#thank you for asking i should honestly work on these concepts more because I DO love them tbh

[moonstruckme]

vampire!james is such a fun concept!

what about if reader was a newly turned vampire too and James lets her feed on him

like the scene with elena feeding on damon in TVD?

because blood sharing is intimate :P

Hi lovely! I don’t really remember what this was like in TVD because I last watched that show probably 10 years ago and I don’t think I finished it but hopefully this is along the lines of what you were thinking, thank you for requesting <3

cw: blood, feels mature at times but no smut (vampires are just hot idk)

vampire!James x fledgling!reader ♡ 1k words

James hates seeing you like this. He remembers what it feels like—being aware for the first time of every nerve ending in your body, your mind whirring at a thousand miles a minute, everything worse and louder and so much more than it had felt when you were human. 

He’d warned you the transition would be like this, but you’d wanted it anyway. You keep trying to act like you’re alright even now, trembling from head to toe in the corner of the bed, eyes darting towards every sound and movement like your body thinks you’re under attack. The three bags of blood you’d gotten from the butcher lie empty on the floor. Normally James only needs one every few days, but this is one thing he’d forgotten about the transition, he supposes. The hunger is intense. He won’t be able to get you more for at least a few hours.

“Sweetheart,” James says softly. You still flinch as though he’s shouted. “You should try to go to sleep. It’ll help with the cravings.”

“I don’t think I can.” Your lisp is sort of cute. You haven’t been able to retract your fangs yet, have pricked your own lip more than once. “I can hear so many hearts. They’re loud.” 

James nods. He’s learned to tune them out, like the hum of electricity or the rush of wind outside, but he knows what you mean. If he focuses, he can listen to the beating heart of the bird nesting in the tree by your window, the neighbor’s cat, the woman who lives at the end of your street. Sometimes they seem synchronized together, the unceasing, steady beat of life in the world. It gets louder when he’s starving. 

“The butcher won’t be open until morning,” he tells you, though you know already. You nod, wrapping your arms around your legs. “But I can try to help, if you want. You could try feeding from me.” 

It’s an idea James has been toying with since you said you wanted to turn. He doesn’t think you could survive off each other forever—he’s not sure if he still makes new blood, if his body works that way anymore—but he doesn’t have need for his blood the way a human does. Maybe he could sate you for a bit. 

You give him a look of wary surprise, but James knows how you feel well enough to recognize the hope behind it. Any chance of feeding will sound good to you right now. 

“Can we do that?” you ask. 

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “But I don’t think it’ll hurt to try. Might taste a bit stale, though.” 

It’s a lame joke, and you don’t laugh. Your trembling worsens, your restraint barely holding out against your cravings. Your voice is small. “I don’t know if I can be gentle. I feel…weird.” 

James offers you a smile. “I know, honey. It’s okay. Can I touch you?” 

You nod. James is careful about it, not wanting to overstimulate your sensitive nerves. He takes your hands in his, slowly guiding you onto his lap. 

“You’re alright,” he promises. “Let me help.” 

Your brows crease, and your lip starts bleeding again when you prick it with your fang. James gently thumbs the droplet away. “I don’t want to hurt you,” you whisper, scared. 

“I’ll be fine.” He looks you in the eyes, swiping his thumbs over your cheeks calmingly. “You did it for me, right? That wasn’t so bad. Just…” James palms the back of your head, bringing it to the crook of his neck like an embrace. “Take what you need.” 

James doesn’t have a heartbeat for you to hear, but that doesn’t matter; once you’re close you can’t restrain yourself anymore. You bite into his neck eagerly. 

It feels like you described. Part of James worried that you were stretching the truth, trying to make him feel better, but the places where your mouth connects to his skin are suddenly the center of James’ universe. He can feel his blood rushing to meet you, to sate you, fill you up and be everything you need. Your low moan vibrates against his skin, and James laughs, dizzy and drunk on you. 

One of your hands fists in his hair, pulling his head further to the side. He bears his neck to you readily. He hopes you glut yourself on him, stay here with him, keep your mouth suctioned to his skin until you both die whatever deaths immortals can. 

He feels a bead of wet roll down his chest. You make a soft, thoughtless sound in the back of your throat, leaving his neck to chase it. Your tongue licks a stripe up James’ left pectoral. 

He blinks slowly as you wipe your mouth, breathing hard. It feels like waking up from a dream. You have blood smeared around your mouth and nearly dripping from your chin. You look embarrassed as you catch it with your fingers and lick them clean. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“It’s okay.” James smiles at you. He still feels slightly doped up, but it’s also sweet to see you like this, pupils still blown from the taste of him and shy about it at the same time. “You were right, that was nice.” 

One side of your mouth tilts up tentatively. “I didn’t hurt you? You were so controlled when you fed from me.” 

“That’s not your fault, honey, you can’t be controlled this early on.” James kisses you, pleased to find your fangs are starting to retract. “It’s not possible. But no, it didn’t hurt.” 

Your smile blooms with relief. “You didn’t taste stale,” you reassure him. “You sort of tasted like yourself, if that makes sense.” 

He nods. You’d tasted like yourself, too, all sticky sweet and addicting. 

You let your breath out in a whoosh, sagging in his hold. “I’m…god, how do you manage to walk home after this? I’m so tired.” 

“It gets easier with time,” James reassures you. He pets the back of your head, turning you both around so his back rests against the headboard of your bed. “You can sleep, though. We’ll clean you up tomorrow.” 

There are no arguments from you. You’re fading fast, head falling naturally back into the curve of his neck. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, “I wasn’t as nice about it as you were with me.” 

“Sure you were, sweetheart. You’re always nice, I don’t think you can help it.” 

“Yeah, well.” You turn your head slightly to mush a kiss over the puncture marks you’ve left him. “Thanks.” 

[muniimyg]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!jk (7) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ *nsfw*

series m.list // taglist request closed

note: i literally can't take myself seriously with this concept LOL where have my morals gone? lmk if anyone remembers classic kimi fics where smut was nonexistent HAUWHAUA 😭

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @pamzn @defzcl @maryy1300 @whoa-jo @taetaecatboy @jksusawife @un06 @firesighgirl @rrosiitas @butterymin @parkinglot-nights @musicjournalsjdb @kissyfacekoo @jkslvsnella @vampcharxter @bloopkook @somehowukook @bbystarcandykoo

//

jungkook has been looking over revisions for the past three hours. the promotion was more exciting when he worked for it... now, he feels way too overworked and honestly? for what?

the truth is, he only chased after the promotion because he knew it would be something you'd be proud of him for doing. you've always been the type to chase after things greater than yourself and wished for jungkook to do the same. well, this is it. this is jungkook doing just that for you. he hopes you can see it. he hopes you know it.

currently, he feels like his eyeballs might roll out of his head. he's bored and might lose his mind if he goes through one more slide (he has at least 200 slides left). irritated, he pushes away from his desk and stands up.

he stretches, trying to wake himself up a little more. then, he stares at the view from his office window.

the city is beautiful but he would much rather be looking at you.

suddenly, as if the angels heard him, his phone rings.

it's you.

he picks up immediately.

"hello?"

he doesn't know why, but he feels nervous. you never call. you always text or facetime... a call? what the fuck could be going on?

"hi... are you busy?" you ask, a little quiet. you sound tired.

he raises an eyebrow. "uhh... what's up? everything okay?"

a small laugh escapes your lips. "yeah. why? do i sound—"

"a little sad," he cuts you off, concerned. "___, what's wrong?"

you stay silent for a moment.

"nothing.”

he doesn’t believe you until he hears you sigh in relief.

continuing, you vent; "i just... i think i'm just stressed. i don't know. i wanted a break and suddenly i picked up my phone and called you. s-sorry. i... you're probably busy with the new promotion and—"

"i'm not that busy—"

like perfect timing, jungkook's office line interrupts. "mr. jeon, your 2pm meeting is being pushed back so you have time for lunch today."

jungkook clears his throat and thanks his assistant.

"new assistant?" you ask, letting curiosity get the best of you. "she pretty?"

"she's fired if you want."

"shut up!" you laugh. "i could care less—"

"oh, you care..." jungkook smirks. "hey, i'm glad you called. you can always call. i'm here for you when you need.. i don't want you to think anything else."

"okay.." is all you say.

jungkook takes a deep breath in. "did you eat today?"

"i ate. did you?"

"been busy—"

"you said you weren't busy!"

"hey, i'm not the lawyer!"

"still... i... listen, i'll let you go. i should probably get back to work or something—"

jungkook panics. "i'm cancelling my 2pm."

"what?"

"y-yeah... i'm looking at their revisions and i haven't even gotten through half of it. it's also shit so i'm just gonna tell them to redo everything. will i be the most hated boss? we'll find out."

on the other end of the line, you snicker.

"you can't blow off work."

"i can."

".... c-can i confess something?"

jungkook gulps, feeling sick to his stomach.

"what?"

you fidget with your fingers, unsure if you should continue.

"honey, what is it?" jungkook asks softly. "whatever it is... i'm here for you. you know that."

"i... uhm... i called because i was stressed..."

"... yeah?"

"jungkook," you pause, biting your bottom lip. is it too much to say this? at the same time... it's not like he has ever denied you anything. you might as well... "i need to relieve some stress. like, i need to focus on something that isn't work or our son. you know what i mean? everything is fine, honest! i just... i want to be focused on something and be present. i feel like i've been mindless for a hot minute... i just... look, if you're going home... is it okay if i come over? can i suck your dick or something?"

jungkook rushes home.

he changes his bedsheets and runs a quick shower. it's not like he needed to put in this much effort (it's literally the bare minimum) but it's the first time in a long time where you needed him. having sex and initiating was more so 50/50; but this was different. you need him.

he's your relief.

and also... it's a little funny, is it not? it's only 2pm on a random wednesday and you need him.

when you arrive, jungkook takes a few deep breaths before opening the door. his studio apartment is definitely smaller than your place (aka the place you two shared for 4 years), but it's okay. it's only temporary. he knows in his heart that he'll be back home with you in no time. this afternoon proves exactly that...

if today you need him for his body and tomorrow you need his heart; he'd give it.

"wow... i hate this already." you take a minute to laugh at yourself. you feel so beyond stupid and embarrassed... it's practically indescribable. though you and jungkook fool around and have always had an active sex life... right now felt different. right now felt... weird? but if it was ever going to feel weird; at least it's with him.

before you even step foot inside his place, you're turning your heel. "you know what? i should... uhm, this was stupid. sorry—"

jungkook grabs your arm and pulls you inside.

you stay still as he leans towards you face. he pokes your cheek and chuckles. "come on, honey. i said i'd be here for you. let me be here for you."

squinting at him, you move his finger off your face. "you just want your dick sucked."

"you offered," he snorts. "so pull through."

in hindsight, jungkook should've been more prepared than this.

but he isn't.

he fights to urge to spill himself all over your pretty hands every time you pump his cock. it's toe-curling the way you drag your wrist up and down. he throws his head back so much, it's beginning to get sore. leaving him with no option but to fucking watch you give him the most life changing blowjob of his life.

"are you okay?" you ask, batting your eyelashes at him. "you look stressed."

"i am stressed."

"what? why—"

"no! f-fuck, don't stop." he growls, not liking the way you suddenly stop. you purse your lips, catching on that he just feels edged out.

already?

... okay.

you continue to pump him, gripping on the base of his cock and moving your way up. his skin is so soft yet he's so hard. like... so fucking hard you know for a fact you don't want to fuck him right now. it'd hurt too much.

"you're so hard already," you utter under your breath. "and i swear to god, it's like your dick gets bigger every time i see it."

"i love you more every time i see you that's why."

"damn," you hiss. "can you... just let me do this? i wanna focus on... wanna focus on—"

"shut up."

you laugh, reaching up to place a kiss on his lips. he leans forward, gladly meeting your lips. when you pull away, you plop yourself in a more exact position in front of him. jungkook feels his balls get heavy as you kneel, part his legs, and begin to tie your hair up.

he helps you.

gathering your hair, you give him your hair tie. he quickly ties your hair before leaning back and trying to catch one last good breath.

he fails.

his breath hitches as you kiss his tip.

"w-wait—"

you don't.

you lick his length, dragging your tongue down to his base. there, you suck his balls and use your hands to pump. jungkook gulps, watching you do this. he doesn't know what to do. usually, he's really into it but there's something different about right now.

right now, he's in a trance.

he's mesmorized at how much your touch changes all the chemistry in his body. saying you send electricity throughout his body is an understatement. butterflies don't mean a damn thing either. it's captivating and everything but sweet.

it feels twisted in his stomach. it feels like he's on the edge on a cliff and the only way he can ease his fear is by jumping off.

he has to give in and let his body react to you.

he has to let you have this and from the looks of it (and feel of it); you've giving him everything you've got.

just then, you snap jungkook out of his thoughts as you attempt to take him inside your mouth. you make an effort to look up, eyes teary from holding in your gag. he's so big. there's no other way to explain it and there's no way you're going to stop thinking it.

he's so fucking big.

like what other choice do you have but to slobber all over it? you just have to. not to mention, he always tastes good. his cum, yes, but just his dick in general... is that weird? who cares.

jungkook's dick barely fits in your mouth. but you try to make it work. you want him—all of him. as you bob your head, easing your way to his full length, jungkook lets out a loud moan.

you look up and see his chest rising and falling. his abdomen twitches and so does his dick. you like the way he looks right now. as you suck, his breathing intensifies. soon, he's panting and you're near gagging.

you take a moment to catch your breath.

pulling away, your hands continue the show. jungkook brings his attention back to your hands and watches as the tip of his cock turns angry. god, it's getting bigger?

you practically drool.

jungkook leans over and wipes the access saliva around your lips. then, he shoves his thumb into your mouth. happily, you suck on it. bobbing your head, shutting your eyes, and letting out little moans; jungkook feels like he's losing his mind.

you look so fucking pretty.

when he takes his thumb out, you dive back to his dick. this time, he holds you by the back of your neck and guides you through it. jungkook pushes your head slowly but surely. then, he stops moving it. he keeps it in place as he lifts his hips and rolls them.

before you know it, he's fucking your mouth.

rolling your eyes back, jungkook moans at the sight. of course you're taking it like a slut. of course you're enjoying it too.

"you like this, huh? you like having your face fucked?" jungkook hisses in between breathy pants.

you gag in response.

jungkook pulls his dick out and slaps your mouth with it. his veiny member feels so good against your lips. you want it back in your mouth.

"answer me."

"mhmm," you whimper. "i like it so much. put it back in—mmhph—"

"fuck yes," he shoves his cock back into your mouth. "so pretty, honey. the absolute prettiest."

suddenly, he lets you go. it's then that you take the liberty to give it everything you've got.

you twirl your tongue around his tip, suck his length in every way possible. your hands pump to compliment your oral skills and jungkook can't help but think he's the luckiest man on earth.

then, it happens.

you feel his dick twitch. he instantly thrusts himself more aggressively to chase the climax. you behave and take it. then, squirts of his cum escape his tip. he cries, pulls out of your mouth, and aims at your face.

you shut your eyes, feeling his cum hit your cheeks and lips.

he lets out a moan of relief.

after a moment passes, you get up from your position and sit on his lap. wrapping your legs around him, he offers you a tired smile. then, he lifts his hands to wipe his cum off your face. opening your mouth, he gives it to you like icing.

you swallow and he feels like he might need a fucking minute.

then, you let out a little giggle when you notice how sweaty he is. you push his hair back and begin to laugh.

"w-what?" he worries. "why are you laughing at me?"

"you're sweating? as if you did any work—"

"i was literally fucking your face!"

"yeah but you're not the one that's gonna have sore cheeks for like three days or bruised knees!"

he shuts up.

you roll your eyes at him and continue to play with his hair. you feel his dick calm down under you. thank god. that fucking beast is scary when you're not in the mood...

"what time is it?" you ask, breaking the silence and breathing in the smell of sin.

jungkook shrugs. "dunno. also don't wanna move. stay like this with me."

you huff. "should i take my panties off or something?"

"why?"

"wanna cockwarm me?"

seriously...

he just might be the luckiest man on earth.

jungkook clears his throat as you straighten up your posture. "wait, i'll just put my panties to the side like this—ahh, mmhmm... y-yeah. like this.... feels good."

by now, jungkook's soft cock is inside you.

you like the feeling and so does he.

suddenly, you rest your head of his shoulder. he wraps his arms around you and holds you. kissing the side of your head, he asks; "you feeling better? relieved?"

"mhmm."

"good." jungkook tightens his lips, as he brings his hands to your hair. he runs them through and you take a deep breath in. you like the way he feels right now... so intimate.

"hey... did we talk a lot during sex?" he asks.

"don't remember."

"oh, okay..." jungkook looks around his studio apartment and suddenly feels embarrassed at how messy it is. "can i come with you to pick zion up today?"

"sure."

jungkook tightens his hold on you. you laugh and tell him it's too tight. he stops squeezing you and asks for a kiss. you give it to him. against your lips, he mummbles; "am i talking too much? i think i'm nervous or something—"

"then shut up."

"hey—"

you pull away and cup his cheeks.

"i feel your dick rising inside me. i don't have the energy for round two. either make the boner go away or i'll get off."

jungkook gulps. then, he shuts his eyes and thinks of every possible un-sexy thing ever... and it works. his dick softens again and you thank him with a kiss. jungkook takes his chance and intertwines your fingers together. you let him do so and his heart soars. something about him being inside you makes you feel so whole. there’s no denying that… and you love it, really. you love him, truly.

for a few more moments, you two stay like this.

you two are together.

[ckret2]

Chapter 53 of human Bill Cipher not properly appreciating the fact that Mabel is his only friend on Earth:

Mabel has read a book about Bill's home dimension and is prepared to interrogate him all about where he comes from.

Bill is willing to do anything to avoid being interrogated.

(Featuring SEVEN illustrations, provided by 🌈 MABEL 💖)

####

Flatworld, from what Mabel had read, was probably literally the worst place to ever exist. 

The book was a hundred pages of an old-fashioned formal-sounding super boring guy rambling on about the most egregiously evil society Mabel had ever had the horror of reading about.

Society consisted of a bunch of geometric shapes—which in concept sounded half nerdy and half adorable—but they'd made a brutally oppressive government organized by quantity of sides, with infinite-sided circles at the top and three-sided triangles at the bottom, and one-sided lines—women—oppressed into near silence. Career options, educational opportunities, who you could love, were all determined by your sides. Irregular shapes—quadrilaterals that weren't squares, triangles that weren't equilateral, anyone with a side too long or too short—were presumed from birth to be criminally insane. Each generation had sons with one more side than their father—and they had to, because having higher-ranked sons was the only way families could climb out of poverty. When babies were born with too few or irregular sides, poor families abandoned them—or worse—and rich families put them through oft-fatal bone-snapping surgeries to regularize or increase their sides. Knowledge of the third dimension was considered heretical, and anybody claiming it was real was locked in an insane asylum.

There was a lot of mathy stuff in the book about a square meeting a magical sphere and going on educational adventures to the higher and lower dimensions; but most of it passed by her in a blur. When she'd finished reading last night, Mabel had lay in bed for an hour, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about dead baby shapes and fighting the urge to wake Bill up just so she could hug him; until she'd finally drifted off and woken up in her own bed.

At least, thank goodness, the bit about banning colors so lower shapes couldn't contour themselves to look like higher shapes was false. But she was sure that at least part of the story was true. And it had happened to somebody she knew. It was a lot to process.

So she processed it the way she usually did the stories that weighed on her: by creating a self-insert and pulling out her art supplies.

####

"You're drawing fan art of Flatworld?" Bill asked warily.

"I wouldn't call it fan art. I'd say it's more of a... thoughtful artistic critique. I don't think I'm a 'fan' of the second dimension," Mabel said. "No offense."

"Sure."

Mabel had designed a shapesona of herself: a pink heart with a rainbow-colored outline, a big sparkly eye, and skinny black stick limbs like Bill's. If, as Bill had said, colors weren't illegal, she didn't see any reason she couldn't be rainbow. The heart shape was maybe unconventional, but Bill hadn't said she couldn't be a heart yet, so she was sticking with it for now.

She'd honestly expected Bill to come over and interrogate her about her creation long before now. Usually, when she was doing art and he was unoccupied, he was hovering right by her, examining her work and dropping hints—some more subtle than others—that she should draw him next. But she hadn't immediately noticed when he'd silently drifted into the room, and she wasn't sure how long he'd been there before speaking up. He was still leaning on the wall, arms crossed, watching askance from halfway across the living room as Mabel worked with her crayons, as if she were playing with a chemistry set and he was trying to figure out if she was building a bomb.

"Is Flatworld really about your world?" Mabel asked. "Did you tell Edward Bishop Bishop all that stuff? With the circles and all the laws about shapes and stuff?"

Bill mulled over the question, staring into space. Mabel had never seen his face look so inexpressive before—at least, not since his first night as a captive, after he'd gotten all the screaming out and had looked too exhausted to feel. "We talked," he conceded. "I'm surprised you got your hands on it. I suppose Stanford brought it up."

Something in the back of her mind pricked up defensively—what was that supposed to mean, he was surprised she got her hands on it?—but she pushed it back down. "Yeah, he told me and Dipper about it when you guys got home yesterday," Mabel said. "But you brought it up to me first!"

"No I didn't. When?"

"A few weeks ago? You mentioned Edward Bishop Bishop."

"I don't remember that," Bill muttered. "I probably didn't think you'd make sense of it."

"Hey!"

"You didn't make sense of it! Ford had to tell you about it."

"Yeah, but—mean!" She shoved aside her drawing and started on another one, grumbling, "I could've made sense of it if I'd looked it up."

What was up with Bill today? He wasn't usually this much of a jerk. To her. Lately. Plus, she thought they'd really had a moment yesterday! But Bill had had a rough couple days. Maybe he was just tired and cranky. 

A wiser person might just leave well enough alone. But a wiser person wasn't exploding in their brain with curiosity about just how bad Bill's life had really been. There was something itching at the back of her head, had been itching since she'd woken up—something about Bill, something important, she was sure of it—but she couldn't quite put together what it was. She just needed to talk to Bill long enough to figure it out.

"So..." She glanced up from filling in a shape yellow, "were lines really executed if they didn't make noises all the time so everyone always knew where they were and they couldn't sneak up and stab anyone?"

Bill scoffed, rolling his eyes, as if the very idea was stupid. "It wasn't that extreme. Making a peace cry is like a human saying 'coming through' when they're trying to squeeze past somebody. Lines are just taught to do it in public because it's easier not to see a line, that's all."

"If they didn't, were they executed...?"

"No. They were just rude."

That was a relief. Mabel had been worried for her fellow ladies. She was plenty noisy, but she didn't think she could remember to make constant sound any time she was around other people. She turned back to coloring her newest drawing, but watched Bill out of the corner of her eye. "Is it true that rich people killed almost all of their babies by giving them surgery to break their sides?"

The corner of Bill's mouth curled in a sneer. "Do I look like a pediatric surgeon?"

"Um." Not a welcome question. She tried to backtrack to something softer. "So, in the second dimension, the outside of your body is just your outline and your guts are everything inside the outline, right?"

He gave her a wary look. "Yeah."

"So your bow tie is basically in your stomach."

Bill sucked in a deep breath; but quickly caved in to the need to be the most correct person in the room. "More like around my esophagus, but. Sure."

"So, where did you wear it when you were back in the second dimension? Was it on your side? Did you have to wear two so people could see them from both sides—"

"I didn't need a bow tie then."

Mabel stared at him. "What do you mean, you didn't 'need' it? What do you need it for now?"

Bill ignored the question. "You know, I didn't think Flatworld was an interesting enough book to deserve this much attention! Especially not from you. You like fun stories." It felt oddly like he was criticizing her for having read it.

"Well—yeah, but it's about your home! That makes it fun!"

Bill raised his brows.

"Right? Doesn't it?"

"Kid." Bill laughed condescendingly. "Don't give me that. You read an entire book. In the summer. About math. With a downer ending where the narrator goes insane and gets locked up. That's some people's idea of a fun time, but I know it's not yours."

Maybe "fun" was the wrong word—but it was still important. She was glad she'd read it. She'd cared about it. She'd cared enough to know Bill was describing it wrong. "That's not what happened. The square got locked up because he kept telling everybody the third dimension's real."

"Like I said! He went insane!"

"But he's not insane. Everyone says he is, but he's right about the third dimension! It's everyone else who's stupid!"

"So what," Bill said. "The things he knows mean he'll never be able to see the world the way other shapes do, and no matter what he does he'll never be happy with his home. If that's not insanity, what is?"

Last year, she'd heard Bill agree when Gideon called him insane. She'd always wondered. "Is that why you're insane?"

Bill shot Mabel a furious look. That was the wrong thing to say. "Shooting Star—"

(Oh no, she thought, he's using my full name.)

"—what's with the third degree." Bill crossed the room to lean on the other side of the table. He gave her the guarded glare of a guilty suspect facing down a cop in an interrogation room—and trying to figure out whether he could kill the cop before he was stopped. "What do you think you're trying to dig up?"

"I'm not trying to 'dig up' anything," Mabel said. "I just want to learn more about you!"

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you do! Who doesn't wanna know all about me! And right after I trusted you yesterday! Do you think you're the first person to start digging into my history? 'Hey, does anyone know what made Bill Cipher so crazy'?" Bill laughed bitterly. " You're not even the first Pines to try it. Not even the second."

"That's not what I'm trying to do!" said Mabel, right before it dawned on her that that was exactly what she was trying to do.

"Right. I'm sure whatever you learn will make a nice two-page spread in Journal 5. Another secret you and Fordsy can add to your Mysteries, huh? Think he'll draw the dead babies?"

She thought back to Portland—to asking Ford what had made Bill so awful. I think if anyone’s ever had a chance of finding out what made him like he is, it might be you. Mabel shook her head. No. She didn't want to be that. "I'm not Grunkle Ford's spy, I'm your friend. I just—I just want to understand you—"

"Yeah, and the 'friends' who understand you are the most dangerous kind." Bill laughed harshly. "Your uncle and brother couldn't figure me out! And Sixer's been trying for years! So what makes you think YOU can?"

He was calling her stupid. He'd been calling her stupid all day. That was why he was so surprised she'd read the book.

"You—shut up!" She wadded up her latest drawing and flung it in Bill's face. (He snatched out of midair.) "All I did was read a book I thought was important to you, you jerk! I thought you'd like that!"

She hadn't meant for that waver to enter her voice. But she was exhausted from too little sleep and worrying about dead baby shapes and worrying about Bill's fear of death and worrying about what Ford had said about not giving Bill a second chance, and now Bill was being a jerk, and maybe he was just exhausted and upset too, but he was treating her like she was stupid—and there was that pathetic little waver.

But it made Bill pause in his onslaught; for a moment, he averted his gaze. Still, he said, "Maybe if you'd thought to ask—"

"You were asleep! I was being nice! And letting you sleep! In my bed!"

"But—"

"Just go away!" She pointed at the doorway.

Bill's face hardened again. "Fine!" He flung his hands in the air and stomped from the room. "Who wants to hang out with you when you're in such a bad mood, anyway."

Mabel glared at her stupid drawings so she didn't have to watch Bill's stupid back as he left.

Why had she bothered?

When Bill was out of sight, she dropped back onto her chair, pulled her sweater over her face, crossed her arms on the table, and buried her head in them.

####

Bill didn't think to smooth out the paper Mabel had flung at him until he was out of the room.

On one side she'd drawn Bill—properly triangular—with an expression that he thought was supposed to be fear and on the other side several angry-looking shapes, pentagons and hexagons, colored gray and black, being led by a pale figure shaped like a human skull and wielding a scythe; and between them, a bright pink heart, standing in front of Bill protectively, hands on its "hips," glaring down the would-be assailants.

The corners of Bill's mouth sagged down.

####

The bell rang and the shapes began filing out of class, muttering to each other about how they thought they'd done on the test. As the triangle cheerfully left the room, the teacher caught him by the arm again to pull him over. "Just a minute," she said. "I want a word with you."

Oh, he bet she did. Breezily, he said, "Sure thing! What is it?"

"Who was the first triangular president?"

"Wh— Th—" He spluttered indignantly. "There's been like—seven of them."

"Nine. And I'm only asking about the first one."

"How should I know!"

"You knew an hour ago."

He sputtered again. "That was— That was a multiple choice test! And it was an hour closer to when I'd studied! And I can focus better in the classroom! You can't expect me to remember anything in the hallway. You're using intimidation tactics. How could anyone focus under these conditions—"

"I don't know what you're doing," the teacher said, "or how you're doing it. Maybe I never will. But..." She sighed, and the anger seemed to leak out of her, and that only made him more nervous. "But whatever you're doing—you won't be able to do it forever. What will you do when you're out in the real world and you didn't learn anything in school?"

Her pity was worse than being hated had been. At least when he was hated, he knew she only looked down on him because she had something against him. What did he do with pity? With concerned warnings about the "real world"? He'd never heard anybody use the phrase "the real world" as anything but a threat. He hoped he was never out in the real world.

"Who cares! I'll never need any of this!" He should have shut up there. He didn't: "You're just jealous that me and my family make a million times more lying to everyone than you'll ever get trying to teach them the truth!"

His teacher gasped in shock; but before she could say anything, he was halfway down the hall with no intention of slowing down.

The next day, he stayed home, and his mom visited the principal. The day after that, he had a new teacher.

####

He was stupid. He knew that. He didn't know when he'd gotten stupid—if it was because he'd started touring so much and missing classes, or if he'd always been dumb and just didn't notice it before he registered just how often he was using his all-seeing eye to pick up answers that other kids couldn't see. It had crept up on him. But there it was. He was stupid, and he was too stupid to figure out what to do about it.

There was a big difference between being able to see everything, and actually knowing anything. And he might be all-seeing, but an idiot like him would never be all-knowing.

####

A trillion years later, he still didn't remember the name of the first triangular president. And look how far he'd gotten without it.

Lunch was toast and peanut butter. The toaster was the only source of heat he could use without having to ask his captors for access; and peanut butter and bread were the most nutritious foods he could reach without asking his captors to open a cabinet or fridge. He was sick of toast and peanut butter.

He wasn't about to ask Mabel to help him get lunch.

Well. He'd succeeded. He'd known just the right thing to say to get Mabel to lay off and drop the topic. Did he feel accomplished?

He stared out the window as he ate—there were hazy gray clouds on the horizon, beyond the trees, slowly inching closer—and he tried not to look at the picture Mabel had flung at him.

####

Mabel felt dumb about being upset that Bill thought she was dumb.

Because of course he did. Sure, he liked her art and he liked dance music and games without rules; sure, he was a willing student when it came to stuff like making friendship bracelets or artistically mixing sprinkles; sure, he was a weirdo fun guy; but he was also a Smarty McSmartypants, just like Dipper or Ford. And Mabel was the Girl Dipper who brought home C's. And even a weirdo fun Smarty wouldn't want to hang out for long with someone who couldn't keep up with nerd talk. He probably just... put up with her for as long as he could stand pretending he took her seriously, but he'd finally lost his patience...

And shown his true, jerky colors again.

Maybe Ford and Dipper were right about him; maybe he couldn't really change.

Except... there was something he'd said. And right after I trusted you yesterday. When he'd cried in front of her. When he'd told her about his fear of death.

He was being a jerk because he thought she'd betrayed him. But by reading a book?! Why couldn't he ever just explain himself? Did he think whatever was bothering him was obvious, and she was stupid for not figuring it out?

Something she almost but didn't quite remember thudded like a drum inside her brain. Dum-dum-dum. Dum-dum-dome.

From the entryway, Bill called, "Hey, star girl. I—"

He stopped in the doorway. Mabel had taped 28 pieces of paper together, drawn on a door knob, written "DOOR" at the top, and taped it across the doorway into the living room. Irritably, Bill said, "It doesn't work like that. This is obviously paper."

"Bill," Mabel grumbled. "Go away."

"No. I'm gonna say something to you."

He didn't phrase that like he was giving her a choice in the matter; but all the same, she said, "I don't wanna hear it."

"You know that horror story about a bride with a velvet ribbon tied around her neck, and her head falls off and rolls down the stairs when her husband unties it?"

She did. She and Dipper had read a book of scary stories to each other on Halloween a few years ago while waiting for it to be late enough to go trick-or-treating. In spite of herself, he'd piqued her curiosity. She reluctantly turned to look at him. "Yeah? So?"

Bill was leaning in the doorway, head tilted against the doorframe so he could see Mabel around the paper door curtain. "That's why I wear a bow tie."

Mabel blinked. "Wait—if you didn't, your head would fall off? What part of you is your head? How did it come off? Were you decapitated? Did you get decapitated for knowing about the third dimension—?"

"It doesn't keep my head on; it keeps my skin on."

Mabel's nose wrinkled. "Gross! How?"

"Remember how you said my outline is my skin and all my organs are inside the outline," Bill said. "That didn't change when we left the second dimension! We had to get exoskeletons on our top and bottom sides so solids like you can't stick you fingers in our guts. My bow tie keeps it tied in place."

"Whoa." So that was why they hadn't seen Bill's organs before. "Do you ever take it off?"

"Mostly when I'm eating!" He knocked on the doorframe. "So can I come in now?"

Of course. He'd been using information to buy his way back into her good graces. (No—that was what somebody who didn't think Bill deserved a second chance would think. He was making up for earlier by answering one of her questions about him.)

She took a deep breath, turned to face Bill, and said, "You didn't talk to me like a friend earlier."

"I—" Bill grimaced, looked at the ceiling for help, and conceded, "I mean—It's how I talk to my friends, but all right, I know you're not used to that—"

"Nobody should be used to that!" Mabel said. "What would Love Bunny say?"

"Wh—?! I— Th— You—" His voice cracked as it jumped higher, "What do I care what a cartoon rabbit thinks about—"

"What. Would. She. Say."

Bill's face screwed up in agony. He crossed his arms. "Ugh."

"Biiill?"

Eyes squeezed shut, Bill said, "She'd say my breath smells like I've been eating mean beans."

"Aaand?"

"I'm not going to say it. I won't say it."

"And you need to eat your nice rice!"

Bill let out a long, slow sigh.

"Say it!"

"This is my penance," Bill muttered toward his feet. "This is my penance. This is fair." He took a breath. "And... I need to eat my nice rice."

Mabel nodded. He'd confessed his sins.

"I think we're out of nice rice," Bill said, "but I've had the peanut butter of kindness and the toast of remorse. Good enough?"

She considered it. "Yeah. You can come in."

Bill batted aside the paper door curtain and ducked into the room. 

He sat across the table from Mabel and set down the paper she'd chucked at him amongst her others. Mabel glanced at the drawing, embarrassed of it now; but Bill didn't say anything about it.

He just propped his cheek against his hand and started looking over her other art.

Mabel sat there with her hands under her legs, watching his spotlight eyes rove over the table, feeling like she was waiting for a teacher to grade a poster she'd made for class. He saw a stop sign red octagon in sunglasses that was labeled "Bill's parole officer" and snorted. She wasn't sure if it was an amused snort or a derogatory snort. His gaze stopped on her attempt to figure out how Flatworlder anatomy worked, and didn't move farther. She'd probably gotten everything wrong, hadn't she?

She couldn't stand waiting for him to pass judgment on her art. "You think they look dumb, don't you."

Bill took a moment to reply. He didn't look up from her drawings. "I don't think you're dumb, Shooting Star."

"You think I'm dumber than Dipper and Grunkle Ford."

Bill winced. "I don't." At her dubious look, Bill amended, "Only Stanford! And that barely counts, all humans are dumber than Stanford. It doesn't mean I think you're dumb-dumb"

"Could've fooled me," Mabel muttered.

"You bet! I'm good at fooling people. All I have to do is say things I don't mean that make people feel the way I want." His voice was flat and matter-of-fact. "I wanted you to feel like the conversation wasn't worth it. That's all."

She stared at him. "By letting me know you think I'm stupid?!" She chucked a crayon at his face. "You could have just told me you didn't want to talk about Flatworld!" Her voice was getting that stupid waver again. "If I'd known, I would have dropped it! I didn't want to upset you!"

"I wasn't upset, it's just a stupid thing to complain about! It's just a dumb book! It'd—it'd take a real loser to be bothered by talking about a dumb book! I'm not..." He sighed harshly. "I know you weren't trying to get on my nerves, kid. It'd mess up your sticker chart." (Mabel hadn't even realized he knew about her sticker chart.) Almost inaudibly, he added, "M'sorry."

She'd never heard him apologize before.

She let out a slow breath. "Biiill. I don't think you're a loser."

He muttered something she couldn't make out as he flipped his hood on and pulled it down over his burning face. "Forget it. Move on. It's in the past!"

"If you're so embarrassed—"

"Not embarrassed!"

She chucked another crayon at his chest. "Then why are you telling me this now?"

Bill shut his eyes; took a deep breath; and, with a look of solemn dignity, and no small amount of pain, he said, "Because. Teddy Tender says. Our friends can't help us feel better if we don't tell them why we feel bad." He almost, almost managed to say it without sounding sarcastic.

Mabel burst out laughing. Bill pulled his hood lower.

Bill didn't even like Teddy Tender—he thought he was the stick in the mud of the Color Critters—and he certainly wasn't actually trying to follow Teddy's friendship lessons. He was just... saying something he didn't mean to make Mabel feel the way he wanted. And he wanted her to feel better.

No matter what anyone else said, he could change. And he was changing.

"Apology accepted," Mabel said. "Gold star!" She peeled one off a nearby sticker sheet and held it out.

Bill eyed it, like a man so hungry he was too nauseous to eat eyeing a pizza; and then snatched it from her and stuck it in the middle of his hoodie.

Mabel said, "And... I guess I'm sorry for getting all diggy about your home world." Even if she hadn't known it was bothering him, she probably should've guessed, shouldn't she? With how crabby he'd gotten. "I just got all excited and curious and... kinda worried about you after reading that book?" She sighed. "I understand if you don't wanna talk about it. You probably hated your dimension."

"What? He lurched forward with the vehemence of his denial—"Of course I don't hate my dimension!" Mabel leaned away at the sudden rage that had flared up in his eyes; but it died just as quickly and Bill immediately reeled himself back in, sitting back, crossing his arms: "I mean, come on, kid, use your head: you read a book about a culture. We're talking about an entire dimension. Would you hold a grudge against Jupiter if an ant bit you on Earth?"

Even as casually as he played it off, Mabel was sure he hadn't meant anything as calm and measured as claiming it was technically irrational to hate an entire dimension. He meant—emphatically, with his whole heart behind it—that he didn't hate his home dimension, at all.

Then why didn't he want to talk about it? (Then why had he destroyed it? Or was not hating it just another fiction he'd made up because he'd prefer that reality? Or was the destruction itself a lie? He hadn't mentioned it once since they'd started talking about Flatworld. Or did he think she didn't know about that and didn't want her to know? Or...)

Something had been churning in her subconscious since she woke up, and now—watching Bill ball up around himself as he squirmed around the things he didn't want to say—it finally dawned on her. Two words. Another piece of the Axolotl's poem. She tried to hold the words in her head until she could write them down, repeating them over and over—Misses home. Misses home.

Quietly, she asked, "Then... don't you want to remember it?"

His face spasmed, like it was nearly cracking in two—and then smoothed out. His face was blank. He didn't answer for a moment. "The last time I told a human more than two sentences about where I'm from... he gave me the universe's most depressing geometry textbook."

Oh. Maybe Bill was following Teddy Tender's friendship advice. "That's because you were talking to a boring old-timey math teacher, duh."

He laughed wryly. "You may have a point!"

If Bill assumed anybody prying into his history was either looking for the reason something was wrong with him, or publishing a whole book about the super bad parts... No wonder he hadn't wanted to talk to her. "So you didn't dislike Flatworld? You just dislike the book?"

Bill grimaced. "Did you read Eddie's biography?"

"No?"

####

As soon as he'd buckled himself into his seat for the drive to Northwest Manor, Dipper read the summary on the back cover of Flatworld, and then the paragraph-long author biography underneath it:

Edward B. Bishop, born in 1838 in England, was an accomplished mathematician, writer, theologian, and closet occultist, as well as a professor at the esteemed University of Fancyton. He published twelve books, the last of which was Flatworld in 1884. After sentencing his square protagonist to a two-dimensional asylum for preaching of the existence of the third dimension, he himself succumbed to an ironically similar fate: three months after publication, he was committed to an asylum for insisting that two-dimensional alien invaders intended to conquer the Earth and were persecuting him for revealing their existence, a delusion he maintained until his death from sleep deprivation in 1886. His most enduring legacy is inventing the margarita glass, which he claimed came to him in a dream. 

Dipper hissed between his teeth. "Ouch."

####

"Never mind, don't worry about it," Bill said. "But no. I didn't like the book."

"You poor thing! All this time you've been homesick for the second dimension, but the only things humans talk about is the bad stuff!"

"Don't call me that."

"Do you want to talk about the non-depressy stuff instead? Like..." Mabel wracked her brain for something nice she'd read in the book. She winced. "Uh... I'm sure there's something. You could choose the topic?"

Bill didn't look directly at her. He just looked over all her drawings again. "Tell me why you want to know so badly."

It was basically the same question he'd asked earlier—what's with the third degree—but his tone was different. Mabel swallowed hard and repeated, "Because... I'm your friend. It's crazy that we've been friends for like a month and I barely know a-ny-thing about who you are or how you grew up! By now, I'd usually know about a friend's family, favorite subject, favorite animal, opinion on glitter, and biggest life dream! Plus all the stuff humans have in common—like, 'do you breathe?'"

This time, Bill didn't argue with her answer. (He could have called her a liar. A month ago, she had just been trying to find out what was wrong with him. But this version of the truth she'd made up was better.) "You already know I'm pro-glitter in all contexts and my life's work is to throw an eternal party. What else really matters?"

"Those are the two most important questions," Mabel said seriously. Tentatively, she asked, "Did you have glitter in the second dimension?" He'd already reassured her that they'd had color, but it was hard to imagine glitter in such a bleak world.

"Sure."

Mabel heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank goodness."

She looked around at the morning's art production, pulled over the first drawing she'd done of her shapesona, and grabbed a bottle of glue to draw a thin line around the heart.

Bill watched as Mabel carefully sprinkled several separate colors of glitter on the line of glue, like a master chef adding a precise amount of spice to a gourmet recipe, to create a glitter rainbow gradient; and then he slowly sat up and leaned toward the table again. "So, who's this freak?"

Mabel gave him an exasperated look. She decided he'd meant "freak" neutrally; but she'd clearly labeled the heart "ME IN FLATWORLD," she thought it was pretty obvious who this freak was.

But Bill cheerfully went on, "He's the most hideously disfigured shape I've ever seen."

"Hey!"

"I'm not joking, it hurts to look at this guy. At least he's symmetrical, but woof."

"She's not a guy! She's supposed to be me in Flatworld," Mabel insisted. "She's a powerful lady and I think she's beautiful." She paused. "Can a heart be a girl?" Lines looked boring, but Flatworld said that girls were all lines and all other shapes were boys. (Or were they? When they'd talked at the mall, Bill had been very clear that he considered himself a triangle instead of male or female, which scuttled the "all polygons are male" concept. Maybe Edward Bishop Bishop had made that part up?)

"She can be anything she wants," Bill said firmly. "I don't see any gender cops around here, do you?"

Good point. "And when there's no cops around, anything's legal."

Bill laughed. "Hey, I like that."

"Grunkle Stan says it!"

"Wise man." Bill leaned forward further across the table and tapped a finger on the deep cleft at the top of the heart. "Personally, I'm more worried about that agonizing-looking birth defect. I'm surprised she survived past infancy!"

Mabel glared at him, but she supposed she couldn't argue. A heart was a pretty irregular shape. And according to Flatworld, almost all irregular shapes were executed in childhood or else imprisoned in adulthood, since they thought irregular shapes would grow up to be depraved, imbecilic criminals—

"Wait," Mabel said. "Wait. Last year, when I called you an isosceles freak—"

Bill cut in, "It was 'monster,' but go on!"

"Was that, like..." Mabel's voice dropped to a whisper, "a slur on Flatworld?"

Bill fought to keep his face straight as he decided how to respond. He went for the funniest answer. "Yes."

Mabel clapped her hands over her mouth and squeaked, "Nooo!"

"It's actually pretty impressive a human managed to come up with it!"

"I'M SORRYYY, augh I didn't know!"

Over her anguished whines, Bill went on, "It's just a good thing you didn't say 'scalene'! I would've had to wash your mouth out with drain cleaner!"

Mabel had pulled the collar of her sweater over her face. From within Sweater Town, she asked, "Was that the first thing I ever said to you?"

Bill choked back a laugh. "Yeah, it was."

She squealed in embarrassment and slid under the table.

"Heck of a first impression, star girl!"

"i'm sorryyy."

Bill reached under the table to pat the top of her head. "Ahhh, it was funny. Get up here." 

As she climbed back into her seat, Bill added, "I'm getting back at you now, I'm not done making fun of your medical miracle yet. You know what she'd look like as a human? A headless, neckless body with an eyeball shoved six inches down her esophagus." He paused thoughtfully. "Actually... that sounds kinda cute."

"Eww, Bill."

"It is, it's cute. Like a clumsy puppy with a neurological disorder! I guess that's how the hideous Miss Heart here must look to humans!"

Mabel looked over her art again, wondering if she should change her shapesona, considering Bill's reaction to it. 

So, maybe she was creating a freak. She didn't see any shape cops around here. She kept drawing. "I'd be fine," she said. "You like weird freaks! You'd keep me safe."

A stricken look crossed his face. He was momentarily silent as he watched Mabel start another picture. And then, as though he were only considering it for the first time, he said, "Yeah. I guess I would."

His gaze drifted to the wrinkled picture of Mabel's shapesona standing protectively in front of Bill. "Freaks can't afford to tear each other down."

####

(THIS is the chapter that's been giving me hell the last few weeks. Months. Last few months. I'm so glad to finally have it out, and I hope y'all enjoyed!! This chapter probably brings up a lot more questions than it actually answers—and completely different questions based on whether or not you've read Flatland lol—so I can't wait to hear what y'all think.)

[mesetacadre]

Hey do you think you could watch and give your throughts on youtuber Jonas Čeika video "marx was not a statist"?

Thank you

Quite honestly, the title alone already betrays some amount of anarchist metaphysics, the concept of stateism is a purely idealist notion which only works if you are a liberal about authority. But regardless, I still watched the full thing.

The video starts with a very semantic-focused discourse on how marx never used "socialism" to mean the lower phase of communism, and way too much time on the terms transitionary period/DotP as if they weren't two terms that refer to the same thing. In the case of socialism/lower phase of communism, I think he's obfuscating. He focuses the discussion on whether Marx used a certain term in the same way we do now. This would be like spending a good 5 minutes of a video presenting, with an almost accusatory disposition against modern communists, how the bolsheviks called themselves social-democrats, pretending like the terms haven't simply evolved. He promises an "active engagement with marxist theory" and he starts by arguing semantics. He even acknowledges this possible criticism, but you also then have to defend why that criticism is not valid, instead he acts like merely acknowledging it will make that criticism invalid. I'm also spending this time on this specific point because, later, he also forgets how Marx used the word "socialism".

When he does define the lower stage of communism, he engages in a very mechanic and economicist view, with the simple train of thought: No money (replaced with vouchers) > no capital to accumulate > no classes > no state. I think that just by asking how these vouchers will be regulated and how access to wealth restricted to the use of those vouchers, the conclusion that the substitution of money necessarily leads through that chain to the disappearance of the state becomes, very transparently, downright infantile.

In his point about how the Paris Commune changed Marx's view on the state, he cites excerpts in a very misleading way. The whole point starts by pointing out that, in the preface to the 1872 edition, the experience of the Paris Commune led Marx and Engels to the following analysis: "...the working class cannot simply lay hold of the ready-made state machinery, and wield it for its own purposes". This, along with a disregard of the importance of the specific policy points they outlined in the manifesto, and the importance of absolute centralization, means to him that Marx and Engels, actually, completely disregarded the use of the state on the road to communism. To quote Lenin: "Listen, comrade from Tiflis, one may prevaricate, but one should know the limit...."

What the video doesn't directly address (and although he talks about the text extensively, It's important to cite ideas where they actually come from), is that this quote, although it appeared in the 1872 edition of the manifesto, comes from Civil War in France, a longer text on the Paris Commune. This is a more complete context of that quote that the video never gives [ID in alt text]

That quote is the beginning of a chapter in which Marx describes how the Paris Commune governed itself, and how it broke with the series of revolts that happened throughout the period of feudalism, how the class character of the Commune marked it as the significant event that it is. It is true that the Commune's aspirations for the entire world was for its form to be replicated even in the smallest hamlet, and it may even be true that this influenced Marx to generally reject centralization of the state. However, what the breadtuber obviates throughout the entire video, is that a small state is still a state, and furthermore, that revolutionary strategy is not dictated by what is right or wrong, but by what can be done to advance the cause of the emancipation of the working class. It is one thing to reject the state outright, and another very different thing to acknowledge that it is necessary to take control of the state to emancipate the working class, even if you abstractly oppose the concept of a state. Not only to take control of the state, which is the point of the original quote, it is necessary to create our own worker's state, in whichever form it best suits the concrete reality: "the working class cannot simply lay hold of the ready-made state machinery, and wield it for its own purposes". Jonas says that the proletariat should, instead, create "radically democratic working class institutions". These gentlemen think that when they have changed the names of things they have changed the things themselves.

Instead of understanding that point, he goes even further. Jonas has understood that, by praising the measures taken by the Paris Commune (which, let's remember, failed after two months!), Marx and Engels began to believe that "[the state] is by nature bourgeois". Maybe Jonas started reading Bakunin instead of Marx without realizing, this is perhaps the most liberal and historically illiterate portion of the 30+ minute video essay. Again, comrade from breadtube, one may prevaricate, but one should know the limit. In fact, Marx even says in the same text being discussed: "It is generally the fate of completely new historical creations to be mistaken for the counterparts of older, and even defunct, forms of social life, to which they may bear a certain likeness". The irony needn't be explained.

As if Jonas hadn't misconstrued the text and Marx enough, he shows the quote: "... although there is nothing socialist in them except their tendency...". At first I was unable to find this specific quote in Civil War in France, not in any chapter nor in the footnotes. As it turns out, this quote is not from Civil War in France, as Jonas so succinctly cites it, but from the draft of the text. First, it's simply dishonest to cite such a cherrypicked line from a draft and passing it off as something Marx published.

There might be a myriad of possible reasons why this idea did not make it into the final text, but in order for the audience to correctly follow along, it's necessary for them to know where an idea comes from. Beyond this, which I find misleading enough, the video makes the point that with this line, Marx is clearly differentiating between a dictatorship of the proletariat and socialism. But hang on, didn't Jonas spend the first 5 minutes of the video explaining that, in the times of Marx, socialism was understood to be a reformist and petit-bourgeois stance? So, then, how could this out of context, unpublished line be Marx making a distinction between lower-phase communism and the dictatorship of the proletariat? This is the phrase's context [ID in alt text]:

The actual point of this portion is not even related to what Jonas makes it out to be. Here, using "socialist" as another name for utopians, Marx makes the distinction between previous movements of utopians, those socialist sects, and the Paris Commune, because even though their goals, the emancipation of labor, may appear similar, there is nothing socialist [utopian] in them because their means are not utopian, but the beginnings of scientific communism. So, then, not only did Jonas go back on the first point of the video to dunk on the evil stalinists, and not only did he completely remove the context of a phrase by failing to cite properly, but he also failed to even understand the points made in the text he's cherrypicking. Is this what passes for "active engaging with marxist texts" in breadtube?

After this portion, which I still consider the better half of the video, he veers into talking about socialism in one country, first by, again, very blatantly removing important parts of the texts he talks about. The quote he shows, from Principles of Communism, is as follows: "Will it be possible for this revolution to take place in one country alone? No. By creating the world market, big industry has already brought all the peoples of the Earth [...] into such close relation with one another that none is independent of what happens to the others [...] It follows that the communist revolution will not merely be a national phenomenon but must take place simultaneously in all civilized countries [...] It is a universal revolution and will, accordingly, have a universal range." It is true that Engels states that communist revolutions cannot be confined to the national scale, but those ommissions hide a lot of nuance that is very relevant to discussing Marx and Engels' positions on the national/international question. This is the full quote [ID in alt text]:

Marx and Engels were unable to completely and correctly analyze the imperialist form of capitalism, which hadn't yet fully crystallized, economically speaking. According to them, since capitalism was the most developed in places like England or France, the proletariat was also more developed, and the socialist revolution would happen first in these places, and propagate outwards. This notion was proved false by both theory (Lenin's imperialism) and by practice. Lenin identified that, as imperialism settled down as the highest stage of capitalism, the imperialist chain could only be broken at the weakest link, which was Russia at the time. I'm insisting on Lenin's theories because Jonas also claims Lenin to the "not statist" camp, and the video very quickly loses any originality by defaulting to the narrative of Stalin betraying Marx and Lenin by rejecting the world-wide revolution in the short-medium term as a pre-requisite for the establishment of a dictatorship of the proletariat. I think that going more in depth into this will only make this response unnecessary longer, but to end it, I think it's apt to end with a Lenin quote which directly refutes this anti-Lenin betrayal notion:

A United States of the World (not of Europe alone) is the state form of the unification and freedom of nations which we associate with socialism—about the total disappearance of the state, including the democratic. As a separate slogan, however, the slogan of a United States of the World would hardly be a correct one, first, because it merges with socialism; second, because it may be wrongly interpreted to mean that the victory of socialism in a single country is impossible, and it may also create misconceptions as to the relations of such a country to the others.

Uneven economic and political development is an absolute law of capitalism. Hence, the victory of socialism is possible first in several or even in one capitalist country alone. After expropriating the capitalists and organising their own socialist production, the victorious proletariat of that country will arise against the rest of the world—the capitalist world—attracting to its cause the oppressed classes of other countries, stirring uprisings in those countries against the capitalists, and in case of need using even armed force against the exploiting classes and their states. The political form of a society wherein the proletariat is victorious in overthrowing the bourgeoisie will be a democratic republic, which will more and more concentrate the forces of the proletariat of a given nation or nations, in the struggle against states that have not yet gone over to socialism. The abolition of classes is impossible without a dictatorship of the oppressed class, of the proletariat. A free union of nations in socialism is impossible without a more or less prolonged and stubborn  struggle of the socialist republics against the backward states.

On the Slogan for a United States of Europe, V. I. Lenin (1915)

Overall, I think this video lacks any kind of rigor or respect for the texts discussed. Citations are pretty predominantly misleading or incomplete in some way, he extrapolates fantastical ideas from texts he doesn't appear to understand, and more in general, the way the video is concienved reeks of dogmatism, the arguments overwhelmingly boil down to "Marx said this (according to me), so it must be true". There is no actual engagement with texts, but there isn't even a will to engage with history. Marxism does not end with Marx and Engels, it's a philosophical and political framework that extends beyond the gospel of incomplete quotes. Even if Marx and Engels really did believe such anti-materialist ideas as "the state is bourgeois by nature", it would not change the facts that the history and experiences after the Paris Commune should also have weight in order to reach conclusions.

[cloudysarts]

Hi there!!

I want to say that your “Mabel’s muse” Au concept has absolutely called my attention, Bill mentions multiple times (Dipper and Mabel’s guide to mystery and fun and TBOB) how he likes Mabel’s personality and wanted her to be his ally…sooo the idea of an alternative time where he decided to approach her and where she trusts him and considers him as her friend is absolutely full of potential

I just think about how many stuff would change and how bill would be a little more genuine with her as he for once isn’t pretending to be an all-wise being and having to constantly rise the ego of Genius minds…instead he just has to party with a teenager whose idea of fun is quite similar to his…he doesn’t have to be the “supreme being” for once just a silly fella in order to earn Mabel’s trust

Also about how some episodes would have to take a completely different route:

maybe “Mindscapers” wouldn’t even take place…because I doubt that Mabel would trust a Bill if he went inside Stan’s head

Bill possessing her during the “sock opera”episode instead of dipper

Also don’t get me started on “the last Mabelcorn” episode. All the angst and horror that Ford would feel when he finds out about the whole friendship with bill situation reflecting himself on Mabel and probably Dipper being the one who search for the unicorn hair while ford tries to convince her that Bill isn’t trustworthy

I apologize for my rant but I seriously love your idea and sorry if it’s a bit confusing English isn’t my first language

I hope you have a nice day and thank you for reading this silly thing!!

first of all, your english is great!! second of all, i am SO sorry it took me so long to respond to this ask, it just made me so happy that i wanted to take my time to craft a response!!!!!! :DDDD (context: for people who don't know what my 'mabels muse' au is, you can check it out over here!)

you are practically SPOT ON with my ideas for this au!!!!!! but i'm gonna briefly run through all the things you brought up!!

first of all, yes, absolutely!!!! for bill, partner-ing up with mabel was a very nice change of pace. he likes stroking the ego's of genius', just for his own amusement, but he doesnt get the THRILL of just getting to PLAY very often!! he's a very childish being, at the end of the day. he enables mabel's selfishness, while getting to indulge his own, silly passions right alongside her!! and obviously, mabel LOVES being enabled <3 i imagine most of the dreams he gives her would make any normal persons eyes bleed

as for your episode ideas, you're mostly right!!! :) mindscaperers does, in fact, NOT happen in this au. in my head, i imagine gideon trying to summon him, only for an 'I.O.U' to appear where bill should be. he's busy hanging out with his favorite pre-teen!!! so gideon skips straight to his backup plan, aka, gideon rises ^^

for sock opera, i'm still on the fence a little bit. one of the reasons bill is hanging out with her at all in this au is because, unlike in the regular timeline, this bill actively wants stanford to be brought home. the reason mabel is important to him, is because he can see timelines where she presses the button in not what he seems, and keeps him from returning. in his mind, he has the greatest shot of success if mabel doesn't press it. in this au, she doesnt even hesitate to trust stan, because she has another, trustworthy voice in her head, yelling DON'T PRESS THE BUTTON. its 2v1! ANYWAY, the reason any of that matters for sock opera, is because he wouldnt have any need to possess anyone, because he has no interest in smashing the laptop! BUT.....i can see him doing it anyway. i figure, most likely, he gets mabel to (willingly) let him use her body, so that she can work on her sock opera while her body sleeps. i just imagine a bill-possessed mabel up at 3 am, covered in hot glue and googly eyes as he tries to work it out shjdkfhjsdkf. but......honestly, he probably destroys the laptop in the process :) just to fuck with dipper <3 not that dipper ever finds out its her. he has no idea that mabel was ever possessed/has no reason to suspect her, because at this point, he still doesnt think bill is real. that is....until the last mabelcorn.

IN the last mabelcorn, mabel reveals to ford that she does recognize bill, and that he lives in her brain! she says it really excitedly, at the table, while dipper kind of just rolls his eyes about it. to her, its vindicating, because it's the first time anyone has ever acknowledged bills existence. but to ford, its HORRIFYING, because he knows it isn't just a coincidence. he knows he has to do something, but he doesn't know what, right away. this is where our ideas differ a little bit, because i think that mabel still WOULD be the one retrieving the unicorn hair! ford just didnt tell her what the hair was for. ford sends her off, because he wants to brainstorm a way to get him out of her head, preferably without hurting her/her memories. he also plans to bill-proof dippers mind in the process, just in case mabel is too far gone already. the events here happen basically the same (with minor tweaks), but instead of dipper suspecting that ford is evil/bill-possessed, this is where he finally learns that bill is real at all. ford tells him about his backstory, and explains the REAL reason he sent mabel out to get the unicorn hair, etc etc. he loves mabel a lot, but hes not sure how to go about dealing with this situation yet. its not HER fault she trusted bill, but he knew that if he just tries to tell her hes evil, she wont believe him. shes known 'her muse' longer, and as of right now, he's never lead her wrong. just like what happened to him in the past...

i wonder how mabel would feel if she only heard the end of that conversation...

(more of this au here and here!)

[auspicioustidings]

Hello there I have another questionable idea 😁

So 141 confusing reader home for a safe house and breaking in and the sleep deprived nurse reader is just like 😐 and patches them up cos they are hurt and that’s the start of an very interesting relationship

Thank you for everything you are doing and remember that you are amazing

Drink water not coffee

🎃anon

Pumpkin! Ohh so this is similar vibes to this which I never wrote because sometimes I love a concept but am rubbish with execution :')

I have, however, tried my best to give you a little bit of your ask <3

Hippocratic Oath

Words: 550

Nah, for real if someone was breaking in you didn't care but they could at least be fucking quiet about it so you could go back to sleep. You had not slept in an actual bed in fucking days, only catching what could barely be described as a nap in the cots at the hospital between emergencies. 

“Find a first aid kit, we need to get him stable!”

Oh come on. The people robbing you were injured? Stupid fucking hippocratic oath. Technically it said nothing about having to help people who had broken into your house, it just said you couldn't harm them. So if you laid here and ignored it then Apollo couldn't say shit. 

…God fucking damnit. You dragged yourself out of bed, honestly too tired to react to the gun pointed at you with anything but a withering look, and went to pull the first aid supplies from their place. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

“This is my house skull mask, who the fuck are you?”

There was a man with a mohawk bleeding all over your couch. You grumbled about that a little but dutifully knelt by him and started to cut the clothes around the problem area so you could clean it out and stitch him up. A heavy tactical vest was on the floor, leaving him in just a t-shirt. The other young man was pushing a wad of bandages to stem the bleeding. Good, he was doing a good job. 

Kyle looked at Price who only furrowed his eyebrows and nodded, giving him permission to follow your instructions. So that's what he did. 

“We get a bonnie medic with safehouses these days Captain? Cannae say I'm complaining.”

“Shush or you'll wind up biting your tongue off when I do the stitches” you said, prepping the needle and thread. 

You looked quickly around his get up, seeing he was wearing jeans with a belt and undoing it. 

“I've definitely seen a movie like this” the skull mask man said which you elected to ignore.

“Tell me more LT.”

You shoved the belt in the man's mouth and he took it between his teeth immediately. Not his first rodeo then. Made sense, they were probably soldiers. He was a model patient as you stitched him up, not squirming at all. 

Your focus overrode your exhaustion for long enough to give each of the others a once over, making sure there wasn't anything else serious you needed to treat. By the time you got to the last man, the one your patient had called Captain, you were completely dead on your feet and your eyes were starting to sting. 

“Thanks luv, c'mere.”

Being scooped up by some military man who had broken into your house really should have caused some sort of fight or flight response, but you had nothing else left to give. You were asleep before he even made it to the bedroom, putting you right back under the blankets. 

–

Your alarm never went off and you frantically called in to work to let them know you'd be there as soon as possible only to be told in no uncertain terms you were on leave for at least the next week. 

It was with some shock that you emerged from your room to find that dream wasn't as much of a dream as you thought.

“Let's have a little chat about the next week hm luv?”

Ah fuck.

[safetycar-restart]

KINKTOBER DAY 22: COCKWARMING [LOGAN SARGEANT X READER]

NOTE: This is an NSFW fic with sub!Logan and dom!reader. If you are under 18 or uninterested, scroll past. Alternatively, if you like what you see here then consider checking out my blog :))

This work forms part of a kinktober series where I discuss a different kinky concept with a different motorsports athlete every day. We also discuss the concepts in more detail on my blog so if you have any thoughts, feel free to stop by!

(Since it's COTA, I figured we should have some Logan thoughts)

It's no secret that Logan has had a tough season, and that he's being very very hard on himself about it. And honestly I think the best thing anyone could do for him is just give him a safe space?

Logan feels so much pressure to perform, to be good for Williams, to represent his country, to prove himself, to perform for his family and himself and it just... it gets too much for him sometimes. When the race goes badly, or even just mediocrely. He gets so stuck in his own head and he doesn't need someone to try and distract him, he needs someone to just give him a safe space where he doesn't have to perform like that.

And cockwarming is perfect for that?

He starts to ask for it actually, starts to come to you after races and fall into your arms, mumbling against your ear and asking if you two can spend the night in the hotel and not go out. You say yes of course, knowing that Logan needs quiet time.

He holds your hand the whole trip to the hotel, trying to keep it together in front of the team but you can see how he's struggling. It's all reaching the point where he's put too much pressure on himself for too long and now something has to give.

When you get to the hotel, he says he's going to have a bath by himself, clearing trying to tell you he needs a moment and so you agree of course, telling him you'll order room service in the mean time.

You're alone in the hotel room for all of ten minutes before you hear crying from the bathroom, and two minutes later he's calling for you. You have to wait until he calls, because you know how much trust it takes for Logan to let someone see him like this. If you go before he asks, he'll feel violated and uncertain if he can leave the door unlocked anymore. You would never ever do that to him.

So you wait until he calls, and then go.

You find him sitting in the bath, crying with his knees brought up to his chest. When he spots you, he just mumbles, " 'm sorry, it's just... I dont know it's all so much."

Your heart breaks for him, and rather than say anything you just hold your hand out for him to take. There's nothing you can say, but you can look after him.

You dry him off, ignoring that tears are still running down his cheeks and then take him to the bedroom. He hides under the blankets with you, resting against your chest and talking about his day. He tells you how sad and disappointed he is, how much he wishes he could do better, how much of a disappointment he is.

You let him talk, kissing his head and rubbing his back at the same time to give him some extra comfort. He talks himself hoarse, letting himself complain and rant and have a little pity party because he needs to be allowed to feel those things.

When he stops talking, he stays cuddled against your chest. After a little while, he looks up at you and gives you a small smile, thanking you for listening and saying he loves you. You give him a little kiss, promising him that you love him too and that you're always willing to listen to him.

It's then that he moves up and requests some more kisses, turning into a slow makeout session. You know where this is going, and you're more than happy with that.

"Can we?" logan asks, a little smile on his face.

"Of course we can," you tell him, always happy to be close to him.

So you stroke him to hardness, kissing away his little whines and shaky breathes until he's ready for more.

It's so slow as he enters you, inch by inch until eventually he's as far as he can go and then he just collapses against you. You hold him close, trading soft kisses and just enjoying being close.

You two will stay like that until Logan gets soft enough to slip out, and then you'll warm up the room service you ordered and talk about anything except racing.

But for now, Logan is happy and safe in your arms, finally able to let everything go and just enjoy being close to you.

[deerspherestudios]

📖FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS📖

Regarding asks, I typically avoid:

stacked questions (asks that have more than one question, so honestly, sending them one by one is better than writing a bunch in one go)

hyperspecific scenarios (while I enjoy answering these, some can get incredibly specific to the point where it doesn't even feel fun anymore)

questions that have already been answered (obviously)

To manage the blog, I usually queue up asks instead of posting them instantly, so it might take several weeks for me to respond. Please be patient! And while I appreciate the time and thought taken to writing me a message and the growing interest in the game, understand I'm still one person and will sometimes leave a message unanswered. Thank you. ❤️

Below is a compilation of questions I get a lot about Mushroom Oasis and Mychael, so if you have a question feel free to check if it's already been answered! The list will update as needed:

🎮 F.A.Q ABOUT THE GAME 🎮

1. What is Mushroom Oasis❔ What is the rating❔

Mushroom Oasis is a visual novel made in Ren'Py that was initially released for the 2023 Yandere Game Jam. It's currently still in development as a solo project. I post updates almost exclusively on this tumblr so if you're interested in the game, you're in the right place. The rating is 16+. How did I come up with the concept?

2. How many days will the game have❔ When will it release❔

I initially planned it to have 4-5 days! But with some new ideas and routes I'm considering, it might extend to 5+ days. As for a release date, it's done when it's done. So please allow me the time to develop it at my pace <3

3. Will the game be translated to other languages❔

I'll be honest, I had no plans to. However, a few people have reached out volunteering to. I'll say for now I'm open to the idea, but I prefer people asking permission first. First and foremost, ask first.

4. Will the game be available for mobile❔ Will the game be free❔

For now, a hard no. I have zero clue how to make it available for mobile. Maybe I'll consider it once the game is fully released, but it's only for PC and Mac for now, as those are the default builds in Ren'Py.

And yes, the game will be completely free.

5. Is NSFW content allowed❔

Considering the main love interest is an adult, that's fine. However I'd appreciate proper filtering of NSFW content considering the game's age rating means there's more than a few minors in the fandom. NSFW questions aren't allowed on the blog.

Keep it where it's meant to be with proper tagging separate from the '#mushroom oasis vn' tag. Using '#mushroom oasis nsfw' should be enough? I hope.

NOTE: Now, I understand some people are really passionate about Mychael being asexual, but I can't bring myself to police people for mischaracterizing his asexuality, nor would I want to gatekeep him either.

He's a fictional character first and foremost, and while representation is important!!!/gen /srs I don't want to bring attention to any such content in case it brings unwanted harrassment on that creator for posting such content.

Please don't do that. Let people make what they wanna make. It's unfortunate, but fandom will be fandom.

6. Will there be other love interests? Will it have multiple endings❔

Due to project scope, the only romance-able character for MO is Mychael himself. The game will have multiple endings however, ranging from romantic ending, platonic ending to creepy/bad endings (because, y'know, yandere).

7. Will there be official merch?

Since I'm just done with college and newly married, the extra income would be nice! I have to plan for it and work out some logistics, but I will be working on something on the down low.

🍄 F.A.Q ABOUT MYCHAEL🍄

1. What are his pronouns and sexuality and age❔

He identifies as male, uses he/him pronouns and is a panromantic asexual. He's older than you think. ::-)

2. Is Mychael's name based off 'mycelium'❔

Yep!

3. What is his height❔

He's 6'2. He used to be 5'8.

4. When is his birthday❔

Initially it was 15th February! Simply because I happened to start designing him that day, hence his 'creation'.

I might pick another date though; for now, his birthday is undecided.

5. Favorite food and drink❔

He loves fried mushrooms and tomato juice! He hates spicy food though, as the smell and taste makes him physically ill.

6. Do you have a voice claim for him❔

Jonathan Groff, specifically his role as Kristoff in Frozen. The fandom has kinda associated it with him now, so it's here to stay haha.

7. What is Mychael's love language❔

I explain it in-depth here!

TL;DR: He likes giving gifts, and likes receiving words of affirmation.

8. How is Mychael's affection towards MC (blog-centric only)❔

So for context, as I manage the blog sometimes Mychael makes an appearance in answered asks. His answers can change depending on when you ask at the current state of the demo:

Day 1:

Day 2:

Day 3:

EXTRAS:

Mychael's Character Ref

Firefly (MC)'s Character Ref

Mychael's Playlist

Mushroom Oasis' Playlist

Bad Ending 1 Explained

[olderthannetfic]

Writing about my favorite characters as transgender has opened my eyes to how many people in fandom are able to get away with actual transphobia without other people judging them for it, and after one particularly bad experience I feel like I can't participate in fandom without constantly having to check people's profiles and social media to see whether or not they might secretly hate trans people. The fandom I currently write for is relatively small compared to others, but somehow I still manage to catch a lot of casual transphobia, especially on my higher-kudos'd works. This didn't really bother me at first since most of the comments were misinformed but rather harmless otherwise, with most asking me to write a fic where the MC medically transitions to become their "real gender" as a sequel. Those comments were written politely, but the sentiment that a person's body designates their gender bothered me a lot. I specifically present the trans characters in my fics as pre-op or non-op without dysphoria in order to feel more comfortable about my own body, and I'm really tired of reiterating the reasons why I personally won’t create a fic where the MC undergoes a full medical transition. I would be thrilled if someone else wrote that, but it’s not a concept I have any interest in executing myself.

Usually the casual transmedicalism in my comments is my only real gripe about the attitudes towards transness in my fandom, but recently I joined a major fandom discord server and found out that they had a dedicated thread for bashing my work. (Well, to be more accurate they had a bunch of threads for bashing people's works, but mine had the most messages at the time.) I should have just left at that point, but I was curious to see if there was any valid criticism because honestly I don’t get a lot of constructive feedback on my newer stuff and I wanted to see if there was anywhere I could improve. Unfortunately, it was almost entirely just really hurtful comments, with many people making assumptions about my body and offline identity, calling me a fake trans person and a chaser for the things I've written. They kept going on about how I'm fetishizing transness, how I probably just wanted an excuse to write het smut with an M/M tag on it, how I'm probably not actually a trans man but an obsessed and misguided teenage girl instead. I've been on T for over two years now, but even if I wasn’t, their belief that all bodies like mine are basically "female" was really upsetting. Maybe I just happened to stumble upon a bad crowd, but at that moment I just really felt alone. I never expected to receive that kind of vitriol in such a small fandom - I have maybe like five or so people who follow my work closely, so it's not like I'm hitting super big numbers compared to others. I understand that my work might be dysphoria-inducing for other people, but I include warnings for language at the beginning of all my fics and I'm extremely thorough about tagging all the sex acts that take place. It's easy to filter out my work via additional tags if you don’t want to see it. But no matter how many measures I take to make others feel more comfortable, they still feel like I'm taking up too much space and mucking up the tags with my fanfiction.

Part of me feels like quitting after this experience, but I'm also a spiteful bastard and I think it would haunt me forever if I stopped now lol. I'm curious to know if you or any of your followers has ever dealt with a similar situation (as in, finding out there's a bunch of people who hate your work for shitty reasons), and if you have advice on how to continue interacting with others in fandom without constantly wondering if they hate me behind closed doors. I left the server already but I'm sure there's other things I can do that I'm forgetting. Thanks for reading!!

--

There will always be people who dislike you for silly reasons, and if your fic is popular, there will be a lot of them. The only way to deal with it is to just accept that this is normal and not think about them.

[nikoniclove]

Hi!! Love your Ace in the hole fics! I saw you said you take requests here. Id love to see more angst surrounding JJ and Emily. Maybe them almost getting hurt and Ace distancing herself because she’s scared of the heartbreak she would feel if she loses one of them, so she tries to back off to lighten the blow. Up to you if you like the concept, it was just a thought. Thanks for all you do!

It’s hard to explain.

Emily gets shot. It’s a graze on her left upper arm. She’s fine. Actually fine. She’s already making jokes about it when the team is on the plane heading back to Quantico.

That’s not the confusing part. You know how she got shot. You were all clearing the house, divided into two groups. The unsub fired off a shot when he was startled, the bullet zipped past Emily just nicking her. You fired back - kill shot. That’s also not the confusing part. You’ve been in war zones as an operative and a sniper. Shooting someone who attacks your unit or your team … that’s not going to cause you a single bit of heartache.

No, the confusing part is the feelings. Again, you’ve been in war zones and lost fellow soldiers, and you never felt this … panic. It doesn’t make sense. You’re very good, very adept, at just not feeling, not letting things affect you. You keep your head down. You don’t get involved with personal things. You do the job, and you go home. Sure, you’re not a sociopath, so you develop bonds with your unit and your team. You don’t like to see them get injured. You worry about them. But the feeling that gripped you when Emily got shot was nothing like that. It was raw, deep, and thick. That feeling lingered.

Even now it’s hanging around when you know she’s okay. You saw the injury while she was perched on the back of the ambulance, cracking jokes and being sassy while getting stitched up. JJ nudges you with her foot, a silent check in. You force a reassuring smile and intentionally mute your anxious fidgeting habits. “Coming over tonight?”

Right. You’ve never slept with anyone before and then seen them get shot, so maybe it’s that, but again it *feels* different. You glance toward Emily, her sleeve’s texture bumpy where the gauze is wrapped around her upper arm. “I… umm… I… uhh… I have plans.”

“Oh yeah,” JJ asks, feigning belief. You nod, biting your lip. If your feelings are reacting like this, after sleeping with them a handful of times, getting close with them as teammates, you should reel it back in and quickly. You don’t want to stomach the raw, intense feelings if they get hurt or when they finally decide this coworker-with-benefits arrangement has run its course. You need to retract back into your fortitude and do what you can to lessen the blow before it happens. You got too attached. Keep your head down; keep to yourself. Do your job. “You okay, baby?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you agree, far too quickly to be truthful.

JJ hums noncommittally. She doesn’t believe you for a second. To be fair, your responses weren’t exactly confident. Oh well. Too attached. Need to pull back before you get your heart crushed. “Emily’s okay, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” At least you can say that part honestly.

When you go your separate ways at the airfield, you sit in the parking lot for a long moment, trying to justify your bullshit. You’re waffling. Both options suck. If you keep seeing them outside of work, you’ll get closer and closer until they decide it’s over. Those aggravating, confusing feelings will get deeper; they’ll bleed over into field work like they did today, and when they do finally call it, you’ll be crushed, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself. If you pull back now, like you know you should, you miss them, and they’ve become an equally confusing important part of your day-to-day, and that’s bound to make you feel … things. Briefly you wonder if you could convince your therapist to increase your dosage to get to some nice medium where you feel nothing and you can exist without worrying about your stupidly fragile heart behind walls and walls of inner defense strategies. They’re too smart for that, and you wouldn’t actually ask because that’s not what your meds are for. Having a conscious is stupid.

The tap on your window scares the shit out of you, and Emily waves, her keys in her hand. You roll it down and look at her expectantly. “Car okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you confirm. You haven’t turned it on yet because you were sitting moping about your stupid feelings but you won’t tell Emily that.

“Don’t you have plans to get to?”

“What?” Your brow furrows in confusion. “Oh, right. Yeah.” Lying bites you quickly in the ass as you forgot you told JJ there was a reason you couldn’t come over. “I should get going. Thanks for checking on me. I’ll… uh… I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

Emily leans into your window, so you couldn’t drive away even if your car was on and you were ready to do that. “So what’s the real reason you’re not coming over,” she challenges. “Because we both know you don’t have plans.”

“I do,” you insist lamely. With her non-injured arm, she reaches to turn your face toward her. “I don’t like feeling things,” you admit, annoyed with the blush heating up your cheeks.

“And you felt something back in the field,” she understands. “I’m okay, love.” You know. You know that. It’s not as simple as that, which is also why it’s so fucking confusing. “Hmm,” she noises at whatever reaction she reads across your face. “Come over. We’ll have dinner. We can ignore whatever feelings you don’t want to talk about. I’m a pro at that.” The offer is stupidly appealing. Aggravatingly, confusingly so. You are too attached, too invested. These women are going to break your heart and make you feel all sorts of things you’re not ready for. But you can’t turn her down. You nod slowly. “Good. JJ’s going to ride with you, so you can’t change your mind.” Emily tips forward just a bit more to kiss your cheek. “We have feelings too,” she whispers. “It’s okay.” You’re not so sure that’s the case, but that’s a problem for Future You. For tonight, you’ll go back to their apartment, spend time with and between them, and you’ll sleep. Figuring out your feelings can be for another day.

[sleeplessdreamer14]

oooooh you should do a little piece on 1A & midoriyas twin in the support course. i think it would be cute

fandom: my hero academia

summary: both midoriya twins are attending UA, one in the hero course and the one in the support course

contains: mentions of the deku fan club, implied ururaka, iida, and/or bakugou x reader

a/n: if this gets enough notes I’ll do another one where it’s the other way around 🔄 divider credit goes to @cafekitsune

while Izuku wanted to become a pro, you wanted to be a support hero

all throughout grade and middle school, the two of you would constantly imagine what it would be like to work as heroes together

and then high school rolled around and Izuku got ofa from All Might (yes he told you everything) and you frankly lost your sh!t

thank goodness your mom wasn’t home yet because it took a solid 15 minutes for you both to chill tf out

never had there ever been such pure delight in that apartment

anyway, you both got into UA and you wound up buying a pair of noise canceling headphones so that Hatsume’s projects wouldn’t blow out your eardrums

it took a little while but you eventually learned to tune her out a bit so you could focus on the gadgets you and Izuku had come up with in junior high

the first time Iida and Ochako formally met you was in episode 14 when they stopped by your department you had to yank Mei off of Deku and tell her to stop feeling up your brother

the brunette almost immediately saw the resemblance and honestly thought you were pretty cute in your work outfit

Iida greatly appreciates how much calmer and more cautious you are than your pink-haired classmate, wishing he had come to you for help sooner

he also found you pretty easy on the eyes

during the sports festival, you two kept an eye out for each other

and just when you thought you couldn’t be prouder of him, you saw him fly through that faux minefield and couldn’t suppress the beaming smile on your face even if you wanted to

in the next round, you had no time to focus on the scratch in your throat as you tackle hugged Izuku without a care in the world about which place you came in

your laughter was contagious as he hugged you back, double high-fiving you as you parted

talk about supportive family, right?

although you don’t interact as much as he and Izuku, Toshinori has a lot of faith in you and holds you in high regard

also, in regards to the Deku Fan Club™

when he introduced you to the rest of his class, their title was officially changed to the Midoriya Fan Club

honestly, sometimes he stops by your department with some half-baked excuse just to see you cuz he misses you

oh-ho-ho and just picture the day that you feel a tap on your shoulder while you’re working and you take your headphones off and find Bakugou of all people standing before you, asking for your assistance

you were a little tempted to poke and prod at him a little, but ultimately decided to just help him out

you’ve waited this long for him to simply talk to you, might as well not try your luck

ever since you got into UA, he had been hesitant to talk to you but finally decided to bite the bullet (after Kirishima used some good old reverse psychology on him)

as you tinkered with his support items, you stole a couple glances over at him, smiling to yourself as you noticed the differences between him and the guy you knew back in middle school

you’re consistently over at the 1A dorms, especially while Izuku was under house arrest, and you like to have little meet ups with the rest of the class so you can come up with concepts for support items

sometimes Aizawa forgets that you’re not in his class with how often you hang around

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; look out world, here come the Midoriyas

I hope this shall suffice

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Your Mihawk has me weak on my knees so I wanted to request something for him.

S/O has scars on her body, mainly on arms. She does fight but some of them look… too precise. One time after she loses a fight she is really pissed and nervous, she goes to a place alone. There he sees her just giving herself a scar with a knife on her arm. Turns out she was taught scars are signs of losses and if she doesn't get one in battle then afterwards she needs to do it herself. That's why she's so determined to always win. She hates scars.

@patisilence tagging since I'm not sure if you'll get this since I had to save it as a draft to format everything right.

Anyway.

I DID IT I ACTUALLY FINISHED IT

I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG 😭😭

And I honestly really really want to thank you. This is my first ever fic-request, for one.

And also, writing this has been an absolute emotional rollercoaster. I have kind of a personal history with self-harm and I wanted to depict it as realistically as possible. Which resulted in heavy focus on character development, which resulted in this practically turning into a novella. I'm going to split it up into a few chapters to streamline things and link them all in this post.

If I do it right, then the entire thing should already be posted when I post this, but I'm still pretty new to Tumblr so bear with me. Each chapter should be between 3k-4k words.

And ALSO ALSO I've been planning a longer Mihawk X OC fic, and I really hope you don't mind me using this concept for it? Because it honestly ties a lot of things together for me

Soooooo without further ado, here's the whole author note thing.

Your Scars Are Mine

Ch. 1

LA! Mihawk X AFAB!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Mentions of Violence, I guess that's it, I'm bad at this

⚠️ MASSIVE ASS TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ : Self-harm, Blood, Implied PTSD

Summary: In the few months that he has known you, Mihawk has noticed the scars on your arm. You've refused to talk about them and skirted around the subject successfully, but a trip to Shells Town throws everything out into the open in a way that neither of you were prepared for.

Ch. 2

Ch.3

You were hiding something.

In the few months that Mihawk had known you, he had come to learn a fair bit about you. He knew, for instance, that you had over the past few years made something of a name for yourself as a sword for hire, typically among pirate crews who required a more discreet touch.

That this reputation of yours had led the Buggy Pirates to hire you to assist in stealing a map of the Grand Line from a Marine base in Shells Town. You had failed to procure the map before it was stolen by other hands, leaving you in their debt. Buggy had sunk your sloop to prevent your escape, and you had gotten stuck working for the ridiculous crew for a brief time, remained stuck with them until the Strawhat upstarts offered you passage with them.

Mihawk knew you had traveled with them as far as Baratie, where you had crossed his own path for the first time at the bar on the ship's deck. Where you had approached him with a bargain—if he left Roronoa Zoro alive after their duel the following morning, you would serve him for a year, an errand girl to send off on whatever menial tasks the World Government assigned him.

"And why would I want a little bird flitting around after me around for an entire year?" Mihawk had asked coolly.

And yet you had made a fair point—acting as a government lapdog was growing old. He had been sent after the vice admiral's grandson, for heavens' sake, as if he had nothing better to do with his time than to handle the old fool's family disputes.

Though the surly pirate warlord wouldn't have dared to dream of admitting it at the time, you had his attention. Your offer of unquestioned devotion, your confident demeanor as you sipped a glass of whiskey and kept your eyes on his without showing an ounce of fear or intimidation. You were certainly an interesting diversion from the otherwise dull task that had been laid before him, and your certainty that he would accept your offer had irritated and intrigued him in near equal measure.

It was intrigue that won out in the end. He had left his challenger clinging to the edge of life and taken you with him on his departure. You stayed toe to toe with him in wit and banter, and that alone would have been more than enough to draw him closer to your charm. He had wanted you before two weeks were out, wanted to claim you as far more than his "errand girl," and it was easy to see from the way you effortlessly returned his subtle flirtations that you wanted the same.

And now you were lying back across his broad chest in the hammock aboard your new sloop, a book open over your chest and his hand resting over your stomach, his other tucked under his neck as he frowned thoughtfully up at the roof of the small ship's cabin, pondering over the whirlwind of events that had led up to this moment.

It had been just over two months since the pirate lord had taken you as his lover, and you had been an open book about most things. Your training under your grandmother. Your setting out on your own from a small island village to find your parents, or some clue of their disappearance. The many and varied pirate crews you had served as a hired hand.

Yet you refused to discuss your scars.

Any seafarer with a history as sordid as your own had their share of battle scars. Mihawk had a fair few of his own; one didn't become the most renowned swordsman in the world without a few losses, after all. Yet your voice turned to clear contempt when yours were mentioned, even in passing, and you tensed like a statue when his hands brushed over them. You were confident to the point of near arrogance, yet you clearly held nothing but shame and contempt for the many marks that marred your delicate skin.

Some of which appeared oddly...uniform, for having been gained in battle.

It was in part—in great measure, honestly—the mystery of you that had drawn him in to begin with, and this was just another mystery that Mihawk intended to unravel.

You closed your book abruptly, stirring him from his thoughts as he glanced down at you. He watched you gaze thoughtfully toward the ceiling for a long moment, your hand resting over his at your stomach, before you finally spoke up.

"Reading a book is just staring at a dead tree and vividly hallucinating."

You tilted your head back, grinning as his mouth turned down in a frown and his brow furrowed at your ridiculous statement. Mihawk sighed wearily, plucking the book from your hands and lightly rapping you over the forehead with it.

"No," he scolded, as you giggled softly. He sighed heavily again, dropping the book over the back of the hammock before pinching at the bridge of his nose. "Are you trying to give me a stroke?"

"No," you said, imitating his scolding tone. You stretched your arms out over your head, arching your back for a moment, before rolling over to lay across his chest and brush your lips to his. "But it's fun seeing the look on your face."

"You irritate my very soul, little one," he said, shaking his head as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"And I enjoy every second of it," you countered, grinning as you laid your forehead against his.

"I can tell."

Your grin managed to draw a small smile from him, before he lifted a hand into your hair and pulled you down into a slow, deep kiss. Your fingertips came to rest at his broad shoulders, the hammock swaying slowly in the steady ocean waves carrying the ship along. He knew as well as you did that he wasn't honestly irritated—your strange sense of humor had grown on him, as starkly as it contrasted to his dry sarcasm, and he rarely had the pleasure of meeting anyone as adept at keeping up with his own banter.

You lay your cheek at his shoulder when your lips parted, your eyes slipping shut and your contented sigh tickling against his neck.

"If the wind holds steady it will be a few hours before we make port," you said, your voice low and soft. "I suggest we don't move from here in the meantime."

"I'm not sure I've ever heard a finer suggestion."

Mihawk pulled one of your hands to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles. He pulled his hat down over his eyes to block out the sun pouring through the windows of the small cabin, tucked his hand back behind his neck again, and shifted beneath you to get comfortable as he closed his eyes. His arm remained curled around your waist, his hand slipping just beneath the hem of your shirt so his thumb could rub slow circles over your soft skin as you both drifted off toward the peaceful recess of sleep.

The first thing that struck Mihawk when he woke was that you weren't in his arms.

Every day and night for nearly two months, he had fallen asleep and woken with you against him, and the absence of your warmth jarred him instantly awake and aware. His eyes scanned around his surroundings as he sat up, taking in where he was—the small cabin of the sloop he had recently bought you as a replacement for the one Buggy's crew had sunk.

His sharp yellow eyes darted toward the door, taking in the sound of unfamiliar, muffled voices outside the cabin.

He was standing in an instant, straightening his hat and pulling Yoru onto his back as he slipped silently through the door and onto the small deck of the sloop.

There was another sloop tethered to yours.

A pair of no-name pirates holding you against the bow ny your arms, their captain pressing the barrel of his pistol to your forehead as they bickered.

"There has to be something on board."

"We could just take her. Looks like she's probably a feisty little thing."

"Still have to check the cabins. Could be—"

Mihawk cleared his throat.

The trio turned their heads in almost comedic synchrony, their jaws dropping at the mere sight of him leaning against the door of the cabin. Mihawk's eyes flickered from them to you, and you averted your eyes, clearly ashamed to be seen in such a compromising situation.

So he shifted his gaze back to the opposing pirates, his eyes flickering between each of them.

"You will remove your hands from the girl or I will gladly remove them for you," he said levelly, lifting his eyebrows.

They quickly let go of your arms, and stepped away when he moved forward to wrap a hand around your wrist and pull you to him. He curled his arm around your waist, lowering his head over yours for a moment and murmuring quietly, "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head no quickly, your jaw set at a rigid angle as you turned your gaze down to your feet, your shoulders tense. He pressed a light kiss to your temple for a long moment before lifting his gaze back to the trio that had dared board your ship, his eyes narrowing in an unspoken threat.

"Go." They remained frozen, glancing between each other. "Now."

They scrambled back over to their ship immediately, severing the ropes that were tethering it to yours. Mihawk kept his arm around you, but his eyes remained trained onto the opposing sloop as it drifted away on the wind, debating on just drawing his sword and splitting it in half on the spot.

He turned his attention back down to you when you began to pull away from him. He pulled you in close again, frowning. It wasn't at all like you to be bested by a few no-names, and it was clear that you weren't taking it very well.

"Tell me what happened," he said finally.

"I woke up," you said curtly. "Thought I'd check the charts and see how far we were from Shells Town. They were already on the deck. Seemed to think this was a small merchant vessel since there's no flag. I'd left my knives in the cabin and I was still half asleep when I came out here. By the time I registered what was going on, one of them had a pistol to my head."

You really weren't making a very good case for him to not sink their boat. He cut his eyes briefly toward the sloop before looking back down at you, your face shadowed by your hair as you stared down at the deck floor.

"Their captain started questioning me about cargo," you continued. "Told them there wasn't anything valuable on board. They were discussing taking me as compensation." You sighed heavily. "And that's when you chose to enter stage left and take approximately twenty years off the end of their lives."

He rolled his eyes the slightest bit at your quip. "I would have taken a great deal more than that had they hurt you."

"Well, they didn't," you replied, your voice still curt. Mihawk lifted an eyebrow. "And it's perhaps best not to go splitting any boats in half a stone's throw away from a naval base," you added, nodding back toward the bow of the vessel.

Mihawk gave a quick glance as well. He had been too focused on the fiasco he had just awoken to to notice that Shells Town was visible on the horizon now. It wasn't as if the Marines could do much about it if he did sink the sloop, but you were right—it would still be more of a hassle than it was worth. He sighed, shaking his head a little, and curled a hand under your chin to lift your gaze to his. You still kept your eyes averted, your jaw set. He hadn't seen you lose a fight before—apart from sparring with him while training, but that hardly counted.

You had proven to be quite the fighter when he had decided to test you. You were nowhere near his equal, but you knew precisely how to play to your strengths with your pair of daggers and your throwing knives. Your stature made you difficult to target even in single combat, your movements a graceful dance that toed the line between evasion and power.

Yet one loss—and a rather inconsequential loss, at that—and you were beating yourself up over it quite a great deal more than what constituted normalcy. Mihawk wasn't sure whether to scold you for being dramatic or attempt to comfort you.

"You were caught off guard, little one," he said after a long moment, brushing a thumb across your cheek. "There's no need to be so upset over that."

"I'm not upset, I'm annoyed," you retorted, pursing your lips a little. "Blades or no, I should have been able to take care of those idiots."

"Annoyed, then," he allowed with a small sigh. "And I've no doubt you would have had I not woke. I was simply able to handle it a bit more...subtly."

"Oh, yes, because sauntering out onto the deck with a giant sword and threatening to cut off their hands was so subtle," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you finally rolled your eyes over to his, lifting your eyebrows.

"Don't be a brat," he chided lightly. "We still have at least half an hour before we make port." Mihawk abruptly wrapped his hand around your chin and pressed his lips to yours in a brief, deep kiss that made you draw in a sharp breath. He parted just as you started to lean into it, resting his forehead against yours. He lowered his voice to an intimate murmur. "I would truly hate to have to spend it punishing you, my little bird."

You quirked an eyebrow, your lips curving in a small, coy smirk. "No you wouldn't."

He gave you a thoughtful frown and a small shrug of his shoulder. "Perhaps not." You let out a small cry of alarm when he stooped down and quickly scooped you up from the deck floor, one arm beneath your knees and his other curled around your back. "I suppose we'll just have to find out."

You chuckled lightly as he carried you to the door of the main cabin, plucking his hat off of his head and placing it on your own as you brushed your lips to his in a soft, teasing manner. Mihawk lifted his eyebrows when you nipped lightly at his bottom lip.

"You're really pushing your luck, my dear," he cautioned.

He lowered you down to the double bed in the cabin, his thumb rubbing small circles at the back of your neck. You lifted yourself onto your elbows, your lips nearly brushing his before he pulled back just far enough to stop you, lightly gripping your hair at the nape of your neck to keep you from sitting up any higher. You gave a small whine of protest, but didn't try to struggle against his grip—you and he both knew there was no point.

"Lie down." His voice remained low and intimate, but there was a subtle command in his tone, in the way his gaze burned into your own. You bit your bottom lip lightly, lowering yourself back down onto the bed fully. A soft, quivering sigh left your lips as he slowly began slipping the buttons down the front of your shirt loose. "Hands over your head. And you don't move them an inch until I tell you you can."

"Mmm..." You hummed thoughtfully, and Mihawk paused in unbuttoning your shirt as you lifted your arms from the bed, holding your hands high above you, straight up in the air. "I think my arms might end up getting tired."

Your lips pursed a little, clearly struggling to keep a straight face, and he lifted an eyebrow at you. "You're certainly in rare form today."

Mihawk wrapped his hand around both of your wrists, shoving your hands down into the plush white comforter over your head, and a couple giggles escaped you before you bit your lip again. It was honestly a bit endearing, how cheeky you were being—and all the moreso, as it appeared you were being so brazen just so he could have his fun with your punishment.

You were enticing him more and more every passing day, beyond the physical desire that had led him to claim you as his a couple months ago. It wasn't a feeling he was particularly accustomed to, nor was he quite sure what to make of it yet. He knew only that when he had seen you held captive against the bow of the boat, an emotion had flashed through him for a moment that he hadn't experienced in years.

For the briefest moment, Dracule Mihawk had felt fear.

He was not ready to contend with the connotations of that.

And he was a bit too busy at the moment, anyway. He let his forehead touch yours, his lips hovering a breath away from your own.

"You don't move your hands," he repeated, tilting his head to just barely graze his lips against your neck, drawing a small moan from your lips, "until I give you permission. Understood?"

"Yes, sir..." you sighed softly, your eyes slipping shut as he kissed down your collarbone, pushing your shirt open. His hand released your wrists and trailed down your arms, down to knead at the soft tissue of your breast through the sheer lace of your bra, feeling your nipple harden against his palm. He tugged the cups down, just a bit too hard given he felt one of them tear in his grasp, but that was a problem for later, not now.

You gasped out when he briefly pulled one of your stiff nipples into his mouth, his grip tightening slightly around your ribcage as you arched your chest toward his swirling tongue. His gaze flicked up to watch you writhe and shudder under his touch, your fingers digging into the bedsheets behind you, your hands searching for anything to keep occupied with.

"Very good," he praised, lifting a hand to brush a few strands of hair out of your eyes and brushing his lips to your jaw. "You see?" He wrapped his hand around your jaw and lightly pressed his lips to yours. "It's much better when you're a good little bird, isn't it?"

"This—doesn't feel much like a punishment," you commented, gasping softly as he circled the pad of his thumb around your nipple, lightly skimming across it once or twice.

"Yet," he corrected.

And gave you a small, devilish smirk, before lowering his head and biting down on the tender skin at the crook of your neck. Just hard enough to leave behind a small bruise, to draw a sharp cry from your lips and send a shiver through your body.

He straightened out as you heaved a sigh, standing over you. Your eyes remained glued to him while he shrugged away his long coat and tossed it back into a chair behind him, noting how your hands tightened down on the bedsheets again.

"Remember we still have a half an hour before we reach Shells Town." His fingertips curled around the waist of your shorts, the lace of your panties beneath them, and slowly inched them down your hips. "I could spend the entirety of it teasing you." Mihawk noted the movement in your throat as you swallowed in nervous anticipation, your eyes glued to his as he pulled them up the length of your legs and off, flinging them aside. "Making you beg for release but never allowing you the satisfaction."

How beautiful it was that it only took a few words to pull a blush to your cheeks and make your breath hitch. He brushed a light kiss to your calf and pushed your legs apart, rubbing his palms up your inner thighs.

"You're going to have to be on your best behavior if you want more, my sweet little bird." Trailing a single finger up your soft folds, dragging through your slick arousal and across your clit, pulling a small whimper from your lips. "Or would you rather I just torment you?"

You bit your lip, shaking your head quickly, your eyes flickering between his eyes and his fingertips trailing up. It was a struggle for him not to chuckle at you—always just cheeky enough to be amusing, but you knew the pleasure he could give you, were so desperate for it that you folded like a cheap deck of cards under his slightest touch.

Absolutely perfect.

Mihawk moved his hands up from your thighs, curling an arm under your back to lift you up and shift you further back on the bed. Your breathing was ragged with anticipation as he brushed his lips to your stomach, trailing his hands back down to your hips, his lips lower and lower, grazing slowly across the soft skin between your hip bones.

Shifting lower and dragging his tongue slowly up your slit, circling the sensitive bud at the apex, giving a quiet growl of approval as your breathy, shuddering moans filled the small cabin and your hips arched in his hands.

His gaze turned up toward your face, watching you draw closer to falling apart with every passing moment. This was only the beginning, and he still hadn't decided if he was going to give you what you wanted...but the sight of your divine, nearly naked and writhing under his touch with his hat still resting on your head made him just a little weak.

He moved from between your legs before he could get lost in the sight of you and the sweet sounds of your moans, reveling in the agonized whimper that left you as he trailed his mouth back up your stomach.

Across to your ribs, pausing at your breasts to brush his lips and his skilled tongue across your sensitive nipples.

Dragging his tongue up the column of your throat, seizing a fistful of your hair and crushing his lips to yours in a deep, possessive kiss, shoving your hip down onto the mattress to keep you from grinding against him, shifting his hand between your thighs to circle a finger around your tight entrance without pushing in. Your low moans and whines of protest were like music to his ears, your knuckles gone white from the force with which you gripped at the sheets over your head to keep your hands from wandering.

Every slow pass up and down your body brought you closer to the peak of pleasure but never quite there—and brought him closer and closer to caving in and giving it to you. He had to wonder whether you had any idea just how much of a temptation you were to him. It had been years since the pirate lord had allowed any woman to affect him quite as strongly as you had.

How much time had passed couldn't be ascertained for sure when he reached his breaking point—his mouth pressed into the crook of your neck while you moaned and begged desperately in his ear, one of his hands squeezing your breast hard enough to bruise the soft flesh while his other worked his belt buckle open and shoved his pants down his hips in a desperation that rivaled yours.

He shoved your open shirt up your shoulders and arms and flung it away; gripped one of your thighs, pushing your leg up as high as it would go, and the low growl that left his throat as he thrust into you was drowned out by your own cries of abandon. Your hips arched up from the bed to meet his, one of your arms flinging around his neck and your hooking beneath his arm to grip hard at his shoulder.

"I don't recall giving you permission to move," he breathed into your neck. He gritted his teeth as he pushed his hips forward hard, shoving yours back down into the bed as you cried out again, your slick walls tightening around his cock.

"I—I'm sorry, I can't—I can't—please—" You gasped, your head falling back as he moved in you in deep, hard thrusts, your fingernails dragging down his back. "Oh God, please—"

He lifted a hand to grasp at your hair as he crushed his lips to yours, delving his tongue into your mouth and drawing in a deep breath as you moaned desperately into the fierce kiss. The prospect of punishing you, of what the hell he had even been punishing you for was forgotten in this rush of unquenchable lust and desire, of pure carnal need for your body.

He normally hated losing control, but this was on another level entirely. There was no room to hate this, no room for anything but pure pleasure, for getting lost inside you as your walls tightened around his cock, as every muscle in his groin tensed and tightened in anticipation of impending release—

Your lips breaking away from his, your cry of abandon as your climax swept over you pulled him right over the edge with you. He pulled your hip up from the bed to slam into you as he came, gritting his teeth against a low groan, the rhythmic contractions of your tight channel milking him dry. His hips jerked toward yours with each intense wave of pleasure, fingers tangling in your hair as he pressed his lips to your neck, the two of you shuddering and tangled together over the bedsheets.

Mihawk heaved a shuddering sigh into the crook of your neck, his fingers tangled in your hair as he brushed his thumb across your temple. Maybe it was the lingering euphoria, but he didn't even think about the next words that left his mouth before he heard them himself.

"God dammit, (Y/N), I love you."

But it was impossible to deny any longer. You really were everything he had never realized he craved. No, it wasn't just the euphoria in the moment—it was that brief flash of fear earlier at the thought of you being hurt, at the thought of losing you. The utter fury at the morons who had briefly held you captive. How perfectly you balanced and complemented his desires.

He felt as much as heard you draw in a small gasp beneath him. "Y—you—wh—?"

"You heard me," Mihawk interrupted your quiet, almost cautious stammering, murmuring against your neck. He brushed his lips against one of the small, round bruises he had left on the soft skin, and said it again, quietly, "I love you."

You were quiet for a long moment, but he wasn't concerned, still trailing kisses up the side of your neck. He had seen it in your eyes before now, heard it in the softness of your voice when you lay against him, your fingers in his hair and your lips brushing his.

Several seconds passed, before you turned your head slowly and pressed your lips to his, tentatively at first, and then deepening the slow kiss with a soft sigh. He shifted onto his side, tugging you to him by your hip. Your forehead came to rest against his as your lips drifted apart, still barely a breath away, your eyes closed, your voice a quiet whisper.

"I...love you."

(Ch. 2)

[evilghostwizard]

Rating TMA Fears

Rating Criteria:

how many shivers i get (shivers)

amount of icks i get (icks)

if i audibly react to it (reactions)

is it cool as fuck (intrigue)

notes deconstructing the fear cus I like to talk about it

These are based off of personal opinion and not factual. Fears definitely effect different people differently.

1.) Buried

Shivers: 5/5

Icks: 3/5

Reactions: 5/5

Intrigue: 5/5

TOTAL SCORE: 5

Notes: Before witnessing TMA I did not know I had a fear of being buried alive. TMA taught me the earth can be devious and hungry. When before I viewed it as lovely and protecting. The buried doesn't mean to be deceptive which I think is the most terrifying part. It's alluring petrichor and earth scents are meant to be warnings. Warnings I saw through rose tinted glasses. I used to visit local caves a lot around my local area. I no longer wish to do that anymore. It freaked me out so bad it has irreparably changed my life. Very good writing. It is simultaneously my favorite and least favorite. Well done rusty quill.

2.) Corruption

Shivers: 3/5

Icks: 5/5

Reactions: 4/5

Intrigue: 2/5

TOTAL SCORE: 3.5

Notes: Ew ew ew ew ew ew... Bugs are cool but not in me or my house thanks. Horrible, disgusting, terrible little creatures. Do not touch my skin, thank you. Wonderfully done to put it in the focus of the first season to draw in all the horror fans and cortisol addicts. The corruption puts much emphasis on emotional responses that should not be had in the context they are had in. Love replaces repulsion. Comfort stands while disgust falls. All while it digs in your skin and tears through your life. The desolation destroys your life out of anger while the corruption festers in your bones because of its affection for its victims.

3.) Dark

Shivers: 2/5

Icks: 1/5

Reactions: 2/5

Intrigue: 1/5

TOTAL SCORE: 1.5

Notes: The dark in TMA has only ever spooked me when there was fleshy or stranger bits involved. I do however enjoy the idea that there is something in the dark that's desires are beyond my knowledge. Beyond even the knowledge of the Eye. Not a favorite that I am rather indifferent too. However, there is the interesting theme TMA uses when utilizing the dark. It touches on the concept of what hides in the dark. As well as how it claims those writhing with despairing as it's own and desperately asks them to worship. It begs them to work in it's name. It grasps for control that only the web can have by manipulating hopeless people.

4.) Desolation

Shivers: 2/5

Icks: 2/5

Reactions: 3/5

Intrigue: 3/5

TOTAL SCORE: 2.5

Notes: The desolation comes off as almost helpful in some cases. It causes truths to be revealed but comes with a hint of destructive mystery as well. The fact that it assists the Eye is a fascinating choice of writing that left me wanting more. We have all lost important things to the lightless flame so it is a very relatable entity. The combination of terror and power is a lovely touch drawn by the writers. I do enjoy the gasps I get when skin melts or when the beloved are ignited. Interesting. Almost liberating to be destroyed beyond recognition. Not the spookiest of the lot but still good.

5.) End

Shivers: 4/5

Icks: 1/5

Reactions: 3/5

Intrigue: 5/5

TOTAL SCORE: 3.5

Notes: One of my favorites despite its score. I love the motifs of chance and gambling. I love the tendrils. I enjoy that it is a passive entity. It does not need to chase you because you will always run to it regardless of where you go. I enjoy the dream themes as well but I have always enjoyed to concept of dreams. To think when we dream we are grazing the finger tips of the end is delicious to think of. Very mysterious yet so finite and sure. The duality is written perfectly and I honestly wish there were more episodes of this entity. But maybe the mystery of it is what makes it so tantalizing and alluring.

6.) Extinction

Shivers: 4/5

Icks: 1/5

Reactions: 3/5

Intrigue: 4/5

TOTAL SCORE: 3.5

Notes: Very close to home for this one. My parents were dooms-day preppers so I'm very familiar with the feeling of mass extinction. I enjoy this one because it comments on how humans have terribly effected our world/civilization. It is a fear we have placed upon ourselves, much like the slaughter. It is not natural for a great change like in TMA to happen without human intervention. Interesting and compelling writing overall but unfortunately does not spook me that much because of my background. I am desensitized to it. Although it is still on the horizon always. Peaking it's head to make us pay for what we have done.

7.) Eye

Shivers: 2/5

Icks: 1/5

Reactions: 4/5

Intrigue: 4/5

TOTAL SCORE: 3

Notes: The eye is stimulating. The eye takes a role no other fear takes in TMA. This entity is prideful and almost appears to have a hero complex. It knows all, it sees all. But it doesn't understand all. That is clear whenever the eye interacts with other fears. Particularly the dark or the corruption. It isn't scary because it is watching me. It is terrifying because it thinks it knows what is best for me. Even when it clearly doesn't. The eye and the web sometimes work together for this commonality. It doesn't ick me out to be watched like it once did. The eye may see me. It may know me, but it does not know how I experience things. And despite its seeming all-knowingness. It'll never know everyone's experiences. It just sees them.

8.) Flesh

Shivers: 5/5

Icks: 5/5

Reactions: 4/5

Intrigue: 3/5

TOTAL SCORE: 4.5

Notes: I think this one got me bad for two reasons. The first reason being, body horror. It is intriguing and horrible. The flesh is a reminder that despite our intellect that we are piles of biomass. We can face disfigurement at any turn that can forever change our experiences. The second reason taps into our primal roots of fear. Most animals don't want to be someones lunch and the flesh reminds us of that fear. You are made of the same material as the meat you have on your dinner plate. Our biology is fragile and easily torn. It genuinely makes my stomach sick every time a flesh episode comes up. The only reason this one isn't a 5/5 is because the more I think about it, the less I desire to think about it. Fantastic writing. I will stop thinking about it now.

9.) Hunt

Shivers: 3/5

Icks: 1/5

Reactions: 4/5

Intrigue: 2/5

TOTAL SCORE: 2.5

Notes: The hunt is interesting. It makes me feel similarly to how the desolation makes me feel. It is terror but it is also power. Like the flesh, it sinks into our primate brains and reminds us what it is like to experience being prey. It doesn't often feel great to be somethings food. However, the hunt doesn't just rule the prey. There is horrible panic and dread in being the hunted but there is pleasure and satisfaction from being the hunter. It embodies what it feels like to be the predator. The thill of hunting is truly exciting when you aren't the prey. The power dynamic of being the predator makes you feel sadistic gratification.

10.) Lonely

Shivers: 3/5

Icks: 5/5

Reactions: 2/5

Intrigue: 5/5

TOTAL SCORE: 4

Notes: Another fear that calls to my life experiences. To be lonely is to be numb. Apathy is a roadblock for drive. To block drive is to exist adrift to no where with nothing to do. What is the purpose? There isn't one. It is bitter and dissatisfactory entity. The lonely does not scare you until you are in it. Forced to face the fact that without others you are nothing. You are surrounded by people but they care not for your existence. So much to the point where you feel alone despite the people around you. This fear lightly draws from our fundamental human need for companionship. It seems harmless but you won't know it's true horror until you've experienced it yourself.

11.) Slaughter

Shivers: 5/5

Icks: 4/5

Reactions: 5/5

Intrigue: 5/5

TOTAL SCORE: 5

Notes: The slaughter has to be my favorite of the entities. It is another fear conjured by humanity. Its existence is evoked by meaningless carnage just for the sake of violence. The imagery of war instruments like drums and pipes give an incredibly cool and eerie vibe. There are NOT enough slaughter themed episodes in TMA. In spite of the minimal amount of time put into this entity the few episodes focused on it are so gorily and beautifully written. The Piper episode is my favorite episode. The imagery that captures "The War" is perfect. The wrath, terror and determined stoicism descriptions will stick with me for years. The slaughter is meaningless and yet it must happen. It must continue. It must bleed.

12.) Spiral

Shivers: 5/5

Icks: 2/5

Reactions: 3/5

Intrigue: 5/5

TOTAL SCORE: 4

Notes: I enjoy the spiral for its concepts of unreality. What is, isn't. Insanity has always been a captivating idea. Fractal patterns and impossible realms are fantastical enough to draw me in to engage. Mystery with no answer is alluring to puzzle solvers. The parts of the spiral that infect me with horror are the deceptive friendships. It is a terrible thought to think those who are closest to you are lying to you. It hits very close to home. Gaslighting is terrifying. What are you meant to do besides trust the people you have invited into your circle. Betrayal is a parasite. It feeds off of love and trust. Who can you trust now?

13.) Stranger

Shivers: 5/5

Icks: 3/5

Reactions: 3/5

Intrigue: 4/5

TOTAL SCORE: 4.5

Notes: The unknown is the most universally feared entity I think. The stranger is something we have all experienced fear for at least a little bit. Many of us were warned about the stranger as children. The unknown makes us wary and confused. It doesn't gaslight us as much as the spiral but it does lie. It does tell us to ignore the uncanny valley reaction you get when you see it. It is human but isn't. The unfamiliar familiarity in them is the most terrifying. Especially because I don't experience uncanny valley often. Even when I should.

14.) Vast

Shivers: 5/5

Icks: 1/5

Reactions: 3/5

Intrigue: 5/5

TOTAL SCORE: 4

Notes: I am already written a paper about the vast. I adore the concept of the void. It does not ick me as much as the other fears because of my massive interest in the concept. It is scary to feel small, it can cause hopelessness. I have found in some people, like myself, it causes euphoria. It relieves the pressures of human life by letting us know those worries that seem so important are actually not really that big of a deal. I think the episodes exploring the concept are beautiful and anxiety ridden. I still think there should be more of the vast in TMA.

15.) Web

Shivers: 4/5

Icks: 3/5

Reactions: 4/5

Intrigue: 4/5

TOTAL SCORE: 4

Notes: The web is an entity that easily draws you in with a false sense of security. It allows you to be free of the need to make decisions. It is peaceful to be controlled. Although we are often blinded when we are controlled to the motives of the controller. We are deceived into believing the puppet master means us no harm. You lose who you are as you perform the spiders assignments. You drift away into peaceful sleep. Just to be eaten when you are at your most vulnerable.

[within-your-eyes-if]

A Few Updates

Hello everyone!

I have some exciting news and a few thoughts I want to share. Another long update, I'm sorry!

Codex Update: As you know, I've been working on updating the Codex. I've put a lot of thought into each entry, balancing new ideas with existing lore. While a lot of elements were already established, delving deeper into some topics has inspired some new ideas, and I want to ensure everything fits seamlessly. With this in mind, I'm considering releasing what I have so far while I continue to ponder over some of these newer concepts and refine older ones. In the next few days, I'll be going through more feedback to address some issues found before I plan to release the update.

New Story: I'm excited to share I've released a prologue and first chapter for From Here to Again! Writing something different is meant to help me grow as a writer and expand upon things I might not have considered before, especially when writing Twine.

I will not be making a Tumblr for this story right now, sorry!

I know I've shared other stories that I planned, and here are some updates on those:

Nautical Lost would definitely benefit from a later release as Within Your Eyes grows, as this story will expand upon the world lore and some events that will happen.

The Innkeeper (a working title), I decided to hold off on because I'm terrible at management games, it seems. It was meant to be a fun little story with shenanigans. However, I do want to revisit the idea later.

Short Stories: I've expressed I want to make some short stories, but I feel like there's a point in WYE I want to pass first before getting into them. But I do have one I'm working on that I want to release alongside Part Two that delves into the past.

Worries About Burnout: I know some of you are/might be worried about burnout, but I feel like I have a good system for myself. Writing is a journey I haven't explored much before. I did write, but it's something I didn't think I was good at because, honestly, I was told I wasn't. I know I'm not the greatest, but I want to grow and learn as a writer. I've been taking breaks to focus on other things I enjoy, even if it's still writing out ideas for other stories.

I appreciate all of the concern in this regard, not just for my well-being, but also for the love of my story. To see it abandoned would be heartbreaking not just for my readers, but for me as well. 'Within Your Eyes' has been an idea long in the making, shifting and growing. It's something I've always wanted to share, and I'm so happy I have!

Time for Questions: I'm ready to start answering some of your questions regarding Part One. Enough time has passed, I believe, to start delving into these. To respect those who haven't caught up yet, I'll include any spoilers under a 'Read More' tag. However, be mindful that some questions themselves might contain spoilers.

Regarding certain asks/scenarios, I think that discovering the answers through the story rather than in a post might be more rewarding. While I may still respond to these, I'll be thoughtful about placing them under a 'Read More' tag as well.

Regardless, I've been thinking more about how I should approach questions, not only in a way that's satisfying to you, but also benefits the story.

Closing Thoughts: Sorry again for the long update. I've been very reflective after releasing a second story, and I hope no one sees this as me diverting from WYE. I'm grateful for every one of you and for all of your words of encouragement and love. I hope you enjoy From Here to Again (if you decide to check it out) and continue to look forward to our Warden's journey.

Thank you!

[flowery-language]

𓆩♡𓆪 STAY AWAY. Loser! Ellie Williams headcanons

a/n : I am struggling to start writing and stop procrastinating on writing the series I am working on so have some quick Ellie head canons while you wait also loser!Ellie is just regular Ellie and y’all aren’t ready for that conversation also it isn’t much sorry I’ve been struggling with procrastinating on writing got to put something out for the mean time

Inspired by seriously go read theirs @cowgirlcherrie and my one of my close friends mannerisms

Warnings/content: 18+ mentions of sex mostly fluff and also Ellie is a loser and cursing fingering!receiving masturbating and mentions of face riding

ੈ✩‧₊˚ you met loser!Ellie in Highschool and you bonded your intense overwhelming hatred for the people at your school over how much you hated everyone else here and that your the only person she could tolerate

“Everyone here are fucking npc’s with no capacity for thinking for themselves”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Loser!Ellie definitely owns a women love me fish fear me shirt that she started wearing ironically until it wasn’t anymore

ੈ✩‧₊˚ she always had to make jokes about her nonexistent dick much to your annoyance she has the humor of twelve year old boy

“How about you suck 15 inch cock”

“You don’t have one” you exclaimed

“Fuck you mean women literally beg me to see it”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ loser!Ellie unironically loves family guy and American guy and and fucking loves Rick and Morty and Bojack horseman

“I know I am a lesbian but I would fuck rick Sanchez no questions asked”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ you and loser!Ellie bonded over your intense overwhelming hatred for chase Atlantic

“They sound like they are fucking singing in cursive”

“I know right thank you someone gets it”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ loser!ellie has the music taste of someone’s father and she is very unapologetic about it she listens to Radiohead, nirvana, slipknot, the cure and the Beatles. etc

“ you should listen to the cure”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ loser!Ellie got into an argument once with you because you said you liked Saturn more than Jupiter

“Jupiter or Saturn pick one”

“Uh—Saturn”

“Jupiter is fucking better”

“No it’s not I like Saturn better”

“You only like Saturn because it’s fucking pretty”

“No I don’t”

“Yes you fucking do”

“Whatever”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ loser!Ellie cannot flirt with women for shit she just infodumps to them and hopes her info would get them to like her and wanna be with her and she is lucky that she is attractive enough to pull it off

ੈ✩‧₊˚ when loser!Ellie started to develop a crush on you she would do favours and constantly try to impress you she once took you to skater park to show you the tricks she was learning she ended up falling flat on her face because she was too busy staring into your eyes and she had the biggest blush on her face when you laughed at her for it.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ By the time Loser!Ellie developed feelings for you she would go above and beyond because suddenly the concept of helping others was completely uninteresting until it was you you got your heart shattered by another girl and all she could think of is that she would never treat you that way ever.

“It’s just that I wished that she didn’t string me along for a month and actually rejected me instead of telling me she liked me back when she didn’t”

“I swear when I see that fucker in my line of vision it won’t be pretty you deserve better than her anyway you were out of her league”

“Honestly I am starting to think maybe it’s because I am not attractive enough for girls to want me”

“Don’t fucking say that you were out of her league you will find someone who treats you so good ”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ loser!Ellie always wants you to try smoking weed with her even though you very much didn’t like taking drugs or being high it’s mostly because you make her so nervous and if she was high with you she could maybe try to flirt with you without fumbling her words and not looking you in the eye.

“Come on try it for me it feels really good I promise”

“Yeah no thanks Ellie”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ she knew that she couldn’t keep this to herself anymore she wanted you and Every time you tried to date someone else it made her genuinely sick to her stomach.

“ oh fuck saying this shit isn’t easy but I gotta say it I like you okay I really really do”

“Your fucking with me right now if your joking Ellie it’s not funny”

“I am not joking I fucking do okay”

“Wait your not”

“Of course I am not”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ NSFW section

ੈ✩‧₊˚ you are always the first person she thinks of when she gets high late at night she has to resist the urge to call you over her hand in her boxers.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Loser!Ellie has a happy trail.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ she loves it when you ride her face and not just hovering she wants you to sit on it at first you were really nervous and insecure but she was a having the time of her life and Everytime you do hover she would beg you sit properly

“Babe please just sit stop fucking hovering”

ੈ✩‧₊˚she loves it when you ride her thighs she loves the sensory experience of you riding it and when you ride her fingers she always wishes to be inside you and feel it when you ride it

ੈ✩‧₊˚ she is obsessed with you wearing her clothes especially her boxers she loves giving them to you

“You’re gonna run out of boxers to wear if you keep this up”

“I don’t fucking care”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ she loves you to death and will not hesitate to show it off she always loves mentioning you much to literally everyone’s annoyance.

“My girl is getting a PHD is so smart”

“This reminds me my girlfriend really loves these flowers I gotta get them”

[suzukiblu]

Hi! I was wondering if you had any write ups or specific meta about omegaverse and how you like things to work or what you like to explore? You've been kind of my omegaverse idol since way back when you started writing it for the MCU.

Oh that was a WHILE back, yeah, haha, dang, friend. Thank you, it's flattering to hear you've been enjoying my takes for that long! 💛

I definitely do have some old write-ups and meta SOMEWHERE on this blog, unfortunately I really don't know where any of it really is because there is just So Much Stuff on here and I didn't tag it anything specific at the time.

One of these days I should maybe do a proper weigh-in on omegaverse stuff somewhere I can link when people ask me about my thoughts, idk, but honestly at this point omegaverse is just very . . . INVOLVED, I guess, in my brain? Like there's a lot of niggly little details in there that make it write smoothly for me, but a lot of that's because I've written so MUCH of it that it kinda fills itself out, in a sense? Like, mmm, I dunno how to put it, just it's stuff that's already there because I've done takes on it so many times, so I'm drawing on a well of . . . not EXPERIENCE, necessarily, but DEVELOPMENT?

Generally I like leaning into gender roles and any related subversion/not-subversion of those and also pack dynamics and sociological effects, and I find the concept of the biology interesting but I usually keep it a little vague exactly how everyone's junk is set up beyond "alphas are penetrative partners who knot and can impregnate receiving partners" and "omegas are receiving partners who self-lubricate and can be impregnated by penetrative partners" and "betas are biologically pretty similar to baseline humans if you ignore the pheromone/sociological stuff". I kinda find it seems to work better for readers if they can just picture whatever setup they prefer--especially trans readers--so even if I have a "word of God" in my head, I don't tend to get into it unless it's somehow necessary. Also I prefer using words like "dick" or "clit" in relation to a character being male or female and not in relation to their omegaverse gender or whatever their actual physical setup is or isn't, because again, I find that seems to translate better for a lot of readers. At least the ones I hear from, anyway, hah.

Also, leaning into queer or queer-adjacent narratives and making sure the world and society AROUND the story is actually affected in ways that make sense to the internal logic of the narrative always helps make it more interesting, imo, and definitely helps it vibe with more people. Though there is literally no narrative where "commit to the bit" does NOT make said narrative work better, in my opinion, haha.