#the amount of times i speak in real life is already limited and now that limited amount is taken over

[aria0fgold]

The only fun I get from whenever my phone breaks is the fact that I can be annoying to my family even more by always saying and adding "I don't have a phone D:" every single moment I'm awake. The only peace my family gets is when I'm asleep.

My mom: We don't have (specific food I'm craving).

Me: I already don't have a phone and I don't even have the food I want!

My sis: (says something she doesn't have).

Me: And I don't have a phone D:

[niningtori]

cruel intentions | part two

part one

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: in the wake following the revelation that your boyfriend, beomgyu, only dated you for a bet in order to get his rent paid, you're actually doing pretty well. on beomgyu's end? he can't say the same.

genre: romance, angst, melodrama, fluff

warnings: clichés everywhere

word count: 3.8k

notes: she's here! i fear that this might be super corny and somewhat abrupt but that's fine i think!

beomgyu is not okay. he really, really isn’t. how could anyone expect anything other than that? it’s been a year since he saw you last, but he’s starting to believe that whoever said time heals all wounds was just blowing smoke up his ass. if anything, the longer he’s spent away from you, the worse his heart aches. that’s natural, he supposes, because you’re definitely the one that got away, and the fact that he drove you to leave only twists the knife. he wishes he could go back to the day he agreed to that stupid fucking bet and wring his own neck — maybe that'd talk some sense into his old self. but like you said all that time ago, he can’t. he even wishes he could go back to the first day of freshman year just so he could meet you sooner. that way, he could have been in your life and alleviated some of the stress and pain you always felt. but, and he cannot stress this enough, he can’t.

you may have blocked him on everything he can think of, but that doesn’t stop him from asking about you. luckily, taehyun made good on his intentions to get to know you better before realizing that you were the girl beomgyu had secretly been dating for months. as a good friend, taehyun declared you as totally off-limits, but that didn’t stop your all’s friendship from blossoming. as it is, your friendship with taehyun is only rivaled by your friendship with chaeyoung — a fact that she is all too aware of.

“when are you gonna stop beating around the bush and just get with him already?” she pouts.

“never,” you snort. “i told you, we’re friends and nothing else.”

“i know, i know, but i think he’d be good for you,” she insists.

“you’re only saying that ‘cause you’re worried he’ll replace you as my best friend, which he won’t, by the way,” you tease.

“you caught me,” she says playfully. 

truthfully, your friendship with chaeyoung has only strengthened after graduation. with the help of your therapist and a certain someone whose name you can’t bear to speak these days, you finally grew enough courage to tell her how you’ve felt like you were nothing more than her shadow since you were a preteen. you even told her about all of the times men (and women alike) only talked to you to get to her. to say she was horrified is the understatement of the century. after endless reassurances that you bore no ill will towards her and didn’t fault her for anything, she finally stopped apologizing. now, you two are closer than ever. 

“it’s just… i want to see you happy with someone,” she adds. she doesn’t have to end her sentence with  “again”, since you already know what she means: she wants to see you as happy as you were with beomgyu, again. except, for real this time. not for a bet or for fun.

“it’s okay, chae,” you say with a smile. “i’m happy as i am, i mean it.” and you do. working in your desired career field has helped you tremendously with income, and you’re actually able to provide for yourself and for your family without killing yourself with working overtime. you have so much free time, you're even able to date around a little bit. it never amounts to anything particularly serious, but it’s enough as it is. gone is the permanent storm cloud looming over your head and you’re finally able to breathe for the first time since, well, your relationship with beomgyu.

“i know,” she replies. “i just want my best friend to be even happier; is that so bad?” you roll your eyes good naturedly and she grins. 

“who knows? maybe i’ll meet someone tonight,” you muse, but you don’t really mean it. taehyun, or “tyun” as you affectionately call him, is having a get together at his place. he hinted at bringing some of his single friends, but you don’t expect anything to come of it. while it’s true that with the help of therapy and being completely honest about the nature of your inferiority complex with your best friend has helped boost your confidence, you never expect much from prospective romantic partners. you’ll never say it, but everyone knows it’s because of beomgyu.

“maybe. y’know, soobin is pretty cute,” she says with a nod, taking everything you say way too seriously. 

“yeah. he is.” 

-

while you have been to many, many events taehyun has invited you to, there has always been an unspoken rule that beomgyu would not be there. it seems that taehyun is able to perfectly juggle you two without having you all appear at the same place at the same time. that is, until you arrive at his apartment with a big smile and a 12-pack of beer and see the man who haunts you religiously sitting listlessly on taehyun’s couch. he doesn’t usually care enough to look up from his drink when new arrivals step foot through the door, but for some odd reason, he does when you walk in. it’s almost as if his truly supernatural intuition tells him to. unfortunately for you, his intuition is a pain in your fucking ass. 

when you meet eyes (lock eyes, really) you feel a pit of dread bloom in your stomach, threatening to swallow you whole. still, there’s a light fluttering of your heart that you wish to god you could deny, but it’s there, nonetheless.

you all stay in a deadlock for what feels like a lifetime before taehyun pulls you from it with a smile and hug.

“i’m glad you made it,” he says lightly. 

“of course, tyun,” you smile, successfully pulled out from your daze and back into the real world. it’s okay. you can do this. you’re a different person now that a year has passed. you’re mature enough to be in the same place as beomgyu. what you’re not mature enough for, though, is actually having to speak to him. luckily, you have no plans to do so now (or ever). 

beomgyu thinks… differently. 

when you’re standing in a quiet corner nursing a drink and wondering what the hell you’re still doing here, you almost miss the sound of feet shuffling towards you. your eyes lazily glance up and see beomgyu himself unsurely leaning against the wall next to you. 

“h-hey,” he says softly, cautiously. you look confused for a second, almost like you’re unsure if he’s addressing you, but his eyes look so earnest, there's no way he’s not. 

“hey?” you reply before fussing with your cup and watching the alcohol swirl around, threatening to spill over the rim of your solo cup.

“uh, how… how have you been?” he asks so nervously that it sounds like he’s surprised that you even responded. and he is. if he were you, he wouldn’t give himself the time of day. why would he? he doesn't deserve it.

“good,” you say with a ghost of a genuine smile. if he knew you less, he wouldn’t even be able to catch it. thankfully, he does know you, for better or for worse. his heart sings at the thought that you’re able to smile at him like you did before.

he waits for you to ask him how he is — that’d be the perfect segue into his apology — but you don’t. it’s like you don’t care to know, and any tune his heart was previously singing is strangled in an instant.

well, he supposes that he’s lucky that you’ve even said two words to him (two words in the literal sense that you’ve only actually said two words in total, but that's not the point). he’s even luckier that you actually seem to mean that you’re doing well. taehyun had told him as much, but it’s not nearly as effective as seeing you glowing the way you do with his own eyes. you look normal. you look happy. there was a point in his life where he thought that’s all he wanted, but he realizes he was wrong. he shamelessly wants to be happy, too, and he knows the only way he can do that is if he’s with you.

the air is awkward and heavy for a few minutes, but neither of you make a move to break it until you decide enough is enough. you purse your lips and are about to bid him goodbye so you can get home and ruminate on your very, very brief interaction, but he notices your movement and reaches out to grab your arm before he can stop himself. instinctively, you smack his hand away. not hard at all, more like a swipe than a smack, really, but he recoils as if you’ve just backhanded him.

“s-sorry,” you stammer. “it was just a gut reaction.” 

somehow, that makes him feel even worse. there was a time where his touch soothed you like nothing else, but now all it does is put you on your guard. 

“it’s fine,” he says with a forced smile, and your heart aches. “i was just gonna see if you wanted a ride home. i haven’t drank anything, so i just thought that… maybe…”

“oh, it’s okay,” you politely decline. “chae is going to pick me up.” he flinches at the name and as much as he wishes you couldn’t tell, you definitely do. 

“but i can take you!” he insists a little too desperately. “i just thought, you know, that we could talk or something,” he mumbles. 

“talk? about what?” you ask sharply. you begin feeling like you’re going to lose your temper. why is he making this so hard? it’s starting to piss you off.

“i—”

“if you’re going to apologize to me again, i don't want to hear it,” you sneer. you said you weren't mad at him and that you forgave him, which felt true at the time, but the more you started respecting yourself, the less patience you had for him. as you look at him, looking like he's every part like a victim in this ordeal, you realize that you’re angrier than you previously let on. “you know, i’ve thought more about what you did.” he looks like he’s just been kicked in the stomach, but you don't stop.

“and i’ve thought about what i would do for rent. i thought, ‘well, maybe if i were desperate enough for the money, i could do that, too’, and you know how desperate i was.” his lips tremble because he does know. he knows it all too well. “but i realized i couldn’t, and even if i could, i never would. the shame? the humiliation? i would never put someone through that, and i thought you would never, either, but i was wrong. i was wrong about you and the kind of person you are, or were, or whatever. and i thought, at the very least, you had enough decency to at least leave me the fuck alone, but i guess i was wrong about you again, as always.” you don’t mean for your voice to get so loud, but it does. each syllable is ripping through beomgyu like a punch to his gut, but he can’t find it within himself to defend his actions. all he can do is sit there and take it. 

devastated doesn’t even begin to encapsulate how beomgyu looks and feels, but you don’t really give a shit. you’re absolutely fuming right now, nearly shaking from releasing the anger you’ve felt for months, and he has the nerve to look like the one who’s hurt? what about you? what about how you felt when your boyfriend admitted he only dated you because he needed (more like wanted) the cash?

“babe…” you hear a familiar voice say. chaeyoung. she must be here to pick you up. your attention snaps from her to the rest of the room and you finally register that everyone has gone silent, all their stares directed towards you. embarrassed isn’t even the word. mortified is more like it. you awkwardly clear your throat and take one last scathing glance at beomgyu before grabbing chaeyoung’s arm and storming outside of taehyun’s place.

the ride home is silent — unsettlingly silent — until chaeyoung pipes up after a few minutes of driving.

“why don’t you just talk to him?” chaeyoung asks tentatively.

“what?!” you exclaim, whipping your head around to meet her gaze. 

“it’s just — i mean, i don’t think it would hurt anything if you tried,” she says cautiously, which is very, very much unlike her. 

“why? i thought you, of all people, would understand. you know what he did to me.”

“i’m not defending him, honey,” she coos, as if she’s soothing a child during a tantrum. “i’m always on your side. always.”

“then why are you saying i should hear him out? i thought you hated him!” you don't really know why, but you’re becoming more and more defensive as you speak to her. 

“i did hate him. i just think there’s more to it than that. why don't you talk me through how you’re feeling?” she suggests.

“i… i just don’t understand. i’m not who i used to be — i’m not some spineless doormat who lets people treat me like shit. don’t you think so?” you ask, sounding increasingly unsure about that sentiment to the point where it’s nearly laughable. 

“what does that have to do with hearing somebody out when you clearly want to?” she argues patiently.

“it’s just… it’s just not fair!” you exclaim. “it’s not fair how he used me. i had to try so fucking hard to rebuild myself after him.”

“as much as i love you, you and i both know you weren’t rebuilding yourself; you never had that foundation in the first place, and that’s not your fault, but it’s not beomgyu’s, either. it’s true that he treated you like shit, and you don’t have to forgive him for that, but how you felt about yourself was always so much bigger than him.”

you find yourself recoiling with each point she makes.

you hate how much she makes sense. 

“b-but still, i’m different now,” you argue, more like you’re convincing yourself instead of her. “i won’t let myself fall back into him like that.” 

“don't you trust yourself to make the right decisions? people change — you know that better than anyone. look, i’m not saying you have to or should do anything, but i think it’d be good for you to at least listen to him. you’re not doing yourself any favors by torturing yourself with ‘what if’s’ instead of just, well, talking to him.”

-

you think about it, and think about it, then think about it some more. you wonder what beomgyu could say to change anything he's done before realizing that it's impossible. but maybe chaeyoung's right, maybe he did change. does that matter, though? probably not, but you still find yourself wanting to know what he has to say. maybe you'll find it within yourself to finally let him go.

you unblock his number and, before you can think too much about it, you’re calling him. it doesn’t ring more than once before you hear the line connect.

“h-hello?”

“i’ve thought about it, and i'd like to talk.” 

“s-sure. uh, when?” he stammers.

“whenever.”

“i'll be there in 15,” he hurriedly says, as if wasting a single second will lead you to change your mind.

“okay,” you reply with a soft smile on your face, hanging up shortly thereafter.

12 minutes later, you hear a frantic knocking on your door. you open it to find beomgyu out of breath and looking incredibly disheveled. your lips almost curl up at his sorry state, but they don’t quite make it there.

“hey,” he says between pants.

you don’t respond, but you crack your door open further to let him in. he takes your cue and stands awkwardly in your living room, almost as if he’s afraid to actually touch anything. you don’t miss the way he takes everything in. some of the interior is different, but the bones of it are still the same. he doesn't know why, but the thought relieves him.

“so?” you ask after clearing your throat, effectively breaking the silence. he looks at you confusedly before seeming to remember what he’s doing here.

“r-right. i’m— i mean, i just wanted to explain,” he says meekly. 

“explain what?” 

“explain why i, uh, why i d-d—”

“dated me for a bet?” you finish, and mercifully so, because the words feel like nails when they try to leave his own throat.

“yeah. that,” he says, taking his hand and nervously scratching the back of his neck.

“mm,” you hum.

“i just want you to know that i’m sorry,” he blurts out before he has half a mind to stop himself. he knows it’s the wrong thing to say when he sees impatience flash across your features.

“we’ve established that.”

“oh. right,” he croaks, looking more and more crestfallen and lost by the second. 

“listen, beomgyu,” you sigh. “if you don’t have anything to say, i think you should just l—” 

“i do! i do have something to say!” he exclaims. you still seem agitated, but against all odds, you nod.

“back when heeseung and i, you know, made the b-bet, i knew it was wrong,” he says. “i knew it was wrong, but i still did it. i guess i just saw you as, like, a challenge or something.” you flinch at his words and cross your arms as if your insides will spill out if you don’t. he winces, but continues, anyway.

“but then i got to know you,” he quickly adds. “really know you. and i realized that you’re so much more to me than that. every day i spent with you taught me more about myself, and i didn’t like what i learned; but  i think even just being around you made me into a better person. i don’t know how to ever thank you for that, but i guess it’s worth a shot, so thank you. really.” you can’t help but feel your eyes water. you were that important to him? “and every day, i want to fucking strangle myself when i think about how much i hurt you,” he says, voice cracking at the end of his sentence. you take him all in, finally noticing the fatigue in his gaze, in his entire being. reminiscent of the way you looked nearly a year ago. instead of satisfaction at the thought that he finally knows how you felt, all you can feel is sympathy. you know how it feels to be the kind of tired even sleep can't pacify.

“i want you to know that you are the most important person in my life, a-and even if you don’t forgive me, it’s… well, i understand. but you are not a joke to me, or a challenge, or whatever. i guess i just want to tell you that i meant it when i said that i loved you, and i mean it when i say it now. because i do. i really, really do.” you are silent, trying to scan his eyes for any signs of deception or ill intent, but you can’t find any. his teary eyes and quivering lips tell you that he really means what he says. is that enough, though? can it ever be enough? maybe not, probably not, but as you stare at the tears that threaten to leave his eyes, you decide you’d like to try.

“okay,” you say. 

“o-okay? does that mean—” 

“it means we can try again. as friends. for real this time. but i’m not the same person i was. is that okay?” the tears that were once on the precipice of leaving his waterline have now begun to flow freely. fuck his stupid pride, you can have all of it if you just let him give it to you.

“y-yeah. me neither. i mean, i’m not the same person, either,” he babbles. 

“okay,” you say with a nod, ever-so-graciously wiping his tears with the pads of your thumbs, smile floating on your lips. and he just can’t help himself. 

“can i kiss you?” he asks. 

“that’s not what friends do,” you chastise playfully, “but alright. just this once.” and you’re still as kind and merciful as ever. he lets out a shaky breath.

slowly, he takes his trembling hands and pushes your hair behind your ear before leaning down and planting his lips against yours. you melt into the feeling, just like you always did when he kissed you, and you feel your heart fluttering in your chest. on beomgyu’s part, he feels like he’s in a dream. to be perfectly honest, he’s had many dreams like this since you left, but nothing compares to how sweet his present reality is. 

when he deepens the kiss, you let him. you want to say you’re unsure why, but you know it’s because you don’t want this moment to end. you two stay in each other’s arms for longer than you’d like to admit. who can blame you for it when nothing in your life has felt this right in such a long, long time? 

for beomgyu, when you two finally part, he thinks it wasn’t long enough, at all. but then, no amount of time could really satisfy him, anyway. still, when he looks into your eyes, he can’t help the unconscious pout that adorns his face when he realizes the moment is over. you can’t control the way you let out a soft laugh at it.

-

being friends with you is very, very hard. not because you're hard to be around or because there's anything wrong with you, but because, to beomgyu, you're so easy and comforting to be with. it’s all too familiar to beomgyu and he finds himself slipping into old habits such as holding your hand and tucking your hair behind your ear when you let it fall into your face. surprisingly, you let him do whatever he wants. whether that's because you missed his touch or because you just don’t want him to stop, you don’t care to figure out. when taehyun brings up the unnecessary intimacy between you two, you can’t help but blush and deny anything crooked going on, which beomgyu takes to heart every time.

he’ll wait for you to accept him, though. he’ll always wait. 

and one night when you’re watching cheesy movies on your couch with him and you look down at your intertwined hands, his thumb unconsciously rubbing against your smaller one, you realize you don’t want to deny him. 

“beomgyu?” you whisper, drawing his gaze from the screen.

“yes?” he asks, attention fully on you like a puppy ready to listen to whatever you say.

“you don’t have to wait anymore.”

-

notes pt. 2: yeah sorry if this is the corniest thing u have ever read... my fault!

permanent (sfw only): @zzhyuu @defnotleee

permanent taglist (sfw/[n]sfw): @my313 @superbbananananana @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @midwinterblizzard @everythingvirgoes @sooberryworld @20-cms @inkigayocamman @hyueika @boba-beom @vicurious28 @blossommi @lickingan0rchid @katsukis1wife @binniebakery @notevenheretbh1

series taglist: @vixensss @dejavu-jun @gyuchubss @missychief1404 @hihello-pinky @dojdcmidcmkmfekdvmkrkmvvrm

*bold names could not be tagged

[daphnebowen]

descendants rise of red thoughts

warning: these are probably nonsensical and just a lot of confusion/venting/random excitement?? but enjoy regardless:

I'm glad that they explained jay, evie, and mal's absence right off the bat 

Uma and mal's relationship >>>

Not me bawling my eyes out already at the mention of Carlos, we all know uma's tears were china's tears 😭😭

Wonderland is GORGEOUS

"DEVIL ON MY SHOULDER" WHERE THE ANGELS USED TO BE

this fight scene is so unrealistic 

LUCIUS MALFOY?!?! (nope it's a dupe)

can I just say Kylie is GORGEOUS in red??

MAD HATTER SON SIGHTING AND I LOVE HOW HIS NAME IS MADDOX

who would have guessed she used the hug with Maddox to steal the Time Machine - hmm, not me!!

Brandy is absolutely KILLING IT her voice is majestic 

but where does Chad fit into all of this??? like isn't he the son of Cinderella but he doesn't look like his dad or mom?

the queen of hearts accent is soooo soothing

she (the queen of hearts) reminds me a LOT of Audrey, in her looks, her mannerisms, the way she speaks, her everything, it's kinda crazy 

A MENTION OF CHAD!!! Maybe it's possible! who cares about genetics!!

okay queen of hearts buggy is 🤩🤩

Chloe reminds me so much of evie and red reminds me so much of mal!! this is probably obvious to everyone and on purpose but oh well

WHATS MY NAME REMIXXXXX AHHHH

where's Harry and Gil bro not even a mention of them??? they were uma's best friends bffr

Omg I haven't seen Dara in a lot of other things but she is SLAYING the crazy uliana character 

Chloe running around fixing all the things red's messing around with is so accurate 

WICKED STEPMOM SIGHTING

anyways, the house Cinderella grew up in is soooo accurate to how I pictured it

I don't think poor chloe has ever touched a mop lol

Dara doesn't even sound like herself in this song

THAT EEL FREAKING SCARED ME GAGAHAGAGA IT LOOKS JUST LIKE FLOTSAM AND JETSAM which is probably the point but oh well here I am 

the way my heart DROPPED when she smashed the shoes!!!! 😢😢

oh snap. I did NOT expect red to go there (speaking about the "how did that end up for her?" talking about Chloe's mom) THATS SO AWFUL AND HORRIBLE MY JAW DROPPED

young Cinderella can SINGGGG

Love how they never showed Chloe's feet after she threw her glass shoes into the fireplace 😂 not important but I thought it was funny

love the kid barking and meowing and making Merlin rethink his life choices 

I definitely thought for a second that red was gonna be like "actually, I want to stay in this timeline"

OMG I HOPE THIS WORKS

YESSSS UMAAAA SLAYYYYYY ILYYYY

the costume change for queen of hearts is EVERYTHING

how is Chloe going to explain the broken glass shoes to her mom lol

nothing gets past Uma lol she's ALL KNOWING OUR QUEEN

final thoughts: reaaaalllyyyy wishing we could have brought back more of the og's or even got a little more closure about Carlos and his death. even though I know everyone's moving on and healing and dove especially is distancing herself from Disney and trying to be her own person without that (which, I respect) I still would have liked a cameo, a sort of "passing the torch" thing. without them it kinda was abrupt and strange, but having fairy godmother and Uma definitely benefited the movie. Red and Chloe were definitely well thought out and loveable and relatable characters for me, being a perfectionist myself and having three little troublemaking brothers who want nothing to do with me or my family at all. I feel like there was hardly any real time to get to know the other characters at all though! particularly young Bridget and ella, I definitely would have loved to see more of them. even uliana, although she made such a big impact and interest with her limited amount of screen time, put it to good use and made the most, though I would have wanted more. More backstory between her and Ursula's relationship, perhaps??? Uma and uliana reconciliation?? where is uliana now??? etc etc etc. I feel like the movie was so short there wasn't a ton of time to fully flesh things out and explore the characters and yet the pacing was great for the plot, so I don't know how those two things work together but somehow it felt rushed and yet perfect at the same time?? Like I don't know what they could have added to make it longer. definitely wanted more Uma and fairy godmother banter and updates on all the vks and auradon kids!!! how's Jane!!! ESPECIALLY NOW CARLOS IS NO LONGER WITH US?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? what about Lonnie!! and dizzy and the twins and Doug and Harry and Gil and all those other rascals. good to know Chad's off playing tourney in college and we know mal, Ben, evie, and jay are sailing around the world making amends with other countries and forming alliances. but yeah. overall I was pretty satisfied, obviously I don't think ANYTHING could top the iconic original descendants but I feel like this one did its job. it continued the story and introduced many new characters and a new timeline and plot line that was easy to follow while also leaving room for more and for wanting more. didn't even mention the music but I felt a lot of it was suuuuper repetitive and just this pop thing. where are my ballads!!! my if onlys!!! everything was just like "rotten to the core" or "chillin like a villain" and I wanted some emotional songs. Yes, I love a good pop upbeat song but I don't want an entire movie of them. everyone sang great I think, except I couldn't tell what was real and what was auto tune, but anyways. so yeah, I'd rate this movie a 7.5 out of 10. Pretty decent but still... not the greatest. as to almost be expected without our original cast.

side note: anyone wondering, if Cameron Boyce hadn't passed away, do we think they still would have continued adding on to that original trilogy and storyline or do we think that they would have brought in the new characters and storylines anyway? just a thought, I've always wondering what it would be like if cam hadn't passed. rest in peace xo 💋 

[acapelladitty]

Jonathan Crane/Reader - Captive: Part 2 (Kinktober #16)

Summary - Still help captive by Jonathan Crane, your life is little more than a series of tormets with wicked intentions. (Heavy tw's apply for noncon and various other abuses so beware).

Part 1 available HERE

“Hold still, little whore.” Crane grunted, his glasses perching precariously on the end of his nose as he remained bent on one knee before you. “If my hand should slip free then I will replace it with something you will enjoy even less.”

Chained to the wall, your neck held viciously in place by the thick metal collar which was bolted into the unyielding stone, the constant pressure on your windpipe made breathing difficult as you thrashed in place.

Enjoy.

As if you were enjoying a moment of this, a fact which were compounded as his hand flexed within your walls, cruelly stretching you out from the inside out as you wailed out your distress. It had been no easy feat, but when Crane had decided – almost casually – that he would like to test out how long it would take him to fit his thin fist within your terrified frame, he had decided that there was no time to be lost.

Pleading had been useless. Broken pleas and offers to suck his cock, to fuck him with any hole he wished, had fallen on deaf ears as he easily gripped your hair to force your head against the wall to secure the metal collar and prevent any escape. Your hands hung overhead, also pinned to the wall by a short length of rough rope which bit into the bruised skin of your wrists.

Feet only just able to lay flat on the floor, Crane had set about his task with sadistic precision.

With dry fingers, he had forcibly inserted himself to test the stretch which had already achieved with his daily lessons, and he was quick to add digits until he deemed the noises which were escaping your panicked mouth entertaining enough. Then, using a small bottle from his inner pocket, he had applied the smallest amount of lube to his fingers, enough to ensure that his own skin would remain unhurt by the friction while doing nothing to provide any real comfort.

“This may hurt.” Crane had warned, the visible tent of his slacks speaking his enjoyment of the utter cruelty of his plans. “Feel free to scream, sweetheart.”

The dry, rough stone wall against your back had given you something to focus on as he truly started his work but even that had its limits.

You had screamed.

And he had laughed.

The knuckles were the worst part. His fingers clawing against your walls as he forced himself deep within your hole were uncomfortable but familiar in a terrible way as each digit scratching along your walls in such a way that pleasure was impossible. The knuckles, the bones there unable to shift, formed the thickest part of his hand and the burn of your skin – your hole feeling as though it were tearing through the heat – had drawn a wail from you which was so guttural and miserable in its sincerity that Crane paused long enough to free his rock-hard cock with his other hand.

Still stroking along his length, the girth of his knuckles – now buried deep within you – sparked a deep discomfort which made the bile rise in the back of your throat.

“Just over seven minutes.” Crane mused, his gleeful expression only a few inches from your own. “That’s how long it took for you to open up for me like a common, fucked-out whore. Seven minutes to ruin you.” He shook his head as a twisted smirk settled on his lips. “That must be a record, sweetheart.”

x-x-x-x-x

Time moved slowly in your new life. With no calendar and scant lighting from a strip of window too high to be of any use, how much time had passed was a mystery which gnawed at your mind. Your hair had grown about an inch and that was the indicator which you chose to follow – measuring the strands against your palm to keep track.

The remnants of your dinner, overcooked rice topped with bland raw greens, lay off on a plastic plate to the side of your mattress. Having proven yourself willing to be sensible with your meals, Crane had settled into a routine of bringing meals designed to keep you from succumbing to any nutritional deficiency. Just enough to keep you going without ever truly allowing a comfortable fullness to settle. And it was the first thing to go at any perceived disobedience. Meals would be reduced to scraps which were barely fit for a dog and yet you were made to grovel for them as though they were a banquet.

Standing by the plate, Crane’s eyes grazed across the few grains of rice which your trembling fingers were not quite able to pick up and his features narrowed in obvious displeasure.

“Ungrateful creature. Is there a reason my meal has went unfinished?”

Cowering away in an instant, your eyes drop to the floor as your words stammer free.

“Apologies, Sir. I was unable to pick th-”

SLAP

The blow catches you unawares as you had not heard him move and your head snaps to the side as a pained yelp slips free of your mouth. A ringing settles in your left ear and you grunt as your head is pulled upwards by his free hand until you are forced to look Crane directly in the face.

“I do not appreciate excuses. If my meal was unsatisfactory then I will find you something to replace it.”

His hands drop your hair and quickly fumble with his belt. A sick hope alights in your chest. Sucking his cock would save you from so many other pains. In your time servicing him, you had grown to understand what he liked and, as much as he could draw it out with added cruelties, your throat was well-trained to get him to come as quickly as possible.

But your hope died out quickly as a sadistic chuckle rumbled overhead.

“I see that hopeful look in your eye,” Crane cooed, “and I know that you’re desperate to please me as a perfect little toy should. However, that’s not what I have in mind for you.” Stroking his cock, his free hand dipped once more to grip at your chin roughly. “I’m going to turn around and you will use that mouth to prove to me that you deserve another meal by my hands. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” You answer, revulsion at the implication rising in your throat.

“Hesitate, or refuse, and I’ll lock that door behind me and leave you here to rot away.”

Fear, genuine fear, pierces your heart as you don’t doubt his threat for a moment, and you nod as your knees lock in place against the cold stone of the floor.

He is quick to turn, balancing his forearm against the wall as he allowed his slacks to drop around his ankles, exposing his thin ass and even thinner legs to your blank expression. Shuffling forward on your knees, you bring your tied wrists together – the small length of rope only allowing a few inches of movement – and place them gently on his ass, afraid to cause him even the slightest discomfort as you know it’ll earn you a severe beating.

Pulling at his ass cheeks, the hair there sparse, a sigh of relief threatens to slip free of your lips as you take in his asshole and the cleanliness of the site. He was cruel, sadistic, and evil in ways you sometimes struggled to comprehend but he was at least clean.

You whimper as the harsh tread of Crane’s boots presses harshly against your upper leg as it remains forced into a kneeling position.

“Is that a hesitation?” He asks sternly, the threat clear. “Because it’s been a while since you required any true discipline, pet.”

“No, Sir. Sorry, Sir!”

Dipping your head forward, you swallow down the disgust which once again wells in your throat as your tongue paints a stripe across his asshole. Grimacing at the act, you push down those feelings as you settle into a steady, faux-enthusiastic rhythm which doesn’t hesitate – even as shameful tears threaten your eyes.

“That’s right you little whore.” Crane groans, pushing back slightly. “Service your master.”

Your tongue is insistent as it brushes along his hole while your hand remain gentle on his ass, your ragged nails nowhere near Crane’s skin as you devour him. He’s surprisingly active – his body shifting in place as you pleasure him as his ass pushes harder into your face, forcing you to work quicker at your task while he hums out his enjoyment.

After a few minutes, the length of which were closer to an eternity, he straightens up and whirls around and you are confronted by his rock-hard cock. His spindly hand jerking along the length with a messy pace, the flush which sits on his cruel features is paired with a animalistic panting as he points his cock at you.

“Enjoy your rewards, sweetheart.” Crane grunts out and the hot splashes of his release arc across your face, streaking across your cheek and lip as your watery eyes blink rapidly. “Perhaps we should arrange for more similar meals as part of your re-education.”

Re-education.

A word which struck more fear into your heart than any punishment could.

x-x-x-x-x

“Tell me what you see.”

Even through the horror which gripped your heart, squeezing the sensitive muscle to dust as you watch the shadows of the cell twist and writhe towards you, Crane’s voice is clear and unyielding as it demands an answer.

“Monsters.” You sob out, arcing your back as Crane tugs at your distended nipples. “In th-the shadows!”

The fire in your chest is brutal, scorching the skin to the bone as the pain is compounded by the toxin which flows freely through your veins. Thick needles, the sharp point having been slowly piercing through the nubs of your nipples as you screamed – his legs pinning your arms to the floor to allow him unfettered access to your chest – remained in place to provide Crane something to latch onto and pull to redirect your attention.

Then had come the toxin.

In a twisted game, he had allowed you to choose where to inject it and, like the good little toy you were, you had first told him that it was his choice and your opinion didn’t matter. He had laughed at that, his fingers stroking along your cheek in mock affection before he had insisted that the choice was yours.

And you had chosen your neck.

But only because he was more careful when working with that area, just in case he should nick something important. Any other choice would have seen the needle jammed into your flesh with no regard for comfort or safety.

The toxin still raged through your system, even now, hours after the initial injection. The hallucinations had lessened slightly – reduced to shifting shadows and a sense of dread which made your heart flutter within your chest as tears flowed freely from your stinging eyes.

A vague sensation of something being thrust within your mouth makes you moan and a sharp pain at the corners of your mouth alerts you to the dental gag which was now holding your mouth open, almost splitting at the sides.

“As obedient as you are, pet, my toxin would make any attempts at enjoying that lovely mouth difficult. I’m sure you don’t mind.”

Unable to speak, your words gurgle free in an indecipherable mess but Crane’s expression narrows as he watches your head thrash in place.

Dropping to one knee, his face hovers over your own and his features are barely perceptible through the veil of tears and blurriness which his toxin has afforded you. Nevertheless, you flinch in place as something warm and wet splatters across your cheek.

Spit.

“Now be a good whore and please your master.” Crane demands, rising once again to his feet as his fingers once again spread to tug at the needles which are impaled through your nipples – the rush of pain forcing you to kneel as high as possible to alleviate the raw pain which lances through your chest.

He’s as rough as ever, his cock thrusting within your mouth with no preamble or time to prepare. The gag making it impossible to do anything other than accept him, you slam your eyes shut to hide from the creatures which still moved within the shadows and laughed at your distress.

A sharp pull of your hair draws a strangled cry from your lips as Crane jerks his cock free and his voice booms from overhead.

“Open your eyes or I will pin them open with some of those left-over medical needles.”

Fresh terror flooding through your trembling limbs, you open your eyes immediately and fixate them on his stern gaze. Through the sadistic glee which shines free of his expression, there is a definite satisfaction there which sparks despair deep within your soul. As his little project, his desire to break and mould you into something for his amusement has been relentless. The abuses, the stuttered sleep, the withheld meals. Each cruelty breaking off another small piece of your will until what remained was tattered and useless, just waiting to be stripped off as was all the rest.

His cock returned to your lips and you moved your tongue to accommodate him, lapping at his length with a put-upon reverence which you knew he enjoyed. The ache in your jaw and throat meant little compared to the pains in the rest of your battered body but you ignored it in favour of pleasing him as he abused your mouth.

Please him. The little traitorous voice inside your head which had saved you from more punishments than you cared to think about, coming at the cost of your dignity. Let him do what he wants and you’ll be safe.

Toxin-filled and suffering beyond what any reasonable person could accept, what little defiance burned deep within your heart stuttered out and was replaced with something cold.

Clenching your fists against your lower back, you pretend to ignore the grunt of pleasure which escapes Crane as he once again tugs at your nipples and relishes in the scream which vibrates around his cock.

[invinciblerodent]

I have been thinking fucking incessantly about this one Todd May quote ever since that scene meeting Mystra:

"Why, for the Immortals, are all undertakings in vain? Given an infinite amount of time for existence, everything will happen of its own accord. There is nothing an immortal being cannot eventually do; and, in fact, nothing he or she will not eventually do."

This is from his book "Death", from the chapter "Death and immortality", about... well, immortality, and the morals of it, as contrasted with its mortal conceptions.

Essentially, in the most straightforward way I can phrase it, May describes how for mortals, life is fraught with urgency. We are always at least tangentially aware of our existence being temporary: which is in part what makes our actions meaningful. We are aware that there is a finite amount of things that we are able to accomplish in our lifetimes, and we are at least kind of aware of our existence being singular in time (even considering religious beliefs of things like reincarnation or an eternal afterlife, the here and now when I am both this and present is still unique), so the end, or the idea of it, in its way, generates the meaning of the limited number of events within this particular chunk of time.

An immortal, like a goddess, would likely be more of a disinterested spectator of life than an active participant in it. Without the urgency of a time limit to drive them forward, and the precariousness of living to make the future uncertain, a goddess has no real interest in things that happen in the world of mortals. With good turning to bad, and bad turning to good over the centuries, it's easy enough to kind of stop caring about what is currently going on, because, well, it'll eventually be different, and then the same again.

Of fucking course she doesn't care for Gale the way he cares for her: it's impossible for her, which is what he, with his limited, human perspective, is (imo) initially incapable of understanding. In his very short, limited life, there is room for one, maybe two such great loves, but in hers? There is an endless, constant stream of near-faceless people, flowing through and not making a permanent mark, because permanence for an immortal is a word largely devoid of meaning. Bad or good, the guilt/pleasure will always fade, the people will all die and get replaced by a brand new crop of similarly expendable people, and the goddess will still have an infinity of time to go.

Even considering that she was once Mystryl, and that technically this incarnation of her was once mortal, and keeping her brush with a kind of death in mind, the future for Mystra, as she can conceive of it, is an empty, vast expanse of nothing but the certainty that she will live, and she will be present in some way. Even if slain (if I recall correctly how this works in DnD), her essence just kinda returns to the cosmic soup, and eventually, she'll... reform, or be resurrected, or changed as she has been already, or she'll remain as an immaterial fragment, or something. Point is, she is unending, and he is no more than a blip on her radar.

That's why she's so callous about asking him to die, and in turn essentially dooming Faerun: she doesn't care. She can't care. He was going to die anyway in what feels to her like the blink of an eye (whether it's 5 days, 50 years, or 500, it's not important), and what does she care if the Grand Design comes to fruition? Whether there are people or mind flayers inhabiting the world, it's of no real concern to her. Eventually, either people will strike back, or go extinct, or the mind flayers will cease to exist and something different will come from it, all without truly affecting her. In a year, a hundred years, or a million years, she will be here, and there will be another bright mageling to amuse her.

Fun as it is to joke about it, I don't think that the toxicity of their relationship is her fault, strictly speaking. It's not the ocean's fault when a tsunami destroys a village and kills hundreds. It's not the storm's fault when lightning strikes and kills a tree. Her very nature is this nebulous, capricious existence, only truly occupied with having the power to indulge her whimsies, and filling an infinite amount of time with things to do- unconcerned about how that affects others, because their whole lives barely affect her for a short segment of her eternal soup of undefined presence.

It can be argued that any relationship that may exist between mortal and immortal is necessarily tragic, toxic, desperately unequal, and grossly unhealthy for the mortal. By its very nature, such a relationship pushes the needs and feelings of the mortal party into essential inconsequence to their partner. There can be no regret to feel when the mortal is hurt or gone, because there have been others like them, and there will be others to come still, and everything will happen, or has happened, and will happen again.

Gale was always doomed to be her devoted plaything, only to be discarded once he stops being fun. That could have been once his appearance stopped pleasing her, or once his wit stopped entertaining her, or for any reason whatsoever, and him recognizing that this relationship was never anything more than entertainment to her, while it was devastating and singularly defining to him, is such an important thing for his future happiness.

(This is mainly why his throwaway "Let me make myself indispensable" line is so important to me, tbh. He yearns to matter, and that is only possible if he either finds contentment entirely within the mortal realm, or becomes a god himself, which in turn just dooms him to essentially become Mystra and continue this vicious cycle.)

(Fucking tragic-ass low-wis wizard man, making me fkin... re-read my philosophy books. Honestly the gall, Larian.)

[canarydarity]

at another place in time, II

(Or, I wrote that one small limited life session 1 ficlet from Tango's pov and went "what if I just write a whole series of vignettes from Tangos pov as the season comes out, one for each session," and now have to do that by law. so. welcome to session 2's chosen tango reminiscing vignette)

[part I]

____________________________________________

He stood on the outskirts and watched everyone gather around, and Tango thought, well this is different; maybe it was the rule changes—their timers all counted down, but 19 hours was still more promising than not. It felt wrong to quantify their lives this way, hard to connect that number to the idea of the amount of time he had left to live; right now, it felt arbitrary. Tango was sure that would change as the numbers got lower. Their actions were still dictated by color, but yellow could now attack green and—

Yeah, that was probably it. The first free-to-fight was beginning to act, and this bloodthirsty crew wanted to watch it happen. That didn’t mean Tango wasn’t a little thrown off by the sight of everyone gathered around, a crude ring marked out on the ground. They all cursed the games when they ended, took time to recover from the violence they witnessed—but they forgot that it was violence they cheered for whilst they were playing; or, maybe they didn’t, and that was the problem; the part they struggled to absolve. 

Maybe it was why they all signed up again and again. 

He tuned out Bdubs explaining his rules, focused instead on searching who had shown up. He wasn’t looking for anyone in particular, he just thought he should take the opportunity to get a closer look at the teams that had formed while he had the chance. 

Tango had somehow ended up directly across the ring from the rest of TIES, Etho finishing up flattening out a somewhat-decent circular border, Impulse standing behind Skizz, acting every bit in his corner, patting him on the back and giving all the encouragement a good coach would. 

Scar was whispering to Cleo who had a hand to her forehead as if she were warding off a headache; Martyn and Scott looked properly judgemental and above all that was going on—surely they were too dignified for a fight so unrefined. He couldn’t see Pearl or Bigb, but last he’d heard they’d been taking their role as nosy neighbors far too seriously—if they were here, he was sure they were out of sight, giggling and whispering back and forth. 

He wasn’t looking for anyone in particular, but that just left—

“We’re all standing so close?”

He couldn't help the speed at which he turned his head, he really couldn’t. Tango logically knew Jimmy’s landing on this side of the circle was due to the direction of Bad Boy Mansion, but he’d take what he could get. Joel was further away, picking fights where he could and riling up Bdubs from behind and Martyn from the side. Tango hadn’t spotted Grian yet. Speaking of taking chances…

“Well, if anyone gets too close we’ll just punch ‘em.” He held his breath, but it didn’t take longer than a second for Jimmy to turn his head in Tango’s direction. He was already smiling by the time they made eye contact; Jimmy had a lotta smiles—this was the kind that predated his laugh. Tango decided to take that as a challenge. 

“Yeah, we’ll punch ‘em back in!” Jimmy said. “Just like in the movies.”

Tango nodded, “that’s right!”

“Keep fighting!” Jimmy added in a false voice he probably thought was gruff.

“Get in there and die!” Tango threw back; cruelty that was funny because it wasn’t real, the joke being that this was unlike their true temperament—settings-and-death-game be damned. 

Jimmy got it, he tilted his head back and—what success, because there it was—he laughed. Tango smiled wider and stared maybe just a little; he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the sound. 

Such as with all things bright and lovely, there was a moment where that feeling—that light and feathered thing—threatened to break out of the cage in Tango’s chest, and he had to look down to wrestle it back under control. When looked back up, across the circle Etho’s eyes were heavy on his. He calmly slid his gaze to Jimmy and then back to Tango. 

Tango cleared his throat. Yup, that did the trick. He shuffled his feet, leaned his weight more to the right, and the distance it put between himself and that laugh was quantifiable in a way Tango felt much more than the numbers in his peripheral. 

Grain had shown up anyway, and the bad boys gravitated towards each other with an ease Tango reminded himself he wasn’t jealous of. He tried to tune back into the event, but the excitement had kind of dulled. 

“BDUBS! It’s you and me brother,” Skizz said, axe leveled in Bdubs’ direction. In a blink, Tango saw a different Skizz standing before him, weaponless and bare, my brothers left me to die. He didn’t dwell. Like he said, it was in a blink—one second there, the next gone; literally—he had the timer to prove it. 

“Yeah right It’s you and me, you want revenge? Here I am, on a silver platter!” Bdubs held his arms out wide, sword in one hand and shield in the other—the cockiest come at me that he could offer. He never knew when to quit, did he? Tango hoped Skizz put him on his ass. 

If not yet a harsh reminder of the time that he has left, the timer served the annoying purpose of counting the kind of seconds that ticked by in boredom. Every painstaking block in a build, every step he took on a long journey, every taunt Bdubs and Skizz sent back and forth that couldn’t be called anything but stalling; all of it cataloged and kept track of—it was the worst reminder that time doesn’t fly in the world (yet).

Tango was sure he’d change his mind about that later, but for now, he suppressed a groan and snuck another glance to the left. 

Grian was offering weak cheers and ripping a loaf of bread to shreds then tossing the pieces around like confetti—or rice at a wedding. The area surrounding their little group was littered with crumbs and chunks of the stuff, and Tango watched as it attracted a chicken, pecking at the ground near Jimmy's feet. When it ran out of readily available food, it started picking at his shoelaces, and Jimmy tried shooing it away with little success; every step back he took, the chicken followed. Tango laughed under his breath as he watched Jimmy wave his hands at the bird again and then look around frantically hoping no one had noticed. 

The crowd suddenly shouted in unison, calls of disappointment and boos radiating all over; the group mentality was also new—Tango knew that wouldn’t last either; once the fight ended, so would their new-found camaraderie. He turned back, but he’d missed whatever it was that had caused the outburst. 

In the quick moment of silence that had followed, Scott said, “Skizz, did you eat an apple?” 

Skizz was the only yellow name amongst them—the only one licensed to kill—and yet, Scott's question charged the crowd and made them every bit the audience above the colosseum, a thumbs down all that was needed to determine his friend's fate.  

Skizz gulped, “maybe…”

The booing began again in earnest, and Tango had never before been so glad for the rules that Grian set. 

“That’s nearly a cheat there!” Jimmy called out. He was an easy target, which Tango knew meant he was always fine-tuned to the things that might warrant being teased—cheating was one of them. A chance to put attention on someone else was always welcome. 

Skizz spun in the bad boy's direction, “how is that a cheat?” Grian raised an eyebrow at the display, but he said nothing; he only liked to play admin when he chose to, not when others thought he should—especially if it was solely for their own benefit. “There’s no rule about not eating golden apples!” 

Tango saw Jimmy’s eyes alight with it at the same time as he felt his own; accidentally or not, they made eye contact. Skizz was technically right, there were no rules about not eating golden apples—at least, not anymore. But he hadn’t been in double life. 

Tango remembered when there were. He remembered waking up in the middle of the night to a knock on their door, answering Jimmy’s worried Tango… by telling him to stay where he was. There’d been no one there, but there had been a golden apple sitting on their porch—someone's idea of some kind of joke that neither of them had found funny. 

He’d been so mad…it wasn’t until halfway through shoving his feet into his boots that he’d heard Jimmy call his name for what he was later told was the third time. 

What are you gonna walk around in the dark ‘til you find who put that there?

He had been willing to if that’s what it took. Somewhere deep down logically he’d known—just like Jimmy did—that he wasn’t going to find whoever had left it, but it wasn’t really about that. He thinks he gets it, now, that it’d been about proving something. 

Maybe if he’d done it then Jimmy wouldn’t have flushed and looked away today. 

Tango was vaguely aware that the rest of the group had moved on around him, that he and Jimmy were really the only ones who’d hesitated at the mention of the apple at all. 

He should’ve gone out anyway, walked around until the sun started coming up—hell, he should’ve started knocking on doors; at least that way, he wouldn’t have had to lay back down and have the conversation he hadn’t stopped thinking about since. 

He’d known there was something coming, and he’d waited Jimmy out patiently to hear the slow drawl of;

If it weren’t against the rules, would you…

It is against the rules, Tango had replied. The wrong answer, he thinks now. But he hadn’t known why they’d been having such a conversation; it was against the rules. Tango would tell Jimmy he was sure as many times as he needed, but he wasn’t going to allow for the kind of negative feedback loop that Jimmy used to punish himself.

But if it weren’t—

No. He hadn’t needed to see Jimmy’s eyes to know that he didn’t believe him. 

He wished he could tell Jimmy that believe it or not his answer still hasn’t changed. 

“Fights over.”

“Hmm?” Tango turned toward Etho—now apparently standing in front of him—but he didn’t quite make it all the way. The scene had changed around them; sometime in his musings, people had started clearing out. The once rowdy crowd had begun to disperse, blood spilled and attention span exhausted. 

“Fights over,” Etho repeated. 

Tango blinked. “Who won?”

But his friend just let out a small huff and started in the direction of home. Tango looked down and kicked a pebble with the toe of his boot. He spared only a glance to the left where the bad boys were heading back towards their own base, donning leather jackets that must be sweltering in the day's heat. He couldn’t hear them, but he could tell Joel was arguing with Jimmy over something from here, watched as Joel reached around and smacked Jimmy on the back of the head, Grian moseying along beside them not caring to intervene. He sighed. 

Tango turned after Etho.

[thetwistedminds]

Do you think the og Ortho was kinda evil? I know the robot child is a little mischievous but the og Ortho was straight up cruel to the stix students, it made me think what if idia had only seen the best of og Ortho and based robot Ortho off of an idealized version of him. Just a thought I had playing book six because it was jarring for me to see Ortho being the 'evil mastermind' so to speak. Anyway have a great day rest of your day! Remember to drink some water!

Hello hello! My very first ask on this account! Yay!

So the question this: “Was the living Ortho-that is the real Ortho-evil?”

I will always condense these down into short list and get straight to the point.

Answer: No!

Reason/Evidence:

Let’s first take a look at Idia and determine how he was as a kiddo (you know, the over blot stuff)

His reasoning for his overblot (put into simple terms) was a combination of his mental and emotional state having already been on a massive downward spiral tanking even further, being in the center of Tartarus surrounded by pure blot, and in essence giving up and not doing much to resist it much. Even though his bloodline is in theory cursed to never Overblot in normal circumstances, he is only one person, and there is a limit to how much a mage can take, regardless of cursed lineage. In short, he was overwhelmed and the curse his lineage is under couldn't surpass the massive amount of blot that he had been surrounded by.

Oh also if you wanted to know why his overblot was powerful, The family curse burns blot, but it doesn’t do it immediately. It has limits. And Idia was producing a lot of blot, surrounded by tons more blot.

So now looking at Idia and ortho’s relationship:

His overblot, his trigger, was entirely due to his survivor’s guilt and deep self loathing, to the point that he wanted to join his brother in death. He was easily persuaded to use his unique magic to open the underworld after Ortho’s soul kinda meshed with the robot Ortho because of that survivor’s guilt. The whole of the post over blot is Idia being forced to face reality. Life isn’t a fairy tale. Life isn’t fair. His brother died and he can’t do anything about it. Nothing will bring Ortho back, no matter how much he wishes it. To bring Ortho back with revival magic would defeat the lesson that Idia needed to learn: his pain is valid, but his whole life is ahead of him, and he should live it. When the students defeat overblot Idia, he even tries to join Ortho’s soul in the underworld which is basically him attempting suicide but Ortho tells him it isn’t his time yet. At the end, the robot Ortho does become sentient, but he isn’t actually Ortho. He’s his own person. The new sentient Ortho still refers to Idia as a brother though, because of the familial bond they shared for so many years after Idia built him to replace the real Ortho. (Personally, I like to believe that the magic that made robot Ortho sentient was a parting gift from the real Ortho, so that his brother wouldn’t be alone).

TL;DR: I think the writers made the right choice by not including revival magic. Idia’s arc was about grief, loss, and survivor’s guilt. Reviving Ortho would have defeated the point of Idia overblotting and (personal opinion) would cheapen his entire narrative by giving a happy ending cope out. Life isn’t that happy and even most fairy tales don’t mess with violating the laws of nature by trying to revive the dead.

I hope this answers your question! If not dm me and we can discuss it more in detail love!

[heavenlythea]

time never matters, the feeling does

objectively speaking each hour has 60 minutes. yet subjectively we've all experienced hours that felt like forever or hours that passed incredibly fast. the way we experience time is always subjective. 60 minutes, 24 hours, 7 days, 12 months. all of these terms don't really hold any value to your I AM. they're concepts that keep our lives more structured but they have nothing to do with our personal life experiences.

what matters is how we perceive time. how we feel about time. if you feel as though this hour will never end, that's how it's going to play out for you. because all your I AM knows is NOW and the FEELING STATE you're in. that's what gets pushed out. the amount of time that passes is just a result of that.

don't look at the amount of time that has passed since you've been manifesting something. it does not matter. what matters is only how it makes you FEEL. by looking back, you're just looking at the time you've been lacking your manifestation. but all there is is NOW. if you're feeling this way about the past and focusing on that, you are bringing it into the present moment and that's what will keep on pushing out.

here is a good practice that may help you change your feeling about it.

the idea of time running out is nothing but a story you might have been telling yourself. your age means nothing compared to how old you feel you are. if there are things that happened in your life in which you wanted to have your manifestation already, who says they can't happen again in your desired way? don't let time limit you. you are above time.

once you'll have your manifestation physically, you won't be looking back at your past. all you'll be focusing on is the fulfillment of that new present moment. all there will be is FULFILLMENT & NOW. you won't pay attention to the amount of time that has passed. so why not do it already? when it comes to your manifesting, drop the idea of time passing completely and just focus on the fulfillment. that is fully living in the end.

conclusion:

time is nothing but a result of your feeling state in the now.

everything is always happening NOW. when you think about your past and it brings a certain feeling, you are experiencing it now. NOW is always part of the equation.

FEELING STATE + NOW = TIME feeling of lack + NOW = more lack aka more time without your manifestation feeling of fulfillment + NOW = the end

you don't really want time to pass quickly so that you can have your manifestation physically. you want internal fulfillment of the manifestation. when you internally know you have it, well you have it, it's the end. consciousness is the only reality. when you fulfill yourself internally, it will be more than enough for you. and the physical reflection will naturally follow but it will be so obvious to you, because well, you had it already.

imagine that you are really hungry and your meal will come in an hour. what's the real problem here? the time or the hunger? would the time matter if you'd be full? would your experience of time be different if you wouldn't be lacking food?

stop focusing on time. it really doesn't matter. the feeling of fulfillment does.

[asmallmoon333]

Hi! Love time speaks <3

what would happened L had gone all the way with light in their fourth life? Or if L caught onto light's plan?

Light talked about it once in their sixth and I can't quite decide if it would've ruined their future or if it would've made no impact.

I don't see it causing anything positive honestly

Thank you!! <3

Sorry that answering this took me a minute, long live weekends!!

Okay, so I've been thinking of this, and there's a couple of pathways we could go here. So, warning to anyone reading this, mature content ahead! Also plot spoilers for Time Speaks!

I'll split these questions into two scenarios:

If L went all the way in 4th life. So I'm assuming you mean if they had sex during the one smut scene? Yeah, not a good outcome here. First problem is that Light didn't even know he wanted that from L, that truth was forced on him, and he wasn't emotionally ready or safe enough to deal with it. Next issue is that in Fourth life, sex would have been an outcome of two situations: force or coercion. Force would not have happened, L wouldn't have gone there, but in Light's mind it would always be a possibility due to the lack of trust between them. That fear would have coloured every interaction. (In later Time Speaks scenes, even the most non-con moments always have a clear limit, Light knew L would stop, but Light in Fourth life didn't have that level of trust yet, and no opportunity to develop it.) All he knew was that L wanted him sexually, and Light would have nipped the possibility of force in the bud by giving in on his own terms. This leads to the coercion option, with Light now deciding to use sex to obtain other things in return (in this case, more freedom). This would have let him keep some of his own power in the situation, illusionary though it would be, and it would have been more bearable for him. This was already the situation building in Fourth life, since during the only time they were intimate, it was an exchange. But the key in that scene was that L made it all about Light's pleasure, with L as just as an observer. L stopped after and didn't take anything in return, ignoreing his own body, which Light did notice reacted, and did note that L did nothing about. That moment allowed Light some amount of understanding and clarity about both of their feelings, a bit of hesitant trust that maybe L wouldn't take him without consent, and this was particularly reinforced in the aftermath when L hugged him like a child does a beloved toy and they went to sleep. It was clear in that moment that L was emotionally weak to Light, which was a huge moment in the plots to come. Light felt a sense of real control over the situation for the first time, which returned balance between them, and that's what actually spared L in Fifth life. And also what shaped the nature of Light's revenge plan in Fifth. But if, instead, they'd had sex in that scene, it would have become all about L's pleasure in Light's mind. And neither would have been able to deny that, due to the total power imbalance of the situation, Light was a victim. And Light, even if he physically enjoyed it, would have come out of it feeling resentful, bitter, and used. He'd want to escape even more and have no insight into L's emotions, only his lust. No Stockholm would have happened here, Light doesn't accept people taking his freedoms and body and using 'love' as an excuse to do so. Even if he's obsessed with L in return, there would have been no trust developed between them at that moment, nor likely any to come, because Light would have seen himself as an object of L's lust, with no choice in the matter even if he 'consented.' He'd have hated that in many ways. Even if Light convinced himself it was all so he could manipulate L, it doesn't erase the fact that he had no other choice or avenue to take but sex. The relationship would be a toxic exchange. (Which is the canon dynamic between Light and Misa, minus the 'mutual' part of the obsession.) So in this situation, if Light's plan had gone ahead and they did make it to the Fifth Life (or even Sixth cause Light might have killed insta-killed L in Fifth instead of hesitating), it would have resulted in Light being much more resistant to L's presence when they did meet again. He might have even dismissed L as 'just another person who used him for their own desires,' out of some self-protective instinct. Tbh this is a situation in which I'd have to write it to really get a sense of Light's reaction. Either way, it would have made Fifth Life more difficult and Light's revenge plan more brutal.

Now for your other question, let's say L figured out the plan and stopped it, and Fourth Life continued. In this case, even if their first time was the same as in my story, eventually Light would have had to consistently use sex as a manipulation tactic. Even if he now knew L was emotionally weak to him, and felt a sense of safety and power now, Light wouldn't have allowed himself to be emotionally honest in return. This would have complicated their dynamic from the start. Because in my story, sex for them was always about genuine emotion. Even at their worst, sex was a moment of catharsis that allowed them to be honest. But, if it had become a consistent tool of manipulation used as an exchange for freedoms, then the honesty and genuine pleasure in the act would have blurred and become another murky lie between them. They'd have no safe space to be 100% honest with each other, something 'outside' of the mind games they play. in Time Speaks, sex is an outcome of their games for a reason, so it doesn't become just another part of them. No lies are needed because the round is already over, and now the victor can just enjoy the spoils. This wouldn't have been true if sex was part of their game from the start. Not to mention the consequences of the situation when they did eventually get to the next lifetime. As you mentioned, L did think about this in Sixth, and acknowledged that it would have been, in one word, a prison for them both. L in fourth that life didn't yet understand that what he wanted was for Light to be willing. For Light to want him back. They wanted honesty between them. But it was only in Fifth life that both of them reached a place where they would actually consider actually trusting each other and being vulnerable emotionally. But Fifth wouldn't have happened in this situation. L would have kept Light that whole lifetime (4th), never truly freeing him even if he did eventually let him out of the cage. Light would have become a prisoner permanently, partly due to L's obsession with him, but also partly out of genuine fear on L's part of Light's eventual retribution in their next life. Because Light would have gotten revenge, even if he no longer hated L, even if he loved him, he would have done it just to regain his own emotional equilibrium and sense of power. He'd have done it because he is Light Yagami. There would have been no avoiding Light's revenge (even if it was token revenge) unless we went full MindBreak on Light (which, nope, sorry not my thing). And Light's revenge itself would have only hurt their relationship further, fracturing their hope for trust even more. They'd know this but do it anyway; that's just L and Light: 'an eye for an eye,' even as they know it would just result in both going blind. Lawlight is a very toxic relationship in general. Even in Time Speaks, after so much development, it will never be healthy. It's a delicate balance at best, and as a writer I just try to keep their acts small and consequent revenges small too. The 'dark paths' discussed above would be the opposite of small, and while interesting to think about, sound too emotionally tiring to write, lol. A Super Hard Mode for them, and they were Hard Mode already.

So anyways, yeah! You're certainly right that going all the way in Fourth wouldn't have had a positive outcome. Now, I don't think it would have had 'Hell Mode' consequences like in my last ask on this topic, but it would have taken at least double the word count to get them both to trust each other. Between Lawlight, obsession and even love were never the problem, it was always trust! ^v^

[highfunctioningflailgirl]

Damage Control - 2x19 Folsom Prison Blues

Tiny’s large body stretches the body bag to its limits, and Dean gives him a silent salute when the gurney is rolled past him, out of the infirmary. He’d liked the guy, and although Sam would be nervous about that, Dean doesn’t care. Not every inmate in this prison is a bad person. Many of them, he’s learned, were simply dealt a tough hand in life, often from the very start, and, like Tiny, hadn’t managed to fight their way out - at least not in the right, legally accepted way. 

In truth, it’s no wonder that Dean fits in here so easily, as Sam had remarked with concern. All the crap he’s dealt with, all the crap he’s done - he’s not much different from Tiny or the others. Hell, he’s been on the FBI’s Wanted List for a while now, and while most of the crimes he’s charged with are bogus or were committed for a good reason, there are some atrocities he’s responsible for that would rightfully put him behind bars for a very long time. 

And he’d survive in here. Not in Solitary. Dean can only face windowless walls and nothing but himself for a limited amount of time. But as part of a community - an inked-up, screwed-up, defensive shields-up community with a clear hierarchy and an even clearer set of unwritten rules - he’d make it through. He might even thrive, judging by the amount of cigarettes he’s won over cards and by the respectful looks he’s getting in the yard ever since returning from Solitary. 

Not Sam, though. Unless they’d put him in charge of the library, Sam would wilt like an unwatered plant. And even then, that big brain of his and his need for independence would make him climb the walls. Physically, he could stand his ground, of course, but mentally? Like Dean, Sam can handle a lot of shit. Being caged in is not one of them.

“Your BP’s fine. Your chest still hurting?”

Velcro rips as the prison doctor loosens the blood pressure cuff around Dean’s arm. Feet dangling, Dean’s sitting on the infirmary’s examination table, one hand cuffed to its frame. A guard is hovering, an eternally menacing glare plastered to his face, 

“A little,” Dean admits. While he no longer feels like dying, his chest is still a little tight where the ghost squeezed his heart.

“Hm.” The doc - a different one than last night’s - wrinkles his already deeply creased forehead. “Have you had heart problems before?”

Massive coronary when accidentally electrocuting myself with an amped-up taser, Dean remembers. But after being healed by a reaper, I believe that no longer counts.

“Not really, no,” he replies. 

“Hm,” the doc hums again. He’s an elderly man giving off grandfather vibes, but his sharp blue eyes belie his age. “Unbutton your top for me, please,” he says. 

With his one available hand, Dean snaps the upper half of his orange jumpsuit open to reveal his naked chest. It’s mottled with bruises, and not all of them come from the beating he took last night. 

“Looks like you got into a bit of a pickle”, the doc says, and, somehow, his manner of speaking reminds Dean of Bobby. 

Dean just huffs, and it turns into a grunt when the doctor palpates his sore ribs. Man, Deacon really didn’t hold back when he used the baton on him last night. Way to make it look real.

“My colleague told you you cracked one of these?” the doc says, pointing at a particular dark swath of bruising along Dean’s lower ribs.

“He did.” 

“And advised you to take it easy for a few days?” The old man reaches for the stethoscope dangling around his neck.

“Spa weekend coming right up,” Dean jokes sarcastically. 

The doc pauses for a moment, his eyes looking directly into Dean’s, musing, and Dean has the sudden feeling of disarmament.

“You better be careful in here, son,” the old doctor says. It’s a warning, but his tone is gentle. “This isn’t a place that takes humor lightly. Might want to think twice when you challenge people like Tiny. You seem to be an intelligent young man. I’d hate to see you getting wheeled out of here in a body bag, too. Now, deep breaths, if you can.”

Caught a little off guard, Dean is glad that the doctor doesn’t seem to expect a response while listening to Dean’s heart and lungs. The stethoscope feels cold against his chest, and every deep breath sends a sharp stab through his left side where he’s definitely cracked a rib. He pinches his face - and hisses when that causes a ring of pain to flare up around his left eye and down his cheek.

“Did you get that x-rayed last night?” the doctor asks, pointing at his injured face.

Dean presses three fingers against his eyebrow to quell the headache and squints at the doc. “No. They said it wasn’t necessary.”

The infirmary doctor on duty last night had given Dean a perfunctory once over before sticking him in his caged, uncomfortable bed and telling him to ‘sleep it off’.

“Hm.” The gloved, rheumy hands carefully palpate Dean’s wounded cheekbone. “Might be cracked as well. But even if it is, I’m afraid the upstanding taxpayers of Green River County won’t pay for anything else than letting it heal on its own. How’s your pain, son?”

“It’s fine.”

The older man arches one thick, gray eyebrow. “Is that so?” 

Dean blinks and tries to wipe any trace of discomfort or weakness from his face. He’s not even sure why. The old doc’s nice and seems to really care. But something about being in here makes Dean revert to the steel in his bones and to the poker face John Winchester taught him. 

“I’m good, doc,” he states, pushing gravel into his voice. 

The old man’s face takes on an expression somewhere between sadness and respect. Surely, he’s seen many men like Dean pass through the prison infirmary - young, bullheaded, messed-up and hiding their pain under tattoos, a cocky swagger and an air of menace. It’s surprising that he doesn’t appear as jaded as the rest of the prison staff. Some people, Dean assumes, take longer to lose their humanity than others, even in the face of hopelessness. 

“Alright then,” the doc says. “No pain meds. Your choice. But I’m going to keep you here for observation for a couple more hours, and I would like to run an EKG, just to make sure your heart really is fine. Can’t have another inmate drop dead on me tonight for no apparent reason.”

Dean replies with an annoyed eye roll, just for show, which the doctor ignores.

“Lie down, young man.” 

While he wheels a quaint looking EKG unit closer on squeaking wheels, Dean clumsily lies down around his cuffed hand, the metal cutting into his wrist as he shifts into a halfway comfortable position. The guard doesn’t take his eyes off him, and, for good measure, Dean throws him a defiant glare. Sam may be right, Dean thinks. He really is fitting into the whole Alcatraz thing a bit too easily. 

The Damage Control Series - Masterlist

Read the whole series on AO3 here:

[casasupernovas]

Oops. Uploaded in November. It is now April. In my defence, a LOT has happened in my life. Too much for such a short amount of time. But I'm back with Part 2 of my Doctor Who 'Human Nature' commentary, so here we go! Long post incoming!

So onto the next! We last left off with Martha and Joan in the corridor. We now move onto the two racist boys from earlier, Baines and Hutchinson and a third. Mind, referring to one another by surname specifically is old fashioned (duh) and done in a very formal way. It seems insignifciant but I feel like pointing it out because while I understand that not only is it accurate and would have been something the boys parroted by the teachers, I feel it works even better to showcase just how stiff upper lip this school is. It's all so impersonal. In this scene we are introduced to the eternally baby-faced Thomas Brodie Sangster playing 'Latimer,' who is Huntchinson's 'fag' - not the offensive slur or just the Brit way of saying 'cigarrette.' In this case, the word means a 'junior pupil' who often does chores for more senior pupils. Builds character. For any who used to read Enid Blyton, think of when the twins at St Clares had to go do chores for the Fifth Formers. That sort of thing. They already have servants at the school but even their own pupils have a way or reigning over others. But it's not too disimilar fo the modern age - Hutchinson is making Latimer do his homework. Latimer also calls him "sir" very politely. It's at this point we find out that Latimer isn't like the rest of the boys after he is shown to know specifics about Huntchinson's life without any real reason. The musical cue and Brodie-Sangster's performance make it clear that Latimer doesn't know this information because he overheard it elsewhere. Our Latimer seems a little psychic. We see that this strange ability gets him into trouble as Huntchinson responds to his apparent prying with violence, shoving him up against the wall. We also see that this boy has a calmer, quieter dispostion than the others but also a kindness and depth, speaking to Hutchinson about the 'beauty' of Africa. Very important considering the references to war there that will come up in the future. Baines swiftly changes the subject and showcases some sterotypical 'boys will be boys' behaviour by sneaking out to get beer "none for the filth" in reference to Latimer. This decision for naughty behaviour will end badly for Baines.

In the next scene we see Martha and Jenny at the back of a pub, outside in the cold. Clearly the servants aren't allowed inside. Maybe only the black ones aren't and Jenny is showing solidarity, who knows? But we know they're not sitting outside with their pints on purpose. They'd rather be inside. Martha vocalises this, to which Jenny responds with laughter telling her that Martha full well knows they can't, attributing her defiance to her being from London, with a topical reference to the stirrings of the time - the Suffraggettes no less (black women didn't grt the vote until a decade later). Martha voices her frustration at the situation but in a amicable way to Jenny, trying to get her to be more rebellious, question why things are the way they are. It is very on brand for Martha, someone from the 21st Century to see how backward their situation is. But for Jenny it's too far away. Martha doesn't have time for reluctance, or easy dismissal. Jenny isn't a bad person, but her insistance that change can't happen here is part of the problem. Jenny does not know if she wants it, or see how it is feasible. But Jenny is clearly inspired and awed by Martha's defiance. In one of my favourite quotes, Martha expresses how is glad thay she doesn't have tp stay under such conditions for much longer. "One more month and I'm as free as the wind."  This gives us another little tibit into the Doctor and Martha's plan. They are on a time limit. She may be a servant and he may be human now but it is not supposed to last forever. We'll get our normalcy back soon. I also like the running of gag of the only way people from the past can comprehend Martha Jones and the way she acts against the norm is because she is from a completely different country. Mentioned in 'The Shakespeare Code' and now here despite the fact that Martha Jones was born and raised in London. Can't hide that accent if she tried.

MARTHA: Anywhere. Just look up there. Imagine you could go all the way out to the stars.

JENNY: You don't half say mad things.

MARTHA: That's where I'm going. Into the sky, all the way out.

I do love the show's homage to the whimsy that is Doctor Who. For all its horrors, the show sure has a way of capturing the imagination. The Doctor is the man from the stars after all. Consequently, the companion's eyes are opened and have a foresight and experience that no one else has. I made a post about how Freema Agyeman does this part in particular very well, Martha feels older, and her wistful comment feels like make ypu truly believe this person really has seen the wonders of the universe. I think even Jenny senses it while she tries to understand it in her own perametres - Martha's a bit odd (in a good way) because she's not from around here. Of course as Martha looks up at the sky, thinking of all the possibilies that the Doctor has taught her can be possible and more, the script flips and we see a flash in the sky. Something that immediately snaps Martha to attention, reminding the audience that the Doctor and Martha are not here for a holiday. They are hiding. They are in danger. And in this moment, they have been found. And I think the scariest part, is we never find out how exactly the the enemy located them. Joan also sees the light on her way to the pub.

Martha asks the appearing Joan, and John if they too saw the light, Jenny did, thinking it a pretty display of natural phenomena. John Smith has a almost boringly analytical response - "All gone. Commonly known as a meteorite. It's just rocks falling to the ground, that's all." It's robotic with a tinge of humanity at the end. All the more indicators to whoever this 'John Smith' is. His speech isn't very natural. He dismisses it away and leaves with Joan while Martha attempts to investigate - in the dark, something Jenny tries to dissuade her from doing so due to possible physical harm "you can't just run...you'll break a leg." We also find out that someone else saw the light. Baines. Looking for the bloody beer, buried in the fields before stumbling on something else entirely - the invisible spaceship belonging to, who we can clearly guess are the advesaries that the Doctor and Martha have been running from. He disappears inside around the time Jenny and Martha arrive. It's creepy to realise they are so close without realising.

Inside the craft, Baines is huddled in a corner of a green tinged spacecraft, seemingly alone. The only person we can see is him. But he is clearly speaking to someone, a female voice. "But I don't understand. Who are you?" He is afraid, in that way where the reality of a dire situationn slowly creeps over you. I always found it creepy how Baines appear to not be in any immediate danger - there is no one there, but he is sitting on the floor, knees drawn up, hands around himself. It's a much younger image than the boy who was looking for beer, and we can see from his body language that he is clearly uncomfortable and scarier still, we just hear the voices of who are making him so uncomfortable. We also find out in this exchange that Baines' name is Jeremy. Jeremy Baines. Remember what I said about informal/personal name calling? Jeremy pleads to leave but the female voice apologises (not sincerely) and decline - he can't ever leave. Jeremy Baines then speaks for the audience; "But, who are you? Why can't I see you? A male voice responds this time, asking why Jeremy wants to see him. Why? Because he and the audience want to see who these people are, put a face to the aliens that the Doctor and Martha have gone to such lengths to hide from. The woman responds that this should be easy to do - "because very soon we will look so familiar" with a fast zoom onto a screaming Jeremy Baines. Is he dead? Have they teleported him away?

The episode moves back to the school, specifically the boy's dorm. Latimer is polishing shoes while the others play cards as Hutchinson complains about Baines' tardy behaviour only to get a knock at the window. Who is it? Only one scene before a student had been seemingly killed. Is it one of the murderers? "There he is. Let him in." Baines is back? Is it a trick? As one of the boys let him in, it is very clear that something is very very wrong. From the camera angle to Harry Lloyd's (Baines' actor) performance, it is very clear to the audience that sonething has happened to Baines. His expression is...unsettling to say the least. A strange smile across his lips and a curiously wide eye stare. As Hutchinson questions Baines, more annoyed about the lack of alcohol, not apparently noticing the very odd behaviour of his classmate, Baines responds simply "there was no beer, it was gone." A simple answer, his tone almost curious rather than matter of fact. At this point I think it's accurate to assume the boy has been possessed. Almost as if what has got him is learning.

HUTCHINSON: Damn it all, I've been waiting. Pretty poor show, Baines, I have to say. What's the matter with you? Caught sniffles out there?

BAINES: Yes, I must have. It was cold. Very cold.

See? The agreement, said in an equally strangely empty but also careful tone. The last two bits are the creepiest to me. Baines does a sniff after this and Hutchinson assumes he has caught a cold whereas Latimer looks at him due to his odd behaviour. Safe to safe Baines isn't sniffing because he has a cold. I feel that it it clear that whatever has gotten Baines' original environment, or maybe their ship was cold. It makes me think of the episode 'Midnight.' Maybe whatever was there is a sub species of these creatures? Keep notice of this temperature motif, it comes back later.

In the next scene, we see Martha on a bike as her one of her many tracks from the soundtrack plays. It sounds idle and soothing, just like a bike ride would honestly. But where is she going? Martha dismounts and heads into a stone alcove and! It's the Tardis! Hidden away. She uses her key to unlock it and greets it, before dismissing herself, "I'm talking to a machine" and - the Doctor never told Martha his ship is sentient? Martha looks up and around - she might not have been here in a while. The lights are dimmed and it's certainly strange to see it without the Doctor dashing about the console, flicking switches and pulling levers. As Martha looks up the scene flashes and changes - a flashback admist the same lilting melody, it's parts of the scene the episode starts with.

DOCTOR: Get down! They're following us. They can follow us wherever we go. Right across the universe. They're never going to stop. Martha, you trust me, don't you?

From this alone we are told why the Doctor and Martha are hiding. They are being hunted down and whatever if hunting them won't stop - unless they stop them? Find a way to foil them?

Admist this the scene cuts back to Martha, clearly disturbed by the memory. This is how it all starts isn't it? The music changes, minor notes come into play and the music almost slides downwards, in a mirror to the twist you get in your gut as you realise something is very very wrong.

DOCTOR: Those creatures are hunters. They can sniff out anyone, and me being a Time Lord, well, I'm unique. They can track me down across the whole of time and space.

MARTHA: Huh. And the good news is?

DOCTOR: They can smell me, they haven't seen me. And their life span'll be running out, so we hide. Wait for them to die.

So much information all at once. Firstly, the adversaries they are running from are hunters according to the Doctor. I said it because it seemed to fit but the confirmation makes it a lot creepier. I have always thought of the opening to the Fox and The Hound regarding this story. How you can hear a dog barking in the distance, the peace of the woods until bang - Todd's mother is found and runs for her life. The idea of the Doctor and Martha being chased for what? Sport? What do they want? Them as some sort of sick trophy? Is it just for the thrill of the chase? The imagery of being hunted is reinforced again as the Doctor states that the reason they are so damn good at it is due to their sense of smell - see? Fox and the Hound. Hunting dogs chasing a doe or a rabbit. I inagine Martha as the doe but the Doctor as the Hare. Now we're heading to Watership Down territory.

Anyway, the Doctor being the Last of his Kind, makes him a very specific smell, and they've clearly got it. In fact, they have narrowly avoided being caught. The Doctor is in the more immedate danger here and it's not exactly shocking that the Doctor is the hot ticket here.

But luckily for the Doctor, they didn't see him. This is why at the start of the episode, the Doctor stresses to Martha that it is important that 'they' haven't seen her face. Moreover, these hunters have a life limit - it's running out. The Doctor doesn't need to fight. He can just wait. They're both being pushed into a corner but they don't necessarily nedd to fight. But still, it's worrying that the only option they have to get out of this scenario in one piece is for these hunters to die. That implies they are that dangerous.

MARTHA: But they can track us down.

DOCTOR: That's why I've got to do it. I have to stop being a Time Lord. I'm going to become human.

Aha! That explains John Smith right? He's not just an avatar walking around with the Doctoe's face. He really is the Doctor, just a human version. The music is getting a bit louder, drums have come in, and it's no less unsettling now, actually now it's become anxiety inducing. The musical track is called - 'Only Martha Knows.'

DOCTOR: Chameleon Arch. Rewrites my biology. Literally changes every single cell in my body. I've set it to human.

Timelord tech am I right? But also - what other settings does this thing have, slitheen???

DOCTOR: Now, the Tardis will take care of everything. Invent a life story for me, find me a setting and integrate me. Can't do the same for you. You'll just have to improvise. I should have just enough residual awareness to let you in.

I wonder why it can't for Martha? Also to all those who hate that the Doctor 'chose' 1913 - look at that. He beat the allegations, it was the Tardis' fault. The ideation that the Tardis sends the Doctor places he is 'needed' leaves it up in the air once more.

Crikey Martha has to do a lot here. Improvise? This is a lot but there apparently is no time. More scary still - "I should have just enough residual awareness to let you in." That, I feel isn't reassuring at all. "Should," being the operative word here.

MARTHA: But, hold on. If you're going to rewrite every single cell, isn't it going to hurt?

DOCTOR: Oh, yeah. It hurts.

Martha then has flashes of having to watch the Doctor scream in agony with nothing she can do to stop it. Martha really gets the best adventures doesn't she? She hasn't said it yet, but we know at this point she really - really loves this Timelord right? So all of this is definitely traumatising for her. Traumatising for the Doctor too, but at this point in the Doctor's life, this is any old Tuesday. He did get possessed and frozen last episode. These guys are not having a great time. But there, a chunk of the mystery has been sold. 'John Smith' is a biologically rewritten Doctor. They have travelled to 1913 with Martha 'improvsing" as his maid, all to wait out the deaths of yet unnamed hunter creatures who want the Doctor.

Martha attempts to shake off the memory and switches on the monitor and the Doctor suddenly pops up on this screen. "This working?" Wait - is the Doctor back? No alas, these are pre-recorded instructions for Martha. Nice to know she got a bit more information to go on. She smiles as he loses count at 3, (see?) but number 4 sets my teeth on edge - "don't let me abandon you." That's a possibility? Even scarier stakes here. But it makes sense. This 'John Smith' has residual memory of her. But they have no bond.

Martha has apparently seen this video numerous tines, fast forwarding it (maybe she comes here everyday) "but there was a meteor, a shooting star. What am I supposed to do then?" Good question.

"And twenty three. If anything goes wrong, if they find us, Martha, then you know what to do. Open the watch." Cut back to John Smith in his study. It's the watch that is the key. There's a perception filter on it. Which is why Smith picks up the watch, then puts it down. It's not important to him. It's also just on his mantle. In plain sight, a ruse. Nothing suspicous. No attention drawn to it.

DOCTOR: But don't open it unless you have to. Because once it's open, then the Family will be able to find me. It's all down to you, Martha. Your choice.

No pressure. Martha is under a lot of stress here. Her Doctofication continues. She is the one with the power. What other companion has been put in a situation like this? Others have been sent away for their own safety. Either he doesn't care or, and most likely, the Doctor is keenly aware that not only can he defeat these guys with someone's help, he can't do it without Martha's. I strongly believe no other companion could have done this story, especially as the story goes on. What's more - if the Doctor's favoured choice is to literally rewrite his own biology to hide away from these hunters - but all Martha has to do is get John to open the watch exposing them to the Family - what would happen? The Doctor rather wait for them to die. Would he fight them? We still do not know what exactly these creatures want from him.

I dunno, but something about the way the Doctor said "your choice" made me a bit pensive, anxious. Especially considering the end of the story. Because clearly the one person here who would have any kind of power to put an end to these creatures would be the Doctor. We have seen him do it countless time. Is he almost not-so-subtly letting Martha know that if she wakes him before the hunters die, that she is giving him the okay to do with them whatever he sees fit? I feel there is more to the Doctor simply saying 'be careful if you restore me early, they'll find us and everyone will be in danger.'

The Tenth Doctor has always struck me as a darker incarnation - from series 2 there is a strange air or apathy about him (which works very well with his overall arc) and even a meanstreak. All his "one chances." Not to say I think he is a horrible person. I just think that while the Ninth Doctor's worst moments very clearly read as coming from a place of pain, the Tenth's overall demeanor seems from a place of complete indifference.

I don't know when tbis happens exactly - it's there before Doomsday and The Runaway Bride. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say it was apparent from 'The Christmas Invasion.'

See, understandably, I don't think the Tenth Doctor takes too kindly to being forced into a corner, a place of vulnerability, of being exposed. The Tenth Doctor's story literally starts with him being hunted down by 'pilot fish' who were working for the Sycorax. His energy attracts them. He''s down on the job, vulnerable. But he also defeats them with ease.

Theorising aside. The Doctor leaves the recording, but comes back because he remembered to say something. "Oh and thank you" with the kindest smile before the screen switches to a blue with gallifreyan symbols.

The nation swoons, and Martha says what we are all thinking.

"I wish you'd come back."

Stay tuned for Part 3!!

[valkyrie-night-103]

I love the WIP bits you‘ve posted so far! If you’re still doing the wip ask game I‘d be interested in hearing about Too Much Too Soon ✨👀

Hi! Thank you for participating, it means a lot! I intended to get this done a couple hours ago but I kept getting distracted, so I made it a bit longer!

To everyone else, if I haven’t gotten around to your ask, I am working on it!

Too Much Too Soon

After getting signed to New Japan and joining the Bullet Club as The Cleaner, Kenny is riding high. He’s winning matches and chasing titles. He’s a bigger star than he’s ever been, no longer the clueless gaijin following his tag partner like a lost puppy and riding his coattails. He’s sold his soul and succumbed to the machine, and even though he hates the person he’s become, he’s right where he needs to be to make history.

He heads into biggest match of his career with his new best friends at ringside. He won’t lose. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he does.

They’re approaching the time limit, and Kenny knows he has to end this now. He leaps into a perfect moonsault to the outside. He can feel every single person in the thousands that make up the crowd are all holding their breath. For just a moment, he’s unburdened by the weight of his own expectations. He feels free, elated, weightless and hopeful. He’s not felt like this in so long. He feels golden.

His opponent moves at the last second, and the dread pulls Kenny back to earth. Like an action movie smash cut, there was a burst of pain, followed by darkness, then nothing at all.

The nothing stretches on for an amount of time. Long or short, he’s not sure. It feels long, but maybe it’s many thoughts compressed into a short space. Maybe it’s supposed to be his life flashing before his eyes, maybe he’s already dead. He drifts between pain and darkness and back into nothing.

He gets the news not even 24 hours after he was rushed to the hospital.

Matt and Nick had gone in search of decent cell service so they could keep the company clued in on how he was doing, and maybe to take a shower and grab some coffee while they were at it.

Truthfully, he’d known what was up from the moment the doctor started speaking. When a medical professional opens a conversation with the fact that he’s lucky to be alive and without any symptoms of paralysis, it’s probably not going to be good news. That kind of light at the end of the tunnel almost always turns out to be an oncoming train, a reminder of hope before it’s stolen.

Either way, you’re no less of a pancake when the reality flattens you.

He still asks anyway, and the way she pauses and looks at his chart before looking back up at him tells him everything he needs to know.

It’s a good thing, too, because doesn’t process much of what she’s saying. He feels like he’s underwater, drowning in static noise. Words and phrases make their way through, one by one.

Retirement. Immediate. Support group. Therapy. Stability. Imaging. Mobility. Surgery. Recovery. Supportive adaptations. Referrals.

He’d sacrificed everything, and for what? His body, his humanity, his home. His heart and his soul and everything in between. He gave it all up for the notion of a legacy, and it was for nothing. He never even got a real chance, and now he never would.

Somewhere, he would bet that Kota is laughing. It’s certainly poetic irony, Kenny will give him that.

The doctor steps away for a while. To give him time to process, as she so kindly puts it. His mouth tastes like metal, and his heart feels equally heavy. He feels so hollow, like he’s 99% empty space, his thoughts are electrons and his heart is the nucleus and he’s in pieces, spread like ashes in all his favourite places.

He hears heated conversation in the hall. The voice is strikingly familiar. It takes him way too long to place where he recognises the voice from.

Kenny had never found the strength to remove Kota from his list of emergency contacts. It was something that had really mattered to them, almost like marriage, it was a commitment to care and protect. Though, after all that had happened, he’d never expected Kota to actually honour it.

And as if the universe wishes to answer his questions in a timely fashion, Kota Ibushi bursts through the doors.

[pumpkinstabs-moving]

❝ I realise now I've never really had anyone. Not really. Nothing that compares to you. ❞

If Michael was in his lycan form right now, his tail would be wagging roughly enough to kick up dust. But he's on two legs and without fur and two hands, both of which are holding the vampire's face so affectionately in his grip. The sky is beautiful tonight; each star shining so brightly, the moon washing them with her warm silver glow. Astarion is already the most beautiful being Michael has ever come across, but under this light, he looks even more stunning. Celestial, even. Far too good to even be real ... too even be partnered with Michael for as long as he has. Which hasn't been long, especially considering the amount of time Astarion has been alive for. This is but a tiny sliver in his life.

For Michael, since he has only been in his human form for less than eight years now, it is everything. He is everything. There are no limits to what Michael wouldn't do to assure Astarion's safety and happiness, and when it comes down to the morality of it, it is a dangerous thought. Not dangerous to him -- but to those who dare even touch a single hair on the spawn's head.

"I feel the same ... you are everything to me." He is not one to speak much, but with the look in his yellow eyes and the tone of his voice, it is clear he wants to say more. "I will, would do anything for you."

[compudescamso3000]

2023

It's been a while (not to say a couple of years...) ever since i been on tumblr, like for real. Looking for something in my old posts... i couldn't help but realize how bad i felt back then...

(and how cringe my english was)

Althought i can't say i'm fully happy now, i'm just a bit less bad... i hope i'm in the right way? I had some post full of hope over what the future was holding for me, making it even sadder how everything turned out now that i'm ... stepping on the time it was supposed to be my future, how my soul was crushed over and over.

Seeing in those posts how i went from someone who happily wanted to sing and that would sing as easily as breathing, to someone who could barely speak a word, whose voice would just have a limited time for speaking, a limited amount of words to say per day. More than a 5 min talk would leave me with a sore throat for days...

The source of high amount of my sadness been gone for 2 and half years now, not that i'm happy over her departure, i'm ... living a more peaceful life trying to understand how to be a person.

It's unbelievabe how trying to make your parents happy can break a person to the point that doesn't awknoledge it's own self, how easy it's to break someone else to the point that desires to die, but knows that attempting to make it happen, if failing, would lead to worse consequences from those that's already experiencing.

I wish i was braver...

"you better be using your phone only to sales"/"who you talking to? is it for a sale?" so i literally had to stop socializing

"everything you have, it was me who paid for it" so i basically stopped using much of my stuff

"come to the kitchen i want to tell you something" every couple of mins bc the 'something' was never told, so i ended up staying staring at the nothingless waiting to hear something that would never be said, to the point i barely laid a feet in my room but to sleep.

"you're useless, you do nothing, you're not helping at all and i'm paying for everything" but... i did DO a lot of stuff, house cleaning, laundry, sales, grocery shopping and most of the cooking, plus the sales picking up and organize the items... the sales itself the pricing the package the dropping at the post office.

"you know nothing/everthing you say you're wrong" then i stopped answering questions, i stopped giving my opinion

"you don't listen when i'm calling you" so i stopped listening to music

"you're drawing? that's a waste of time you're supposed to be studying" so i stopped doing it as well or if i wanted it so bad i had to sacrifice time from my sleep after SHE went sleep... "you can paint/draw on these stuff to sell" yeah, of course, when it was HER gaining money out of my work she was totaly up to me drawing...

"i'm going out to x place with x, i'll be back at x time" "are you sure you wanna go?"x500 times on a row till i say "you know what? i'm staying" so i barely went out in my life, and now the parent that's still around is *concerned* about me not leaving the house... oh dear god, i asked for his help more times that i can remember, and he never said a thing.

So... at the end, the career i was so proud about, the one that made my heart happy, i was silently forced to drop it, because i had to skip classes, because i coulnd't socialize and make connections, because i had NO time to do the one thing needed for it ... which was 'training my ears', because i wasn't let study. I changed for a career she'd be happy about, naive enought to thing she'd let me time to study for it... Only to realize she would expect me to answer messages from and about the sales page 24/7: while on classes, while being asleep (yes, i even had to wakeup to answer...), only for her to answer whatever thing pleased her even if i told her exactly what to say, because of course, she knew better. Even if it was my working, i wouldn't get paid or be able to decide what to bring to sell, i was not owner of my own money, because i had no bank account.

So i became silent, i stayed in standby mode sitting as a stuppid NPC awaited to be spoken to, seeing how my life was crushed and not knowing how to pick up the pieces. Sacrificing my sleeptime was the only hope to socialize... but when you sleep only 5~6 hours it's a terrible idea.

I'm broken, inside and outside. And it's sad to admit that i never attempted suicide because i knew that despite knowing that the treatment i recived was because 'i'm not a boy', the consequences i'd have to suffer were going to be even worse, i only lived because of Infinite, because sacrificing my sleeping time to listen to their music was the only thing warming my heart, and my dreams the second main source of happines/freedom i had.

After her departure, i ... filled a void in my soul by buying dolls, damn, first time deciding how to use my money...

Took me a while to realize i owned my time, that i could listed to music... the last year or so... music sprung in my heart making me sing again, can't sing or speak for long but, still i can...

Now, i've purchased a mic, not fancy, but it works, in hope to record my singing, to encourage myself to get back to the keyboard or the strings.

I've came to realize that my room, that was always my safe place, was as well my prison, my cage, it took me about a year to be able to stay in my room to read, or hear music, or write. I've been attempting to sing in here (where my pc is...) i feel anxious, and suffocated, can't find my voice, feel worthless, i forget... bloody hell, now i need to be able to feel safe in here again?

.........

Damn, i didn't expect to write such long text... but yeah, 29 years to come to awknodledge that what i knew as 'normal' was a lie, suffering of allergies in a chronic way, it an endless pain with around 30 different simphtoms i been able to identify that doctors have no idea about... because they only think allergies=instant death

[dashawfrostart]

These Two Weeks In “Time & Again” #15: IT'S FINALLY DONE 😱 And The Logo, And The Font

I almost kinda can't believe this, but just a couple days ago, it finally happened:

I FINISHED CHAPTER 5 and shipped it to my editor-in-chef.

Wooooo-Whoooooooooo!!!!!! 🥳🥳🥳 I am so happy! It's really hard to emotionally understand that the work is finally done. That was quite an undertaking.

... Overdue by approximately 3 months. But that was just a silly time limit I set to myself before I even started working on it. Different life situations got in the way of me finishing it up faster, but, all in all, since I am fairly satisfied with the result, I don't think any complaints are justified. I am indeed happy. Now I am in the state of mental emptiness. Joking. Not really. I suppose, until my editor gets back to me with a handful of suggestions, I will simply keep drawing and I will try to finish up all the last preparations before I could justify the public release. Gotta make everything look nice and sparkly clean after all 😁

I also slowly, little by little, write materials for a bonus book that currently has a vague title "Time & Again: Collector's Edition". I believe I never revealed that plan just yet, but that's been something I've been working on on and off since the last year, I think. Or maybe even since 2022. Hopefully it's gonna be interesting to all the "Time & Again" obsessed fans in the future someday, because it will contain more WIPs and sketches. As for myself, it's just fun to use it as a sophisticated diary for how the work went.

Speaking of different editions... Earlier in this post I've mentioned my plan to release the updated versions of the previously released Chapters 1 to 4. So, the prospects of that updated release are also getting brighter and brighter; from ghostly, ephemeral concept it is actually gradually fleshing into something real, almost day by day now. And this is very good. And here's the grand reveal for you: this is what the refreshed logo for of the updated edition gonna look like:

In fact, Chapter 5 will already have this very logo, for it's gonna be the first Chapter to be ever released that came with "Notes & Commentary" section right away. And the presence/necessity of that very section is the main reason why I am updating everything in the first place.

So, when will "Time & Again: Clean Cut Edition" of the previous chapters be released?

- unfortunately, that I have yet to decide on. Cannot tell right now, but one thing that stands for certain is that it will be released only after Chapter 5 goes public. My current priority right now is the release of Chapter 5, proper and nice.

Since today's blog post already contains a fairly big and happy announcement, this might be enough of the news for now. What could possibly be as important as the fact that I finally finished up the supermassive amount of work, literally a new chapter in Lothar's story?! Probably not much!.. Well, almost.

For the last topic to cover today, I wanted to tell something else important and interesting that most people will probably not understand due to excess amount of specific terms 😅 But it matters a lot to me, so here goes.

Not long before all the work on Chapter 5 was 100% done, I finally got to look at the main font that I use in my graphic novel (Frosty's Comic Font), for it needed some perfection: I remembered that it was not displaying correctly in some cases, or rather, selected set of the symbols didn't look right, depending. ... I must admit, I am a huge fan of typefaces. I used to collect fonts for personal use back in the day, for I loved to experiment with different designs, and usually I needed them for my custom "one of a kind" greeting cards I used to make for my friends' birthdays. Good memories.

A few years back I started to learn how to make my own True Type fonts - and I bet you have already seen at least a couple of those fonts on my artworks, logos, signatures and, of course, in "Time & Again". Some of those fonts are still partially incomplete and/or unpolished and, thus, currently unused by me - until the moment in the future when I will finally have more time to fiddle with 'em, for working on fonts is not too difficult, but not particularly easy either. In this case, I mean "it's time consuming", for the process of actually drawing a font, designing letters and symbols to me is easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy. But vectorizing, perfecting the kerning in between certain pairs of letters, making sure that nothing is sticking out too much comparing to the rest... That is a bit tedious. In the end of the day however, it pays off tenfold, for you have a pretty, absolutely nice font that can be used virtually anywhere, in any software, for any purpose. I've never designed any monospace font yet... But aye, I'm being a little too nerdy again. Back on track, Frosty.

I never post my fonts anywhere to download, paid of free; I use my font solely by myself for now. And "Time & Again" was the reason why I urgently needed a new nice font with a fair touch of "me" in it... I wanted to make "Time & Again" my own as much as possible. So it was only obvious that I needed to design my own typeface for this crazy project. In 2021, I made the first relatively complete version of Frosty's Comic Font to use in "Time & Again" as the main font for the characters' speech. It contained all the basic English language glyphs and extra symbols for German language. Alas, not everything was smooth, and in Inkscape, when I used to copy-paste the lines of text on the speech bubbles, the formatting of little symbols such as apostrophe and quotation marks went down the drain, and was exchanged with the default system font (or whatever Inkscape uses when a glyph is missing). Unfortunately, that error stretched out in time (and space) up until a few days ago. I only was able to figure it out last week. By the time I managed to figure it out, the version of the font reached 1.3, and the last update also contained glyphs for Spanish language. It turned out, I did not include glyphs for all the possible variations of apostrophes and quotation marks. So I got that fixed. And now everything works like a charm. I am very proud 🙃 But the actual reason why I needed to return to designing fonts was different: I was tired of not being able to force italicize my font in Inkscape. While Krita allows for a default italic offset for a font that does not come with a premade italic version of itself, Inkscape does not do that. My manner of work is such, that I work with fonts on the pages of my graphic novel in Inkscape, for it's easier to me. But I like to sometimes accentuate certain words in the speech of the characters with italics, usually to make the readers pay extra attention to those particular words. I did not want to fiddle with workarounds (and in fact I know of no such things for my particular issue) in Inkscape, trying to combine multiple text boxes with different manual skew on the same line or whatnot, so I finally decided to make Frosty's Comic Font Italic. I generate all my fonts in FontForge. Here's what the window looks like:

I couldn't even imagine that generating an italic version out of a regular font could be done in just a couple of clicks in FontForge! 😱 So simple!

Once it was skewed, I tried to input an example text just to test it out and see what it looks like. When I'm test driving my fonts, I like to write something that uses extra symbols, such as something in German or in Spanish, because all those extra fancy letters make me happy. And once I was satisfied with it, I saved the final version (v1.4) and started using it! Here's the clear side by side comparison of what the regular version looked like versus the new italicized one:

I think it turned out rather nicely.

And now in Inkscape I can finally use different formatting of my own very font within one text box, as illustrated through a quotation from a song by U2 (these guys are my current obsession - just as in ol' good times when I was 11 🤣) on the screenshot below:

Magic!!!!!)))))

That's probably all for now.

... Okay, okay! You probably want more teasers/spoilers from the finished product, right? Here's a little funny snippet for you:

Because any urban landscape always requires fat rock pigeons staring at stuff. Some of them might even watch something while munching on popmeat popcorn.

That's all for today's great news! See you soon! 👋😎 There's more to come.

[rametarin]

The one downside to the big universe

Do not read if you're prone to depression or despair.

Imagine. You come to materialize into existence in a country sized island like Austalia sized. It's covered in tables and delicious cakes. Just, so many cakes. It's all cake, but so many different kinds and flavors and ingredients.

It's an orgy of cake. Just, oh my god. Cake everywhere. There's a catch, though.

1.) Time still marches on.

2.) You're limited to walking on foot place to place. You are no Usain Bolt and you aren't a wolf. You are not running 14+ MPH for 8 hour days.

These cakes are rotting at the rate that cake rots. There's hundreds of thousands of cake, yeah, but each and every single one of them is exposed to the uiverse and entropy. The materials are rotting as you speak. You can never possibly consume all the cakes; you run in one direction collecting cake, that's it. Everything in the opposite direction is now so far away from where you just were that its just traveling a dead zone for no gain for that amout oftime before you can take another direction. It's wiser just to go forwards.

Well, matter is finite. The universe and time, far as we know, are not. Those will keep going long after all the birthday cake candles go out, after the frosting has rotted away, after the delicious cake has turned to inedible dust and blown away.

Sure there's endless lifetimes amount of light and heat from countless suns, but they're all burning at once. And they'll all burn out together, relatively quickly. There won't be anything left after a certain point. But there'll continue to be time. Those organisms dependent on stuff to survive will run out of it long before the universe runs out of cold, distance and time.

Unless we can find a way to create energy and control it, life will come to an end by starvation. One way or another.

Thankfully that may be hundreds of billions of years from now. But it'll still happen, and unless we can unfuck physics, this funny meaty fractal we call life will stop, simply because we'll run out of substance to eat and light to heat with.

The good news is: All the more reason for humanity to go out in all directions and colonize and terraform things. Because as the universe expands, the time to get different places will increase exponentially. We'll speciate, transform by our new environments and grow so adrift and apart that they stop being humans.

And trying to run around colonizing other peoples planets won't matter, because of the speed limit of the universe. You could make an entire armada big enough to conquer hundreds of planets and... ultimately, why? to capture suns and ethnically cleanse star systems to make way for your people? That'd be hundreds of millions of years for a stupid power move that'd ultimately accomplish nothing. Not when it'd just be easier to go terraform adjacent planets that aren't already inhabited.

The only real way to stave off the coming dark that isn't futile, would be inventing a way to make something out of nothing the way nature did when it made the big bang. And if your civilization can't do that, well..... that's the end of your line. Doesn't even make sense to try and attack other planets or systems to take them over and squeeze the remainder of their fuel out of them. You may get a few lifespans of suns more. That's it. Then nothing else.

I don't think the future will feature much war over planets in space. Because the ability to spite would-be conquerors and then blow up your own civilization to deny the resources to the enemy means forcing someone to invest ridiculous amounts of time, effort, resources and manpower towards such an invasion would be fruitless. But I also think faster-than-light travel won't be possible.