#those producers better not try and tell us they were just fighting

[bagel-the-cardslinger]

At least leave the one in Deadpool and Wolverine

[obsessiveagony2point0]

Similarities

Edwin and Dream share something in common. Something more than a love of books.

⚠️❓ - Possible Trigger Warning

[ficlet contains mentions of fear/anxiety and being afraid of small spaces/claustrophobia]

•—-•—-•—-•—-•

Dream didn’t talk about his imprisonment much.

It was said mostly in passing, as a way to explain why he hadn’t met Hob when that story was told, but the how and why and other details had never been told.

Hob, of course, knew. He knew what had happened to Dream as the Being had told Hob everything. So, when he reminisced about the past, which he often did, Hob never talks about those details. That was for Dream to talk about and Dream alone, when he was ready.

No one ever expected or anticipated that the day Dream would be ready to tell someone else about it, it would be in a chaotic, noisy pub.

Dream, Edwin and Charles were loitering around The New Inn, as they usually did when it was absurdly busy and Hob needed to jump in and lend a hand.

Edwin was at the bar, reading a book Dream had produced from his library in the Dreaming, while Charles was trailing closely behind Hob, asking questions and knowing no one else could see him while Hob, who could see him, talked away.

In the beginning, the customers would ask Hob if he was ok, concerned that maybe he was working too hard and was slowly losing his sanity, but he would just flash them a big grin and say, “I’m alright. Just talking to a ghost.”

They stopped asking.

Dream was perched next to Edwin by the bar, sipping on a glass of white wine that never seemed to grow to room temperature no matter how long it sat there. He wasn’t paying much attention to Charles’ mischief or to Hob’s multitasking chaos.

Instead, he was keeping an eye on Edwin.

If you passed a quick glance at the young spirit, you wouldn’t notice anything amiss. Just a boy, casually reading his book, trying to dive into the pages and words.

But Dream knew better.

Edwin may have had the book open, but in the hour they’d been sitting there he had barely gone through 5 pages. His gaze may have been trained on the inked words in front of him, but his eyes showed that his mind was elsewhere. His jaw was tight, his shoulder’s stiff, and Dream could see a small tremor in his hands where they gripped the edges of the book.

Dream recognized this look. The look of fighting the rough waves as you tried to stay afloat, trying not to sink and drown. He himself had to tread through those rough waters until they settled.

Sometimes, he still had to.

“You do not have to read the book if you are not enjoying it.” Dream said before bringing the glass of wine to his lips.

Edwin blinked, the fog in his eyes dissipating as he looked at Dream. “I am.”

Dream raised an eyebrow. “Are you, though, Edwin Payne..?”

Edwin opened his mouth, closed it, looked back at the book, and then shut it softly before whispering, “No…”

Dream hummed.

“It’s not that it’s not a good book.” The young spirit said quickly as to not offend the Prince of Stories. “I just…”

“Are currently unable to enjoy it.” Dream finished. “Your mind is…occupied. By feelings and images of the past.”

Edwin looked again at Dream, eyes wide. “How did you know?”

“It is not often I find myself understanding how one may feel.” Dream said softly as his thumb ran up the curved glass. “It is even more rare that I understand because I have gone through a fairly similar experience myself.”

Edwin stared at Dream, who was staring at his white wine with furrowed brows. He realized, with surprise, that Dream was very much referring to his own imprisonment. “You’re…well…you’re you. How could you possibly have gone through what I have?”

Dream’s eyes hardened, growing dark. “Endless may not be able die like most creatures do…but we can be captured and hurt through the use of the occult.” White stars glanced at Edwin. “Humans often meddle with things they do not understand. You know this to be true.”

Edwin was silent for a while, turning his attention back to the book that laid on the bar counter. He brought a hand up to stroke the velvet cover and traced his fingers over the gold lettering.

Perhaps…Dream could truly understand…

“I thought what I experienced in Hell would be the trigger to this fear…” Edwin whispered after silently gathering his thoughts, his hands dropping to his lap. “But…instead…what triggered it the first time was a dark basement. It wasn’t until it happened a second time I realized it was because of that room. That room in the attic of the school where I was dragged to and sacrificed….” He scoffed venomously. “4 bloody walls in the dark overpowered all the terrors of Hell.”

“It’s frustrating…” Edwin continued. “It’s been decades since that night and the fear of it prevents me from going into any small, dark space that remotely resembles an attic. It impedes on our detective work if I cannot enter a small room where a crime has been committed.” He clenched his fists tight as he hissed, “I want it to stop.”

The dream eldritch was silent as he stared at the young, frustrated spirit. Though Edwin was over a century old and very wise, there were times where he showed that, deep down, he was still a 16 year old boy.

Eventually, Dream spoke. “I was also confined to a small room, much like your attic. Inside this small room was my prison, that was even smaller than the space it resided in.” He stared at his warped reflection in the wine glass. “My prison was a sphere. A sphere made of steel and glass…hidden away in a pathetic man’s basement where ancient markings kept me in place and where above me was cruelly decorated like the night sky to mock me and remind me of what I was missing.”

Dream let out soft sigh. “Once I was free, it took me many months to finally be able to stay for long periods in a small room where the walls felt too close and the ceiling too low.” He looked up at the ceiling of the pub. “Even now, there are times that this space becomes fearful.”

“It does…?” Edwin asked, his voice trembling a little. “So…the fear…it doesn’t leave?”

“No.” Dream replied turning his gaze back on Edwin. “It does not. Though it happens less, that fear still plagues me. It will always be there in the back of your mind, trying to drown you.”

“Then there is no hope for me.” Edwin said, defeatedly, his shoulders dropping.

Dream smiled a little. “There is always hope, Edwin Payne. That hope, that raft that will keep you afloat during those fears…that comes from the people around you.”

“The…people around me…?”

The Being turned his gaze. Edwin follow his line of sight, seeing it had landed onto Hob, who was laughing with some of his customers. The immortal caught their stares and waved. Charles looked where Hob was looking, noticed them as well, and grinned widely, also waving.

“The people who love you and care for you…they will be your raft. Your life line. Even if you have no hope in yourself, even if you tell yourself you cannot do it…they will be the hope that will tell you that you can.”

“Hob was…and still is…my raft…” Dream said softly. “He possesses an otherworldly patience I have only ever seen in my sister…and even she has her limits. He has endlessly showered me with it as he has helped me through my fear.” He turned to look at Edwin again, still smiling. “You do not have to battle those waves alone, Edwin. You have many around you who are willing to be your raft.” He placed a slender hand over Edwin’s that had loosened their grip on his slacks. “Myself included.”

Edwin opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Hob, who had finally been able to make his way down to the end of the bar.

“Bloody hell what a night.” The immortal smiled apologetically at them. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to be around much this evening. One of the hazards to owning a business.”

“You were around me.” Teased Charles, who had come up behind Hob.

“Look here, you little shit, that was not because I chose that. That was because you decided that tonight was the night to make ol’ Hob seem more crazy than usual.” Charles laughed as he dodged a swat from Hob, running around to hide behind Edwin.

To any remaining concerned patrons in the pub that evening it looked like Hob was scolding the air next to a shadow of a man and then swatting at a fly.

Those patrons quickly returned their attention back to their drinks.

Hob shook his head at Charles, trying to look stern but unable to as he laughed at the young ghost stick his tongue out. “To make up for it, I’ll watch whatever movies you wanna watch. No complaining.”

“Really!?” Charles beamed.

“Not you.” Hob said as he pointed a finger at Charles. “You don’t get to pick.”

“What!? Robbie, c’mon!”

“Don’t ‘c’mon’ me, you menace.”

“I’ll just possess the TV again.” Charles replied, smugly.

“Do that and I’ll invite Death over for a visit.”

The spirit boys had long since been told by Death herself that she wasn’t going to take them. They were free to roam on earth as long as they continued their work.

Regardless, Charles still paled at the threat. Death was still Death, the taker of souls, the Grim Reaper. Their non-lives were in her hands.

Charles huffed and crossed his arms. “Well played…you win.”

A few customers waved at Hob, beckoning him over to order. “Ah, bollocks…here we go again.” He smiled sheepishly at the spirits and the Endless. “Only a couple more hours, promise.”

Hob hurried away and Charles was about to follow, when he stopped and turned to Edwin. “Hey, are you doing alright? I know…I know you don’t like small rooms very much.”

Edwin blinked, then glanced at Dream. “I…I’m ok right now. Thank you, Charles.”

“Of course. Anything for my best mate.” He placed a hand in Edwin’s shoulder. “If you aren’t ok…please come get me. We’ll…we’ll go outside or something, alright?”

Dream’s words echoed in Edwin’s mind.

‘The people who love you and care for you…they will be your raft…You do not have to battle those waves alone, Edwin.’

The young spirit smiled and placed his hand over Charles’. “I will come get you, I promise.”

Charles grinned and gave Edwin’s shoulder a squeeze before he bounded after Hob once more.

Dream smiled at Edwin. “I believe you will find yourself able to read now.”

The ghost boy looked down at the velvet covered book. He picked it back up, then took in a deep breath and opened it once more.

He did, indeed, find he was able to read.

•—-•—-•—-•—-•

Twitter/X•AO3•Pillowfort •Linktree•Bluesky•Ko-fi

I struggled a bit with this one.

I will admit, I haven’t watched DBD yet. I will be this weekend tho.

But that doesn’t stop me from falling in love with the characters. I am the type of person who “spoils” movies and shows for themselves. I enjoy learning about the characters and the plot and story before I dive into the show. It helps me connect.

The problem with this…method…is I don’t always know the entire plot of something.

Which was issue here.

(If you do not wanna read spoilers for the show and comic, then do not read past the line)

Because DBD is so new, there not a lot out there yet on the show’s version of things. What I mean is, is that in the DBD comic fandom wiki, it says:

“He (Edwin) was abused by bullies who, one evening in 1914, dragged him up to the attics where they dressed up, drew a circle on the floor, and sacrificed him along with frogs and rabbits in an effort to raise devils that never came.

They hid Edwin's body in a trunk, and it was never found, Edwin thought no one looked particularly hard for him since his killers barely covered their tracks.”

I do not know how accurately the show went with the comic as the only thing I can find is an article about how the boys died, which states:

“Edwin's past in 1916 is quite heartbreaking. He had a crush on Simon at their British boarding school. He was invited to a date, only to be ambushed by Simon and his friends. The bullies thought they would have some fun with an occult ritual meant to summon the demonic Sa'al. It feels like they weren't sure that the tome they had would really bring the demon up. But they just wanted to hear Edwin scream and cry. The drunken hazing quickly turns sour as Sa'al comes up and roasts the bullies to ashes. He apologizes to Edwin, but the rules are the rules. Sa'al drags Edwin to Hell as the sacrificial part of the ceremony must be honored.”

So, as I stated above, I struggled. I truly wanted Edwin’s fear to be of the box his body had been hidden in. The fear of the confined space and the four walls and the darkness, because, perhaps, maybe his spirit had been stuck in the box too before he realized and figured out he could leave it.

But the box wasn’t used in the show.

So, I opted for the room, the attic.

Anyway, I’m rambling about this too seriously. I can headcanon things and situations all day long, but I like when those headcanons and my fics have true to the original story details if I can get them in there.

[nancydrewwouldnever]

Remember the comment Tarantino made that was a bit insensitive the way he came off? He may not have been wrong.

Chris has never been a movie star without Marvel, but he was very well-liked on the internet for several years there. A lot of buzz, but not really anymore but he wasn’t ever movie star. He wasn’t exactly ‘actor’ either (in the vein of movie star vs. actor) Even Rian Johnson didn’t exactly want him right off the bat for KO, Chris had to push for it. He’s never been a good script picker, or maybe he doesn’t get the offers. But he pushed and he was good in that role. He doesn’t seem to push or fight for things often.

Marvel really made his career. It’s not a bad thing or something to be disappointed about. I’m sure many starving actors would love to switch places!

Without Marvel, he’s back to being a bad script picker. Everyone has duds, and I like cheesy action movies sometimes, but he hasn’t had a full blown win in some time, just so-so to it’s ok, not bad, not great response to projects. R1 just isn’t it. The CGI even looks horrendous.

I think a lot of us fans had rose-colored glasses on, or higher hopes for him post marvel, you know since he went on and on how much he wanted to direct post-marvel and all the things he wanted to do post-marvel contract. A lot of hype or excitement from himself and his words that seems to have fizzled.

Still fans out there that will defend him, but not as many as there used to be. I kinda went all over the place with my comment 😂 sorry about that but I definitely see what you mean with your last couple of posts.

I think there's many more forces at play than just Chris' own possible "bad script picker." For one, the very real fact that typecasting exists at multiple levels within the film business. Actors get typecast in the minds of producers, directors, casting agents, writers, agents, and probably their own friends/coworkers. How hard must those prevailing assumptions about you as an actor be to "kick" against? I think there's some freedom in the starting phase of a career when you audition for anything and everything, and that can bring in a little bit of variety to your career. But then, you get typecast as much by your successes as your failures. The big budget action flick you're in hits big? Then those are what your follow up offers are. Maybe a small, edgy indie movie you're in gets moderate buzz and good reviews. Then your agents probably see more of those come in to their desks with your name mentioned. It's hard to be seen as more than one thing, because the human mind likes things to be easily categorized as discreet signifiers.

So, I think it's possibly telling that while he was having huge success with Marvel, he wasn't going for other big budget action films (like Hemmy has). Instead, he was filming smaller things like Before We Go, Gifted, RSDR while still in his Marvel contract. He tried going back to stage while still in the Marvel contract. I think that shows that at least then he was still trying to push himself and possibly still grow in his craft. Now, were those the greatest projects? Probably not, but then the "better" level of small movies - the prestigious indies or awards bait films - are routed by directors/producers/casting agents/agents to the actors who are "typecast" as the kinds of actors who star in those films. And, unfortunately, he wasn't included in that category. Even now, when he seems to be somewhat trying again, you can see he's not being thought of for those kinds of movies first. That Marvel success was such a double-edged sword.

[kikimurphys]

Behind Closed Doors (Part 13)

Pairing: Cillian x Y/N.

Warnings: Blood.

The next week was a blur of early mornings and late nights on set, where you and Cillian crossed paths in heavy silence. The tension between you was almost unbearable. You were still fuming, nursing a sense of betrayal over what you saw as his cowardice. Yes, his career was at stake, but it felt like he owed you more than secrecy and vague reassurances.

One afternoon, Tori, your work friend, suggested grabbing lunch together. Over salads and sandwiches, you unloaded everything that had been weighing on you. You recounted the whirlwind romance, the intense arguments, and how you had ended things with Cillian, telling him to leave your apartment just days ago.

“I just don’t get him,” you said, absentmindedly pushing your salad around with your fork. “He says he loves me, but then he acts like he’s ashamed of us.”

Tori nodded sympathetically. “That’s a tough situation, but you have every right to feel the way you do. You deserve to be more than a secret.”

You let out a heavy sigh, a mix of frustration and sadness. “I know he’s trying to protect me, but it doesn’t feel like that. It feels like he’s protecting himself.”

“That’s probably true,” Tori agreed. “But you’re doing the right thing by standing your ground. You need stability, especially now, with everything that’s coming.”

“Yeah. I think it’s just better this way, as co-parents,” you murmured. The idea of continuing a romantic relationship with Cillian felt like setting yourself up for more heartache, especially if he couldn’t make up his mind soon. Staying on good terms and focusing on raising the baby together seemed like the best path forward.

The conversation with Tori offered some comfort, but the emotional turmoil lingered. You threw yourself into your work, trying to push thoughts of Cillian aside, but it was getting harder. Every time you saw him on set, you couldn’t help but watch him. The way he talked with his hands reminded you of how those same hands used to trace every inch of your skin. The memories made your stomach flip, but you quickly shook them off, refocusing on your tasks. Passing him in the hallway, you avoided eye contact, unwilling to let him see how much you still missed him. Each night you came home to an empty bed, the exhaustion of the day weighing on you, and you couldn’t help but wish for the comfort of his presence. He was still part of your life, but not in the way you needed.

A few days later, you found yourself leaning over a table near the catering station, labeling costumes for next week’s shoots. You had woken up with a headache, a familiar discomfort that had been coming more frequently, and the nausea that you thought was behind you had returned with a vengeance.

Cillian, meanwhile, was having one of the worst weeks of his life. On top of the tension between you and the longing he felt for you and your baby girl, he was buried in meetings with producers and his lawyer. His ex, Siobhan, was making it difficult for him to see Max, resenting him for leaving her to raise their son alone. All Cillian wanted was to make things right, to get his life in order so he could be the man you needed.

That morning, he woke up thinking of you, as he had every day since the fight. He wondered how you were feeling, if you had any new symptoms, or if the baby had been moving. You were 23 weeks along, and your bump was growing more prominent by the day. Today, you felt especially pregnant—hungry, but everything made you nauseous, and your body was weighed down with exhaustion.

As Cillian walked down to grab a coffee, he spotted you bent over the table, engrossed in your work. You were wearing your reading glasses, and your hair was piled into a messy bun. He couldn’t help the rush of emotions—and desire—that surged through him at the sight of you, especially the way your leggings and tight sweater accentuated your growing belly. Coffee cup in hand, he approached you, his heart pounding with anxiety.

“Morning, Y/N,” he mumbled, taking a sip from his cup.

You straightened up too quickly, causing a wave of dizziness to wash over you. “Morning yourself,” you replied, placing a hand on the table for support.

“Whoa, you okay?” Cillian asked, his voice filled with concern as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

You nodded, though the dizziness lingered. “Yeah, just stood up too fast, I think.”

He frowned, worry etched across his face. “You sure? You look a bit pale.”

“I’m fine, Cill,” you reassured him, though your voice was softer than usual. “Just a bit tired.”

He nodded, sensing your exhaustion. “I actually wanted to talk to you. How about I pick you up after work?” he asked, his tone hopeful.

“Yeah, sure. Pick me up at 6,” you agreed, trying to keep your composure, but your nerves betrayed you. Why was it so hard to stay calm around him?

You attempted to return to your task as he walked away, but something suddenly came to mind. “Oh, actually,” you called after him, “I have to grab groceries for the week. I’ve run out of pickles.” You forced a smile, mentally kicking yourself for sounding so trivial.

Cillian chuckled, his expression softening. “I’d love to help you out.”

“Oh no, I don’t want to bother you with fruit picking,” you joked, trying to deflect your embarrassment.

“No, not at all. That’s what I’m here for, Y/N,” he said earnestly.

“Well, thank you, Cill. I’ll see you at 6?”

“See ya,” he smiled, walking away, leaving you with a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

Later that evening, you found yourself pushing a cart around the fruit and vegetable section, Cillian by your side. As you browsed through lettuces and spinach, the conversation turned to the holidays.

“So, are you going to Cork for Christmas?” you asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

“Yeah, I plan to,” he replied, though there was a hint of frustration in his voice. “But I’d like to be with Max too, so I think I’ll go there for New Year’s.”

“And you?” he asked, glancing over at you as you reached for a head of lettuce.

“I was thinking of going home. I haven’t seen my family in ages, so I hope I can get away for at least a week,” you replied.

You had left London over four years ago after receiving a job offer on an actual movie set, a significant step up from organizing rich people’s closets. But Dublin, despite its opportunities, often left you feeling homesick. Your family was tight-knit, and being away made it difficult to stay connected. When you told them you were pregnant, they were thrilled but also concerned. They knew the challenges ahead, and they urged you to come back home so they could support you.

The thought of returning home had been on your mind a lot lately. Being a mother was going to be demanding, and you weren’t sure how you would manage it all on your own. The fear of doing this alone was what kept you up at night, gnawing at you, especially during quiet moments like these. You could feel Cillian watching you, as if he sensed your inner turmoil.

“Your family must be really excited to see you,” he said, his voice gentle, as if he was aware of the heaviness of your thoughts.

“Yeah, they are,” you admitted, trying to keep your tone light, though the underlying worry was hard to mask. “My sister says she wants to see my belly. She’s probably going to love seeing me this fat,” you joked, gesturing to your growing bump.

Cillian chuckled, finding your self-deprecation endearing. To him, you looked even more beautiful now that you were carrying his child. “Oh yeah? How’s the bump doing?” he asked, glancing at your belly that seemed to grow a little more every day.

“Good. She’s been moving around a lot. I feel huge, though. Nothing fits anymore,” you replied, feeling a mix of discomfort and pride.

Cillian nodded, and for a moment, there was an awkward silence as you both browsed the endless rows of chocolates. Even after all the time you’d known each other, the tension from recent events still hung between you, making things feel uneasy.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about?” you finally broke the silence, your curiosity getting the better of you.

“Just wanted to see how you both were,” he said, looking at you with sincerity, though you could sense there was more he wasn’t saying.

You gave him a skeptical look. “You could’ve texted me, you know,” you huffed, still feeling a bit of lingering frustration. “That’s what we agreed on. You don’t have to be here just to check in.”

“But I want to be here,” he said, stepping closer to you. “I don’t want to just text you or catch a glimpse of you at work.” He paused for a moment, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was gentle, but it sent your heart racing, and you felt the baby kick more vigorously, responding to your nervousness. “I want to be here. To help you with groceries, to satisfy your cravings. And I don’t want to push you—I know I’ve hurt you, and I’m sorry for that. I just want to be there for you, Y/N.”

His words hung in the air, and you could feel the sincerity behind them. You couldn’t deny how much you missed him, how much you craved his support and companionship. But there was still a part of you that was hesitant, unsure if you could fully trust him with your heart again.

“I know you want to be there,” you said softly, weighing your words carefully. “And I’m sorry I pushed you away, but let’s just… take things slow.”

Cillian nodded, understanding the caution in your voice. “Okay, let’s take things slow.”

As he drove you home, the conversation was light, easing some of the tension that had been between you. You mentioned that you had an appointment on Monday to get checked for gestational diabetes and asked if he wanted to come along.

“I’m not worried, really,” you assured him. “The midwife said it’s just a precaution.”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” he replied, his hand reaching over to pat your knee gently. “I’ll be there.”

When you arrived at your apartment, Cillian insisted on helping you carry your groceries upstairs. As you walked up the stairs, he carried the heavier bags, making sure you didn’t have to strain yourself.

Once inside, you set the bags down on the kitchen counter. Cillian began unpacking the groceries without hesitation, handing items to you as you put them away. The simple domesticity of the moment felt oddly comforting, even with everything unresolved between you.

“Thanks for helping out,” you said, smiling at him as you placed the last of the groceries in the fridge.

“Of course,” he replied, returning your smile. “It’s the least I can do.”

As you both finished up, the atmosphere in the apartment felt warm but still tinged with the unspoken complexities between you. He lingered for a moment, seeming hesitant to leave.

“I guess I’ll head out,” he said finally, his voice soft. “But I’ll see you Monday?”

“Yeah, Monday,” you nodded, walking him to the door.

Before he left, Cillian turned back to you, his expression tender. “Goodnight, Y/N. Take care of yourself, alright?”

“Goodnight, Cill,” you replied, feeling a small warmth in your chest at his concern. “Drive safe.”

With a final smile, Cillian stepped out into the hallway, and you closed the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment as you processed the evening. The feelings you had for him were still strong, but you shook them off as you made your way to the kitchen to put the kettle on. The uncertainty of your romantic relationship weighed on you, but you knew one thing for sure—Cillian could be trusted with this child and with you if anything ever went wrong.

Later, as you brushed your teeth, you noticed a small streak of blood in the sink. It wasn’t the first time—bleeding gums were a common symptom during pregnancy, something you’d read about online. Still, it gave you pause for a moment before you continued with your nighttime routine.

Rubbing some oil on your growing belly, you reflected on your pregnancy so far. You’d been fortunate—no complications, and everything had been progressing normally. You hoped with all your heart that things would continue this way for the remaining weeks. As you laid down that night, you whispered softly to your baby, feeling her tiny kicks in response. “Stay safe in there, my love,” you murmured, your hand resting on your belly. “I love you so much.”

Meanwhile, Cillian lay awake in his own bed, staring at the ceiling. He missed you terribly, and the regret gnawed at him. He knew he’d made mistakes, been unfair, and caused you pain. But he also knew how much you loved him, and he was determined to prove to you that he could be the man you deserved—the father his daughter deserved. He’d made his share of mistakes with Max, but he was resolute not to repeat them this time. He owed you that much.

After only a few hours of sleep, you were jolted awake by a sharp, stabbing pain in your stomach, like a cramp. Panic surged through you as you instinctively grabbed your belly, trying to calm yourself. Reaching over to turn on the bedside light, you lifted the covers, and your heart dropped at the sight—blood staining the sheets beneath you.

tags:

@mamawiggers1980 @xsweetcatastrophe @galactict3a @thistheivyseason

[misguidedasgardian]

Wildcats (Part XXVII)

XXVII. ... I'm better off in danger

MASTERLIST

Summary: You are trying to keep it together.  

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, THIS IS HEAVY, THIS CHAPTER WILL INCLUDE, torture, cursing, threats, beating, dark themes, will feature the Sanctuary, so, everything dark that comes with it, branding with hot iron, vaginal bleeding, period blood, humilliation, undesired groping, might miss some important warnings, but you know what this is about

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: Uuufff last chapter, like I said, I had it written for a while, but when I was about to post it… it felt strange, like I was drunk or sm.

“Daryl…”, you whispered, barely audible, “...Carl, Judith, Rick, Michonne, Maggie, Glenn, Rosita, Abraham, Eugene, Tara, Carol, Sasha… Gabriel… Beth, Tyresse, Alex”, you hugged herself tighter, rocking backwards and forwards, mumbling, praying, “Aaron, Olivia, Deanna, Tobin, Spencer…”

You needed to remind herself of them, of your new family, of the people that had protected you 

You couldn’t give in

You couldn’t lead this people to Alexandria

If you had to die, you would, you only wished they weren’t torturing you for information

That is why the names were so important

Each one, a reason to keep quiet

You recited those names, to stay strong, to keep remembering.

Oh Daryl, you might never see him again. 

“Damn! Arat”, said Simon, watching you from the little window posted on the steel door, “I think you just overdid it”, the woman only smirked, “what is she saying?”, he asked, looking at her, very interested

“She is mumbling names”, she answered, “like twenty of them”

“It’s time we play some “good cop”, you know what I mean? take her to the doc to get checked”, she did not like it, but she complied.

Her and Fat Joey grabbed you, you didn't fight it, and led you to the doctor. 

That creepy guy was there, and they sat you on a medical bed while this guy checked you out

“Two week old bullet wound”, he said, “caliber .22, it went right through, lucky you, stitched by a pro”, he mumbled, “old bruises nearly vanished, produced by a… round, fast acting weapon”, he narrated, “and this new ones”, he said, recriminating the guy, “Simon…”, he named him, oh so now you knew, “No internal bleeding”, he said finally, “and this…”, he said, raising your arm, it was on fire, tender, raw and your skin was heated, “it’s almost to the point of infection”, he then looked down on you, and then to your face, you were just frowning at him, he was a doctor, you were not going to deny his help

“I need to speak with her, privately”, he said finally

“No way”, the guy Simon said. The doctor just sighed, the doctor looked at you, standing right in front of you, covering Simons sight’s on you

“You are bleeding”, he whispered, you looked down at yourself and didn’t see any wound until… you spread your legs a bit and you whimpered, you had felt so much pain all over that you hadn't even noticed, “you know what this might be?”, you just looked back at him, “I need to rule out that might be internal”

“Louder doc”, said Simon, who hadn't heard anything, because he was whispering. A single tear fell down your cheek, you felt so humiliated, ashamed, you wanted to be home, in Daryl’s embrace.

“She is bleeding”, he said

“It’s not internal”, you said, “I expected it”, a fucking year without it, and now it comes?. He nodded. 

They actually let you take a shower in a bathroom, and you got to see your body littered with bruises everywhere, and that awful mark on your forearm, angry red. Tears of pain exited your eyes when the water hit it. And when you got out, they actually gave you “period products”, and cotton pants. When they lead you back to your cell, there was a thin mattress on the floor

“How caring of you”, you mocked

“This can all be over”, she said, “just tell us what we want to know”, you only shook your head. So she pushed you inside and closed the door.

The doc had sneaked you some of the “good stuff”, so you just let it kick in and slept in a fetal position. 

The next morning, the dog food sandwich arrived again, with a bottle of water and paracetamol, once they “fed you”, Arat appeared again, with that shit-eating grin on her face

“I see you’re liking your food, like the bitch you are”

“I swear I lose like a million neurons every time i speak to you”, you answered her

“Look I don’t have all day”, she said, bored, “and it will get worse”, she threatened, “just tell me where your people are”

“I’ll only speak to Negan, from now on”, you said, looking back at her, she frowned, “I’m so stuck up, I just talk to high ranking members of an organization”, you explained simply. She controlled herself, you could see it, and she left the room. 

The steel door closed, but it didn’t do the usual last “gling”

She was coming back to close it, you were sure, but one minute, and a couple more and she didn’t. You sighed loudly, you were not feeling very well, you were weak, your arm was burning, and on top of that you felt drowsy, but, still, you got on your two feet and walked towards the door slowly. 

The perfect opportunity, it seemed

You opened the door just enough to peek down the hall.

It was empty

You dared to walk out of your cell, this might be some sort of test, they couldn’t possibly be this idiotic. It was empty, the perfect opportunity, the perfect scene. 

You were being held in the basement, or rather, the level floor of this factory, you could see the sunlight peeking through the huge garage door that was also open. You could hear the growls of the walkers displayed outside.

Not a living soul in sight

How much of an idiot they thought you were?

. . .

“She isn’t coming”, he mumbled, looking through his binoculars. The gates remained open, but you were not going through them, you were not exiting the building as he planned. “It can’t be, are you sure you left it open?”, he asked Arat by his side

“Yes Ser”, she said surely

“Damn, maybe we went a little far with her if she can’t even exit the damn place”, he said, well, letting you think you scaped for you to run back to your place was a… particular tactic, to say the least, and you had not fallen for it, it seemed. 

“She is smarter than this”, muttered Baer, “I don’t want to admit it, but she is smarter and tougher than she looks”, he said, “she is with people, I know she is”

“That was obvious”, said Simon

“Has Negan appeared yet?”, but Simon just looked at him with a disapproving look on his eyes, that information was above Baer’s paygrade 

They waited for an hour, hiding in the trees like idiots when he finally decided to return to the inside of the Sanctuary.

Your cell was empty.

He looked everywhere, but things looked as usual inside, everybody up to their own business.

He went floor for floor, recruiting people as he went, but there was no sign of you, wasn’t until he got to the very last floor. 

He could hear Stevie Wonder’s Superstition on high volume all over. He walked slowly, like he was in enemy territory

The sound was coming from Negan’s fuckin’ room!

He passed by the lounge where the wives were, and they all looked back at him terrified, like some wild wolf just barged in a room crowded with the highest pedigree show dogs. 

And of many things he expected to find… destruction… pillaging, hostages taking, bullets flying, threats made, he never expected to see you, sitting on Negan’s favorite chair, a glass of scotch in hand, probably the last pringles can open on top of his cristal table. You had stolen a white v neck shirt, and you had your feet on the table.

“I love this song”, you said calmly, sipping on the scotch, and looking through a playboy, of all things. 

You looked up at him and Simon was so red you believed smoke was going to come out of his ears like he was a cartoon character. To say he was enraged was to sell it short. 

“Do you really think I’ll just take the bait… lead you back to my…”, you stopped yourself with a finger in the air, as you just remembered something, “alleged camp”, you finished. 

“You little bitch!”, he threw himself on you and you threw back the glass with the scotch out of instinct, it hit against his chest but it didn’t brake, he grabbed you and… gods he was very strong to be this limp

He threw you on the hallway like you were just trash or something, Fat Joey, ever faithful and with nothing else to do apparently, grabbed you along another dude and dragged you away

“Alright, you have a huge security problem, and you are blaming me?”, you said mockingly, “ridiculous”

“I’m starting to think!”, said Simon, running his mouth behind you, “that is not worth it!”, he kept going outloud, catching the attention of everyone in your path, “we’ll find it without you!”, he said, “you had rendered yourself useless, so, we better just get rid of you”, your stomach twisted with fear.

“Oh c’mon, just when it was getting interesting!”, you said mockingly, “you are really going to give up that easily?”

“Nope”, he said then, “we received clear instructions from above, so I will not be getting rid of you”, you tried to look back at him, if he was receiving instructions it meant they came from higher up, meaning Negan!, you were sweating now, because you had this sick curiosity, you wanted to meet him, see him. You stole one of his shirts, you raided his room and the guy still hasn't shown up. 

“Boss, Dwight is back, has something interesting for ya”, sounded through a walkie talkie 

“Perfect timing!”, he said, “our new dog is bringing gifts”

That couldn’t mean anything good, you thought, as they guided you back to the factory floor 

You tried not to react, but you failed tremendously when a blonde guy turned around and you saw this horrible scar all on the right side of his face, like he had been burned up with something. He was waiting for Simon, surrounded by angry looking men.

You could already tell he wasn’t the most beloved member of the group. 

But something caught your eye, that man was holding…

You saw red.

In a second you were being loosely grabbed by Fat Joey and another guy, and in the next?

You didn’t even know where you got that knife you had in your hand, you stole it from the guy that was holding you, you don’t even remember how it happened. Luckily for him he was quick, evading your violent assault, you barely scratched his side.

He stumbled, and you didn’t even know where you got the strength to kick him in his chest, making him fall on his back

“Where did you get that?!”, you didn’t even recognize your own voice, he tried to fight you off, but you were quick to straddle his chest, your foot pinned his arm to the floor, and your hand viciously grabbed his neck in a chokehold

The man was so surprised he barely reacted, he couldn’t believe what was happening, neither could you

“The crossbow”, you demanded, manically, “where did you get it!?”, he tried to snap your hands off of his neck, but you slapped them off of your arms with barely one hand, while you kept choking him. “WHERE DID YOU GET IT!?”, your last scream seemed to shake the entire room, as finally they snapped out of their impression, and they needed two of the big men to pry you off of him. 

“My oh my!”, Simon sang-sing, while the blonde guy tried to catch his breath, while a woman helped him up. It even looked like he expected it from you.

“I’m going to kill you!”, you threatened, no, it was no threat, it was a promise.

He was gone, Daryl was gone, they came across him, and they killed him, because there was no way in hell they took the crossbow while he was alive, there was no way in hell.

“Oh my, the drama! I love it!”, chanted Simon, “tell her Dwight, where did you get such a fine weapon?”, he asked.

“I took it from a man that we encountered in the woods”, he said shakily, looking at you with caution, “alongside a motorcycle”, you kept looking at him like you wanted to kill him, “he was alive when we left him”, he said, rubbing his neck

“You are lying!”, you accused, there was no way in hell that Daryl would have let this guy take his bike and his crossbow

“And he wouldn’t casually tell you where he was from, now would he?”, asked Simon right by his ear

“No”, he said, and then he looked you dead in the eye and smiled, “but he told me about his community, he was so welcoming, wanted to take me back with him!”

“SON OF A BITCH!”, you screamed, in your native language

“That’s enough from you young lady”, said Simon theatrically, “you have been lying to us all along! you clearly knew this guy, and this guy said you are from a very nice community”, he said, smiling creepily. He grabbed you by the arm and took you to a sort of balcony, overlooking the entire floor. 

“Kneel”, he demanded 

“I would only kneel for one man…”, you said, unimpressed, “he would never ask me to do it of course, but I would, for him, for some sexy times, you know?”, you asked mockingly, winking at him.

This order he received from “above” is the only thing that prevented him from bashing your head against the metal railing and not stopping like you did, a one time occurrence.

And into the box you went again

Nobody here in this graveyard appreciated your good ass comebacks and jokes.

This time, no paracetamol, no water, no dogfood sandwich

And the very next morning, they dragged you out of your box.

This time, they brought you to some sort of meeting room, of course, it was from a factory. It sucked, there was Simon, over the table, there was this huge map.

“Has anybody ever told you that you are the creepiest looking guy that’s ever walked this earth?”, you asked him right off the get go. 

“Where is your community?”, he asked, he did not seem pleased, he had a huge map in front of you, of the entire surrounding states. You looked at him and pointed randomly at the map. He kept looking at you with an unhinged look in his eyes

“Did you just pointed at the ocean?”, he asked with greeted teeth

“Yeah”, you answered simply, “that’s where I’m from, the mer-people, they’re coming for me”, you said and he sighed, rubbing his face, “they’re BIG in looting and pillaging, raising the ocean levels and all”. You were so tired, hungry and sleep deprived that you didn’t even see him coming. He grabbed you by your hair in the back of the head and smacked your head against the wooden table, until your nose was rubbing in the paper

“Where the fuck is your camp?”, he asked

“Screw you!”, you said angrily, “leave me alone!”, you screamed

“You know what this tells me?”, the town of Richmond was the only thing you could see as he rubbed your face in it, “your leader is strong, isn’t he? your camp must be magnificent”, he leaned in until you could feel all of his body on top of you, which made you so uncomfortable your eyes filled with tears, and his breath on the side of your face, just straight up made you nauseous, “a lot of resources, right?”, he asked

“No”, you whimpered

“Only something like that could make you hold on like this”, he said, “your loyalty is brutal!”, he said, making you whimper, “You must have so much to lose, don’t you?”

“No”, you said more firmly

“Don’t be selfish”, he whispered, “your people cannot possibly have more resources than us, let us save them”, he said, more enticingly, he pressed himself more into you, “we are the saviors, your camp is in danger for the living dead and we can save them”

“I’m alone”, you whined. He pressed your face even more into the map and you whined in pain, your arm still hurting.

“Squad five to leader, over”, sounded through his walkie talkie, he released you then, but you just laid there on top of the table, not daring to move. 

“Yeah, talk to me, over”, he muttered into the apparatus

“We were attacked in sector eight…”, you raised your head, “it's a whole group…”, no, no no no no no, “they say… you have one of their people, and they want to speak to you, over”, he chuckled darkly, grabbing you by the back of your head, smashing your head back into the wood. 

“Is that so?”, he asked, “any casualties? over”

“They took a couple of us Ser, I think they want a trade, over”

“How many did they take? over”, he asked

“We are five Ser, over”

“FIVE OF MY MEN!”, he said, not clicking, “you are not even worth half of one!”, he said angrily, he had lost his marbles, this was the tipping point

“I’m told you run the show around there”, you sighed in relief, it was the voice of Rick

“Yes I certainly do”, he said simply, “and you’ve took my men”

“And you took one of ours”, he said, as Simon didn’t answer, “let’s make a trade”, he said simply through the walkie

“Bold of you to assume we still got her”, he said. “Maybe we got rid of her”

“Fine, then we’ll get rid of yours”, a shot rang through the walkie making you jump in your spot, “next goes inside your man here”, Simon cursed and kicked, it was funny. 

“that’s not necessary”, he said, trying to fake the most laid back voice ever

“We want to speak to her”, he demanded, “I want proof of life!”

Simon stuck the the walkie to your face and clicked the button

“Hey Rick”, you mumbled into the thing, “I’m alive”, you said, you couldn’t say you were fine though. He called your name

“We are coming…!”

“There she is!”, Simon interrupted, “I gotta say, it's been a delight to have her here”, he said, “I have enjoyed her company so much”, you trembled in your spot

“Son of a bitch if you touch a single hair…”

“Maybe we already did”

The next thing that could be heard through the walkie was someone moaning in pain, you guessed they were beating the hell out of one of their hostages.

“Let me hear it from her”, Rick demanded. 

Simon out the walkie in your mouth again

“Rick, I’m fine”, you said, more assertive this time

“Tough one I’ll give him that”, he mumbled. “Five for one, uh? you must be really valuable for them”, he said to you

“We want her back, now”, demanded Rick, “the exchange, in an hour”

“I don’t think so pal”, said Simon, “I have to think it through first”

“Are you Negan?”, Rick asked

“We are all Negan”, he said back

“So, when?”, he asked urgently… 

“Tomorrow 9 am, the farm near I-66”

“No, I don't think so, why don’t we meet in the very same spot where she was taken, 9 am?”, that damn sector 8 was proving to be a pain in Simon’s ass.

“So you can go there first and blow our brains out?”, he asked, fair point

“We got five of your guys”, said Rick, “maybe you take your chances”, Simon seemed to really think about, really, really think about it

He changed the channel on the walkie

“Alfa chanel, clear, over”, 

“I’m here”, answered another voice in the walkie 

“They want a trade, they have our men”

“Then make the trade, idiot”, he said, a familiar voice, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint it, he then changed channels again

“You got yourself a deal”, he said happily, this dude had issues

“Tomorrow, 9 am”, said Rick, and that was all.

You were somewhat relieved, but who were you kidding? When does a hostage exchange ever end well? never, not in movies and series you have seen at least

“This is the last night you are going to be joining us, what would you like to eat? uh? pedigree or friskies?”, he teased, you only groaned as he finally let you stand up from that table.

You guessed he had stuff to plan, so Baer himself came to collect you to lead you back to your suite

“See?”, he asked, “I know you better than you think”, he teased, “tomorrow we’ll see what your people are made of”

“You'll come to a hard reality”, you said

“Oh, because you are so badass?”, he mocked, “you don’t know half of the shit I have seen in this place, the things that happened since you left us”, you rolled your eyes

“You said that I left you, left the team”, you said matter of factly, “I am a villain in your story and that’s alright you know why?”, you asked as you had reached the door

“Why?”

“Because you are a clown in mine”, you said with the sweetest smile you’ve got, you gave him the finger and he pushed you angrily into the closet and closed the door, “alright, I’m sorry!”, you said through the door, as you didn’t hear steps walking away, “this might be the last night we’ve got to catch up”, you said

“Oh believe, it won’t be the last”, he said, you frowned, “Negan will make you all kneel, so I’ll be seeing you each week, when you bring me food and supplies”

“You are delusional”, you accused, “you know shit about us, what we have lived through, the things we have done”, you said, “we will break before we bend”, you said, “this isn’t the old world anymore”, you only hear him chuckle. There was silence, but neither of you moved, “What happened with Pope?”, you asked him through the door

“I told him that we had to leave that crap city”, he said, “DC was the way to go, you said it”, you bit your lip, “that I was leaving and of course he had to come with, but he refused, he wanted to wait for you”, he said, and that broke your heart, “he refused to leave because he thought you were coming back for him, so I left him most of the food and I left him there”

You let yourself slip by the wall to the floor.

“Not so chatty now, uh?”, he said, and then he left. 

Curiosity killed the cat, and sometimes, satisfaction didn’t bring it back.

PCN: Its like Im on crack with this story, hehehe.

This is where I start to deviate fromt he story, because i don't want anybody to die, and i really think they could have pulled it off better jejejeje

@crazyunsexycool @capricxnt

[crazylittlejester]

I humbly offer this actually really angsty when you think about it headcanon like a sacrifice to a deity with a disclaimer that it does get existential and kinda religious (Hylia being a confirmed real and true in universe deity + the places my brain goes with that) so please just delete this if you're prone to cosmological vertigo, it's just me rambling about an idea that has fundamentally altered my neurochemistry:

Post LU Wars (scarf, time shenanigans, kind of in love w every era of the land bc his brothers came from those eras!) is subject to a final bout of time shenanigans and becomes First (scarf, from a time Before Everything, goes to forge the Goddess Sword at Hylia's behest, fights demons) (and he's already got practice fighting Ghirahim from HW!). Demise starts with an army and the power of a god and ends with one sword, a small handful of monsters, and the power of a significantly weaker god. The thought that Wars-as-First might actually have been able to win the demon war and deliberately chose not to, because if he did then his brothers would never come to be, makes me insane. The thought of how oblivious he was to the utterly profound impact he had on Hylia by introducing the idea that she could fail the task the Golden Three set for her and it would bring about life and color and beauty, the idea that this idyllic paradise was beautiful but it wasn't living. The idea that the world where she failed was better than the one she where she won because the world where she failed produced people like her hero- people who LIVED, people who loved as much as he loved his brothers. The idea that Wars meets a goddess and befriends her and it changes her fundamentally and irrevocably does something to my brain chemistry. Something something mortals who live and love and dream and die with such a passion something the way truly seeing that passion might forever alter the worldview of a deity who'd never before encountered the idea that living was something to be done like you wouldn't be able to do it forever.

My supporting evidence for Wars being able to befriend Hylia: he's already had the experience of meeting embodied existential forces and realizing they're literally just people who also happen to be facets of reality. Lana used to be a sorceress who could see across all of time and space. He vividly remembers hearing her swear at a hand mirror because she couldn't get her eyeliner right and after that he was never again able to see 'deity' before he saw 'person'. Wars running around with the idea of Hylia as a person trying her best with whatever unknown amount of power she has vs everyone else knowing her as a goddess who is above such things as being a person.

The idea of Wars and Hylia sitting down and talking about it. Maybe they only do it once. But Wars tells her: I've been there. I've seen it. The world where he didn't win but we didn't either.

And Hylia says: we might be able to prevent it. We might be able to win.

And Wars says: no.

And Hylia says: no?

And Wars says: it's the world that has my family in it. This is the world has people who are alive but that one has people who are living. We create and we love and we fight and we destroy and you can't take that from us.

Something. Something about the vivid tenacity of the human experience. Something about turning down heaven in favor of living. Something about already knowing what eating the apple means before you've even done it and doing it because your family's just outside the gates of Eden and this is how you pull them open.

DAMN this is a really interesting headcanon (also that opener was insane, I literally read it out loud to my friend who was over and they were impressed aldkdldl) this could honestly make a banger fic

[cat-astro-pick]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅, 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝟎𝟒

𝑀𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝐸𝑧𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅, 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝟎𝟎

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅, 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝟎𝟏

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅, 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝟎𝟐

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅, 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝟎𝟑

"Why are you so dismissive?"

"Of what?"

"...Of me."

"I've been busy working on new stuff. Well, cause it's a new genre I'm trying out and I-."

"You know, you're a big talker when you lie."

I'd never heard his voice so low. In fact, I'd never thought of him as capable of such an intimidating voice in the first place. I'd always assumed Ezreal's vocal cords would only produce beautiful voices, but…apparently not.

I sucked in a breath, not wanting to sound pathetic. I let it out slowly, not wanting it to look like a sigh, and Ezreal's eyebrows twitched. It's always like this. He caught the part I didn't want to be caught, too fast, and then he comforted me. Comfort that I didn't ask for. If it were simply hypocrisy, it wouldn't bother me so much. The reason I'm bothered, yes, is because Ezreal is such an innocent, nice guy ever. I've never seen him this mad before. Not recently, not even before. The anger he was feeling today was purely my fault, and I couldn't be grumpy or irritable with him. Guilt pierced through my heart like a sledgehammer. Even the act of putting my hands in my pockets felt unnatural because I knew better than anyone else that, it was my fault. If it were dramatic, this is where I should have dropped to my knees, but an unknown emotion squeezed the words out of my mouth. It molded the words, forcing them out of my throat.

"...What if I tell you now that I don't remember?"

"What?"

A series of brief memories haunt me. When they started, I don't know. A tone of frustration, denser than embarrassment and irritation, pierces my ears. I hid under the shadows created by cap like a frightened kitten. I was the one who spoke the unforgivable words, and I was the one who ran away in fear. Yeah, I'm that kind of human being, that's what I'm made of. I was unreasonably frightened, but I'm sure Ezreal didn't mean to scare me. If he wanted me to be scared and beg for forgiveness, he wouldn't have made that stupid face. I did something wrong, I deserved to be reprimanded, but it was Ezreal who was acting like a sinner. Simply because I, scared him.

"I don't remember. I don't even know what I said to you."

"..."

"If you want me to be a little more brazen, I don't understand why you've been obsessing over what I said for days, when I was probably drunk and out of it anyway."

"...Enough."

Hell is a fitting place for me to end up. It's better to throw yourself down the stairs to the other side without thinking twice about the ambiguity of heaven or hell, and it's the same with relationships. Even in this one-sided love relationship, I can't be honest anymore. That I crave more than attention from you, that those are the real, deep feelings we've been screaming about since we were kids, and that those simple four-letter words keep hurting me. So, prove it to me. Cause when I realize you don't care about me in the slightest, I'm going to want to die. Prove to me how you feel about me, how far you'll take my immature rants, and if you even care about me. If you don't, then we're done.

My brain felt like it was in two pieces. Egos fighting. I am pushing myself and pushing Ezreal at the same time, to the point where there is no consensus. If someone asks me where and how our relationship went wrong, I don't know what to say. I can't even remember when I started falling for him.

"What the hell did I say to you that made you so mad that Kayn is talking shit to me? Nah, I don't understand why you're mad in the first place!"

No, he's not even angry, he's just hurt. This is not even in my mind.

"What did you come all the way to the studio for? What did you say to them?"

He used to come by often, just like I used to. She probably didn't say anything, because I'd embarrass her.

"'You're-'"

"I said enough!"

The sharp voice cut between us, but nothing else existed but silence. I wish he'd slap me, but when I glance down, all I see is a tightly clenched fist. I know he's not the kind of man to swing a fist. And it's not that I'm a masochist who's desperate to hit him, it's just that his knuckles are so pitifully red and white from clenching so hard.

"..."

He's crying. His eyes, which should be sparkling and shining under the spotlight on the stage, are wet with tears, not starry lights. In the end, it was me who was stupid from start to finish. I prided myself on being able to read other people's moods with ease, but this time, I missed it. I couldn't tell if the heavens were punishing me for my arrogance, or if I was just as dumb as a moth to a flame when it came to Ezreal. In the first place, Ezreal's emotion wasn't anger. It was frustration, fear, and finally impatience. He's not the kind of person to cry tears of anger.

I wonder why I didn't realize that.

“Ez…”

" Do I really make you miserable?"

"...What?"

"You said I'm the reason you're tired to death every day."

"...What are you talking about..."

A cold sweat trickled down my spine. I'd assumed the worst, but there was worse waiting for me than I'd ever imagined. Ezreal couldn't have been thinking this on his own. He's not that pessimistic.

"If you really think I'm to blame for your misfortune."

No. It's not like that. I tried to say something, but the words were stuck in my throat and felt like they were being strangled. I felt like I was slowly suffocating. Like sand being sucked out of the middle of a desert, I was slowly being eaten away.

"Then it would be more helpful if I left you."

His loosely tied hair whipped in the wind. I stare at the distant, distant back of his head, and it feels like the end of the world. It was only after my already weary hand gripped his arm that I realized that tears from the bitter wind were wetting my cheeks. I was a sinner, and I shed many tears for nought. I became impatient. And soon I felt tempted to scream, frustrating. It seemed to me that despair had taken hold of me to the end and would not let go. Many days and nights passed, many of which were ordinary days where I didn't care what happened. And, yes, honestly, I wanted to tell myself that Ezreal was making my life miserable, even though I knew it wasn't him that was making me miserable, it was my feelings for him.

"I'm not miserable because of you."

A sense of unreality envelops my toes. It wasn't the coziness of a lazy daydream. Each delicate feature of his face in my vision crumbled into shards. The shards ran down my cheeks, dangling precariously from the tip of my chin, before falling to the floor and becoming jewelry for ants.

"I mistook you for misfortune, because I... have a crush on you."

Yes, this is penance. And, confession.

.

.

.

[thebreakfastgenie]

1 free coupon for sharing an unpopular opinion 🎫

Okay I wanted to use this coupon well (thank you) but I've been mulling this.

I don't agree that there is "no downside" to identity headcanons. Sometimes a character empathizing with and fighting for a group they're not part of is significant and meant to send a particular message. The first example I can think of is that I think Sam Seaborn getting worked up about gay rights means more if he's an ardent supporter working in the White House in the 90s than if he's a closeted gay man himself. I also think a straight White House staffer supporting gay rights is supposed to communicate a certain message to a mostly-straight audience.

Now, that's not to say a read with Sam as a gay man isn't interesting in its own right, or that there is no value in it. There are some things gained with that read. There are other things lost. I think that's fine. But fandom has a tendency to say identity headcanons are always better in every way. And I understand why, because of the history of resistance to them, but I think it's worth considering what an author was actually trying to say. Giving a straight character a storyline about gay rights or a goyish character a storyline about Jewish issues isn't necessarily just a default.

I think seeing Hawkeye Pierce respect and celebrate Jewish traditions with patients and people he works with tells us something important about the character: not that he's Jewish, but that he's empathetic and more than tolerant of other cultures and beliefs. I don't think those episodes mean as much if he's participating in his own culture. Maybe you get something else out of it, but I don't get anything that makes up for what is lost.

A lot of the time, gay headcanons also fundamentally change canon relationships in ways that are not necessarily for the worse, but definitely not inarguably for the better. I don't mean by making a relationship between two men or two women romantic, but by making a relationship between a man and a woman not romantic, or a closet situation.

I think this is part of the larger "fanon is not always better than canon" point, but this particular piece of it feels controversial to me. I very often engage with and produce fanwork using identity headcanons, but I'm very aware that I'm making a trade-off. I think fandom would be more interesting if we all were and if we talked about it.

[toxicanonymity]

brothel - housing sitch

blog FAQ / Brothel Master List.

TV Guide: Two Joels move out of the prime time mansion, and with another Joel moving in, producers see an opportunity to “stir up” some drama.

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

"still in the compound"

Ever since getting baited into dissing Slasher, Speakeasy has wised up to production manipulation tactics.  He and his roommate Free Use start plotting to fight back.  One day, they get sent on what they think is a double date, and they’re told there’s also a possibility of changing rooms so they should pack before the date.   Their luggage is sitting in the living room while the other Joels hang out.  They don’t come home from their date.  Instead, Michael Myers comes in dressed in all black and silently takes the suitcases. The guys murmur to each other, shocked.  

Night Walks gets the scoop - Those two are moving out of the mansion.  They’re still in the toxic compound, but their ratings weren’t prime time caliber. The guys are a little shaken up, but they get it. “Just goes to show ya,” Night Walks says. “It's not all about notes.”  They nod and murmur agreement. Out of all the guys in the brothel, Free Use and Speakeasy had by far the most Tumblr notes on their fics.  But they're all about a little less conversation, so they don’t get to show as much personality as the others.

"welcome cake"

A producer approaches Stepdad and Thighs Out and tells them Vampire is nervous about moving in and unsure if he’s going to make any friends.  The producer suggests those two make a cake to welcome Vampire to the brothel.  They shrug and have nothing better to do, so they go to the kitchen and start pulling out ingredients.  

Meanwhile, production pulls Slasher aside for his interview.  They ask if anyone made him a cake when he moved in. Slasher says no, and he doesn’t really seem to care.   He's not a cake guy.

“Would it surprise you to know they’re making Vampire a cake right now?”

This piques Slasher’s interest.  “Right now?”

The producer nods behind the camera. 

Slasher asks, “Do you mind if I —?” A cameramam follows him to the kitchen, expecting drama.

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

“Sup guys,” Slasher says as he pulls a kitchen knife out of a drawer and sticks it in his jumpsuit.  Then he starts fumbling around in the cabinets.  He’s pulling out tupperware containers and examining them. 

“Makin’ a cake for Vampire?” he asks them. 

“Yeah,” Stepdad says. 

“That’s nice.”  Slasher holds up two different round tupperware containers. “How much blood y’all think it needs?”

Stepdad and Thighs Out look at each other. 

Thighs Out: “I don’t think he eats blood, man.” 

Stepdad: “Yeah, I don’t think it has to be in everything he consumes.” 

Thighs: "But thanks, dude."

Stepdad looks at him and Thighs Out shrugs like, be nice.  

Slasher nods thoughtfully. “Right,” then sits down at the kitchen bar and watches them make the cake.

---------

To make conversation, Slasher asks, "So, Speakeasy and Free Use moved out -- were they the only ones that started with established relationships?"

Stepdad thinks then nods. "Sounds right."

Thighs Out hesitantly adds, "Unless you count. . . reader being like. . . .your stepdaughter, or something like that."

Stepdad tenses, blushes, and quietly stirs the cake batter more vigorously, making a bigger mess than should be possible. Then he adds under his breath,"Or your son's girlfriend."

"Wow," Slasher says under his breath, looking back and forth between them. "I mean uh, no shade."

"Or your best friend's daughter," Stepdad adds with a nod toward Trouble, who's getting a coke out of the fridge.

Trouble leans on the counter and cracks open his coke. "Her dad's really more of a frenemy," he explains. "and that's his own damn fault."

Slasher nods, like he's trying to take everything in. Trouble pats Slasher on the back, takes a sip of coke, and walks away.

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

[discar]

HZD Terraforming Base-001 Text Communications Network

Chapter 26| Prev chapter | Next chapter Chapter Index

BoyNextDoor: Does anyone know where Zo went? She said she was stepping out for a minute, but that was hours ago.

Zo: We're back!

BoyNextDoor: Oh. Never mind.

MARSHAL Kotallo: Who is back?

BoyNextDoor: Wait, where are you?

MARSHAL Kotallo: I am out hunting.

β: who was zo with she said we

FlameHairSavior: Zo and I went out to upload that patch to the land-gods.

MARSHAL Kotallo: Oh? Then you were successful? Everything went perfectly?

FlameHairSavior: Eh, mostly.

Zo: Everything DID go perfectly. It was honestly beautiful.

FlameHairSavior: I was talking about the parts where we were attacked.

Zo: Ah, yes. I assumed you were used to that by now.

FlameHairSavior: Unfortunately, yes.

β: how is getting attacked by malfunctioning machines beautiful

β: are you crazy because that wopld explain a lot

β: would

FlameHairSavior: What? No.

MARSHAL Kotallo: There is nothing wrong with enjoying a good hunt.

FlameHairSavior: Aren't you in the middle of a fight right now?

MARSHAL Kotallo: Of course not. I am waiting for the machines to move into the optimal position.

Zo: The point is, when we finished the reboot, the land-gods started singing to each other. I have to assume this is some kind of normal communication method they use in extreme situations.

DIVINER: Wait, is that where all your music comes from??

Zo: Perhaps. I have never heard of it happening in my lifetime, though.

ADMIN [GAIA]: I can confirm that I did not add anything of the sort to their code. Allowing the machines to communicate with each other using natural sounds and responses removes the need for them to be directly connected to the main controller, vastly reducing the computational overhead. This way, the number of active machines is effectively unlimited. Shackling them to a central controller would sharply limit how many could be active at once, for only a negligible increase in efficiency per unit.

BoyNextDoor: I barely followed that.

HIMBO: WAIT, I THINK I GOT IT. IT'S LIKE HOW A LEADER CAN'T MICROMANAGE EVERYTHING HIS SUBORDINATES ARE DOING. HE DOESN'T HAVE TIME. BETTER TO JUST MAKE SURE THEY KNOW THEIR JOBS AND LEAVE THEM TO IT.

ADMIN [GAIA]: An apt metaphor. While unintentional, this system also prevented there from being a single point of failure in the machines. If the machines were slaved to central controllers, HEPHAESTUS could have taken control of all of them at once, or at least all the machines of a single Cauldron. It was forced to take over the Cauldrons one by one and enhance the aggression protocols of any new machines produced. Older units would be replaced slowly, as they were hunted or fell to accidents.

Zo: That's why our land-gods had so many problems, isn't it? Normally they returned to the cave, but they sensed HEPHAESTUS had done something, so they delayed until they had no choice.

ADMIN [GAIA]: Correct. Repair-Bay Tau has very strict production orders, likely to preserve the delicate social balance in Plainsong. I presume that HEPHAESTUS could not override those in any reasonable timeframe, and thus could not simply produce more combat machines. It was only when the land-god Fa returned that HEPHAESTUS had an opportunity to create the Grimhorn combat machine upgrade.

FlameHairSavior: So much for that bit about only trying to kill humans for destroying machines.

ADMIN [GAIA]: HEPHAESTUS has long gone past deciding whether or not to punish individual humans. Attempting to judge in such a way would be unfeasible in the extreme. The combat machines are a simpler solution to the perceived problem.

HIMBO: OH YEAH, I'VE MET GUYS LIKE THAT BEFORE.

β: you what

DIVINER: You've... met guys... like the angry machine god trying to exterminate the human race??

HIMBO: SURE!

HIMBO: "I DON'T KNOW BOSS, ALL YOUR TACTICS SOUND HARD, I'M JUST GOING TO BASH THROUGH THE DOOR."

HIMBO: OR "I CAN'T TELL WHO'S GUILTY SO I'M JUST ATTACKING EVERYONE WITH A WEAPON."

HIMBO: OR "SOMEONE STOLE MY BEER SO I'M STARTING A BRAWL."

FlameHairSavior: People who consider thinking a failing and prefer to just attack.

β: isnt that you

FlameHairSavior: What? No.

β: but youre getting into fights all the time

FlameHairSavior: I'm going to give you a pass on that because you've never actually seen me negotiate.

DIVINER: She managed to get us both away from Bohai without anyone else dying!!

HIMBO: YEAH, IN MY EXPERIENCE IT GOES LIKE THIS: "HELLO, I'M A REASONABLE PERSON NAMED ALOY. WHO ARE YOU?" "MY NAME IS CRAZY PERSON WHO EATS BABIES BECAUSE SOMEONE ATE MY BABY AND NOW I'M GOING TO EAT ALL THE BABIES." AND THEN THERE'S FIGHTING.

β: people eat babies now

FlameHairSavior: Erend!

HIMBO: IT WAS JUST A JOKE!

FlameHairSavior: No, Beta, not even the crazy people eat babies. I have never met a single person who even joked about eating babies.

BoyNextDoor: Until now, apparently.

HIMBO: IT WAS FUNNIER IN MY HEAD.

Chapter 26| Prev chapter | Next chapter Chapter Index

[thelazyhermits]

Got some TWST-related content underneath the cut~

Okay, so there's something I've been thinking about for a while now that I've finally decided to make a post about since it's better for my brain to just write out these kinds of thoughts/ideas lol

I've been wondering, what if it's possible for UM to experience the kinda growth that Quirks do? Like, just as heroes can improve their Quirks via training, what if that can be done to a certain degree with UM?

I just really like the idea of Yuu finding herself in the kinda position where she can help her friends strengthen their UM if they so desire to do that, like what Fortune does with her students and their Quirks.

The main person I think of when I picture this kinda scenario is Kalim since I feel like there's so much potential with his UM.

For starters, he can create all that rain with just a little of his magic, which makes me wonder what would happen if he purposely used more magic than necessary. Would the the rain last longer? Would it rain even harder?

I didn't mention this in my Book 4 summary post cause this idea hadn't crossed my mind at the time, but I like the idea of Yuu asking those questions out of curiosity after she learns about Kalim's UM.

Even though she's not in a teaching position in this AU, Yuu has grown up constantly trying to improve herself and become stronger for the sake of survival, and she's always studying her opponents' abilities in order to properly gauge what kinda threat they are to her.

Plus, there were times when she'd offer advice to all the poor kids in the underworld who were younger than her and suffering because they just weren't cut out for fighting like she was.

So, as a result, Yuu just automatically finds herself analyzing people's abilities, and this leads to her making observations and asking questions.

After Kalim first shows off his UM in Book 4, Yuu asks these questions, and he's very surprised since he really never gave much thought into what his UM could do if he used more magic.

And when he says that he never really thought much of his UM since it doesn't seem very useful to him, Yuu is quick to tell him how useful it could be to others who don't have access to water since, despite what he thinks, those types of people still do exist.

Plus, Yuu thinks Kalim's UM could also be useful to him if he were to find a way to increase how much rain he can produce.

For example, if Kalim ever found himself in a dangerous situation, he could summon a torrential downpour the likes of which make it hard for anyone to see anything around them, and while his attacker is caught off guard, Kalim could make his escape.

If it was possible for Kalim to summon enough water to actually knock someone to their knees, that would be even better, but Yuu figures the first idea would be more feasible between the two.

Kalim is fascinated by Yuu's ideas since those kinds of thoughts would've never crossed his mind, and I feel like, because of his experience with kidnappings, etc, he'd take an interest in being able to have this method of escape that doesn't involve hurting anyone.

Fast forward to Jamil's final OB battle, Kalim is bound and determined to do whatever he can to save Jamil. He convinces Yuu to let him work as a distraction along with her and Grim rather than just let himself be protected by her while the Octatrio take care of battling Jamil's Phantom.

I just really love the idea of Kalim taking a stand in this moment. He wants to fight alongside Yuu and do everything he can to save Jamil. He's used to being protected, but this time, he wants to do the protecting.

Because she wants to respect his feelings, Yuu agrees to team up with Kalim, and she's the one who brings up the conversation they both had about his UM the other day.

Yuu knows it's a shot in the dark, but she really wants to give the idea a try since that has the potential to catch Jamil off guard and provide the opening she needs.

Kalim immediately agrees to try her idea, so while Yuu takes care of distracting Jamil along with Grim, Kalim starts the incantation for his UM and begins pumping out more magic than usual in hopes that this will have some kind of effect on his UM's final product.

Fortunately, much to Kalim's amazement and Jamil's disbelief, Kalim is able to summon a heavy downpour, but it only lasts for a moment because this is Kalim's first time doing this, and this is something that requires more practice to fine-tune.

Thankfully, because of her Quirk, Yuu had foreseen Kalim's success, so she had already started running toward Jamil before the downpour started.

As a result, during the brief period of time when Jamil's vision is hampered thanks to the rain, Yuu is able to approach him and punch him hard in the face, at the same time Azul and the others finally take down Jamil's Phantom, resulting in Jamil's defeat.

I just really like the idea of Kalim contributing more to the final battle, so I wanted to change things up a little bit and have that development with his UM that's so full of potential.

I also love the thought of, after Book 4 events, Kalim secretly approaching Yuu and asking her to help him train his UM because he wants to become stronger and surprise/impress Jamil. And he's hoping he'll also be able to help people down the line by strengthening his UM.

I think it'd be cool if through training Kalim could create downpours when he needs them and also eventually gain the ability to summon rain in small select areas and just focus all his magic on the one area that needs rain, like an empty well for example.

Even though not a lot of time passes in between the two books, I'd love for this training to bear fruit in Book 5 during Vil's OB battle since I really want Kalim to get a chance to shine by having him use his UM in the battle since he could use his rain during moments when Vil tries to use poison gas on everyone, and he could hamper Vil's vision as well.

Kalim can't do this too much, of course, since it's more taxing to use his UM when he pours a lot of magic into it, but he's still able to help out a lot with his UM.

His actions completely catch Jamil off guard, and while he'd never admit it, Jamil is a little impressed with Kalim's growth. Of course, he'll still chide Kalim about overdoing it and order him to not do anything reckless/dangerous since he's still in charge of keeping Kalim safe lol

Because of how well he did during that battle, Kalim continues to train with Yuu after Book 5 events since he wants to impress Jamil even more, and I feel like he'd see this as a way he can become more of an equal with Jamil since he wants to become a more capable mage like Jamil.

Plus, if Kalim can use his UM to protect himself, that means less work for Jamil, and Jamil won't have to put himself in danger for his sake, which would definitely be a big motivator for Kalim.

Yuu is all too happy to help Kalim train whenever he asks since she likes being able to help him, and she thinks it's good for him to have a goal for himself that he can strive toward that can only be reached through his own efforts and can't be done by other people or solved with money.

I just think this would be a nice addition to Kalim's character development arc in my A Twisted Future series ^^

[iwonderwh0]

Watching John Wick for the first time and commenting in real time because I'm watching alone.

Spoiler: I HATED it. Below I just bitch about how much it sucks.

Oh, Green Goblin!

What a cute dog, I hope nothing bad will happen to her (unfortunately I know it will)

Is it even safe for dogs to eat cereal with milk?

(speaking Russian) <- man those people speak with such a horrendous accent I wouldn't even recognise this language if it wasn't for subtitles.

Stop speaking "russian" it's so bad! It's not even just accent, it's grammatically so terrible it doesn't make any sense 😭

It always buggs me when some multi-million budget movie inserts some characters that speak languages other than english and do such a shit job at making it actually be the language they're trying to use. Like come on, is it so hard to find one person who speaks the language you want to use to ensure that it actually sounds accurate? I wonder if it is as bad with movies where side characters speak Chinese/Japanese or is it just European/Slavic languages that get this treatment.

Man, this is painfully bad. I mean, if a character speaking foreign language has this amount of active presence on screen why would you as a producer/director allow it to be this bad, it sounds like simlish. It's goofy.

I can't watch it seriously hearing them speaking.

I too get an urge to kill while cleaning up the floor.

Those subtitles are wrong, it's not what he said. He made some incomprehensible nonsense of noises.

I feel like I'm having a stroke hearing them.

I love multilingual movies, but this is not it. If it's so hard to find someone speaking Russian, make them speak some other language that you can actually show accurately.

Of course they drink vodka what else.

Fuck off, this is lazy.

"Baba Yaga" my ass, do you even know what it means? It's a folklore creature of what essentially is an old woman. Not just a boogie man. It's kind of a weird nickname to have as a man.

Fuck, even when they speak actual words they make inaccurate subtitles. THAT'S NOT WHAT HE SAID. This song isn't even about "Baba Yaga" you fools

This is what happens when people go for vibes of foreign countries instead of actually doing any kind of research.

I can't watch any kind of media in peace, dbh brain rot will find me anywhere.

Maybe it's because I'm now holding a prejudice, but even outside of this absolutely terrible job at making character portray Russian, this looks like a parody of a blockbuster rather than a blockbuster in itself

They're singing a fucking lullaby in a pool party 😭😭😭 just normal russian-villain behaviour

I'm sorry I just didn't expect it to suck this bad

Okay, that action sequence isn't that bad.

Maybe this movie would be better if they would just fight without ever attempting to talk out loud. Just grunting and moaning.

I'm not a medic but I suspect it's just as infuriating for them to watch this movie as it is for someone who understands Russian or at the really least knows what it sounds like.

You're telling me, a sniper with a fixed target missed? I'm starting to suspect that maybe it's not that John Wick is invincible but just the people who are after him are all incompetent morons.

"You were always a pussy" <- that was so unnecessary and goofy.

How the hell is this movie rated as high as it is, it's "The Room" of action movies, I swear. So bad to the point of almost going a full circle and becoming good.

Even as an action movie it's not that good either.

Other than Keanu Reeves there are literally no interesting nor likeable characters on screen. Everyone else are unremarkable and bland. Except for Marcus.

Maybe I'm missing something. Maybe I should be looking at it like a comedy, a parody. Because it really isn't good in itself.

THIS REALLY IS A COMEDY, isn't it?

I mean a dude literally got a headshot with a "wasted" gta sound effect.

Well, it was bad. It's a meme, but it's not really a good movie. Or I just don't think it is.

Surprisingly, "comedy" isn't listed among genres.

A BLADE RUNNER REFERENCE WHAT

[aita-blorbos]

Hypothetical Question, I think?

AITA for 'mistreating' the characters in my games?

God, I can't believe I'm even writing this. This feels so dumb.

I'm in pretty hot water with the public right now, so I'll keep things as vague as possible. Don't make any assumptions who I am. You are definitely wrong. That guy has better things to do than be here and ask crazy questions.

Ever since I (Adult, m) was little, I've been developing games. I developed them by using a special program, Gameworks, this firm, GF, put out. My first game was a massive success, my second one (a sequel) was met with mixed reviews since many didn't like how radical it was. GF made me an offer to buy the rights and produce a third game.

Who in their right mind would refuse that? Obviously, I took the money. The third came crashed and burned. It was full of bugs and all that. A small part of me died when I saw what they did to the IP. But I couldn't hold onto it forever. I had bigger plans. Why should I care?

Anyway, I hired my chilhood friend C (Adult, f) to help me with game development. We both worked on female characters since she insisted i shouldn't have only male ones. But ever since she created hers, there were these weird bugs in my games...

Anyway, I started a franchise of fighting games (which I don't get nearly enough credit for btw). I bought the rights to one of my favorite characters and obviously added him to the franchise. (gamers were so annoying, constantly whining about how characters were overpowered, underpowered, boring, ugh)

I made a huge game after that, but it flopped on release. I even paid the biggest gaming streamer to play it, but it was all for nothing because C messed with the game! She left bugs in there to intentionally sabotage me! Her ego was just to big to stand in the shadow of my greatness. And since everyone saw everything go to hell live... it bombed.

I had to take the money that was left and make my next game completely on my own again. It was supposed to be my great comeback. But then those modders took my half-finished game and made a mockery of it! So I filed a lot of lawsuits to get them down!

Sorry, I'm rambling. I'll try to keep it brief from here.

I did start another series, a shooter, but the characters were just too old... a breach thankfully corrupted a lot of data.

My Gameworks Assistant has been acting weird since then, telling me I'm in danger. It's weird, but... I've been thinking a lot lately... what if the characters I created... live somehow? It sounds so dumb, but... I think I fucked up with one of my characters especially.

He was the main character of my very first game and based on a younger version of my grandpa. And when my second game ever made got insanely popular... I just wanted to get rid of the game so it made me look like a genius. So I let my Gameworks Assistant delete everything from that game.

I don't know, this all sounds so stupid and crazy, but AITA for mistreating my game characters?

[bandzboy]

You seem to be dealing with a lot of nasty stuff recently, so I wanted to make sure you get a nice anon your ask box. (Also I'm not exactly a regular on the SVT side of Tumblr, so I'll admit I'm a bit shy, but here it goes)

I think there's unfortunately certain people in various fandoms who can't tell the difference between hate and constructive criticism, and take all criticism very personally. I don't think you or your friends have shown any hate to SVT. If anything, it feels like most of your critique is towards the companies. And (as you and your friends have mentioned, or at least heavily hinted at) there are times when criticizing the company and helping the artist go hand-in-hand (like, hypothetically, if the producer of a group is forced to work on holidays). And with everything we know about HYBE, I think it's safe to say that this is one of those hand-in-hand situations.

(that was a mouthful but hopefully it made sense)

Also on a slightly unrelated note: thank you so much for the Music Box. I have been using it (plus a few other resources here and there) quite a lot since it was made, and it's been a very helpful resource.

Anyway, to bring it all together, I guess I just want you to know that there are people that greatly appreciate the way you and your friends stand up for what you believe in. And even if the people who disagree with you are super loud and horrible, I hope their harsh words don't get to you too much.

You're doin' good 👍🏼

first of all, thank you so much for the kind words 🥹 second of all, if there's anything i've learned this year is that i'm very comfortable with my morals and where i stand with them rn and nobody can change my mind about them really. if this were to happen years ago, i would probably waver and be anxious that some random person online hates my guts and wants to boycott me but i just don't feel like that anymore because i know the things i've been doing this year especially are what is right for me and just feel correct and so i'll just go on this path for a very long time since i made it my life's mission to be someone who gets rights for artists and also makes it a better space for palestinian artists to be in without the threat of zionism being involved. i love seventeen and i have for 6 years! i've been a carat for that long and through that time, i have made sure to better my approach while stanning them because also i grew up a lot during that time. i call them out when necessary and i do these things because i want them to do better since i do love them that is all. and i'm sure my friends on caratblr feel the same in a way when it comes to this. i don't think they would be doing content for seventeen daily if they didn't love them or their music.

they put a lot of work into doing these gifs and edits and gfx because they love their art to the point that they feel like they have to do something to show that appreciation. most of the people on that list have a moral backbone and aren't afraid of expressing opinions because they know what is right and i'm honestly glad that caratblr is composed of people that are like that. most people feel threatened by this and that's why they feel the need to attack others for this specifically.

throughout these past few months, i've encountered different types of people in the kpop community and i can't help but think that a lot of them don't have intact morals or see it as an attack that we are trying to change this industry for something that might be better in the long run. it's a very long fight and we know that! despite having a lot of losers saying that this is us trying to sabotage the groups it won't get to us because we know it's not true since those aren't the intentions and as long as we know that, we will keep going. so it doesn't get to me because i'm just that confident in my belief system and my morals. some things that person said were disrespectful (like implying idk how much woozi works on music and how much love he puts into it) but most of the time i was just laughing because 1) i didn't know i was that important 2) they felt so threatened that they felt the need to an account and not show their face and "call us out" on a random sunday

i'm fine truly! so don't worry about it! your girl won't go down that easily! also thank you for using music box it's been sort of a passion project for me collecting all of these drives and making getting music more accessible to everyone who is boycotting. ace (@ajusnice) joined me along the ride and they have been helping me with drives and so i just want to quickly thank them because they offered me help and i'm very thankful! i'll be working on it soon because some things are missing and i want to give it a different look, so look forward to that!

[amethysttheanarchist]

I've been working on a fic regarding the incident with Calvin getting his eye poked out. I NEED CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM.I just know it sucks cause I haven't written in a while.

"Go run along boys. I have work to do" Fischoeder Sr. said to his sons, Calvin and Felix Fischoeder. Felix was asking for help to make a fake crown, as he and his brother were preparing to play kingdoms and dragons.

Felix and Calvin turn and walk off, Felix is far more upset that his father is ignoring him once again. In hopes of making his brother feel better, Calvin offers an idea "What if we made fake crowns with paper and tape from Mother's office downstairs, I think it's still empty cause of the renovations".Felix's face lights up "OH and the paper rolls and pipes are still down there so we can use them to make swords. Felix grabs the elder brother's hand and drags them downstairs away from their father's office door, now shut to ward off the boys. " we have to hurry and make the crowns cause we still have to go outside and turn Jewels(dog) into a dragon"

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15 minutes have passed and two crowns and a sword have been produced. Felix was struggling with his while Calvin was drawing on his sword. "Calvin is this right?" Felix held up a poorly made sword. It looked right but flimsy, one gust of wind away from breaking " I mean we have to try it out first" Calvin put on his crown and picked up his sword as he got up. He pointed at Felix "I challenge you to a fight, baby knight". Felix's face got red and exasperated "Mother said stop calling me a baby, I'm a big boy!!!" Felix charged at Calvin, landing blows to his upper torso with the sword which surprisingly held up well. Calvin however, wasn't gonna take Felix's attacks lightly. Calvin started to attack back and in seconds, the boys were roughhousing with the swords. "Oh come on baby, there's a reason dad likes me more, you always act up like this'' Calvin backed up, prepared to lash a finishing blow to the out-of-breath Felix.``STOP IT CALVIN, THAT'S NOT FUNNY" Felix turned around and picked up the scissors off the floor, Calvin, not the least bit worried said "what do you plan on doing with those you baby"

In a flash, Felix rushed Calvin and the

scissors were plunged into his eye. Calvin hit the floor with a thud, curled up and covering his eye. "Get up, I didn't hit you that hard" After he didn't respond, Felix got worried and hunched over Calvin, "Calvin? Get up this isn't funny, get up"

In a low, grasping voice, Calvin whispered "Go…go get dad" Dark red blood had started to bleed through Calvin's white suit sleeves. Felix saw the blood and whispered "Wha-".Calvin painfully yelled out "GO GET DAD" Felix unsure of what was happening screamed and ran out to grab their father

Felix starts banging on his father's door while Calvin screams in pain from downstairs "DAD DAD DAD DAD, WE NEED HELP". In a swift motion, their father swings the door open "CAN'T YOU SEE I'M BUSY FELIX".Felix now with tears streaming down his face screams out "Somethings wrong with Calvin" Without hesitating, His father grabs Felix's arm and drags them down the stairs and hisses out "What did you do to your brother!?", to which Felix didn't answer. When they get to the door, fischoeder Sr swings the door open, To find Calvin withering on the floor, a pool of blood around his head. "CALVIN!" His father rushes over to the desk and starts dialing 911 "Hold still Calvin, help is going to be on the way"Felix is kneeled near Calvin when Their mother runs in"I heard screaming what's going ooooo-" Her voice trails off when she sees the blood surrounding Calvin. At a moment's notice, she knelt near Calvin as well, Holding both of her children's hands "Boys, I'm gonna need you to calm down and tell me what happened, Both boys stay silent, Calvin only leaving his pained and quickened breath in the air. Their mother, understanding that the boys are both panicked and not right for talking at the moment, starts wiping up the growing amount of blood off Calvin's face

5 minutes pass and Fischoeder Sr is carrying his son into the ambulance. Felix has Been nothing but silent aside from his breathy and panicked tears. Calvin has been painfully sobbing every so often letting out a cry of pain. When the ambulance drives off, Fischoeder Sr piles everyone into his golf cart and follows the speeding ambulance.

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Calvin is in surgery when they arrive at the hospital. The family is sat in the waiting room alone. They were only told that it's likely that Calvin will lose his eyesight in the poked-out eye. His father is hunched over, drinking from his flask while his mother is gently patting Felix's head while he laid his head on her lap. A couple minutes pass of this and his father mutters out "So, what did you do to Calvin", before Felix can answer, the surgeon comes out to address the family "Are you the family for the Fischoeder boy?" The entire family stood up with Felix hiding behind his mother "Yes, is he ok" their mother said, clutching the hand of the shaking Felix behind her "So the good news is that he is mostly awake and well but the bad news is that to fix the wound we had to remove his eye, effectively blinding him in his right eye". A collective but silent gasp filled the room. In the span of 2

hours, the boys had gone From running around and playing to one now blind in eye. Felix whispered out,quivering behind his mother "can we see him" "I would give him an hour before visiting,so he can recover from surgery and all the anesthesia" The whole family sat back down,tired from the day's activities. One hour,one hour and they would see the mess that felix had made.

[humblemooncat]

FFXIV Write 2023: A Journey of Remembrance Day 4: "Off the Hook" ♫

"Humor me a moment, will you?"

The two walked hand-in-hand through Hawker's Alley, having wandered the city since the airship arrived that afternoon. Ki'to had a twinkle in his eye, whether mischievous or no, G'raha couldn't tell.

"Dare I wonder where you're leading me if I say yes?" he asked, bemused.

"Somewhere close by. Just allow me a stop at this stall first" Ki'to replied, his hand slipping from their grip to slink over to a produce stall.

As G'raha followed him, he noticed the merchant trading hushed whispers with his husband before pulling a basket up from behind the counter to hand to him. Ki'to handed him a bag of coin and turned back to grab his lover's hand again, the basket hanging from his other arm.

G'raha gave him a quizzical tilt of his head, to which Ki'to simply replied with a grin. "You'll see. Now, let's go!"

---

"The docks?" G'raha asked, "I had figured you'd lead me to a seedy tavern or something with how you were looking"

Ki'to laughed, "I wouldn't do that to you. At least, not on this trip"

"This trip, eh?" the accusatory tone only made Ki'to grin wider.

"Tell me, do you remember the last time we all gathered here?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Of course. 'Twas before we embarked to Sharlayan"

"Indeed" Ki'to turned to the view before them, "One of many voyages I've taken from these docks. Sharlayan, Kugane, occasionally even to Thanalan" He gave a loud whistle and wave to one of the dock workers, "And not least of all, the many fishing trips"

The sea wolf waved them over, a small vessel beside him in which lay a couple fishing poles.

"You're taking me fishing?"

"You did say you'd humor me"

"Debatable"

---

The sun was on its way below the horizon as the two reeled in their last catches of the day, floating quite a ways from the docks of the city.

As Ki'to pulled his off the hook and lowered it into the water, he watched as it wriggled free of his grasp and swam away.

"Nothing quite like the freedom of being let off the line after being pulled along so long" he mused, eyes still on the water as it shone brilliantly in the last bits of sunlight.

G'raha released his own catch, looking up at his husband. "Sometimes the line is comforting, leading you through the vast ocean"

Ki'to smiled wistfully, "For a while, sure. But better momentary indecision in the face of too many choices, than to be pulled forcefully where you wish not to be" He leaned over to the basket from earlier, "But enough melancholy metaphor, this was meant to be a nice date" The clinking of glasses preceded a wine bottle as they were pulled from the basket.

Questions bubbled up and died on his lips as G'raha looked on at his lover, framed beautifully by the dying light. "Right..."

"The Admiral recommended this one. It's apparently very light and not too dry. I was never one for the dry wines" as if to punctuate his point, Ki'to's tongue poked out in disgust, "Join me for a glass under the stars before we go?"

"Of course, Love" G'raha perked himself up, "So that's what was in the basket. I had wondered"

"That and some little snacks to go with it. I asked the Admiral to order them before we arrived" Ki'to explained, "She knew better than I what paired well with what, so I asked her to surprise us"

"You trust her with these choices, I take it" G'raha asked, taking a glass from him and taking a sip.

"Among others. Like those shorts you like so much" Ki'to said with a grin, hearing an almost spit take from him.

The two continued to laugh amongst one another as they enjoyed the wine and each other's company, only rowing back to the docks once they'd had their fill of both.

Despite everything trying to fight against me today, my brain and crimes both, I finally got this done!

Today's destination: Limsa Lominsa <3