#this series is the reason I need therapy and the therapy itself

[brungeons-and-bragons]

Me starting GTN after hearing about it from a friend: NEEEEEEED the bone lesbians to kiss

Me finishing NTN: love is all around me and god needs to die.

[cjlouwho]

Prompt: Everyone knows that Tommy is a pushover for Buck's 🥺 eyes (it's a running joke for the 118/217), but when Tommy gets upset and is very quietly 🥺, Buck is shocked by how completely and utterly insane he goes to make Tommy feel better.

(bonus points if it's a completely dumb reason, like Tommy's run out of ice cream or something and it's just A Bad Day)

A little silly, a little serious, I hope you enjoy!

One of the many things Buck loved about his and Tommy's relationship is that he got to see a side of Tommy that no one else saw. He got to see many sides of Tommy that no one else saw, actually.

While everyone got a piece of calm, cool, and collected Thomas Kinard, Buck got all that and everything in between.

He saw him on his best days, his worst days, goofy days, sick days, horny days, tired days, all the days! He often thought of making a list of all the things people would be surprised to know about Tommy. He'd never share it, of course, but it'd be nice for him to have.

Like, how Tommy was ticklish only on his right side. And when he got tickled, he didn't do his normal laugh. Instead it was a high pitched giggle with a snort.

Or, how Tommy was super proud of the fact he knew every single word to We Didn't Start the Fire and he felt the need to sing it at the top of his lungs at least once a week.

How he loved human connection, but hated being touched by strangers. He'd hug a friend all night long if you needed it, but if he didn't know you please keep your hands to yourself.

How he liked tomatoes on cold sandwiches, but never on toasted ones.

How he loved when Buck would sit on the countertop and kiss him because it made him feel smaller, and he loved feeling small and protected in Evan's arms.

How his voice got deeper during sex. Whether he was inside Buck or Buck was inside him, his voice would always get all gravely and deep in a way that sent shivers down Buck's spine.

Maybe one of the biggest ones was how Tommy was not always the stoic, perfectly poised man as he presented himself to the world.

Tommy could get emotional. Emotional in a way that was usually reserved for movies written by men about women during their period.

Buck was thrown off by it the first time it happened. He almost thought it was a joke, until he saw the tears in Tommy's eyes as he mourned the fact he was out of whipped cream.

Then it was just heartbreaking.

It didn't happen often. A series of bad events throughout the day would build up in his body and brain until the smallest inconvenience caused him to fall apart.

They'd talked about it before. Tommy had grown up having to hold in his thoughts and feelings. They'd build and build until he'd do something erratic or harmful. Then he joined the army, and those emotions would build up the same way. Being in the army itself was a bit erratic and harmful, so he didn't have the best coping skills.

It wasn't until he started therapy, and his therapist helped him realize that he needed to let himself feel whatever he was feeling that he slowly and gradually became better at opening up.

However, there were still days where he felt the need to let everything build. Build and build until he burst. Except, now days, instead of becoming erratic or harmful, his eyes would well up and his lip would come out in a pout, and Buck would feel the need to move heaven and earth to make it all better.

Buck knew something was off as soon as he got home from work. Tommy was already there in the garage, half bent over his truck as he worked on the engine.

Buck let out a whistle. “What a view,” he teased.

Tommy glanced back at him, gave him a half smile before focusing back on his truck. “Hey, Baby. I ordered dinner. Should be in before it gets here.”

To anyone else, that might seem like a regular conversation. To Buck, it was the exact opposite. Normal Tommy would make some teasing comment right back, letting Buck know what he was seeing was just a preview of what was to come.

This... This was the start of an emotional night.

*****

Dinner was fairly quiet, with Buck leading most of the conversation. He knew not to ask questions yet. If he did it too soon, Tommy would completely shut down and it would take even longer to get any information out of him. As much as Buck hated it, this had to play out a certain way.

Luckily, he was fluent in Tommy.

It was a little after dinner, once Buck had settled in the living room, that it began.

“Evan?” Tommy called out from the kitchen.

“Yeah?”

“Is... Did you put my ice cream in a different spot?”

“No, it's-” Buck froze, thinking back to two nights ago. Jee had come over and wanted a treat. She ended up eating the last of Tommy's favorite birthday cake ice cream. He knew that, on a regular day, Tommy wouldn't care that it was gone.

He also knew today wasn't a regular day.

“I think it's all gone, Babe,” he said cautiously as he got up from the couch and headed into the kitchen.

“Oh. Okay.”

He wasn't angry. He never got angry over little things like that.

He was sad. Resigned to the fact he would not be getting any of his favorite ice cream tonight.

Buck often felt like it'd be a lot easier if he just got angry.

He made it into the kitchen just as Tommy closed the freezer door. His face downcast, he glanced up at Buck through his eyelashes, eyes wide and wet. His bottom lip jutted out ever so slightly before he turned away from Buck and headed for the pantry.

“I'll have cookies instead,” he said with a sniff.

Buck got out his phone and pressed a few buttons before stuffing it back into his pocket and walking over to Tommy.

“Honey, why don't we just go sit down for a minute?”

“I just...” His shoulders sagged. “I really don't want cookies.”

Gently, Buck placed his hands on Tommy's back, nudging him until he could lead him toward the living room. “Why don't we go sit on the couch, okay?”

Tommy simply nodded, but Buck could see him lift a hand to his face and wipe a tear off his cheek.

The thing was, Buck knew he could be a handful sometimes. He was bratty, pouty, stubborn, and jealous. And Tommy accepted all of that. Not just accepted it, loved it. He loved every part of Buck, even the parts Buck didn't love himself.

Buck also knew Tommy would do anything for him. Would drop whatever he was doing and run to Buck's side the second he got a call. Would wait on him hand and foot. He spoiled Buck rotten, and everyone knew it.

There weren't as many opportunities for Buck to reciprocate that level of love and support. But when these days came along, that what's Buck's time to shine. He hated to see Tommy like this, but loved that he could be there for him. Loved that he could help him through it. So that's what he did.

They got situated, Buck leaning against the arm rest with his legs sprawled out on the couch. He pulled Tommy down so his back rested against Buck's chest. Buck wrapped his arms around him, hands meeting just over his heart. Tommy's hands drifted up and latched onto Buck's, holding tight.

“Why don't you tell me about work?” Buck asked, pressing a kiss to the top of Tommy's head. Things had been fine before they left for work the previous morning, so something had to have happened during their shift.

“I only had two calls.”

“And?”

“And the first one was a drunk driver. It was noon, Evan. Noon.”

“Casualties?”

Tommy shook his head. “No, but a young girl got hit. Spinal injury. She probably won't walk again.”

Now Buck had a starting point.

“After that?”

Tommy's body tensed so Buck squeezed him tighter. “The new probie, Jenkins, did something stupid and pissed me off.”

“What'd he do?”

“Doesn't matter.”

“If it pissed you off, it matters.”

“He's one of those religious types that carries pamphlets in their pockets,” Tommy explained. “I guess he overheard me talking about you- about us- a few weeks ago so he gifted me a pamphlet today.”

Buck knew where this was going. “You're kidding me?”

“I wish. It was some Adam and Eve crap, not even original. It reminded me of my dad. He... He used to say things like that. Anyway, I threw the pamphlet away without reading it.”

“Good for you.”

Tommy shifted slightly, tangling his and Buck's legs together. “The only thing that kept running through my mind was how we watched a little girl's life change forever, she will never walk again, and all Jenkins was thinking about was turning me straight.”

Buck brought a hand to Tommy's hair, carefully running his fingers through it. “I'm sorry, Tommy.”

“My aunt texted me too. Wanted me to come to the next family reunion.”

“Are you gonna go?”

“I told her I'd have a plus one and she... she said she doesn't wanna hear my dad complain for an entire weekend. I was quickly uninvited.”

Buck took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I- If you wanna go-”

“There's not a single part of me that wants to be there, especially without you. I'm good.”

“If you're sure.”

“I'm sure.”

“What about your truck?” Buck asked. “You were working on it when I got home.”

“Oh. That.” Tommy rolled his eyes. “That was the icing on the cake. Engine light came on in the middle of my drive home. I think I fixed the problem for now, but I'm gonna need a new engine soon. Everything just fell apart today, Evan, I- sorry.”

“You don't need to be sorry.” Just then the doorbell rang and Buck gave Tommy a pat on the shoulder. “You do need to get the door though. It's for you.”

Tommy sat up, eyebrows furrowing at Buck before he got up and headed for the door.

About thirty seconds later, he was back with a paper bag in hand. His eyes were soft and tear-filled, but not with sadness this time. “You ordered my ice cream?”

Buck nodded, giving him a smile. “Of course I did.”

Tommy set the bag down and walked over to Buck, kneeling beside the couch and resting his head on Evan's lap. He wrapped his arms around Evan's waist the best he could, his face pressed against Evan's stomach. “I love you so much.”

After a few seconds, Buck stroked his thumb over Tommy's cheek. “Come here,” he said softly, pulling him up for a chaste kiss. “I love you too.”

[back2bluesidex]

Slide - The Reconciliation - MYG (18+)

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader 

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 1.2k+

Summary: 

"I can see the pain in your eyes I don't wanna say that I'm God, but I'll take you to heaven if you die" 

Alternatively, 

“There was never a time when I wasn’t yours.”

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Warnings: therapy, tiny angst.

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (for early access)

Taglist requests are closed for now

A/N: This is a feel-good chapter I swear! we are at the end almost. next chapter will be more of an epilogue than an actual chapter.

“Why did you choose to keep the baby? From our conversations and assessments before, what I have understood is that you are not a turbulent person. You tend to think logically before taking any step, then despite knowing the baby is not a good idea why did you keep it?” one of the doctors once asked you while you were at the retreat. 

“I wanted to keep a trace of Yoongi in my life. I know it was not a valid reason to keep a baby but for him I challenged my rationality.” You replied without fumbling. You were feeling a lot better already. You accepted your mistakes, your bad decision of keeping the baby as a replacement of Yoongi, you also accepted the fact that when you go back to Korea, Yoongi might not wait for you. 

You accepted that life needs to go on. 

You accepted that everything becomes alright when it’s time. 

“How do you feel about him now? If I ask you to describe him with an emotion, what would you use?” the doctor questioned further. 

“Love.” a smile tugged at the corner of your lips. 

“So, your feelings towards him remain unchanged despite the pain he had made you go through?” 

“Yes. I think it was tough for me because a part of me wanted more from him, be it his attention, his validation - I wanted more, which was simply unnecessary. I don’t want anything from him any longer. I can love him for as long as it lasts and it’s okay if he doesn’t feel the same this time too.” 

“Are you sure you will be okay?” 

“Yes, I am.” 

Even amid the busy cacophony of the airport, your ears register Yoongi’s voice crystal clear - as if your brain has curved out a side of it to fit his essence perfectly. 

When your eyes fall on him, waving at you slightly, you see how different he looks. 

His hair has grown longer, cheeks have sunken a bit, his eyes are tired with heavy bags underneath those. 

But he looks jovial. His eyes have a shine you have hardly ever witnessed, his gummy smile is small but real, his face is shining what you could name as prosperity. 

And all of these are for you. 

Or at least.. You think so. 

“You came.” you whispered as you reach close to him. The woody fragrance of his skin makes you feel like you are finally home. 

“I had to.” Yoongi smiles at you. And then you see him inhaling a sharp breath as if he is preparing himself for a war. 

“Y/N..” he utters your name again and this time the vibration of his voice sends a spark through every inch of your body, “I am in love with you. I think I have been in love with you for a long time now. I know I have made you go through hell all alone. But if you give me a chance - I will.. I will be the best for you. I will try to give you back everything you have lost because of me.” 

Your heart thumps inside your chest. 

This. You have waited for a lifetime to hear this. You have imagined how elated you would feel when you finally hear these words from the man that you love. But no imagination prepares you the way your heart finds itself at peace. The way you feel less excited but more content. 

So, this is how it feels to be loved by the person you love? 

It feels like a warm ray of sunshine in the cold dark winter. It feels like the first shower that cuts through the scorching summer heat. It feels like finding an oasis after wandering aimlessly in a desert. 

It feels like finding a home amid the maze of glass and concrete. 

“Are you sure you are not misjudging your feelings?” you find yourself saying. 

Yoongi smiles a little, “I have never been surer.” 

“I guess you already know that I feel the same for you. But still I think we should take it slow. We should take some time before labeling our relationship.” you place your suggestion. No matter how sure both of you are, you don’t want to jump into anything. You did once and the results weren’t in favor of any of you. 

Yoongi nods with glassy eyes, “You’re right. Let’s take it slow.” 

“What do you think?” You read Yoongi’s lips as hearing anything overpowering the sound of music is almost impossible with these headphones on. 

Putting your thumb up, you nod with satisfaction and with a smile playing on your lips. 

Min Yoongi is not only the man you love, he is also the best music producer you have ever known. 

The name of his studio is justified - this is indeed a lab of a musical genius who doesn't even need lyrics to make you feel a thousand emotions. Only the tune is enough for him. 

“Who is this for?” you ask while detaching the bulky headphone from your ears. 

“No one. This is a personal project. For me…. And you.” Yoongi smiles sheepishly. 

He looks so young under the dim and artificial light of the studio. He looks so fresh - so pretty. You want to reach out for his hair like all those times before, when you had no right on him. 

But this time you do, so you spread your fingers to touch his hair. 

Running your fingers through his long dark locks and tugging those behind his ear you say, “what about the lyrics? Have any?” 

“Not yet.” he replies, reaching for your fingers and intertwining those with his. He pulls your hand towards his mouth, places a sweet kiss on the top of it. 

“Wait then.” you leave your chair to access your bag.

Yoongi looks at you in awe when you place your notebook on his lap, lyrics written all over the pages. He takes it up and reads what you have given him. 

“Somebody does love. But I'm thinking 'bout you?” he reads quietly but his voice has dipped down an octave lower. 

“When did you write it?” he places his question. 

"Who do you love?

Who else do you think?

Who else do you remember?

Who else do you hate?

Who do you live for?

Who else are you smiling for?

Who do you cry for?

Could this be love?"

“At the retreat.” 

“Is it.. Is it for me?” 

You nod in affirmation. The back of your neck feels hot. 

“When you left, I thought you were going to kick me out of your life. I.. I thought you hated me.” Yoongi’s voice trembles. So does your heart. 

“I would never.” you reach for his lips, place a sweet kiss on those pink muscles. 

He kisses you back. Grabbing the back of your head, he pushes your entire weight on his body. 

“I.. I love you, Y/N. I love you so fucking much. Will you- will you be mine?” Yoongi speaks with fear and hesitation in his voice. 

“There was never a time when I wasn’t yours.” you connect your forehead with his. 

After a month of taking things slow with him, you think it’s finally the time you dive head first in the vast ocean called Min Yoongi. 

And the way Yoongi wraps himself around you, you know he is just as eager to dive into you too. 

You have never wanted anything more. 

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[netherfeildren]

Busy, Dying. Part 2;

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: In an in-between place called his life, Joel Miller is alone. In search of a cure. In need of a miracle. In want of God.

Can I interest you in a cure for loneliness? She'd asked him in a language without words. Taking it is the easy part. Letting her go is impossible.

-OR-

an a/b/o soulmates AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: No Outbreak AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Soulmates AU, Infidelity, Cheating, They're behaving badly and doing things they shouldn't be doing idk, HEA!!!!!, Angst, Fluff & Smut, Scenting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Group Therapy, Social Experiments, Explicit Sexual Content, Dom/sub Undertones, Complicated family dynamics, Discussions of self harm, Depression, Existential Angst, He’s a loser your honor!!!

Word Count: 6.3K

Read on AO3

Part 2;

It is your own conspiracy that if you say the words three times in the mirror—I am so alone I am so alone I am so alone—the feeling will go away. Banished ghost. 

You commit yourself to this practice religiously for three weeks before you feel you must absolutely return to the meetings held in the basement of the Emmanuel Episcopal Church or you might just die. 

The first Friday back, you watch him. He blunders around the crowd, struggling to find a seat when he rushes in late that evening, trying to sit as far away from you as possible and, to his great misfortune, ending up right behind you. Squashed between two old ladies, his big body comically trying to fold itself into the tight rows. You laugh at him the whole way through the meeting. 

He’s like a raging bull after that. Scowly and unapproachable as the omegas in the group inevitably make their meager attempts to talk to him. It makes it all the more irreconcilable, a man like that here in a place like this—all the while with a wife at home. 

You wonder about her. 

“That one has a bad temper,” Maria warns as the two of you watch him. They seem to know each other in some way outside of this church, and it takes everything in you not to beg for details. “Big and hairy like a bad, lonely dog.”

You say, “I think he’s shy.” 

She watches you very peculiarly after that, and tells you, “You’re lost, girl. Joel Miller isn’t what you need finding you.”

But you know this, you assure her, and you continue to avoid him. 

The following Friday, he’s the one playing the disappearing act. The next week, as well—no show. You start to dread even your own shadow, wondering where he is, wondering if he’s ever coming back, if he has children and how old he is. Wondering if he wonders about you. Wondering why you’re so obsessed.

Too full of curiosity for your own good, you hover when he finally appears once again. Circling him and Maria, desperate for any sort of information. 

His wife had been sick, he says. He’d had to take her to the doctor. 

You wonder if her sickness might be his baby—sick to your stomach at the thought of it yourself. 

Finally, the week after, the two of you break your fast from one another. 

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he says, coming up from behind, ambushing you once again at the dessert and coffee trough. This is supposed to be a safe space, yet it feels anything but with him near. 

“No I haven’t.”

“You’re not supposed to tell lies in church. It’s a sin.”

“I don’t believe in sin.” You turn to face him, and your stomach hurts. 

He’s got on a dark green fisherman’s sweater—well worn but knit sturdy. A thing that looks as if it’s been his for years. 

You’re feeling thin-skinned and unable to face him today, and for no good reason. You don't know this man. You have no right to punish him with your silence, no right to be angry, to wonder about him. But that sternness from before, the one that looked too heavy for him to carry, has been wiped away from his face now, and in its place he only looks very earnest, like he really wants to talk to you. And it’s only that, well you don’t know him, yes, but you’d felt that you needed to, or that you would. That you were meant to find him in this place, and you’re angry at yourself and at him at how wrong you’d been, still even after all these weeks of radio silence while he’d been busy caring for his sick wife. 

“Me either,” he gives a small huff of laughter, shoving his fists into the pockets of his dark jeans. 

Setting the donut in your hand back on the table—rude and gross, but it’s an afterthought—you wipe your sweet sweaty palm against your hip, appetite all gone now. The basement is suddenly unbearably hot, your heart beating in your throat. 

“Anywho, I gotta run. Somewhere to be—” you mumble, brushing past him. There’s a sudden rush of itching heat burning its way up your chest, your throat, ants crawling over your scalp. The room is stifling, your limbs leaden and too many bodies; so many disgusting, clashing scents: pheromones, and desperation and such terrible loneliness, and him at the center of it, ambrosial.

You’ll have to recite your mantra more faithfully in the mirror every night, not a single miss. Remind yourself, I am so alone, so that the feeling might go away, and you’ll forget him and the way he smells and his eyes like amber green river stones, more quickly. 

“Whoah, hold on,” he calls after you, following to the exit and up the steps to the world outside of this church. You’d brought a coat today, unable to enjoy the cold the way you usually do, uncharacteristically chill, aching limbs, miserable in the biting morning air. He calls your name, and you clutch the wool against your chest, trying to hurry away from his much longer legs and pace as he catches up. 

Suddenly, though, you change your mind. Whirling around to look up, you stop your running, and he’s right there, so close. “I haven’t been ignoring you. You were gone.” Mind changing again, your gaze falls, unable to hold his eyes. You watch his left hand flex like he wants to do something with it. 

“I know. I’m sorry.”

A scoff. “What are you apologizing to me for?” 

“You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met in my entire life.” He says it quietly by way of explanation, like another apology. 

“You must not have met very many interesting people.”

It feels hot and cold at the same time out here. Your stomach still hurts. Your eyes ache as if you could cry, which is ridiculous because you have absolutely no reason to cry. 

“Maybe not,” he says very low. It seems he’s drifting closer, like you’ll float away. A car honks its horn loudly somewhere in the background, and you still can’t look at his face. His own coat is clutched in his fist and now the honker is shouting too, expletives and God’s name being taken in vain. 

“You should go back in there,” you tip your chin at the depths you’d just fled from, stealing a quick glance at his face, “Find someone else who’s interesting.”

He grunts once, a wordless no and lifts his coat to drape it over your shoulders—you decide you’re even colder now, you don’t think you’ll ever be warm again—and takes yours from your listless grip, draping it over his elbow. 

This man. “Aren’t you here to get to know people?” You demand, finally looking up at him angrily. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “Let’s go for a walk.” His palm at your bicep urging you towards Arlington and the garden sends all sound skittering out of your ears. He reminds you of your earlier words, that he might like to walk, and you can hear yourself agreeing while you look up at the muted light of the late November afternoon leaching through the cloud cover. Through the wool and cotton you feel your skin sucking heat from that singular point of contact, warming you entirely.

It had been blisteringly cold last night, the alluring taste of incumbent winter in the air, and a vicious frost had ermined all the tree trunks within the Boston Public Garden, roughened the surface of the grass. 

Joel chooses a quiet spot by the pond, the willow weeps above your head and all around the two of you the sharp autumn air is lightly laced with the fragrance of leaf rot. An elderly couple floats serenely in a lone swan boat at the center of the pond, not a ripple in the surface, as if they weren’t really there. 

Helping you to sit, he gently pulls his coat from your shoulders, laying the garment for you to rest on protected from the frigid ground and carefully looping your arms through your own coat now, he pulls the excess fabric of his up, draped over your shoulders once again, leaving you securely enveloped from the cold. 

“Here, let me help you,” he says, and the sudden gentleness in his voice makes you want to burst into tears. His character, that of some matryoshkin sort, one embedded in another in another, never knowing which is the realest one, the truest one, which will come next. Angry snarling dog one day, a gentleness that burns the next. You have the sense that a person could know him for decades and still never reach the center, never cease to discover more. 

Sitting before you—you perch alone on the island of his given coat—he tilts his head, leaning back braced on thick arms to look up at the swaying vines with just an impression of brilliant yellow-green, as if that were the color of the air. A sudden breeze stirs the softness of his hair, lifting a stubborn cowlick, and at that exact moment, the cloud cover parts on the face of the sun. In the brilliant shaft of buttered sunlight, his dark curls glint with specks of purest silver, leaving you wishing you could touch the fan of fine lines at the corner of his eyes, feel his age with your fingertips. 

“You’re angry with me,” he finally says, head still tilted towards the sky. You watch him very closely, learning. His voice is deep, quiet. He looks tired, the violet shadows beneath the brilliant hazel eyes. Still beautiful, the full, slightly sulky curve of his mouth surrounded by dark beard. He is everything, all of him, masculine. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

Finally, he looks at you, too. He’s got a big head, proportionate to his big body, that falls back heavily. You can’t help smiling at him, it feels too natural. 

“Now you’re honest.”

“I wouldn’t tell a lie here,” you say, and he sighs like you’re a supremely difficult little omega, too impossible to be reasoned with. But turning back to the sky, eyes closed now, there’s a smile across his mouth also, and you wish the two of you could sit here and laugh forever in this moment.

The silence between the two of you is marvelous enough to be unnerving. Settled beneath his great coat, you’d never believed you could feel the cold so little—learning every fine detail that makes up the man. Even inches away from him, he seems utterly unattainable, each of the two of you existing on your separate islands—you trace the woolen edge of his coat against the ground—some twenty years your senior and married. But the cold has given you such a feeling of grounding buoyancy. You’d awoken angry, miserable, so full of despair you would’ve been sick with it if it were possible. And now—you hadn’t felt this alive or awake in years, perhaps your entire life. He is a marvel, and there are bubbles in your head threatening to take you floating away, and yet, your feet are firmly melded to the ground in reality. 

How attractive, how delicious the prospect of intimacy is with someone who you know will never grant it. It fills you with something ferocious or hungry or snapping, something pathetic that makes you want it all the worse. And he, with a gravitational pull too strong to even think of escaping.

Yes. You hadn't felt so happy in years. 

“How old are you?” Breaking the silence, you ask him.

“Forty three.”

“You have a brother.” He nods. “I have one too.”

“Do you speak to yours? I don’t.”

“He calls me once a month. It’s all he can bear of me.”

“Mine won’t speak to me.” He sounds sad saying so. 

“Why not?”

“I hurt him. Scared him.”

“My brother, he says my whole life is papier-mâché. My values are all wrong, I’m a crowd-pleaser. It’s probably true.” You’d felt it impossible to better yourself, and yet still, you tried for him. “How did you hurt him?”

“You can’t change a man, only make him more secure. Depending on his character that may then bring happiness or strength or success. Tommy’s failure of this in me was more than he could bear, also.”

The willow becomes your confessional. “I spiked my own drink once just to see what it would be like. A doctor told me afterwards that I have self destructive tendencies. I want to hurt myself, but I don’t want to actually feel the hurt, which makes me all the more addicted to it. A supernumerary on the stage of my own life, too afraid of hurting and hungry for it at the same time.”

The heel of his left hand, you notice, is bearing down on an old acorn burr, and yet he seems not to feel the pain. 

He’s looking at you very intently now. Some glimmering streak in his eye. It almost looks aggressive, and a muscle flutters madly at the edge of his jaw. He straightens, sitting up to face you. The acorn burr is left flattened and disfigured in his wake.

“The last doctor I saw told me I was depressed. I never went back after.”

“Are you?”

He laughs surprisingly full of humor and then instantly serious again. “Probably. I’ve been watching my life, scratching at it trying to get in. I can’t. It’s right there.” The matryoshka shuffles, locked in his melancholy one moment, spilling brightness the next. 

You want to understand him so badly your hands shake with it. 

“What’s your favorite thing about your work?” You ask him. 

Where does his wife think he is right now?

“That’s a nice question. Maybe…” he thinks a moment, “Getting to make things that’ll go in people’s homes. The idea that something that came from me will be surrounded by a family.”

You can’t help yourself. “Why aren’t you at home?” You ask him imploringly, unbearably sad for him, sick with need, desperate to understand what it is he’s doing here, and all at once, utterly certain of what it is you are. “Don’t you love your wife?” The question is posed with no bravery, and yet it still comes out into the world demanding. 

He clicks his tongue, taken aback, a shocked breath, maybe even a small, reproving smile. A hundred different emotions coming to life across his face in that single moment. 

“I don’t know,” he finally answers. “I remember loving her. Maybe. At best? She’s a stranger. At worst? An excuse?” But he says it like a question. He’s asking you, not telling, for he isn’t even sure of it himself. You’ve caught him off guard. 

“No…” the click of his tongue snapping you to attention, “That's too generous. We’re trapped in a box together, but completely strange to one another.” It suddenly feels like he shouldn’t be telling you this—about her. You’re sure he shouldn’t be. 

“Do you hate each other?” You ask anyway. There’s something…your only example of love and marriage being two people who had always hated one another and filled the home where their children lived with more hate. It’s difficult to fathom something different than what that had looked like. 

If you were truly brave, you’d ask if he has children, too. 

“No,” he says immediately, a non option, his brow furrowed. “That would take too much effort.” 

Now you understand. He’s alone anyways. The feeling of urgency within you mounts. You’re frightened by this moment of discovery. 

“You’re Southern. Your accent…” You can’t discuss this anymore, needing to change the subject. 

“Texas.”

“When did you leave?”

“Long time ago.”

“Do you miss it?”

At his, he laughs like the question is ironic. “No. Where are you from?”

“Sometimes it feels like I can’t even remember.”

And as if he’d pulled the feeling straight from your mouth, he tells you that he understands what that’s like, and you can’t help it when you reach for his hand, being as careful with him as you would any shy creature, needing to hold him. 

-

“I’ve never been in love,” you tell him, childish look of recklessness and valor coming across your face as you pick up on the earlier thread of conversation you’d frightened yourself with. “It seems too daring, even grotesque.” 

He thinks he wants to capture that look in a bottle and take it everywhere with him. His entire body throbs with a heartbeat and the shape of your hand fits his as if every joint and muscle and soft ligament had been specifically designed for him to hold, filled suddenly with a terrible sense of foreboding. Looking at you, one just knows there’ll be a broken heart. 

Your small thumb smooths gently over his large one, and he marvels that such an exquisite creature would touch him. God, but you’re beautiful. Your touch, soft and enticing and painful all at once. No one had ever been so gentle with him.

“Won’t you tell me a secret?” You beg.

He will. He might give you anything in this moment. In the weeks he’d been kept away, he’d desperately counted the days and minutes until he could return to that place of worship and honesty. 

“I think about you,” voice hushed, the shaking of the leaves not loud enough to mask the soft breath you suck in as he gives you his confession. He maps the architecture of the small hands in his grasp, fingers tracing fingers, uncured clay fragile before the heat. He feels tired and strangely spent, almost drunk on your touch. His thumb slides upwards, marveling at the softness of your wrist, and then there, beneath the shivering distraction of your pulse and his disturbing search, the unlocked fragrance of your scent gland. It drifts towards him slowly like smoke rising from sleep.  

The air seems to pulse between the two of you with heat and premonition. That singular moment before everything goes terribly wrong, he can see it in your eyes. Such vibrancy, excitement, recklessness turned danger. 

“We should…” you feel him begin to pull away, grappling to hold on to the moment and his hand, “We should fuck.” He takes himself back, letting you go. Where else was this being led?

He cringes away from you. “Excuse me?” 

“Sex. You’ve had it before.” His mind reels. His body’s reaction at hearing your mouth say these things, the way it shapes them, the soft, full lips wrapped around the words.  

Looking away, he watches the pond’s couple help each other out of the swan. In his periphery, he can see you begin to bristle at his silence. 

“Don’t be peevish. It’s unbecoming.” 

He can’t help feeling angry. “I’m not. I’m old enough to be your father.” And you laugh at him. You’re deviating paths now, going opposite ways and angry at one another for it. 

“We could pretend that—if that’s what you want,” you say, voice husky and seductive. A small palm smooths up his thigh and his gaze snaps fire at you, hand clamping painfully at your wrist, fingernails digging at your gland, disturbing more of that gorgeous scent into the air. 

You make a pained sound. He needs to leave. He needs to never see you again.

“Don’t be disgusting,” he shoots back, hot everywhere. 

“Don’t be a prude.” He flings your wrist away, and you cradle it against your chest as if he’d hurt you. The heat turns to guilt pulsing through his limbs. 

Warring to wounded then, your eyes. You wrap your fingers around your discarded wrist. “What if we lose everything? What if tomorrow’s the end of the world? What if we’re so thoroughly cured of our loneliness after all this is done, we never feel like we need another person this way again?” 

His muscles tense with the need to flee or attack, the thought of you needing him, of being needed in such a way—he’s like some creature coming upon its mate. 

Despite his age, he had never tried to truly seduce anyone. He had never truly wanted anyone. Not in any real and base sort of way. Desire for him had been a mute and ordinary thing. But he could have you now, turned into a thing he’d never been before, he could mount you and rut you into the dirt like an animal. Never so much a product of his designation as he feels in this instant. 

He can’t even form word, and your body seems to pulse against his with embarrassed heat and indignation. 

“Have you ever even fucked an omega?” You spit at him meanly. 

“We shouldn’t be talking about this.” Voice carefully restrained, each syllable off his tongue is measured with his tenuous control. 

“Tell me anyways,” you demand, shoving his coat off your shoulders being the thing that almost makes him lose it. 

“It’s cold. Put that back on.”

“Tell me.” And he shouldn’t. You should have no sway over him. No demand of his honesty or anything else that belongs to him.

“Once. Only because I wanted to know what it was like.” He’s man enough to admit to himself the embarrassment he feels telling you this.

But it seems to quell some tremor in your eyes, and you sit back, palm petting at your throat as if you’re trying to soothe yourself. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, gaze averted, glassy, delirious look there. “I’ve always gotten my feelings hurt easily. I’m—” you shake your head quickly, sucking on your lip. “...too sensitive. Sometimes I feel like I’ll float away if I don’t find anyone to hold me down.” 

He should tell you that you’re not, wants to, but the image of you weak and pinned beneath him churns in his mind. Whole body aching suddenly, needing his hands on you before he does something truly heinous—he straightens abruptly, abandoning your reassuring warmth. Feeling suddenly cold despite the sweat dotting his spine. 

Without another word he turns to leave you there, alone, while the swan pair watches from across the pond as the two of you part ways. 

The next morning he awakens stiff and burning, his cock a brand of heat against his stomach. And works his entire day in a static haze, lavender spots at the edge of his vision where all he can think about is how you smell and the way your hand feels in his. By five o’clock, his fingers ache, spasming painfully from gripping his tools too hard. Breaking his weeks-long habit, he decides to attend the Saturday night meeting, full of constrained energy and sullen moodiness. Reasoning that a pretty, young girl like you wouldn’t waste her weekend in the basement of a church abandoned by God. 

And is sick to his stomach with equal measures elation and dread when he spots you sitting amongst the crowd of metal folding chairs—wearing his coat. He doesn’t hesitate even a little when he claims the seat next to yours. 

The two of you sit in strained silence the entire meeting, the other alphas and omegas surrounding throwing alarmed and intrigued glances your way as the tension brews hotter and more frenzied. 

His body hurts. This is a painful kind of lust. 

He listens to the speakers tonight with only half an ear, instead, occupied with the memory of what you’d looked like the other week eating a jelly and cream filled donut, imagining what your mouth would look like smeared with his blood and come. He can smell your body, how hot and trembling nervous you are. So unlike all that blistering, innocent valor from yesterday. 

The omega with the cruel husband turned sick one is taking her turn again tonight. Now that he looks at her, she has hair that at one time was vibrant red, now turned a softened copper threaded through with white. Time is such a painful, slow thing, Joel thinks. 

“Have you ever been with someone you knew you were too good for?” The omega asks the room, while the one beside him begins to shake, knee jolting nervously.

You’re anxious, and it makes him angry that you should be made so by his actions. 

Too rough for forbearance, his palm clamps down tightly on your knee, holding it still, and you make some supplicant whimper at the back of your throat. Almost imperceptibly, you draw away from him, the line of your shoulders growing rigid, and a wild, irrational sense of loss steals his breath. 

He’s been so busy lately, distracted. He’s hungry, overstrained, anxious himself. He doesn’t mean to be brusque with you. He just can’t help himself. 

Would we be here if we had? Someone lost in the crowd pipes back. 

The woman laughs, she has a kind face. “Me either.” You shove his palm off your leg as if it burns. “But there was someone… once. A chance, maybe. Someone I didn’t choose but should have. We were friends. We came very close to being happy.” 

And he suddenly feels a wave of desolation so overwhelming wash over him. He turns to look at you, your vibrating profile, so pretty, and he’s gentle this time when he touches your knee. Just to feel you. How terrible, he thinks, to only come very close to being happy. 

The speaker changes, and then it’s Maria’s voice talking to them all. Joel still can’t look away from you as you, in turn, refuse to look at him. “Stop, Joel,” you whisper. But he can’t. 

“At the start of this, we usually discuss a second option for those of you who aren’t able to find what you’re looking for in this. Sometimes it’s not so simple,” Maria tells them. 

A miracle move on drug, she calls it. 

The group’s coalition is sponsored by a pharmaceutical company, one testing a cure for loneliness. Something they think of as pilled perfection, something to numb the pain of loss. Any emotional wound, now with the potential to be a thing of the past. The young omega handing out the pamphlets had promised an easy cure, it seems this is what he’d been referring to. And if the potential side effects included an inability to hold on to any sort of emotional attachment afterward, well, the encounter groups they’d targeted thus far were grateful for it in the end anyway. They were all alone after all. 

“It’ll help you let go of everything you can’t let go of,” Maria tells them. “Help make you forget. Help make you un-lonely. We’ll be holding a session Wednesday morning for anyone who’s interested in being part of the trial. Our sponsor company, Firefly, is very happy to welcome as many of you as possible.” 

Beside him, you whisper, “Only a coward would take that option. What a cheat.” He hesitates, perplexed and wounded by your words. 

“You’ll never have to grieve or miss something you can’t get back, ever again. I know that for many of you, this is the ultimate fantasy,” Maria says.

“I think it sounds like something to help let go. Like what I came here for.”

You exchange cards. Now it’s your turn, the wounded look. 

When Maria’s through, bidding the group goodnight and setting them all free to mingle, you’re up and out of your seat before he can get a word in. He watches you go as if he were some sort of abandoned lapdog, only for a second, before he’s once again, striding after you. 

You weave almost drunkenly through the crowd, first heading towards the exit, then to the beverage station, then correcting and veering towards the back hall where the restrooms and catechism classrooms are. 

Gaining on you, he takes you by the elbow, pushing you deep into the darkness of the long hallway. Going far enough the din of desperate socialization turns a quiet murmur. You’re really in the belly of the beast now. So quiet and dust infused it feels as if it’s been years since a soul stepped through here. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Your face glows with fevered sweat. 

“I’m sick,” you mumble on the tail end of a whine when he shakes your arm into responsive compliance. “Let me go. Stop,” you fight, trying to claw away from him.

“No you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. I threw up all night. And you have the personality of a snarling dog more than a man. Has anyone ever told you that?” Shoving at his chest now feebly.

Ignoring your caterwauling, he takes you in entirely. “You’re not sick,” he says again, sure now. 

There’s a timeless hunger gnawing at his gut. Joel suddenly feels more himself than he think he’s ever felt in his entire life. 

Dragging you high against his chest by the collar of his own coat, he brings the tip of his nose slowly to the valley of sweet fragrance at the side of your throat. Inhaling deeply at the flushed, swollen scent gland there. The sound of your toes scuffing against the floor excites him even more. 

“You’re not sick. You’re going into heat,” he says slowly; gathering the overwhelmed, shivering creature as gently as he can in his arms. 

Your fingers claw at his own throat in return, as if digging for his own answering scent. “No. But it’s not time. I had one not so long ago.” You sound on the verge of tears, and he makes a deep, soothing sound in his chest. “My blockers...I— I can’t be. It’s not time yet.”

“It’s a breakthrough heat.” His other hand comes around to the small of your back and ever so slowly, he presses your hips closer to his. “It’s mine. Because of me.”

“No.” You shove back with renewed strength suddenly, spinning around to scurry deeper down the dark hall and then careening on weak legs into an abandoned classroom. 

Heart beating madly at the prospect of the hunt, he takes a singular calming breath before he’s prowling after the sound of your crying. 

-

“You need to not run from me right now. It’ll make my rut come faster,” his deep voice comes from somewhere in the dark unknown. 

You scramble around the children’s desks, weaving your way clumsy with disorientation to the far end of the classroom. You don’t want to go into heat right now. You can’t. Not with him. You need to be safe and alone in the confines of your warm, comfortable bedroom, far away from the temptation of him.

His heavy, panting breath sounds closer and there’s a shriek in your throat like a struggling kitten. 

“You want me to lose my self control. That’s what this is, isn’t it?” There’s a loud crash as he shoves one of the little desks out of his way, followed by your answering shriek. And then he’s here, coming up behind you but finding mercy enough to hold himself back at the last moment, panting as if he’d just run miles fighting against himself. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry. Come here, baby. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s okay.” He takes a step closer, and the slowing of his breath and soothe of his voice calms you in turn. “You’re only going into heat, that’s all, sweet girl. I’ve triggered it for you and I’m sorry. Let me come to you.”

You let out a high and harried sound, palm smoothing over your throat over and over again. “Joel,” you say once.

“I’m here. It’s okay.”

“It’s only that—”

“What is it?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m embarrassed.” A helpless tear spills out over the edge of your eyelid. 

“You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about with me. Ever. We understand each other, you and I. Don’t we?”

And he’s right of course. You’d picked his face out of the crowd in instant recognition, after all. “I’ve had heats…but I’ve never—never had a, a heat with someone. With an alpha.” 

He’s utterly silent and you feel deranged enough you’re almost certain you can hear the pound of his heart inside his chest.

“You’ve never had a knot take your cunt?”

“No.” You swallow. “Never.”

You hear a muttered fuck, and his breathing goes quick and shallow and then even again. He has better control over himself than you do at this moment. 

“Then how?”

You flush full of heat, embarrassed. “T—toys,” you stutter. “Medication to help ease it.”

When he steps closer, only calm accompanies him. All is suddenly quiet. You want him. Your disjointed mind, overwhelmed by too many confusing emotions had gone into overdrive for a moment, but now, with the scent of hot, aggravated alpha surrounding you, it’s obvious this was all you’d needed to calm down. 

You can feel his hot breath against your forehead, the wash of heat on each exhale and the lingering scent of sweet musk at his inhale. You touch his cheek with shaking fingers and feel him turn ever so slightly into your palm, and then he’s bending slowly. 

First, it’s a soft, wet nudge of his mouth, your bodies held apart. Then his strong nose bumping into the side of yours, the splendor of inexperience turning to knowing, a nuzzle. Coming in again hungry, with the slick of tongue now, and the deep inhale of shock at first taste. Your breaths rush through one another, and you feel yourself backing away in maybe fear, more likely overwhelm, but his mouth follows your retreat and then his palms are at your waist, tugging you into himself, pressing you tightly to his body with a ragged groan. 

“Your mouth…Your mouth is so beautiful,” he says.

Everything in your lower belly cramps in painful agony, and you scratch at his arms and neck without much strength, trying to climb higher and take more of him into your mouth. Oh, you want this so badly. You want it to be everything you’ve dreamed of so obsessively the past weeks. Nothing else in the world exists except for your two mouths pressed together.

His lips burn a wet path across your cheekbone, sliding to the side of your neck to suckle at your scent gland. “Fuck.” His scraped teeth along the patch of sensitive skin. “Have you had sex before?” The question is gentle, understanding, his tongue tasting your sensitive earlobe, head ducking suddenly to give a sharp bite at your breast. 

“Yes.” His erection is pressed firm at your belly, hot even through his jeans and your sweater. His large body radiates heat. At your back, his palm finds the edge of your top, sliding underneath to make first contact, blistering skin against blistering skin. 

“But not an alpha.” He says it smugly, the bastard. Palm sliding down to your rump, tucking you more tightly against his hard cock. You shake your head at the crook of his neck, fingertips twisting in the back of his hair. Your breath comes in wet little pants that sound too pathetic to bear. 

“It’s going to feel so good,” he promises, rubbing slow circles low on your back with that wide, strong palm. “It’s different. It’s…” That palm slides lower, squeezees the curve of your ass. “It’s ordinary if it isn’t with someone…special. If there’s not the possibility of—” 

You tell him you understand what he’s trying to say. 

“I think it’ll be so good between us,” he finishes. 

At the waist of your skirt, his fingers press between your skin and the stretch of your tights, forcing his large hand into their confines. Your breath skips into his open mouth, panting into one another he cups you between your legs and suddenly all you can focus on is the tight ache there, the nylon soaked obscenely between your thighs. His arm around your back squeezes you tighter to his chest and his fingertips are pushing past lace edge to feel the slick swell of wet cunt. 

“Oh, Joel. Not here,” you moan. “Someone will come in.” He’s circling your clit, so sensitive and so swollen it hurts. You tug him impossibly closer, and he presses you back into the cold stone wall. “We can’t in a church.” Your protestations sound weak even to your own ears as you spread your legs wider for him. 

“I don’t give a fuck.”

He takes your mouth again, sucking deeply, groaning even deeper when he presses inside of you to the first knuckle. “Tight, baby,” he breathes into your neck, his hips slowly grinding into your pelvis. 

He feeds you more, then presses a second finger, holding still for a second, then another. Panting like a rabbit caught in a trap with three of his too thick fingers stuffed in your overstretched cunt. The sound of popping seams moves up your spine. 

“Can feel your little cunt shaking around me. Jesus—” he groans. It’s all mine, whispered into your hair. 

Suddenly, there’s the open and close of a door nearby. And then the sound of someone’s voice calling your names. Joel huddles you further into the dark corner, confined by the protection of his body, his fingers still moving in and out of you, stretching you well enough to burn as he presses as deeply as he can and with the utmost gentleness, pets lightly at the painfully sensitive mouth of your cervix. Humming in satisfaction at the feel of you. 

“Right there?” He hums. 

You’re crying, clutching at him even more tightly. Your name sounds again, being searched for, like a warning. 

“If I fuck you, nobody else ever will.” His voice is so dark it’s menacing. It’s recklessness, verging on a lie. Maybe it’s hope. 

Pressing lightly again, petting, petting, he pulls his fingers back a little, the loud sucking sound of your cunt trying to hold onto him, and you’re coming for him, crying into his neck, sucking on his scent gland so that the taste of him floods your mouth. The sound of a door opening, and you hear him growl at someone to fuck off in a very scary voice, his fingers never ceasing their steady thrust inside of your clenching sex, and the frightened slam of a door. 

“It’s alright. You’re alright. That’s my good girl,” he pets and soothes at you, pressing a kiss to your temple, your eyelids, your mouth again and again.

Part 3;

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

[crowleysgirl56]

The vast majority of people who work on a show are paid upfront for their labour

They don't get paid dependent on how successful a show is

They also don't do work that doesn't get paid- if they are working on a show that gets cancelled, they get paid for the work they did

All this 'stream GO for the hard workers behind the scenes' is bullshit

They work for companies are will be put on different projects

Just be honest that you want more GO (despite the message that it sends to studios- that audiences are ok with abusers! Just turn a blind eye to them! Yes that gives them more power but who cares because people will watch and make them money!)

Don't pretend your doing this for moral reasons

(And acting like you're doing this for Terry- for all we know he might want his work with an abuser completely destroyed- it's stupid to assume he'd want the series to be continued)

Like say this shit with your chest, you know?

Oh boy, ok. Gonna take a minute to answer this.

Firstly, I and a lot of the fandom, are heartbroken over what NG has done. Because we were duped into thinking he was a decent person. From the things that he wrote to the things that he said we thought that he was good person. And it is horrible that there are people out there suffering because yet another rich powerful white man decided he had the right to take advantage of them.

You seem rather angry and if that anger stems because you have experienced something similar yourself then I hope you have love and support around you so that you can heel.

If you want to talk about money, let me remind you that NG has already been paid for season 3. He will continue to get royalties, and thanks to the writers strike last year, he will now get more money for those royalties than before. If S3 doesn’t go ahead then hundreds of people will lose their jobs. Will they get other jobs? Sure, maybe. But any loss of job in this current economic climate is terrible and stressful (and I’m not talking about DT or MS here. They’ll get more work).

I don’t know if you understand how hyper fixation in neurodiversity works, but this is extremely painful for some people and takes a lot of time and energy and therapy to get over when a hyper fixation is threatened or taken away. Some people, like myself, need closure for things otherwise we can find it extremely difficult to move on emotionally. This obviously does not compare to someone trying to survive after SA, but emotional diversity can be extremely debilitating as well. They are apples and oranges to compare, but you can’t invalidate one person’s pain because you think another person’s pain is worth more.

As for the show itself, there is so little queer representation in media. There is a lot more nowadays compared to a decade ago, or even 5 years ago, but the little representation we have is so extremely important. Do you know how many people have found a truth to themselves thanks to GO? How many people discovered something about themselves that finally gives them answer to how they feel? How at the age of 40 I finally realised that I’m asexual and NOT BROKEN. That’s fucking important.

And this. ALL of this is why everyone, including me, are so fucking angry with NG. Because he has left us emotionally devastated. He has not just physically hurt these women. He has emotionally hurt hundreds of thousands of people. He is a stain.

I have spoken before when this all first happened about how I was angry that my one teeny tiny corner of the internet that made me happy was on fire. I left for a bit. I came back. I want to continue to interact with like minded people who love this fandom. I won’t stop that.

And frankly, and here’s the last I’ll say on this, the world is on fire. It is filled with a lot of fucking awful shit right now. I have suffered a very deep depression of late where some nights after I put the kids to bed I just stare and cry. You don’t know that about me because I don’t say those kinds of things on the internet, because our internet personas are facades. They’re not real. They’re not true life. I’m a real person and I’m aching inside about so many things. And these kinds of messages are just breaking me further. Seriously, when you send stuff like this do you even consider that?! So when I decide to hold onto one of the last bastions of entertainment that brings me joy, I’m not going to be guilted into dropping it because someone involved happens to be a monster. Because let me tell you if we did that every time someone turned out to be horrible, then we would never watch or enjoy anything ever again. EVERYTHING you watch or listen to or enjoy or like or cared about is connected to someone who is horrible or produced by a gigantic evil corporation (Nestle, Disney, Microsoft, Facebook, Google just to name a few). Every. Single. Thing. It’s the clothing you wear, the electronics you buy, the food you eat, the furniture in your house, and ALL the entertainment you consume. So if you gave up everything for some moral stance, then you would literally have nothing left.

Dropping Good Omens does nothing. It sends no message to anyone because the next really fucking awful person is about to produce the next big thing you might happen to love and care about. So what’s the point?

Let me have Good Omens. You don’t like that, then you can block me. That’s what the button is there for. You don’t need to send anonymous hateful messages. And if you want me to “say this shit with my chest” maybe you can send me an ask with the Anonymous off. So I can see your chest too.

I’m turning off anonymous asks now. Considering the only asks I’ve ever received is abusive shit telling me to kill myself or saying David Tennant is a paedophile or just telling me I’m a horrible person for supporting NG (when I’ve already stated before that I don’t anymore).

Sorry for those who’ve managed to get to the end here. Thanks for reading if you have, sorry it was so long. I hope you aren’t receiving the same type of messages. If Anonymous has read this far, I don’t know, maybe think twice before being horrible to random people on the internet?

[moniairis]

SPOILER ! Chapter 266 of Akatsuki no Yona came out and turns out I am now a simp for the Yellow Dragon.

THAT CHAPTER FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE. Just need to let this all out. I'm waiting next month chapter like a 5 year old waits for Christmas.

"Turns out I walked besides you for far to long" YES.

I want the teary backstory of a dragon divinity changing his thought about humanity and shaping a whole new mindset after 2000 years sharing an existence with a human guy immortality made miserable. He was there all the time. The happiness, the war, the lost of the Crimson Dragon, the anguish of feeling the others life fading, the loneliness, Kaya, the hope of seeing his king again. All of what Zeno felt for those 2000 years. The Yellow Dragon was there for all besides Zeno.

Zeno was never truly alone in his journey.

I'm curious. What did the Dragon thought after Kaya's death, hearing the plead of his vessel to bring her back, to show itself, to prove its existence once again ?

Also- Finally the voice of reason. Because even if I LOVE the concept of the other three dragon gods turning obssessive after abandonment issues, these three need therapy. Don't take our Yona please- I'm waiting for for the ship since I was 12.

Just for the fun, I'll need to reread the series all again. It's been a while. I'm sure I forgot some things. It's always good to reread it.

[perictione00]

Selfish

Ch 1: Surprise!!!

Pairing: Geto Suguru x reader

Warnings: a bit dark and graphic..?

Synopsis: You left the Jujutsu World behind the moment the source of your warmth turned cold. So what happens when you come face to face with that one episode in your life that you wanted to obliterate? Simple, you reap what you sow.

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Malaysia, 2014

It was a tiring day, your period wasn't helping either. You were just itching to get home, take a shower, and order from that new Mexican place your boyfriend had been talking about. It was a Friday, so you were getting excited about the weekend. For some reason, you were feeling so grateful, maybe because your life was finally normal and you were happy. It was all okay until you encountered a young boy in a wheelchair, with a curse engulfing his lower body. A world that you wanted to escape so desperately, somehow never failed to present itself in a situation that made you question your morality. But after everything you had seen, you were way past morality, so you ignored the boy like you did with every other person who needed you.

"Jayden", you called out for your boyfriend as you opened the door to your shared apartment. You assumed, that he wasn't home yet as nobody answered but the familiar cursed energy you sensed said otherwise. You felt dreaded as it wasn't possible, you had dodged every single mistake that could have given away your whereabouts.

"Please no", you prayed as you walked further into the apartment. You froze, as you entered your bedroom. The bed was soaked in blood as the lifeless body of your boyfriend was being violated by a curse. "No, no, no, no, no", tears spilled out of your eyes as you started screaming in denial. It quickly turned into anger as a certain raven-haired man standing in the corner declared his presence, "Surprise!!!". You attacked him with a punch straight to his face and he didn't budge, he didn't dodge the many punches you threw his way while crying your heart out. He did stop you, chuckling, "Aww, don't cry..did you actually love this one? C'mon now, you know you're not capable of that". He started cradling you in a hug, "Now let's get back to business.., remember the traitor who left me?.. yeah, yeah, the one I trusted the most, remember that person?", his hand slid down your hair slowly as he continued, "oh wait, you look a lot like that person..the one who abandoned me".

2005

On New Year's Eve, you told your mum about some weird dreams you were having for the past few days, and of course, being a typical mother, she blamed it on your choices of television series. But you knew it wasn't because of the few Supernatural episodes that you had seen in the span of two months.

From the beginning of time, you were used to seeing terrifying figures randomly, which were avoided at all costs as you were scared of what might turn out if they knew of your existence. However, your parents thought otherwise, resulting in child therapy, which wasn't working yet you pretended it did. You adapted to your surroundings being full of creepy creatures, ignoring them, and trying to live like a normal teenager. That was until the onset of some weird dreams and a malevolent presence under your bed. It was weird, as none of them ever came in close proximity to you. Hence, you started sleeping with your parents again. The nightmares didn't stop; in spite of that, you felt good, safe, and loved, no longer scared.

The peacefulness vanished on the first day of 2006, when you were alone in the house and someone was singing a broken melody. You were petrified as you saw a woman playing a violin emerging from a newborn's skull, singing while rocking to the rhythm in the drawing room, suddenly stopping, turning, and smiling unnaturally at you.

"You would make a beautiful cello."

You bolted as it proceeded to move crookedly in your direction. It was guffawing so loudly that you had to cover your ears. Locking yourself in the bathroom, you called your parents, whispering to them about how much you loved them, until you heard a frightening tune on a piano. The call was disconnected, and the door started melting while you tried to escape from the window you couldn't reach. The room started turning white, and you saw your reflection in the mirror, smiling at you. Your vision blurred as you fell into a slumber.

Waking up, your eyes adjusted to the brightness of a white room. You felt agitated at first, but slowly observing, you saw your parents sitting sadly on a white couch. Thank fuck, it was a hospital room. Their happiness and relief after your recovery from an unexplainable incident couldn't be measured. You were spoiled rotten with love as you woke up after a week of unconsciousness. In the evening of the same day, a bulky man in all black approached your family, discussing something before finally coming to you. He introduced himself as Masamichi Yaga and unfolded the world of Jujutsu sorcerers to you. Though your parents were sure he was a cult member, you felt ecstatic; you weren't crazy after all. With that came many days of convincing, resulting in your parents ultimately agreeing to admit you to Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College after checking its legitimacy a thousand more times. They were not ready to let you go, but they came around as you kept insisting with evidence.

On the way to the campus, the tough-looking man turned out to be a total softie who was explaining to you about your unknown technique and appreciating you for exorcising a grade 2 curse without any training. You were dumbfounded, but you were a sucker for praise, so you didn't question him.

After reaching the campus, you were introduced to your classmates, an almost gloomy Kento Nanami, and a total cutie, Yu Haibara. They were great, especially Haibara, who was currently showing you around the campus. After getting a hot drink, you both settled down on a seat. You weren't expecting to get along with anyone on the very first day, but Haibara's just so sweet that anyone can feel comfortable. He showed you your assigned room, and you guys called it a night.

However, later at night, your slumber was disrupted by a growling stomach at 3 in the morning. It was odd timing for a takeout, but you still gave it a shot, ordering a Zaru Soba with cola. You were surprised at how advanced the Tokyo delivery system was, as you got your delivery within 10 minutes. It tasted better than your expectations, and with that, you started brainstorming ideas to decorate your room, which was interrupted by a knock on the door. You ignored it the first time out of caution, but you opened it on the third knock. To your surprise, a literal god stood in front of you, and you didn't know how to react. "Hey..?", you broke the ice with an awkward greeting.

"I think the delivery guy confused our orders because we ordered the same thing, so I'm assuming this is yours", the Greek god said as he offered you your cola.

"Oh yeah, thanks..um..yeah", you were doing a great job continuing the conversation with your five syllables. Before you could close the door and save your ass from embarrassment, the guy asked for your name, and you told him. Shit, now you felt obligated to ask his name, and so you did. "And you are?"

"Geto Suguru"

Ch 2

[infinialtairs]

~ Rayman and Casper in each different scenarios ~ (and...art styles I suppose)

I honestly took it overboard with amount effort I put into this even though it was suppose to be small...the pattern I swear.

But I do like how these turned out pretty much so task successfully failed?

[ ☀️ More below If you're interested in my rambles and separate images 🦊]

So...onto my rambles 2.0:

Rayman (pre-Ramon) and Casper (Non Canon Compliant)

They're sort of THE ONES I focus on a lot...even if it would never HAPPEN in any sorts of way, not even possible for them to interact, left alone...dating. But ey! more fun huh? If they DO happen to interact, it is mostly one sided hatered (from Casper's at least), Rayman only really starts dislike Casper when Casper ""tries"" flirting with him as mock and joke, finding itself annoying and stupid. But eventually liking each other and understanding each perspective's...even if Casper doesn't get Rayman's much still.

2. Ramon and Casper ( Neutral )

This is probably follows the flow of Captain Laserhawk series the most? or at least, it does. I actually been hyperfixate on that concept of them - both in lowest points in their lives but Casper letting Ramon (along with Bullfrog and Dolph) to crash over in small shitty apartment because despite hating Ramon (Rayman before) for his whole life essentially. Casper does sees Ramon in.. new light because Ramon opened his eyes and saw the real true colors of Eden. Now, I don't think they would necessary date? not saying it's impossible but considering their both positions...Ramon NEEDS TIME and HELP and THERAPY badly. (same goes to Dolph, Bullfrog and even Casper even if he will deny.)

3. Rayman? (Fakeman) and Casper ( Toxic )

This also follows mostly the canon of Captain Laserhawk series but INSTEAD of meeting Ramon by mere accident...Fakeman and Casper both meeting up in bar, Fakeman might know something of Casper MORE than he leads onto.. (I won't go in depth of what just yet but it is working in progress...) SO Fakeman purposely tries to flirt with Casper, even when Casper pushes off Fakeman with some jokes, it did get the best of him... They ARE NOT in healthy "relationship" (it's toxic for a reason). Fakeman is only USING Casper for his gains...

4. Rayman and Casper ( Eden's Cutie Restaurant AU )

in other words, completely very fluff and soft core of them where Rayman as waitress having BIG BIG crush on Casper and Casper as more of poet and writer in general, KNOWS Rayman likes him...in some way. the "Will they get together or not?" question lurks over them... I actually don't have a lot to say about this. They just exist if they didn't had traumas.

Separate images without texts:

RAMBLED ONCE AGAIN ABOUT CASPER AND RAYMAN CUZ THEY'RE KEEP BEING IN MY HEAD ARRGHH!!!!

if you have read this far or just wanted see the pics, thank you for your time, solider /pos 🫡💜

[theramseyloft]

I go you already have my apologies but can you re explain your ideal bird that you are breeding for. From the looks of your loft updates you prefer standard non exaggerated features and minimal muffs and normal length beaks

No worries. ^v^

I've been reworking a few things while we've been stuck on hiatus, so there have been some changes to the plans for the future, and I don't mind going over them.

I am trying to develop a unique breed specifically for therapy work.

As many of my long term followers know: A feral pigeon, found in a parking lot on the brink of starvation, taught himself to alert me for anxiety attacks of crippling severity.

If he could not alert me fast enough to prevent me going catatonic, he knew to go get my husband.

And he worked out a series of behaviors to draw me back out of that state if my husband was not with me.

He later developed an alert specific to blood sugar spikes.

That's far beyond the scope of an Emotional Support Animal!

And I believe that if a pigeon off the literal street was naturally inclined to develop these behaviors, then temperament traits conducive to such service work can be selected for.

I aim to do that by combining highly intelligent Performance breeds like Homers, Rollers, and Tumblers with structurally sound exhibition breeds possessing a demonstrably heritable mellow temperament.

And I want this breed to have a unique look that easily identifies it so that it will be hard for feather merchants to counterfeit. (Yes, that is a thing that happens.)

So, my favorite embellishments in the breeds we are already using are going to be enhanced by a few exhibition breeds who exemplify those traits, and one specifically for color.

To that end, we will be utilizing these performance breeds:

Feral

I can get into whether or not this is a breed in itself in another post. This is going to be a long one as it is.

There are several risks to working with ferals, absolutely.

You can pretty much guarantee that any you may find have lice, one or two species of worms, at least two protozoan parasites, and could potentially have a whole host of other bacterial or viral pathogens with out showing any outward sign.

Anyone who works with ferals as a first responder must be prepared to quarantine them carefully, vaccinate them, and test them to find out what all you will need to treat.

But there are three huge advantages for the Assistance Pigeon Project:

They are the epitome of structural soundness. That slight, agile little body has come to be through surviving generations of environmental pressures from having to travel long distances to find food to having to dodge a wide range of predators like cats and hawks.

There is no better source of intelligence than the descendent of birds that have survived for generations on their wits and luck alone.

And no better source of an excellent immune system than the result of generations living with the host of parasites and pathogens that they are so often loaded down with in the wild. There is a reason you won't see any outward sign that a feral has anything!

Once a feral's parasites and pathogens are cleaned out, they are incredibly sturdy!

Being a domesticated animal, the offspring of ferals in human care tend to focus all the inquisitive brightness that kept their line alive in the wild on bonding and communicating with their care taker.

Racing Homer

The thoroughbred of pigeons.

If you do not count Ferals as a breed, this is the most structurally sound and intelligent of all pure breeds.

Hands down the single most athletic!

They are stockier, more aerodynamic, and far more muscular than the average feral, because they were bred to be able to find their way home from drop points up to and over 500 miles away.

It takes not just fine tuned musculature and metabolism, but an excellent memory and keen intelligence to adapt on the literal fly to the changes in environment and predator populations over such distances.

Because of their exposure in races to hundreds or even thousands of other birds from lofts all across the country, Racers also have the strongest immune system of any purebred.

Birmingham Roller

This is not a breed that flies long distances like Racers or Ferals, but as a performer, it is still required to be structurally sound.

Performances consist of flying in a small flock called a Kit to perform a waterfall effect of staggered rolls where birds backflip 15-20 times in a row in midair, straighten from the roll, and rejoin the kit, one after another.

They are less flighty than Ferals and less independent than Racers, typically working much more closely with their trainer: keeping within sight of the loft and earshot of the person.

This makes them a little more human focused and naturally inclined to be biddable.

Though many traits vary wildly by line, these tend to be very small birds; energetic, jaunty, and playful.

Aside from adding that wonderful temperament, they will help keep the end result small.

Portuguese Tumbler

I waffled on these for quite a while, mostly because of their very small size and absolute breeding overdrive.

But they are excellent parents despite being the second smallest breed of pigeon in the world, and, unlike the Valencian Figurita, generally don't need one of their nestlings fostered.

And that speaks very highly of just how physically fit they are.

There are a few big breeds among the ones selected specifically for temperament, so Ports and Birms should help bring the size down and improve the parenting ability of the blend.

But the real push was just how Exuberantly friendly and playful this gleeful little breed is!

There are two performance breeds I have no hands on experience with yet that I would like to add:

Oriental Roller

This one is a dual purpose:

Once again, a structurally sound bird of moderate build, because it is still flown in competition.

But what interests me is the tail.

This breed is one of the major components of the Mindian (Miniature Indian) Fantail, Bred to Indian Fantails too small to compete with in order to improve the structural soundness and preserve the fan.

And as one of the embellishments I want in this breed is a slight fan, this body type is ideal to help display it comfortably.

Turkish Takla

The Takla is a Roller breed, still flown in competition, and becoming popular in the US for its docile, biddable temperament.

It comes with or without crest or muffs, and I very much like the grouse muffs of this breed.

We'll have to see what the temperament is really like, but the bird is gorgeous, and I expect it will blend well in terms of structure, temperament, and moderate embellishments that are still eye catching.

Breeds selected for temperament:

Show Line Danzig Highflier

This breed is the single best investment I have ever made towards the temperament of my breeding flock!

They are intensely friendly! Every bird I have raised with any amount of Danzig in them has gone on to be a beloved cuddle bug of a pet.

My Husband's ESA, Cotta, is the closest we have gotten so far to the behaviors we want in a bird bred for Service work.

Not only is he my Husband's devoted ESA, he also acts as mine when I need regulation, and even Cheeto's when he struggles with impulse control or obsessive behaviors.

Cotta is so intensely human focused that he has organized Cheeto and another bird who was only with us temporarily to provide me aid during a very severe episode of vertigo.

That temperament has passed so reliable through Satin's family that I would have to be an idiot not to incorporate this breed.

Frillback

A shockingly mellow breed!

And not just because they could only be less aerodynamic if you gave them parachutes..

A great test to rule out learned helplessness being the root of any big or showy breed's apparent mellowness is to cross them with a smaller breed that flies well so the offspring will be more maneuverable than the big or highly embellished parent.

If the offspring that can physically evade you is flighty and nervous by nature, then the "mellow docility" of the parent is just learned helplessness.

But if that more maneuverable offspring is just as docile and tractable as the parent, then you can be pretty well assured that that really is the parent's temperament.

Frillbacks fall so soundly into the "genuinely that sweet tempered" category that it has passed on into multiple generations of my flock.

I won't use this breed much, because the curls are a little much and it's hard to find clean legged birds or lines with only moderate muffs.

But their temperament is so fantastic that it would be remiss of me not to use them at all.

Lucerne

This elegant Swiss breed borders on too mellow for its own good.

There are lines with peeps so quiet that they fail to trigger the parent's feeding response. Paired with another breed, though, even completely oblivious Lucerne will respond correctly once they see their mate feeding.

My first pair, despite hating me with the fury of a thousand suns, were so perfectly tractable that working with them was a breeze.

Some of my most out going individuals are crossed with this breed.

I love their structure and their very moderate Grouse muffs.

They have a shorter beak than I like, but it's long enough to be functional, and the other breeds will keep the beak from getting too short.

Show Type Racing Homer

This is another show breed famed for their docility.

While it isn't as absolutely incredible as the breeds higher on the list, I will be incorporating them for their very simple, elegant structure, and bold, out going curiosity.

Classic Old Frill

This breed is somewhat of an indulgence, I admit.

Of the breeds included for temperament, this is the one most likely to be flighty or skittish.

But I have such a deep and abiding love for what they are: A return to form to the original standard of the Turkish Hunkari from the now beakless Modern and Oriental Frills.

Basically, the avian version of the Retromops (If you love Pugs, you should look this breed up. It's a return to the original standard: a pug with a muzzle, that can breathe normally and regulate its body temperature.)

This breed was my first love, and I want to continue to support the breeders that loved them enough to write preventative measures into the breed standard requiring that their beaks never get so short that they can't feed their peeps unaided.

There is one other breed I want to add for temperament entirely because of the temperament of mixed progeny I have purchased for the breeding program:

American Show Racer

Titan and her Mother, Ibis, take very strongly after their ASR Grandmother/Mother, respectively.

Ibis was so friendly and outgoing on arrival that I was sorely tempted to keep her as a personal pet instead of having her join the breeding flock.

Titan, despite being very defensive when she was little, grew up to be so much like her mother it takes my breath away.

I am curious to see if this breed is really that sweet tempered and it really passes so reliably, or if Ibis and her line inherited their temperament from the Lucerne side.

There are only two breeds added purely for their embellishments:

Old Dutch Capuchin

I love the Danzig's mane, and I think a little touch of ODC will add some luxury to it.

My experience with this breed was not the best temperament wise, but I have read that not to be the norm and hope to have better luck with a different line.

Garden Fantail

This is the most structurally sound of all fantails, able to fully close the fan when not displaying to fly and walk comfortably.

I do not want a full fan in this breed, but Fans seem to be a partial dominant with variable expression, if my two half fantails,

Sher and

Soiree, are any indication.

Not a necessity, by any stretch, but I really like the look of a moderate fan.

Finally, there is a single breed I plan to incorporate for color.

Archangel

There are exactly two traits I want from the Archangel:

The dominant half of its bronzing, which results in a robin like rusty breast in heterozygous form

And the intense sheen of its recessive grease quill.

With luck and patience, I hope for these nine breeds; six for performance, six for temperament, two for embellishments, and one for color...

Add up to a healthy, long lived Therapy breed whose intelligence is not blunted by their laid back mellow docility and whose unique look sacrifices none of their structural integrity.

The breeder cap will remain at ten pair, hatch controlled between evaluation periods.

Babies will be evaluated for six months.

If neither is an improvement over one or both parents, both will be classed as pets and adopted out.

If one is an improvement over which ever parent fits the program the least well, or better yet the ideal blend of their parents beneficial traits, then that one will stay, the parents will retire and go up for adoption as a bonded pair, and the sibling will be made available to the public.

New blood will come in to improve what ever trait is most lacking after each evaluation period.

Offspring we produce may become available at younger than six months once the temperament I want is reliably consistent.

But I expect that to take a fair few generations.

[ravenclawloverofseverussnape]

What are your opinions on snarry?

Hi, thank you very much for asking, I hope more people ask what I think about other ships, Snarry in particular..... I don't like it and I have several reasons for this.

the age difference

veran Severus is 20 years older than him, oh 21? I don't remember, the point is that the age difference is huge for me.

He is the son of James Potter

Harry is James Potter's son, which in itself leaves me conflicted. I have no opinion of Harry, but I do of James. I hate him for being a bully and practically cheating on his wife about how he "grew up," demeaned Vernon and Petunia, and intimidated muggle police officers when he's supposed to be locked up because of the prophecy.

Oh, and don't get me started on Snape's worst memory, damn, that was UNFORGETTABLE AT ALL.

He is the son of Lily Evans Potter

you see, I don't like this character very much, I've already explained why but I'll say it in summary: the fandom, J.K Rowling's writing etc paint her as "the good popular girl who wants to be with the bully even though she knows he's a bastard and falls into the clutches of that bastard (James)" it is said that she is a good friend.... but she doesn't want Snape to defend himself, despite the fact that she knows that , although the marauders DO NOT use dark arts, she continues to defend them just because of that fact and calls Snape "obsessed with the marauders" uff That's a low blow for me.

He then doesn't ask Snape about the werewolf prank, doesn't question him if it's okay, just claims that "he should be grateful to James for saving him" and claims that's what happened, doesn't bother to ask any further questions, indicating that he doesn't really care.

Let's not talk about her lack of intervention in Severus' worst memory, she spent the whole time talking to him instead of asking if Severus was okay, Lily is a popular girl who could have tried to call someone to help her or if she's so smart she could have freed him or called a teacher if she was afraid that Sirius or Peter would attack her, she could even call Remus since he's a prefect! So many things wrong with her

Harry is the product of one of HP's most toxic couples

I don't think that Jily is a good couple, James made fun of Vernon Dursley, the fiancé of Petunia Evans, the sister of his wife Lily, bragging about riches that they do not understand being muggles, Lily does not intervene in that probably, which makes his relationship with Petunia break even more, with this point also James put Lily's life at risk by running away from home knowing that Voldemort is looking for him, he being hidden in an invisibility cloak and I firmly believe that Lily was making excuses for the (childish) behavior of her husband James Potter.

For me it seems like double standards when they say that using magic on muggles is horrible, but when James shows off his wealth to Vernon and Petunia it's okay (if these characters are detestable but they are still muggles, whether we like it or not)

Lily (even though I don't like her) deserves better than James Potter.

Why did you mention Jily in a post about giving my opinion of Snarry?

Simple, the mere creation of Harry would be a trigger for Severus, yes as a fan of Severus I am aware that Harry is not to blame for having been conceived by one of the most toxic couples in the Harry Potter series, but Harry himself would be a trauma trigger for Severus when remembering the face of James Potter, a character who... until now we do not know if he redeemed himself since he died at 21, but we have seen that Severus has a trauma when seeing Harry.

Severus would need a lot of therapy to be able to have Harry as a couple.

It would take a lot of therapy to heal his past traumas, to cope with them and not see Harry as an extension of James Potter but as an individual being.

Entiendo por qué a algunas personas les gusta Snarry: la dinámica de enemigos a amantes es muy interesante, tengo que admitirlo (como alguien a quien le gusta Snirius), pero no me gusta Snarry por estas razones, creo que Severus merece alejarse de la fuente del trauma (Hogwarts, spinner ends, etc.).

[bonzos-number-1-fan]

TMAGP 17 Thoughts: Hyde and Seek

Another really great episode. Of all the episodes thus far I think this one is the grandest in scope in terms of the series as a whole. It's opened up some very large topics.

Spoilers for episode 17, and light spoilers for TMA, below the cut.

First things first, Celia is blacking out and waking up in strange places again. A lot of reasons why this could be but as I believe I mentioned for TMAGP 11 Thoughts I thought the side-effects of dimension-hopping was a possibility. Given what this episode is about I think it's at least trying to imply a connection if not outright stating one.

Celia missed the date because blackouts but interestingly enough she didn't lie during this exchange. At least assumption I didn't miss any distortions, and those distortions are for lies. Anyway this was all very sweet and mushy but does have a pertinent detail. Celia was on her way to Oxford, a location prominently featured in the incident. Whether that's related of just some nice narrative symmetry remains to be seen, but we do see it's at least intentional.

The incident itself is our second Magnus statement. It's a really really good statement too. One of my favourites of the series so far, if not my favourite. It opens with a similar format to the last one and again mentions subject/agent/catalyst viability. All low. Then we get a mention of Welling Mutare Materia and "Mutare Materia" is something like "Changing Matter" and it's hard not to see the alchemic allusion in that. The set up is a, as yet unnamed, patient receiving therapy for anger issues. But that's probably the least interesting thing about this entire scene.

The most interesting thing is the thing everyone is collectively screaming about.

Anyway, there was a new receptionist behind the old front desk, some big, soft looking guy who stumbled over every word... ...There was another patient too, some bookish-looking guy with serious city miles. I used to play the game “what are you in for” where I would pass the time guessing… well, you know. In my head he was definitely some kind of weird pervert, really into stroking orchids or something.

I'm not going to get too into why those descriptions are important. If you know you know and I don't need to tell you. If you don't I'd rather not. Although I will say that it's very obvious that second one is who we all think it is. Or it's at least what we're meant to think. Alex wrote this episode and "some kind of weird pervert, really into stroking orchids" is the kind of insult you know he's revel in writing for a character like this. It also implies a lot, or absolutely nothing. Because it could be coincidence. It could be that they are responsible for the whole thing. It could just be setting the stage for what's to come. Which is what I think this is. It's an episode about interdimensional travel and it's just prepping the audience to know that's a thing that can happen. Reminding us who it could happen to. As if we've forgotten.

The patient meditates and then a lot of time seems to pass. A lot a lot. Interdimensional travel always involves time fuckery. What's interesting about it is that it doesn't ever seem to work the same way twice. Anya was a week or so, Celia was years, and this guy seemingly just sat there for weeks instead of moving in time like the others have appeared to. The methodology of this is also new where there wasn't any gap between walks to slip through, he stayed still the whole time and then woke up somewhere different. However when he meets this universe's version of himself there doesn't seem to be any significant time slip to mention. Dates in their lives don't line up quite right, which is expected, but he doesn't appeared to have travelled in time in any major way.

This does all take place in Oxford. Which is where Hilltop Road is but it doesn't appear as if the patient was at Hilltop Road for this. As we've seen previously with Hilltop it doesn't look like it works as it does in TMA here. It does seem like the Magnus Institute is monitoring Oxford for these types of events though, even if they're not happening in quite the same place. If that is the case it could also be the case that they're sending things back too. Hell, Dr. Dumfries could be in on it and sending the Institute lab rats.

I'm going to skip over most of the meat of this statement. It was really well done but really quite explicit and as such there isn't a lot for me to dig into. I don't want to explain to you what you just listened to when it's all pretty plain. But it was really great and I do want to mention that.

We do learn that his name is Darrien. The other Darrien is also Darrien. And that makes this episode the introduction of our second and third Darrien. Futures also had a Darrien who was also kind of a twat. Which is interesting. Firstly because TMA has a habit of naming characters similar names and it never meant anything. People just had similar names because people have similar names sometimes. However, our beloved Norris used to be called Neil in the pilot. But Neil is now Norris because there was another Neil. Which means one of two things to me, either Darrien, Darrien, and Darrien, are all Darrien because it's vitally important. Or Alex is fucking with up. Because it's Alex it could as likely be either.

Last thing to mention I do love how this one ends. Darrien is so sure of himself and how protected he is but we know he's locked up in a research prison from the jump. The Institute is also clearly larger than it was in TMA. More resources, more pull, more power. Love getting to see all those details bit by bit.

Interesting note here: Harcourt House isn't the Harcourt House that I think most people will have looked up on Google. This isn't in London, it's in Oxford. This is Stanton Harcourt. Which has some reputation for hauntings and cursed romances. Totally not relevant for anything going on in this episode. No sir.

Celia thanking Freddy/Chester is also interesting. She's obviously more aware of everything than the rest of the team is, and she's got history with those voices, but she's also the first to really acknowledge how pointed these incidents are. There is a very consistent theme of incidents connecting to the teams current situation or desires. I hope we get to see more of this from her where she's more aware that there a personality at play rather than just a voice.

We cap off with a lovely bit of banter between Alice and Gwen where they almost don't try to kill each other. It was very sweet. And obviously an episode with all this going on couldn't leave out a good ol' .jmj error to really hammer it home.

Also, Colin's not dead. Maybe.

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

Incident/CAT#R#DPHW Master Sheet and Terminology Sheet

Klaus Watch: We're back with a very exciting Klaus Watch. Row 20 has CAT2RC1147 and no date, location, or notes. I lied about it being exciting.

DPHW Theory: 1147 is interesting. Because crosslinks do seem to impact DPHWs based on the two Bonzo episodes but Mascot (Kids) -/- Murder was at 2275. Which implies that Mascot (Kids) has 2 in Death and Pain as default and that Murder doesn't increase those values. It does seem to increase Helplessness though which is something that makes a good deal of sense at least.

CAT# Theory: CAT2 is very CAT2. While it fits with the most popular theory, well enough at least, I just wrote an essay entitled Putting the CAT# Back in the Bag: The Flaws With Person/Place/Object if anyone is interested.

R# Theory: C is inline with my ideas. Very easy to discount this as entirely fiction.

Header talk: Doppleganger (Interdimensional) -/- Murder is a very interesting one. These are all existing categories so interdimensional doubles are things the OIAR have dealt with in the past. So dimension hoppers aren't anything new and with everything that's happened this episode I think we're going to see a lot more of it, and characters that are a lot more knowledgeable about it than our protagonists.

[viridianevergarden]

Reading comprehension and critical thinking has really gone out the window hasn’t it? At least in a portion of the fandom.

People are forever stuck under the presumption that Az feels pure lust for Elain and nothing more. That lust suddenly doesn’t go hand in hand with love? That Az is mentally fucked up and should get therapy yet no one else in the IC should? That Az is wrong for naturally shifting his feelings of love from one person to another? That he’s wrong because he didn’t “take a break”? That because of these, Az doesn’t deserve to have love and to love in general?

People are also forever stuck under the presumption that these characters are oh so evil and shouldn’t deserve love at the same time? Take Rhys for a popular example. (When it’s a book series about the ‘villain’ getting the girl. The math isn’t mathing. He’s not even a real, true villain).

No character in ACOTAR is meant to be a saint, I thought everyone knew that. (Oh my god! Morally grey characters when they do morally grey things, shocking😧)

I find most Azriel antis are literally just people who can’t put two and two together. Or just don’t like him for whatever reason they may have. (Everyone has their opinions, yes). But my god, the shallow interpretation and failure to understand his character annoys me ngl. He’s a complex character but he’s not a damn mathematical equation. (He is complex yet linear.)

“He only thought about sex in the bonus chapter.”

As if Elain also wasn’t aroused too? And gave him permission? (Omg, mutual consent! Blasphemy!)

But also the fact that they disregard Az’s noticeable and careful attention to Elain that he has shown throughout the entire series? They disregard purposefully romanticized moments?

“What happened with Elain?”

“What about Elain?”

“I’m getting her back.”

“I can imagine.”

“Would you like me to show you the garden?”

“There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.”

“This is Truth-teller.”

Shadows gathered around the room like snakes preparing to strike.

“Sit. I’ll take care of it.”

“Wait until everyone is seated before eating.”

“We need to get these chains off her.”

Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring [Elain]…

“She doesn’t need anything.”

“The Cauldron made you a Seer.”

“Happy Solstice.”

Staying up with her til 3 am, talking about her gardening plans.

The kiss on the cheek.

“Beautiful.”

Countless times of him gently carrying her around.

Him constantly looking out at her garden.

Him spending actual effort to get her a thoughtful gift for solstice.

Facing death itself to get her back immediately by himself.

A laugh so deep and joyous.

Looking at that headache powder every night for over a year without ever using it.

The absence of his shadows in her presence.

“His secret to tell, never hers.”

Need I go on? Azriel is always hyper focused on Elain. Always. If it weren’t for him, Elain would probably be dead or in more trouble than she ever would have been before.

If all Azriel cared about was slipping under Elain’s dress, why did he attend to her so? Why is he hyper aware of her? Why is he so assertive with her needs over anyone else? Even over Nesta? Why would he feel the need to defend her against Nesta, her own sister, if it called for it? Why does he respect her and Lucien’s boundary by refusing to have eyes on Lucien for the sake of their privacy? Why was he the only one to show initiative over anyone else to get Elain back to safety now rather than later, by himself, even if it meant certain death?

But yeah, all he wants is her body. Right? Yeah, that makes sense…

I’m just saying. No main SJM character would ever go through so much effort just to bed another character. Thats not SJM’s style nor is it logical in the slightest.

But oh yes, he feels entitled to her and her body…

…Entitled?

Wrong E word.

Envy ≠ Entitlement.

Feeling Envious of the love that his brothers have? Of the bonds they have with the other sisters? Yet he’s the only one left all by his lonesome? He feels left out. Third wheeled. And rationally so. He’s happy for his brothers but envious all the same. (As if Cassian didn’t feel the same but no one said shit about him did they?)

I’ve said this in another post too but he is NOT looking at Elain and going “she should be mine.”

He doesn’t even think he deserves her for freaks sake.

Rhys doesn’t really know Azriel. Cassian doesn’t really know Azriel. No one truly knows Azriel. The only one who has truly understood some semblance of Azriel is Elain. Even when his heart and feelings are so incredibly gated off from everyone.

So that word —entitlement— that people keep throwing around from Rhys’ lips is completely misguided.

The sheer mischaracterization makes me see red 💀

But back to the point, with obvious and mutual romantic feelings, being horny is normal. (This is also an adult romantasy series, shocking that there’s sexual content).

I’ll die on that hill for Az and Elain.

I don’t get how it can be this hard, but maybe it’s just me.

[kaledya]

Hello !

I will just throw a "THANK YOU OMGODS", in general for everything I saw and then thank you personnality in each msg🌸

Aaaaah there is so much things to say *crying and trying to figure it out*

• The organisation and plot

I'm happy you like the plotline of this first season !

New ideas by talking is the best, I'm glad it work for you !

_

So, I think you are right for killing Valentino to save Angel, but let's not kill his soul. I'm saying this because if in season 2 of Hazbin Hotel actual show we have a backstory reveals about this villain, it will be nice to explore it in Arencha Amendable also.

So what if : Charlie kills Valentino with her poison tail, like you said but it just kill him over and over again and just block him for regenerate so he just disappear for a while. (If in the actual show Vivzie tell us things about him, he can come back, we figure it out is background in the ff and then we decide what to do with him. If there is no backstory about him, we let him dead and we don't care anymore.)

Tell me what you think of this alternative!🌸

_

I agree with you for including relationships in the arcs itself, some cute interactions and not a separate story can be nice ! I think it something that could happen easily after the big episode 6 action and drama !

Thank you for the advice !

_

For episode 6, all we be explain it time *disappeared in smoke* But I need to break Lolicia a little, but don't worry its my baby, if she suffers its for a logical reason! (The sentence that doesn't feel better at all ahah)

_

I have an epic idea for their encounter (Constantine and Lolicia) ! Ah ! I'm so excited !

_

Yes the Japanese festival is a big activity (will took 6 months in the story to prepare/ until the end of season 1) that Charlie propose and it was in the episode 4.4, she has a meeting to talk about it with Vaggie, Pentious, Alastor and Lolicia!

In act one : multiple little activities for the group to know eachothers better.

In act two : one big activity (artistic/organisation), where everyone create what they like link to festival stands + actually have important guests (Overlords) so that Charlie can show the progress in friendship of the team.

_

Oh yes !! I forgot that we had to discard Lucifer if Constantine would be crowned so soon. I understand, "bye animatic short coronation ! I loved you!" Ahah

_

• Lucifer discussion

The Constantine and Lucifer relationship being like Shifu and Tai is wild but I understand perfectly i think (love kung fu panda)

Constantine's parents pushed him to be this perfect heir destined to rules seven layers of Hell and protect his little sister. This destroyed his "humanity/softness" in him.

And at the end Lucifer kind of look at his son like "this is what I made of you..." and Constantine is just pissed because he just want his dad, the king, to be proud of him even if he is not a dreamer like him, even if he is harsher now. And Constantine would be repeating his words like "yes this is what you made of me !" *voice broke, tail lashes in anger*

But actually the family just want to be great again but like there is some problems to solve first (like problems that can be solve with therapy and others like Roo ahah).

And Lucifer just need some damn time, his life is like running a school full of psychopaths kids and nothings goes as he plans and Lilith is not there to keep him straight and his son is something so great he is surprise that his education worked perhaps too well and his daughter wants to redeemed the damn psychopaths kids.

Give him a break 🤣 poor guy, 10 000 of nonsense!

And yes I know what is Oroboros, the serpent that eat his own tail in a never ending circle, its used a lot in series !

And for Lucifer corruption design, I'm glad you like the idea by the ways ! I will try to draw it to give you a visual of what I have in mind. But I also like a lot your Lucifer with his golden scars (when he fall with Lilith) like burns. So I will try to mix it and show you.

_

• Constantine new golden accent

Hell yes ! YEESSS ! I love the new white and black and gold outfit too ! I just imagine him with a crazy scientist blouse but like with gold ahaha. I adore the little braids with rings and the new eyes. And the hair ! Slay. My favorite part even if we can see it directly is the gold makeup under the eyes (as you saw i draw it in the fashion battle ahah)

So great!🌸🌸

_

• Eve/Roo and Lilith

I think Lilith and Lucifer knows Roo, the embodiment of evil, the corruption, but I don't know if they know that Eve is the host of Roo at the moment (and its probably what surprise Lilith when she saw her little sister after 10 000 years and its the surprise that make her lost her battle and be emprisonned) i dont know if that make sense ?

Roo/Eve is definitely very strong, for sure ! In the ff, Abaddon is her guardian and needs to keep her in his womb/Hell but perhaps Roo find a way to go on Earth with already crazy human and corrupted them more like Alastor maybe ? But herself she can't get out of Hell, just part of her like a illness.

Poor Eve, she is so sweet (I love your design of her) and so damaged and in the ff very cursed. But she still try to fight, as we saw in the short story she can sometimes find consciousness again. So she is still redeemable under all the corruption of Roo who tries to keep her in control most of the time.

Arencha Amendable, Eve, indeed? Ahah (bad pun 1)

_

I like that little angry dialogue between Eve and Lucifer ! And honestly, Eve is right Lucifer could understand her if only :

  - he saw Constantine and Charlie kill eachother   - be possessed by Roo 24/7

I don't know if she is suppose to love Michael or Adam by the way ? I'm little lost with the AU and swap AU !

But I think if Lucifer would be taken by Roo (just an hypothesis) it will be chaos because Roo would be king and she would transform this Hell into the Hell we used to see (with legions and warriors ect ect) the OPPOSITE of Charlie's plan ahah. A mess.

Yes for everything you said. I like it.

_

Also the Giovanni, and Constantine looking for his mom (not us having the same idea !!! Love it) i will talk about it in a separate message. Because AH jdjdjd.

Also, I'm so happy you figure it out more about Constantine and Serenity relationship! And Serenity background, now I can write her with more details. I think i will feature it at the end of Overlords Meeting ARC, just before episode 6.

  - Alastor tries to know why Serenity defended him in the meeting against the Vees   - Serenity says "whatever ! i do what I want peace" and perhaps she says "I can't stay too long Radio Demon, some of us are busy" she smiles and *disappeared*.

That is a transition, to show Serenity going to see Constantine, make report of the situation at Overlords Meetings, [and also introcuticing the Giovanni/my OC (assistant) i create for the duo djdjd, in next chapter]

Anyway, and this is where we understand the dynamics between Constantine and Serenity that you explained. YES ! its all coming together. But I will still wait for you to agree or not the idea i got for Giovanni, (i have questions!!)

_

I'm glad you liked Abaddon interactions with his brothers and sisters !

And don't worry, Abaddon and Lucifer will figure it out. I think because Lucifer has this idea of creating another part in Hell, he will ask the autorisation of Abaddon who will be like "no ? If there is seven layers is for a reason" and Lucifer be like "damn it ! But I want that circus with a pool a ducks... *sad face*". And perhaps by talking they will brush some important unspoken business about what they feels.

_

And no, thank you ! I love talking about all that !🌸🌸 and you don't have to worry about asking questions, its just that I don't want to forget anything and I like things making sense ahah for you and for me !🌸

Don't worry, long message is a fact and not an option anymore and I like it ahah. But its me you should say sorry, I don't want to take all the place in your blog !

Have a nice day too (I'm coming back though)🤣

I'M SO GLAD THAT I COULD MAKE YOU HAPPY!!!AND I'M SO LOVED THAT YOU LIKED EVERYTHING!!🌸🌸

I seriously think you have a quality writing and the planning was very good, it's normal for me to like it.🛐

Yes! And talking about new ideas is always fun!!

--

Yes, I wasn't planning on killing Valentino, it's exactly like he has Stage 4 cancer.He will suffer with poison, just like he made Angel suffer for years.He will wish to die But he won't die.

In that arc, at first I thought that Angel would stand against Valentino and then Husk would intervene in the incident. Charlie was getting there at the climax of the incident.I did want to do this because Angel wasn't a baby who needed to be saved, he was on his own for his own freedom. Only Charlie will be the one to break the chains so he can move and defend himself. And Charlie wanted Angel to choose the punishment of valentino too

So Valentino's punishment was Angle's decision.

I think I like the alternative an lot!! It'll be kind of like a decaying man, Valentino won't die , and if we need him we can use him again, if not, we can prepare the fire.

---

I'M SO EXCITED TO SEE EPISODE 6!!

But yes, the relationships that develop between characters who participate in story arcs generally seem to be easier in terms of writing and feel more natural.

--

God PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR SPOILERS JUST GIVE ME THE NAME WHO SHOULD I SACRIFICE FOR YOU!!!

All kidding aside, I'm seriously excited for ep6 (smoke won't work next time 🤺)

This words did not comfort me. I am also kinda a writer and there is nothing more fun than giving trauma on characters.But as a reader it's just painful to read this

I hope and pray that nothing bad happens to Lolicia.🙏

AND YES THIS WORD DIDN'T FEEL GOOD

"they will suffer, but they will suffer for good reasons, for character development, FOR STORY!!! we are against unreasonable suffering🦅" - Probably Marquisev

Anyway I just hope for the best for Lolicia *cries on the floor*

--

EPIC ENCOUNTER??? PLEASE GIVE MORE INFORMATION

"MARQUISEV DROP THE CONSTANTINE'S AND LOLICA'S LORE AND MY LIFE IS YOURSSSSSS "- in a Viking sound.

--

I seriously think the Japanese festival will be a very fun and relaxing arc.And I already love the details you wrote.Slice-of-life episodes are great in such fantasy/action TV series!

And I can't wait to read the dialogues at the festival!

---

Kung fu panda is a really great series! (Movies 1&2 are still my favorite! Shen and Tai lung are seriously great villians)

Yes, I liken their relationship because the purpose of shi-fu was to make Tai lung strong was not bad he wanted to see his son become a dragon warrior, and this caused Tai lung to destroy himself for years just to make his father proud.

"ALL I DID I DID YOU TO MAKE YOU PROUD TELL ME HOW PROUD YOU'RE SHIFU TELLL MEEEEEEE"

Constantine was the firstborn male heir, the prince of Hell.One day he would be the one to rule the throne If Lilith and Lucifer had not raised him this way, this would have been the end of Constantine and Charlie.Because a weak king would be eaten by the hyenas in hell.

And Lucifer and Lilith were aware of Roo, so they wanted to prepare Constsntine for that too.

And the boy Constantine is determined to tear himself to pieces just to make his family proud and gain their appreciation.

Years passed and Constantine became what he is now because of The way is is raised (+Plus Constantine was already someone whose emotionality was slowly corrupting due to his intelligence (Lucifer and Lilith only dug the hole deeper)

Yes, he was the prince he was supposed to be, but the child inside him had been dead for a long time.And yes, now there was a perfect heir who could rule hell, there was someone who could protect Charlie, but as you said, the humanity in Constantine died. If there's still some humanity in his now, it's thanks to Charlie. Things would have been much worse without her.

Lilith and Lucifer did not follow this path with Charlie after seeing what Constantine had become.They couldn't do that anyway. Charlie's personality was never suitable for such a task. And in this way, in fact, one of the sibling symbolized the sun in Hell and the other symbolized the moon, while Charlie was hope, Constsntine was cruel thruth

If Charlie was a shield, Constsntine was a sword, a kind of balance for hell.

Lilith even made such a speech to Constantine when he was young.

-

Yes, Lucifer thought his set-up was right, but he knows that his son's current state is his own fault.

And he really regretted it, there was even a scene where Lucifer was telling Constantine that he could relax and He was telling him not to put such a burden on himself, even the strongest people could fall, And something like that,

Hearing this, Constantine seriously couldn't control his anger for a moment.

I made such a doodle while watching Tai Lung and Shifu's battle.

And the dialogue you wrote is seriously true! Now Constantine doesn't care as much about his father's approval as he did when he was a child.She doesn't even talk to Lucifer unless she has to But he still loves his father deep down he still has good memories with him.But Con's personality isn't one that would care about something like going and mending family ties.

After visiting Charlie for the last time in the series, he was going to Lucifer and talking to him.

"You have two options, Father either you'll put aside your pride and go to your daughter and listen to her as her father, not as the king of hell, or you will not only lose your son, but also your beloved daughter. Make your choice Father. And chose it well Until then, I hope you have fun in your eternal loneliness."

And yes, not only is the dialogue you wrote great, but the tail detail is really great.As much as Constantine is a poker face, his tail sometimes reflects his emotions.

When he gets scared, he always wraps his tail around his legs.When it gets angry, it makes a rattlesnake noise with his tail or it lashes his tail very fast.

If he is very happy, he starts to shake it.

Yes, in essence, it is not something they cannot solve, they need to sit down, talk and agree.

There's nothing therapy can't solve. UWU But Roo might cause some trouble

--

LMAO THE EXAMPLE YOU GIVE ABOUT LUCIFER'S LIFE IS VERY TRUE!!EXACTLY LIKE THIS I'm begging you, someone please give this man a holiday.

Dad?

Yes dear?

I want I want to redeemed those psychopath kids

Oh Father.... *Dies inside*

This man needs a holiday in Mardives and sun, beach, sea and greenery.Tired of chaos and blood

--

I'm seriously looking forward to the corrupted Lucifer design!!I have full confidence that you will make a really interesting design.And I'm so glad you loved the burn scars on my Lucifer design!!

-

I'M VERY HAPPY THAT YOU LIKE IT!

I'm so glad you like the gold theme!!

And I'm glad you like the new white themed outfit, it's probably something Constsntine will wear to very serious meeting.

LMAO it's seriously a fun sight to imagine.

I'm so glad you loved the rings in her hair and yes, the gold sequins/makeup under his eyes.💅💅

And yes, you drew the gold detail so good in the fashion battle comic! 🤌

And I have a question, do you think Con's hair looks better in a ponytail or braided/loose, I can't decide?

--

I think it makes sense because if Roo/Eve hasn't come and talked to Lucifer before, I don't think they would know that Roo's host is Eve.

And yes, even though Lilith is an arch-rival in the war, Roods is very strong (assuming that she gets her power from the existing evil). Lilith's slightest hesitation will make her lose the war. And maybe before Lilith disappeared, she got suspicious about something and started doing research, and that's how she went after Roo. She stated that she was going to go on a mission for a while, but she didn't return.So, it is not clear whether he left of his own volition or something happened to him.(It is mentioned that she has some kind of duties to do, just like in canon)

But it's just an idea, tell me what you think!!

Yes, Roo is like a plague. As long as she stays in her laboratory, she does not cause much destruction, but when she goes out and starts infecting people, she becomes the real danger.

But luckily for now Abaddon can keep her in hell.

I'm so glad you liked Eve's design.And yes, especially during the time she spent in Eden, she was a very kind-hearted and sweet woman.

Yes, even though it is very deep, there is still an old eve there.Maybe there is still hope for him, who knows

And yes, Roo's chains are really strong right now They usually prevent Eve from going out.

--

I'm glad you liked the dialogue.And that's exactly it, in short, for Lucifer is very difficult to understand her.

-

Hmm, that's a bit complicated.

But the difference in Swap Au is that Michael and Eve have moved from friendship to love because of Lucifer not rebell so they have time for This event and

.After a lot of events that happened, things got very complicated (it would take a long time to explain this, so there is no need for details, after all, this is the story of Swap au.)

They were really close friends in the normal AU, but before they got to the love stage, Lucifer started the war and by God's order, Eve and Adam were banned from the Garden.After that, Michael and Eve never saw each other again.

There used to be a concept of the two of them realized that they loved each other after the war, even though they would never see each other again, but I thought it was unnecessary.I decided not to use this. (İdk)

She didn't love him when he was in the garden, but they learned to love each other in exile.After all, they were husband and wife and they needed to start a family.

I hope I helped!!

---

This is a really interesting scenario.And in a scenario where Roo takes over Lucifer, it would be inevitable for her to take 100% control of Hell.Yes, Hell would be a place ready for a complete war.

And yes, such a scenario is probably something that could be Charlie's worst nightmare.

--

Thank you!! This new idea really makes sense.Because if these characters had met on screen, it probably wouldn't have felt natural because building a friendship between the two would have happened faster that way.Also, sweet little short stories come to my mind.In these seven years, Constantine has become a little softer thanks to Serenity And he realizes he likes wolf cubs

Really can't wait to see it. I'm very curious about both ep 6 and the future. Your writing is really great.Every evening, around eight o'clock, I'm updateing AO3 whenever I can.

you're blessing me And I haven't been able to review it yet but the last overlord episode OMG It was like watching an episode of GOT God dialouges it was so tense and I love politics mystery intrigue EVERYTHING AMAZING YOU COOKED SO MUCH!!!

I'm blessing 🛐🛐🛐

---

LMAO yes, there will probably be a scene like that, when Alastor asks for an answer from Serenity, and end up Serenity will only give him more question and leaveing from there.

"I wish you luck, Radio Demon, with your little cleanup mission and your dog branch with Vox. But for now, our meeting has to end early, you know, some are after The bigger Fish. or snake if I get specific.

And I really can't wait to see Giovanni and Hürren after Serenity reports. Seriously, Giovanni and Hürrem seem like they will be a very fun duo to read.

I'm so excited to see how you write Serenity and Constantine's interactions.I really loved how you wrote the tension between Serenity and Lolica and Alastor in the last overlord episode, masterpiece 🤌🤌

--

It was really fun to read the dialogue you wrote between Abaddon and Lucifer lmao

Good hmph, then I'll make myself a circus full of plastic ducks - Lucifer.

Abaddon- ?????

But all jokes aside, it makes me very happy to hear that there is a possibility that things can get better between them.

By the way, what is Abaddon's rank among siblings in terms of age?

All places on my blog are at your service, madam🛐🛐

Please feel free to fill in those spaces with your writing, you blessing me🤌

And yes, paragraph-like texts are now our factory setting.I wonder how long our correspondence would have been if it were a fanfic.

And thank you so much again for answering the questions!!

I wish you a good day and take care!!🫂❤️❤️❤️

[whump-is-a-fabled-thing]

Do you have a guide for writing good trypanophobia? It is something I fortunately have never struggled with, and I've no idea how to put myself in the mindset

my biggest piece of advice is to talk to people who actually have trypanophobia, so thank you so much for doing that! no two people have the same experiences but i write very candidly about my own, and i can tell when other authors are likely writing from a place where they have never dealt with it.

writing about my own phobia through the lens of whumpees has helped me uncover an iceberg of medical trauma and issues with consent and restraint. some questions you may ask about your whumpee(s) are,

were they born with the phobia and/or did it develop from a triggering event?

have they been restrained, shamed, abused for their fear?

what does their fight/flight/freeze/fawn response look like?

what specifically triggers them about needles? [one of my vent posts for inspiration] does it apply to everything? how do they feel about vaccines/blood draws/iv drips/stitches?

are they afraid of the doctor/medic too, or just the needle itself? will they only trust doctors/medics who have never hurt them? what about the dentist?

some whumpees, and even some real people with trypanophobia, are convinced they need to be physically restrained during procedures for their own good. there is always another way, and reading a story where physical restraint is treated as a moral good and something that whumpee brushes off/is grateful for can be even more triggering than reading about the procedure itself.

if your whumpee is trying to deal with their phobia, they could undergo treatments such as emdr or exposure therapy. they could ask caretaker to hold their hand or hug them or distract them with singing or talking. caretaker can be ready with some candy to soothe the pain or a glass of water to calm their crying. medication/sedation are also options if you and/or your whumpee would prefer to not experience the moment at all. just keep in mind that sedation may involve another needle...

my main ongoing fic series, @overcome-series, is about a trypanophobic legend from @linkeduniverse, and i also frequently borrow chief from @thatbrokenpromise. im very grateful to have had a part in developing chief's phobia in the first place. legend is similar to me, with some aspects of his fear less restrained for dramatic reasons and because i have conditioned myself into behaving to a fault. chief is a trained medic despite his phobia, and has undergone exposure therapy so he can handle himself in dire situations.

highlights from my trypanophobic whumpee reading list:

caretaker finds whumpee trapped with a medic who is about to physically restrain and sedate him for treatment. caretaker asks if whumpee trusts him to hold the needle instead. link

whumpee and his partner visit the doctor, and it's hard to comfort each other when they're both scared out of their minds. link

trypanophobic medic feels empathy for his age regressed whumpee, who is being very brave about needing a tetanus shot. link

trypanophobic medic does everything he can to help whumpee accept that he needs stitches, but trust is fragile and hard conversations will need to be had. link

trypanophobic medic!whumpee needs stitches, and his team isn't prepared for the fear that comes of it. link

thank you again for reaching out, and im happy to answer more questions!

[fullscoreshenanigans]

When and how did you get into TPN? For me I discovered TPN in 2021 through the Fandom page where I spoiled myself about Conny and some other stuff which I forgot and in 2023 I purchased the first two volumes of the manga and I fell in love. And the rest is ancient history!

Sorry about my little history lesson!

You're good! (If anyone else wants to share how they got into the series on this post I'd been down for that too)

My sister and a friend recommended the anime to me at some point (I want to say after it was on US Netflix) as something I might like. I did not pay any attention to this at all lol. They did lord this over me when it became one of my favorite series. But I managed to avoid all spoilers for it other than the orphanage being a farm, which wasn't a big deal to me since it happens so early on.

Fast forward to March 2021, within the ballpark of a day or two of the season 2 finale airing in Japan. I finished watching another series on Netflix, and it recommended TPN to me. I thought, I vaguely recognize this title, the description sounds interesting, and the thumbnail looks cute, so why not check out the first episode.

(dmotta3's blind reaction lives rent free in my head and inspired this post)

I got to the end of episode 6 and realized that my idea to just check out one episode at 1am was terrible because it was now 4am. But I had the day off from work, so after going to bed and doing everything else I needed to do that day I wrapped up the rest of season 1 because was hooked. I had to know what the fuck is up with these little babies with the mental fortitude and emotional maturity to handle this fantastical dystopia they found themselves in so well. And the final six episodes delivered and then some for me.

Me within watching the first ten minutes of S1e01: oh this kid with the black emo hair is going to be my favorite :)

Me upon watching S1e11: LKJFSDLKFLKDFJL OMFG?? OM?FG?? 🥴🙃🥴 THERAPY! THERAPY FOR A THOUSAND YEARS FOR YOU!!!

I noticed the second season wasn't on Netflix, so while avoiding as many spoilers as I could I took a peek around and discovered that a lot of people were unhappy with season 2. I asked some friends who had watched it if they liked it, and they said it was all right, but not as good as season 1. So what I ended up doing was figuring out where the first season left off in the manga, and then read a few chapters before watching the corresponding parts in the anime to see where it really diverged. By the time I got to the bunker in the anime and saw there was no dad to go in it, I dropped it entirely to focus on reading the manga. It took roughly four days from me putting on the anime on a whim to me reading the bonus chapters and epilogue, and I was initially kind of bummed about it for reasons I've discussed here.

(Chart I made to explain to a friend group my personal enjoyment of the series by arc because it's one of the silly things we do with each other, while avoiding some spoilers by removing the names of the last few arcs. I'd rank Cuvitidala and the human world arc a bit higher now and Return to Grace Field arc lower, but the rest is still largely the same.)

But even with my gripes with the series, it had nestled itself inside my heart and mind, and I was endeared to it enough to buy the blu-ray of season 1 and import the soundtrack.

Another crucial aspect for me was that @1000sunnygo was translating the mystic code book around this time as well as a plethora of other content that wasn't receiving official English releases. This kept me engaged with this silly little shounen that had endeared me so deeply, as I had new official content and information to look forward to every now and then in addition to latching on to some fanfics that proved to be foundational for my personal interpretation/enjoyment of the series. It also helped explain some of the issues I had with it, one of them being the pacing toward the end due to Shirai trying to salvage his health after being in serialized publishing for almost four years while still maintaining his sense of artistic integrity by ending the series on his own terms. I don't think this frees said choices from critique, but it helped me personally accept them more.

And then after almost ten months after first watching season 1 on a whim, I made this blog, though I didn't really start using it until February 2022. It was a first for me since I usually just keep everything on main in a random hodgepodge, but the brainrot wasn't going away, and I couldn't put my mutuals through another major interest, so here we are roughly 2.5 years later.

[pitroig]

Mrs. Maisel: it’s ok that you’re not perfect.

I can only describe the latest episode of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel as charming and intelligent. I believe it has perfectly encapsulated, in its pacing, scene selection, and motifs, the reasons why this series will remain embroidered in our minds like a heart in bright red thread. Additionally, I think it manages to explain the storytelling of this season and tie up the loose ends we have seen in Midge's character over the past 8 episodes, which have angered a part of the audience.

And I think that all the explanations lie in those four minutes of monologue that she steals from Gordon Brown's pettiness, and with it, steals the spotlight from all the men who have taken it from her until now.

- Is Midge a "bad mother"? Probably. Very likely, in fact. This last episode shows us a Midge so focused on her success and career that she doesn't scold her children even when they have clearly done something very wrong (pretending to be sick and insulting their elders is wrong no matter how you look at it). In the monologue itself, she anticipates that her children will end up in therapy complaining about her, as we know actually happens, and she accepts it as part of the evolution of parent-child relationships. But even more revealing is the fact that she pretends to forget her children's names and then remembers them, ah, when the monologue is already over. - Is Midge a worse character for being a "bad mother"? No! On the contrary! I think it makes perfect sense in terms of character development because from the very beginning, all Midge wants is to be the center of attention. Fame. In the Catskills, always winning awards and competing. At her own wedding, giving a monologue. Maybe she never wanted to be a mother; what she wanted was to be herself. But what she was raised for was to be a good wife. Only when she sheds that burden, only when Abe sees her exactly as she is, does she understand that it's the layers of convention that have been dimming her shine. Midge loves an audience. When years later, she has a free Tuesday, and we hope she uses that Tuesday to tie up one of the loose ends: Will she go see her children? Grandchildren? Her parents' grave? Joel's grave? No. She wants to work. She needs the adrenaline rush of the show. She needs to be the center of attention. And there are only two people in the world who understand that. One is Susie. The other, of course, is Lenny Bruce.

- Lenny Bruce. I don't want to spoil the devastating opening scene or ruin the smile of the last scene they share together, but I'll comment that in the monologue, Midge says that dates, boyfriends, lovers become cannon fodder for the comedic. She does it with her own ex-husband, right in front of him, and she will do it later with other ex-husbands. But she never does it with Lenny Bruce because Lenny Bruce, the one she doesn't want to see when he's no longer himself, is the guiding star of Midge, and she will never, ever dare to touch him for fear of breaking him.

- So, does she love Lenny or does she love Joel? Despite the undeniable chemistry Midge and Lenny share, she can't love Lenny because, in human terms, there isn't much he can offer Midge. Joel, on the other hand, despite his many faults and fragile male ego, is still the guy who cares about Midge, and above all, the guy who always sees Midge as a shining star, always the center of attention in his life. And in the end, that's what she has always wanted, right? I think it's okay for Midge Maisel to be selfish, to lose focus, and to be clumsy when it comes to handling her ambitions and her life. We're all doing the best we can, and chances are, we're messing up all the time.  It isn’t a show about a woman who has it all. It is about a broken woman who has lost the only thing that gave her life a sense of purpose and identity. It was about another woman marginalized by societal norms, ignored and living in the shadows of sticky-floored bars. And how together, they found a safe space for them to be, their reason for being in comedy—not in motherhood, marriage, or a desk job—but in building this space, they broke all the codes and rules. 

No matter the cost.

*Please note that the term "bad mother" used here is loosely defined. I am referring to widely recognized social conventions regarding the expectations and stereotypes associated with motherhood.