was purely instinctual. He just wanted to comfort you.

“Sweetheart, I’m so, so sorry. I know you’ll never forgive me, but I need you to know that I regret that decision every goddamn day of my life.”  

The anger slowly faded. Pulling yourself together a tiny bit and with all the courage you could muster, you dared to look up at him.  

He sent you a genuine smile. The kind that made your stomach do flips. His face flashing something you couldn’t quite read. His eyes darted to your lips and back up. Had you not been intently staring you would have missed the small movement.

“Don’t hate me for this, at least more than you already do.”

“For wha” The words died on your lips.

In one fell swoop he moved his hand cupping your jaw in his warm palm, letting the other fall to your hip. His lips met yours with a feverish need. Warm and inviting. You could taste the lingering coffee he had from earlier.

All at once you felt fuzzy and all you could do was melt into his embrace as he invaded your senses. His taste. His smell. It surrounded you. Until your brain finally caught up with what was happening.

You quickly took a step back, and without thinking smacked him across the cheek. The sound echoed in the quiet building.

“Um… Yeah… I deserved that.” He said, rubbing the fresh sting you had created, skin already turning red.  

You held your hand to your lips, still buzzing from the small amount of attention.

“I’m sorry. I… You…” You were suddenly at a loss for words.

“I’m not sorry.” He whispered. “It was worth it. At least one last time.” He looked directly at you. Eyes now pleading.

You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t at least feel some electricity still buzzing beneath your skin. The electricity between the both of you. The spark that only his touch left in its wake.

“Eddie, I…” you took a small step toward him. Your mind was screaming at you to turn away. Leave it be. It’s not worth it. He’s going to stomp on your heart all over again. But there was something there beneath all the noisy chatter.

“I think you should leave.” You quietly spoke but you were staring into those deep, chocolate pools that you had spent so many days lost in. You were starting to feel a little lost at this very moment. Something in the back of your mind, pulling you in and telling you to let go. Maybe this time would be different.

What if he stayed? And that thought scared you more than anything.

The seconds ticked by without either of you moving away.

He searched your face but wasn’t sure what you were thinking.

“Can… Can I kiss you?” He asked apprehensively.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Speaking without any real intent as you inched closer into his space. No, this was a really bad idea but in this moment, you didn’t allow yourself to care.

“You aren’t going to smack me this time, are you?” He chuckled, moving both of his hands up to cup your face. His warm palms inviting in stark contrast to the cool metal of his rings that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Shut up, Eddie.” You drew closer tilting your head slightly, noses just skimming until your lips slightly ghosted over his. That was all the confirmation he needed.

Letting your eyes fall shut and allowing him to finally close the rest of the distance.

His lips slotted perfectly against yours, just the way you remembered. The soft, supple muscles moving perfectly in rhythm with your own. You sighed into the kiss, melting a little more into his embrace.

You moved your hand up to his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt to ground yourself. His chest warm beneath your touch, even through the fabric you could feel his heart beathing erratically.

He dared to glide his tongue across your lower lip begging for entry. You were about to grant him the access you both so desperately craved when you heard the front door swing open with a loud squeak.

You had forgotten to lock it.

You pulled away from him and jumped back as he followed suit, putting some distance between the two of you.

“Hey Peach, Max told me you’d be …”

“Steve?”

Taglist: @josephquinnschesthair @theawkwardbutterfly @munsonmecrazy @jadedhillon @pettydonuts @angelina16torres-blog @justheretoreadleavemealone @heyyimmisunderstood @micheledawn1975 @devilslittlebabyxx @blackstabbath6 @bebe07011 @yunnie-f1 @akiratoro420 @evansslutt @sheerfreesia007 @tlclick73 @bakugouswh0r3 @vintagehellfire @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @ali-r3n @sashaphantomhive @foreveranexpatsposts @ahoyyharrington @somethingdeep @munsonzgf @sheisjoeschateau

[agbpaints]

4th Order of St. Michael

Formed: 3061

Disbanded: 3070

Parent Command: LAAF (Nominally)

An on again off again tradition from the world of Hesperus II, the Stellar Order of St. Michael is a martial organization of Catholic mechwarriors who seek to uphold feudal revivalist chivalric ideals, drawing heavily from the Lorix Order, while protecting the interests of the noble house Brewer, Duke of Hesperus. Mechwarriors of the order are typically drawn from the planetary nobility of the region and pledge themselves in 20 year tours. While the Order of St. Michael has a reputation for being a fanatical and individually well trained force in the field, their lack of tactical acumen is legendary- as of 3151 the Order has been disbanded due to near total combat losses six times.

The 4th Order of St. Michael was founded in 3061 by Gunther Brewer-DuChambe in the aftermath of the Great Refusal and rising sentiments of martial patriotism following the Second Star League's victory over the Clans. When the Federated Commonwealth Civil War broke out, the Order threw their lot in with the Lyran Alliance, participating in the Fifteenth Battle of Hesperus II in 3065 as well as actions on Alkaid and Gladius the following year. In 3068, the Order was recalled to Hesperus to deal with increasing raids by Word of Blake forces. On January 26th, the WoBS End of Wisdom annihilated the Order's monastery north of the city of Maldon with a sub-nuclear orbital bombardment as part of Operation STEEL HAMMER. Brewer-DuChambe and a lance of his warriors were not present at the time, having left the monastery for a patrol several days prior. The last remnants of the Order of St. Michael made there way to Defiance Industries' fortress factory on-world and assisted in the defense, fighting to total destruction on February 5th, one day before the planet surrendered.

At their peak, the 4th Order of St. Michael consisted of two companies of battlemech assets and two Union class dropships. This iteration of the Order prefered heavy cavalry machines and fast assault tactics. The majority of the mechs used by the order were models produced by Defiance Industries on Hesperus, though some mechwarriors pledged to the order brought with them heirloom machines passed down from their families.

[rorywritesjunk]

Let’s be one another’s present tense

Buggy ‘rescues’ you from an abusive situation, and after a less than stellar introduction, he has you audition for his crew to keep you safe. You want safety, security, and joining a circus seems like the best idea.

Rating: R-ish for now. Warning: Swearing, brief mentions of expecting assault, Rory doesn't know anything about makeup and here is more makeup. A kiss. A/N: This story is opposite of my Kid Buggy series and I love that for myself.

Title comes from “Crater Lake” by Lady Lamb.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 (NC-17) + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 (NC-17) + Chapter 16 (NC-17) + Chapter 17 TAGLIST: @lostfirefly @neuvilleteismybby @fluffybunnyu @sinning-23 @the-angriest-angel @ane5e

Chapter 5

Despite your argument, fight, whatever it was after breakfast, Buggy kept an eye on you as you practiced holding your breath under water with one hand at the top of the tank to fish you out if needed. With his hand near you, he made a point of going to various points of the tent, trying to see if he could see your face while you were underwater to validate his reasoning for putting makeup on you.

You really didn't want to but as he said at breakfast, he was in charge. 

And after everyone was done for the evening and the two of you headed back to your shared room, he waited until you changed into dry clothes before sitting you in front of his vanity and pulling out different kinds of makeup. You had a grumpy expression on your face as he looked at various kinds and colors, trying to find something that was colorful and bright while also being waterproof. 

“Turn that frown upside down, Cupcake.” He chuckled as he held up a pink eyeliner pencil and knelt in front of you. “I'm going to take care of you, don't worry. The audience will be able to see this gorgeous face of yours all the way in the back row.”

And there it was again, those words he said so freely to you and others, but you had come to hope he actually meant them when he said them to you.

He held your chin to keep your head still as he murmured for you to close your eyes as he held the pencil up. You just stared back at him, looking into his eyes and feeling lost for a moment before he repeated himself and you listened, shutting them tightly as though this was going to be painful.

“Relax, Cupcake.” He said softly as he moved the eyeliner across your eyelids gently, keeping his hand steady so as to keep the line straight and to not poke you. “I got you.”

You swallowed heavily and nodded, though your movements were restricted by him holding you. He was so close to you right then, you could feel his breath on your face and the warmth of his body as he moved the pencil over your other eye. He chuckled softly and let go of your chin so you opened your eyes.

“Looking good already.” He told you as he looked for the next piece. “This eyeliner says it's waterproof so we will have to try it out later, maybe when you take a bath or something.”

You just nodded, watching as he checked the labels on various mascaras and other things that he had. It made you wonder if he used all of this stuff himself or if he just accumulated it all over time.

“I know your schtick is to wear that old Marine uniform, but I wouldn't say no to seeing you in that mermaid tail.” He told you as he looked back over at you. “You don't have to wear that clamshell top if you don't want to, either be topless or wear something else.”

“It may be hard to get in and out of the tank with the fins.” You pointed out as he took hold of your chin again. You jumped a little at his touch and he immediately pulled his hand back. “Sorry, uh, you can keep doing that.”

He looked into your eyes for a moment, looking for any signs of discomfort before he took your chin in his hand again before he started with the mascara. In reality, if he gave you the makeup he wanted to use you could have applied it yourself, but he never gave you the chance. He just took charge of the situation, much like your haircut, and… you kind of liked it.

Of course you weren't going to say anything. 

“Someone can lift you out.” He said as he set the mascara aside. “We'll figure something out to add some flashiness to your act “

You opened your eyes and looked up at him. “Can I ask you something, Captain?”

“What?” He was looking through different eye shadow palettes, looking for any of them that indicated they could be waterproof. “I'm an open book so ask away.”

“Why are you so against me doing anything risky?” You asked. “And don't give me the shit about the other performers, that's not a valid reason.”

He didn't respond right away, still rummaging through the drawer to find what he needed. You took a chance and leaned forward, touching his arm lightly. He shrugged and looked at you.

“Maybe I don't want you to get hurt.” He said, his voice surprisingly calm as he spoke. “Ever think of that? If something happens to you while you're in the water, I can't help you, so don't suggest shit like that anymore.”

“You always have someone watching me though.” You frowned. “You can stage someone to be ready to help me if something is going wrong.”

“Can I ask you something then?” He asked sharply, his tone surprising you just a bit. You nodded. “Why are you so ready to put yourself in harm's way?”

“I'm… I'm not.” You said as you pulled your hand back.

“You were ready to drown yourself shortly after meeting me.” He pointed out. “And now you're suggesting adding an extra layer of danger to this act. Either you have a death wish or a dark sense of humor, both of which I don't like coming from you.”

You shrugged and looked down at your lap. “‘s how I'm coping.”

“Coping with what?” He sighed as he found a bright green eyeshadow that may be waterproof. 

“Being here.” You mumbled. “And processing everything, like going from feeling like I was going to be killed by you when I first met you to you having a cup of tea for me. You even let me sleep in your bed last night and… you didn't do anything.”

“What were you expecting me to do?” Buggy asked as he grabbed a brush for the eyeshadow. “Hm?”

You didn't look at him and shrugged. “Take advantage of me.”

“Glad to know you think so highly of me.” He muttered as he grabbed you by the chin again, still as gentle as before, as he held the brush tinged with the green powder. “I'd hope you trust me enough to close your eyes for me.”

“I trust you.” You said a little quickly before closing your eyes. “It… it's just taking time.”

“Hm, well, I have plenty of time.” Buggy said as he smoothed the brush over your eyelids carefully. He muttered something about the powder getting everywhere and before you knew it, his thumb was moving around your eye, removing the excess. You found yourself leaning into his touch for a moment, only to open your eyes when he pulled his hand back. “You good, Cupcake?”

You didn't realize how much you had leaned into him because your hand was on his chest and your face was inches from him.

“I…am good.” You pulled back from him, leaning as far into your seat as possible. “Sorry. Distracted.”

Buggy said nothing as he set the mascara down and looked for lipstick next. Your heart was pounding and you were feeling embarrassed. You needed to get a grip because you just spoke of him not taking advantage of you, but what were you doing just now? Leaning into his touch, getting close to him, he was going to think you were up to something and then what? You'd end up tossed out on your ass. He didn't want you in that way, he was your boss. He kidnapped-slash-rescued you from a shitty situation and you felt like you were throwing yourself at him.

“Better a distraction now than when you're in the water.” He muttered as he picked up a bright yellow lipstick. “Let's try this.”

You let him take charge once more, holding you by the chin as he dabbed the yellow color over your lips. You didn't get to smooth it over your lips because Buggy's thumb was there, dragging the color over your lips to even it out. Before you could stop yourself, you pressed your lips to the pad of his thumb, only to feel horrified that you just did that. Either he didn't notice or he did and chose not to say anything, because he pulled his hand back when he was done.

“One more thing, Cupcake, then you're done.” 

You looked up at him, wondering what else he wanted to do to you. He looked at you for a moment before one hand grabbed the front of your shirt and the other hand went to the back of your head as he pressed his lips to yours. You stiffened, not expecting that, but you soon relaxed as your hands went to his head, cupping his face as you returned the kiss. 

This was not what you expected to happen.

He pulled back just a bit, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth as he looked over your makeup. There was red around your mouth, accenting the yellow, and he smirked at the additional color.

“I think this will work for you, y’know.” He chuckled as he pulled his hands away. “I like the red on you.”

~

You barely slept. Buggy mentioned the possibility of another storm and you were in his bed again for the night. He wasn't lying and while it wasn't as loud and violent as the previous night, you appreciated that you were able to burrow under the blankets on his bed as the wind howled and the rain pounded outside. He was in bed beside you, sleeping on his side facing you, seemingly not bothered by the noise outside like you were. 

It was just weird to be in his bed again. Are you friends now? What was this? He was still your boss but the fact he kissed you earlier had you starting to question some things. Was he just being a tease, or did he have some kind of feelings for you that you yourself were starting to question? Did you like him or, as you mentioned earlier, are you just coping with the change in your life? 

You two certainly argued and raised your voices enough at each other that it was weird if you didn't call him an asshole at least once a day or if he didn't end your practice by dunking your head under water. 

You pulled your head out from under the blankets just enough to look over at him. He definitely looked peaceful as he slept, and you liked the sight of his hair down and his face free of makeup. It was hard not to reach out and run your fingers through his hair, wanting to see if it was as soft as it felt, but that was a risk you didn't want to take.

“What?” He grumbled as he opened his eyes. “It's weird being stared at when I'm trying to sleep.”

“Oh, fuck, um… nothing. Sorry.” You replied quietly as you curled up away from him. “Couldn't sleep and…”

“Got distracted?” Buggy grinned sleepily. “By me? Am I too distracting for you?”

“N-No, shush.” You glared at him as your cheeks turned red, but thankfully it was too dark for him to notice. “Go back to sleep, asshole.”

“Hard to when your eyes are on me like that, y’know.” He chuckled. “Feels like you’re undressing me with your eyes, Cupcake. Kind of scandalous to look at your Captain that way.”

“Oh my God, shut up.” Your face was burning now. “I am going to smother you with a pillow, Buggy.”

He just smirked at you, almost daring you to even attempt it. Grumbling, you chose to hide your face against your pillow instead. No, no, you weren’t going to smother him while he slept. He was half asleep and being dumb, that was it, trying to rile you up to have you wanting to fight him before you fell asleep. 

“Just don’t try to kiss me when I go back to sleep.” He told you as he moved closer to you, wrapping his arms around as he pulled you against him. “I’d like to be awake for that.”

You wondered if you could just die right then and there from this entire conversation.

[inkykeiji]

DAZAI AKU AND READER DYNAMIC AGAIN 😧 not a request but i’m wondering how dazai would punish aku and if reader would be involved like forcing aku to watch as he touches them or only allowing aku to eat the come from readers 🐱 after he nuts in it. 🥱

anonnnn thank u so much for this i have SO much to say oh my gosh

tw: mentions of caning + physical assault, daddy kink, overstimulation, noncon, cuckholding kinda???, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, toxic relationships, cum eating, honestly Daddy dazai is just brutal. 

words: 1.1k

SO! the punishment that i had in mind at the end of that piece specifically was actually purely physical—it was caning! really fucking brutal caning that borders on physical assault. i’m not gonna talk about it much tho because HEHE between u and i, i am currently writing a lil piece that deals with like,,, the aftermath??? and the punishment itself is kinda gotten into in that oneshot so c: 

BUT I LOVE BOTH OF THESE IDEAS SOOOOO MUCH and i could totally see Daddy dazai definitely using either of these as punishment so let’s get into that because i have many Thoughts!!! 

okay first of all forcing akutagawa to eat reader out only after dazai has cum in her/you is so sick and sadistic i love it SO much oh my goddd especially since you know he’d be more than eager to do it, to please Daddy, to receive that precious praise dazai is so goddamn stingy with giving him. so he’d be so fucking enthusiastic as he sucks and slurps Daddy’s thick cream from your cunt, making a real mess of his face, cheeks and chin glistening oh-so-prettily with your and Daddy’s combined essence, tongue unfurling from his mouth to clumsily lick at his own stained skin, anywhere and everywhere he can possibly reach, slick muscle flexing as he stretches it as far as he can, desperate not to waste a single drop. 

and he’s holding your thighs open with such force that his fingertips are sinking into your flesh, nails carving deep crescents in their place, bruises blossoming beneath his grip, sowed deep in the tissues. your muscles ache from how unbelievably wide he’s stretched them, but he won’t let you close them, won’t even allow you a moment of rest at all, a man on a mission—your comfort doesn’t fucking matter, not when Daddy has a demand that needs to be fulfilled.

he eats you out until you’re fucking spotless, not a single ounce of Daddy’s cum anywhere, not even splattered on your inner thighs, because akutagawa, good boy that he is, sopped that up with his tongue, too. he’s almost obsessive with it, eating you until you cum again, until he’s sure your juices have flushed every last bit of Daddy from your body and into akutagawa’s tummy, safe and sound and where it should be. he’ll get in trouble for that, too, of course—you were never supposed to cum, he was never supposed to make that happen, and it’ll be his fault for allowing it, for procuring it, no matter how he tries to spin it. he knows better to argue with Daddy once Daddy’s made up his mind, but he just can’t seem to help it when it comes to situations involving you, whiny complaints spilling from his lips before his brain can even sift through them, voice stringy and thin as he cries about how it isn’t fair! and she should’ve stopped it herself! and it isn’t his fault she can’t control herself! 

at the end of it all, though, he’s proud of himself irregardless, proud of the stellar job he did eating you clean. and even though he scolds him callously, Daddy’s proud of him, too <3

ON THE OTHER HAND, i also really love the idea of Daddy dazai fucking reader over and over and over again and not only making akutagawa watch but also instructing akutagawa to not touch himself at all, in any way (and yes, this includes not shifting and twitching his hips up, rolling them into the air in tiny, pathetic little motions so the head of his cock grinds against the tight denim of his jeans). i love it, because it’s a double whammy in so many ways: in addition to the obvious, he also has to watch as his Daddy fucks the favourite, he has to watch as his Daddy plays with his toy, feeling left out and neglected and lonely. he has to watch as Daddy pushes his toy well past the point of pleasure and into a whole ton of pain, easily reminding akutagawa in that infuriatingly charming, slightly breathless voice that your pain is his fault (v touya-nii of him LMAO).

at first, he acts as if he doesn’t care, and he tells Daddy so, the words spit from his lips with such derision it sours his face, features screwed up tightly. it doesn’t matter to him, he says. he doesn’t give a fuck if she’s in pain, he swears. 

except by the third orgasm you’re sobbing out his name, dainty fingers grappling for him in cute little claws that scratch at the mattress in their haste and leave little divots in their wake, sheets ripping audibly, and ryuu! ryuu, ryuu, it hurts, make Daddy stop! 

but this, this pure emotional torment, is a part of his punishment, too, he realizes. 

because then Daddy’s shushing you, gentle and sweet and all of the things he never is with akutagawa, large palms cushioning your sweaty cheeks as he murmurs to you, voice silk and syrup. 

you can do it for Daddy, can’t you, sweetheart? you can cum one more for me, right? you want to be good for me, don’t you? 

and that hurts, too. watching Daddy be so fucking nice to you, watching daddy dole out praise to you the way he doles out punishment to akutagawa. it isn’t until dazai’s sure he’s fully broken akutagawa in every conceivable way that he finally stops, takes the shivering, snivelling man into his arms and onto his lap, akutagawa’s chest shuddering beneath the force of the sobs he keeps trying so desperately to shove down, long lashes scraggly and weighted with fat tears.

you did good, baby, he’s whispering as slim fingers pop the button of akutagawa’s jeans, hand wiggling beneath the material to pull his cock free a moment later. Daddy’s good baby boy, so precious, so fucking pathetic, aren’t you?

yes, yes, yes, he’s sobbing into dazai’s neck as Daddy strokes his aching cock, hard and fast right at the top, thumb grinding little circles into the slit. his words are nothing more than tangles of spit oozing all over Daddy’s skin as they leak, uncontrollably so, from his lips, but that’s alright, Daddy doesn’t mind the mess today, humming out condescending coos into inky strands as he encourages akutagawa to cum all over Daddy’s fist.

and, oh, he’s so fucking hopeless for his Daddy, cumming after a mere three pulls of his cock, thick and sticky and so much, it’s so much for such a skinny boy, almost embarrassingly, disgustingly so, don’t you think ryuu-kun? 

of course. of course it is; he’s disgusting and deplorable and so fucking desperate, but he did it; he’s Daddy’s good boy, and that’s all that matters <3 

[mx-anthropy]

Mass Effect 2 feels like a real drop in quality in several ways over ME1. I'd only played 1 and Andromeda until last week, and almost every system in ME2 feels extremely B grade, like one of those XB360 games one might buy from a second-hand shop that has like a 4 hour campaign and slides from your memory afterwards.

The story is alright, although the fact that you're essentially forced to work with Cerberus after dealing with all of their evil shit in the first game feels like a really strange choice, especially if you played a Paragon in the first game. Most of the Paragon choices in ME2 feel pretty mid compared to the first game, and in general I feel like this one really just wants me to be a renegade and Paragon was just an afterthought.

Also the combat just straight sucks. It's not like ME1's combat was stellar, but at least there was a broader range of skills you could use and your companions could use. I also guess people complained about constantly scrolling through the equipment menu to equip better weapons and upgrade for Shepard and the squadmates in ME1, but IMO they went way too far in the other direction, because the weapon choices and upgrades in ME2 kinda suck. The weapons are basically unchangeable bar the different ammo type abilities. I liked being able to min max my assault rifle into a short burst high damage weapon that overheated really quickly, or an absolute bullet hose that could spray down enemies for ages.

I think they slimmed down the ability list for all the companions (and Shepard) so that players would actually use different combinations of companions more often (instead of just Liara/Tali/Ashley which is what I think a lot of ME1 players might have done, since just specialising in one of the 3 skill tree types and taking whatever combination of companions covered the other 2 meant you had every skill at a very high level), but now all the character abilities are so limited that combat just becomes very repetitive in every situation. Standard cover shooter style popping headshots on every grunt and then using like 2 abilities to completely stomp down the elite enemies every now and then. Barrier + Mattock AR + special ammo completely wipes 99% of enemies. Although I guess the same could be said of the later game ARs with HE ammo and frictionless materials in the first game.

[richincolor]

The Hysterical Girls of St. Bernadette's by Hanna Alkaf Salaam Reads/ Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers

Publisher Summary: An all-girls school is struck with mysterious cases of screaming hysteria in this chilling dark academia thriller haunted by a deeply buried history clawing to the light.

For over a hundred years, girls have fought to attend St. Bernadette’s, with its reputation for shaping only the best and brightest young women.

Unfortunately, there is also the screaming.

When a student begins to scream in the middle of class, a chain reaction starts that impacts the entire school. By the end of the day, seventeen girls are affected—along with St. Bernadette’s stellar reputation.

Khadijah’s got her own scars to tend to, and watching her friends succumb to hysteria only rips apart wounds she’d rather keep closed. But when her sister falls to the screams, Khad knows she’s the only one who can save her. Rachel has always been far too occupied trying to reconcile her overbearing mother’s expectations with her own secret ambitions to pay attention to school antics. But just as Rachel finds her voice, it turns into screams.

Together, the two girls find themselves digging deeper into the school’s dark history, hunting for the truth. Little do they know that a specter lurks in the darkness, watching, waiting, and hungry for its next victim…

Note from author -- "It includes discussions and descriptions of sexual assault, trauma and PTSD. If this is too much for you right now, please set this book down and come back to it when you can. There is no shame in protecting your scars." 

My Thoughts: Even before beginning, my worries went down a bit after reading the note from the author. I am not a person who reads horror as a general rule, but for some reason knowing what was coming, helped prepare me and also let me know that the author had thought ahead to care for the readers. This made me more willing to dive in even though scary books are not what I usually grab first. 

There are definitely creepy and rather horrifying moments within the pages of this book, but it was also incredibly intriguing. It has Salem witch trial vibes with what seems like random hysteria and it's not something easily explained. When there is so much that is unknowable, there is a lot of room for imaginations to run rampant. 

The author shares the story through two perspectives and that choice helps readers see everything unfolding from very different contexts. And there are many layers to what is happening so it is good to have more than one way to pick up the clues that are scattered here and there. 

Like the characters, readers are likely to wonder if this is all created or manifested due to humans and their own issues or whether there may be some monsters lurking about. The answer is a complex one that I will obviously not reveal, but the many moments of wondering kept me flipping the pages rapidly. 

Beyond the actual screaming, there are questions or ponderings about how girls are perceived, how they are meant to act, who listens to them and when and how they use their voices. There's a lot going on beyond the ghost/monster portion of the story though there is plenty of that for those readers who love that aspect.

My Recommendation: Get it as soon as possible. Do not skip it unless it would be too much right now. This would be a great Halloween read, but could work anytime really. It's a unique story that raises many questions and for me the ending was particularly satisfying. This was one of my favorite books of the year.

Pages: 352 Review copy: ARC via publisher & library copy Availability: On shelves now

Extra: Brief talk on mass hysteria - Hanna Alkaf on TikTok

[theforestghost]

MegOP Week 2024 Day 4

Day 1: Peace Fandom: Transformers Animated Prompt: Optimus is the reincarnation of the 13th but does not know it. Rating: G

Optimus stirred slightly, recharge lingering in his frame as his optics slowly came online. The room he was in was dark, a low purple glow from the ceiling lights giving away nothing but shadows. Beside him, Megatron remained deep in his own recharge, large engines purring in a familiar hum that nearly lulled Optimus right back under. He resisted however, moving his helm to look up at the mech he was comfortably laying against. 

Megatron laid on his back kibble, one arm under Optimus’ helm as a pillow and the other laid across his waist like a weighted blanket that he knew from experience he could not move. In fact, this weighted blanket had a habit of holding him tighter whenever he tried to move too early in the day cycle. Optimus didn’t mind though; he loved these domestic starts to his solar cycle. Megatron clearly didn’t mind either since the large warlord always grumbled about Optimus waking far too early and dragging him back into a cuddle session until mid cycle at least. 

Optimus turned to face Megatron and carefully moved his servo to the other’s helm, gently tracing over the features with a barely there touch. Despite how much Megatron enjoyed waking late, the warlord was a surprisingly light recharger and would awaken at the slightest jostle. So Optimus had picked up a habit of quietly admiring his lover during these early cycles, watching his slumbering faceplate and sometimes daring to run a digit along his frame. It was therapeutic in a way. 

Optimus didn’t understand why he found such solace in Megatron. Just a couple of stellar cycles ago, the two of them were at each others throat cables. Their only goal had been to defeat the other and in the end, Optimus had succeeded in capturing Megatron. Not like it had actually lasted long since the moment his trial was held, Megatron was free and just vorns later, Optimus had been captured by him instead. Though he did have Ultra Magnus to thank for that loss. His assault on the Decepticons had hit Optimus as well and Megatron had taken advantage of the attack to capture Optimus. Things had gone by quickly after that.

Optimus had eventually defected, becoming Megatron’s new strategist. They’d restarted their assault on Cybertron, specifically in Iacon where Optimus was caught by Alpha Trion and told about his identity as the reincarnation of Thirteen. Optimus hadn’t believed the old mech until he’d had the Matrix of Leadership forced into his spark chamber and recalled every single memory of the mech. His inner turmoil over that had been stressful to every bot around him and eventually Megatron managed to remove the Matrix and free him. Optimus still had the memories of Thirteen but was no longer under the influence of his “siblings”.

A large and warm servo came and rested on the back of Optimus’ helm, making him look up at Megatron who watched him with warm crimson optics. Optimus let his own servo rest against his cheekplate in turn, smiling up at his lover who hugged him close. 

“What has woken you so early?” Megatron mused, his tone soft and hushed, thick with recharge. Megatron began stroking along his back struts with his free servo and Optimus let out a soft purr at the feeling.

“Nothing important.” Optimus said, laying his helm against the side of Megatron’s chassis.

“Your field says otherwise.” Megatron replied.

Optimus scowled slightly before letting out a soft ex-vent. “I recalled the time I had with the Matrix,” he explained. “It’s hard to believe that you removed it just two solar cycles ago. I still feel so raw…”

“I would think you would.” Megatron said. He gently pressed his field again Optimus, letting it embrace the younger mech in a way Megatron knew he enjoyed immensely. “The artifact is one of great power and whatever or whomever is inside put a great deal of stress on you, both physically and mentally. I would be more surprised if you did not feel raw.”

Optimus said nothing, just buried his faceplate into Megatron even more. The warlord turned his frame to face Optimus, embracing the smaller mech completely. Optimus was a cuddler and Megatron knew he found great comfort in touch and affection. Something Megatron himself had no issues in offering to his little one whenever he needed it.

“Can you stay here with me?” Optimus muttered against Megatron.

“I do not see why not.” Megatron hummed, resuming his stroking of Optimus’ back struts with his digits. 

He enjoyed peaceful day cycles like this.

[ultrameganicolaokay]

Red Sonja #3 by Torunn Grønbekk and Walter Geovani. Cover by Joshua Middleton. Variant covers by (2,3) Middleton, (4) Bryan Hitch, (5) Lucio Parrillo, and (6) Joseph Michael Linsner. Out in September.

"As war consumes the land, the She-Devil With a Sword evades capture at every turn while Varg readies his next assault. But deep in the shadows a voice is calling out to all of them, as it begins to pull together the final strings of its sinister plan! This next thrilling chapter in the all-new Red Sonja adventure "His Master's Voice" continues to be expertly crafted by writer TORUNN GRØNBEKK and Sonja superstar artist WALTER GEOVANI (with colors by OMI REMALANTE, JR.) – and features another stellar assembly of cover artists, including JOSHUA MIDDLETON, LUCIO PARRILLO, JOSEPH MICHAEL LINSNER, BJORN BARENDS, BRYAN HITCH, and FRANK CHO!"

[ashleywool]

Some thoughts and lessons from my first week on Broadway

(in no particular order)

Insecurities don't magically disappear when you hit The Big Dream. But the Big Dream has made it clearer than ever that my default instinct to downplay my achievements is kind of ridiculous. I need to accept that there's just no casual way to talk about my life right now. There is no pretending that any of this isn't a big deal. It's a huge freaking deal, and I earned it, and it's awesome, and I am no less deserving of its awesomeness than anybody else.

Autistic people have more allies out there than we realize. In advocacy circles, we tend to get rather cynical about what people don't understand, or don't want to understand. But there really are so many people who think we are worth listening to, learning from, and amplifying. There are so many people rooting for us, and actively seeking ways to include and affirm everything we are. They know they aren't going to get everything "right" immediately, and they know we won't always have the emotional energy for the hard conversations, but they are THERE, and they are there because they WANT to be. Yes, even on Broadway.

Fun fact: my first survival job was "Starbucks barista." (Other fun fact: the day I made my Broadway debut, Starbucks Workers United announced a massive strike for the very next day.) One thing that my time on Broadway has with my time at Starbucks is that I never seem to have enough Sharpies. At Starbucks, the Sharpies were for marking cups by hand (yes, I'm that old), and on Broadway, they're for signing Playbills at the stage door. (Like I said, there's no casual way to talk about this stuff.)

I honestly underestimated how much Broadway performers have to eat. It's easy to think most Broadway performers tend to be predominantly thin/buff just because the industry is fatphobic--and don't get me wrong, it totally is--but I also don't think most people really understand how athletic it is to do a full musical eight times a week, and what you have to do offstage to make sure you have the strength and stamina for it. It's genuinely harder than I thought it would be to make sure I'm not at a calorie deficit--and my less-than-stellar autistic interoception means that I can't always rely on "hunger cues" the way most people can. I really do have to PLAN to eat. And eat more than I would usually think I need.

I'm getting a lot better at doing my own wig prep. And I'm very excited about how pretty my hair looks at the end of the night when I release it from the pincurls.

Thanks to Mayte Natalio and Team Choreo, I'm also getting a lot better at learning choreography without a mirror. Poor proprioception is common in autistic people and it's one of my biggest insecurities, so it is always very stressful and overwhelming for me to learn choreography without a mirror, especially if I'm in a large group. It's difficult for me to visualize where I am in space and what my movement looks like in relation to others. But the choreo team knows this about me and helps me find other ways to learn and feel confident in the moves without constantly needing immediate visual proof. And that's something I never thought was possible before.

If I had the authority, I would ban pedicabs. Those things are like sensory assault. And they're RIGHT outside our show (and my bedroom window) every night with their lights flashing and their subwoofers blaring. But as a consolation prize to the drivers, I would equip each of them with a food truck. Let them solicit us and our patrons with chicken shawarma and Nuts 4 Nuts instead. That'll certainly get more business from patrons coming out of a show about autistic people.