#to be truly able to tell how things were?

[abbyslovergirlxo]

Glute Day

GymRat!Abby x ChubbyFem!Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Synopsis: You’ve been going to the gym with Abby for a few weeks and you swear your ass is getting fatter! Abby thinks so too but she needs a closer look to make sure :)

Warnings: mdni, wlw, masochism (sorta), sadism (sorta), strap usage, crying, hair pulling, lotsss of pet names (r!recieving)

Wrote this on my break, hope yall like it!💕 I figured I’d finally write for Abby since she’s my username 😂 also I’m currently working on Same Damn Time pt2 🫶

Working out with Abby always left you weak and wobbly. She was the biggest girl at the gym after all, she knew how to do a workout. For months prior she’d casually ask you if you’d like to join her. You’d never thought much of it, she loved your body (a little too much). Abby truly would find any reason to spend time with you so you figured she simply wanted your company.

“ Leaving out soon baby, think you wanna come?”

“ You feeling the gym today cookie? I’m doing arms. Your favorite.”

Although enticing at times, it seemed she always caught you when working out was the last thing you wanted to do. So for awhile she stopped asking, opting to giving you a quick kiss on the forehead and heading out with her green gym bag and black compression shirt.

And then finally one day she heard those magic words.

“ Abs…do you think I could go with you today?”

The grin that spread on her face was so full that it spread to you, your cheek burning. She was quick to give you a kiss on the forehead, her arms wrapping around you and squeezing in just the right position that her bicep dug into your arm.

“ Abso-fucking-lutely babe, you can come with me whenever. I don’t have a split for you yet but you can shadow me and do some beginner workouts. That sound good?”

You nodded, but honestly in that moment the only thing you were thinking about was how good she smelled. Besides, you thought, it can’t be that hard. You’d just trail along, lift a few weights and watch your hot girlfriend bench twice your weight. Sounded like a win-win to you.

Wrong.

Fast forward a few weeks later and you were slightly regretting your decision.

Well, undoubtedly watching Abby proved to be as good as you thought. Her face would scrunch as she groaned through each set. Straight up fucking porn if anyone had asked you. But then came the actual working out. A few sets with Abby was enough for you to know that this was going to be hell. Your arms would throb, even with the five pound weights! And she was effortlessly lifting 60 pound dumbbells, what the hell! But you just couldn’t pass on the words she spoke to you. Abby talked you through it like no other.

“ Great job babe, right there. You feel it right here, right?”

“ Justtt a little more, you’ve got it.”

“ It’s okay baby, I started off with those too.”

“ Spread your feet a little more…yeah just like that. Look at that, a natural.”

“ Best spotter in the whole word sweetheart.”

Then came leg day and every glute workout was somehow just crucifying your back. You’d complained to Abby so many times and sometimes she’d be able to get you engaging your glutes but it was just never consistent. But seemingly one day your body got on board, your form improved and you were feeling it in every part of your ass. By week three you even could’ve sworn that you’d seen a little difference! Swear!

Your first mistake though, was telling Abby this because suddenly she too swore she saw a difference. You should’ve known by the way she was staring at you, eyes fixated and smile wicked. But you were far too fixated on the mirror in front you, constantly shuffling your legs and switching positions to see as much as you could.

“ You sure Abby? I mean I feel like I can see it but now I’m second guessing. Maybe it’s just the glute pump.”

You had worked your glutes just the day before and they were as sore as ever. Abby didn’t bother to tell you that glute pumps don’t last that long, she didn’t care to. She was too focused on the way your leggings clung to the pudge of your stomach and ass.

“ Now that you mention it, I’m not sure. How about you come over here so I can see a little better honey.”

Oblivious to the way her hand was just itching for you to waltz over to her sitting on the bed, you frowned at the mirror for just a second. Without thinking you walked over to her.

Terrible idea.

“ C’mon baby…hahh— keep the arch f’me.”

You whined, the feeling of her thrust sending you into a drooling frenzy. But your body almost involuntarily dropped lower just at the simple command of her voice, earning you a harsh slap to your ass. She smiled at the red print that her hand left, now adding to all the other marks she’d given you.

“ n-nghh! abbyyy…”

She hummed, tracing the bite mark on your left cheek gently. It was quite a contrast to how mean her hips were being to you. You were so sure you could feel her right in your stomach. But every time you’d tell her that she’d just give you faux sympathy and tell you how good you’re taking her.

Abby was sure she could look at this image of you forever. She couldn’t find a single reason why it wasn’t the most beautiful thing in the world. Your arch was like heaven to her, the rolls of your back and fat of your ass rippling. It reminded her of art. Except nothing about the way you sounded or looked was left to interpretation.

Every whimper and cry was so telling. Every tug at her wrist, dragged whine of please please pleaseee and toe clench made it pretty obvious what she was doing to you. And Abby saw it to be no less than a fucking honor to be the one in between your legs.

“ o..god— hurtss…”

She groaned, watching as you tried to slow her hips with your hands. Pathetically you pushed at the black harness but it only made her smile. Gently, she grabbed your hands with one hand, pressing them into the curve of your back making you cry her name again. Abby nearly keeled over at the way you grew louder.

Like the secret sadist she was, she found it to be so addicting knowing your ass was burning with every thrust. Knowing that everytime you were crying was because of the workout regimen she made just for you.

She leaned down suddenly, the pace of her hips inhumanly thrusting at the same speed. Only now it sunk deeper from this angle making a choked sob leave your throat and reach her ears like a melody.

She trailed kisses from your neck, the sweat only making her want to kiss you more. She trailed around till she was right next to your face.

So pretty, she thought. So loud.

“ h—hu…”

She kissed the side of your cheek, causing your stomach to somehow do more flips. Her braid was undone by now, the waves of her blonde hair colliding with yours, small strands ever so slightly tickling your back.

“ shh I know cookie…hurts so good right?”

Two more iridescent tears fell down your face, your breath caught in your throat. Your mascara painted your eyes, cheeks flushed and hair messy. But to Abby, this was the prettiest you’ve ever looked.

“ yess…so good!”

“ yeah?”

Suddenly she was back upright, secretly missing the view of your ass hitting her skin. You immediately clung to the sheets the moment you felt her hands release your arms. Besides, Abby found something way better to mess with. She used both of her hands to squeeze your ass making your eyes roll back at the sharp pain.

“ yeah baby, it’s definitely fatter.”

She used hand to wrap around and draw sticky circles on your clit.

“ my sweet girl, always taking me so well.”

Spoken too soon because not even a second later you were pulling at the sheets, crawling towards the other end. She clicked her tongue at you.

“ aww, now that’s not sweet of you. come back mama.”

Without even waiting for you to listen she decided to move you herself. You mewled when she gripped your hair, the evidence of all those 60 pound weights showing in your scalp. Instantly you were dragged back, more tears cascading down your face. White spots started to blur your vision. That feeling in your tummy was growing so intense that you thought you might pass out.

But Abby was right there behind you, gripping your beautiful hair, ready to get you where you needed. You tried to speak, to say anything, to warn her. But she already knew. She always did.

“ shh it’s ok, you’re gonna cum soon babe. be sweet again and make a mess for me.”

She smiled as you did exactly that, your body shaking like a leaf. The sounds you made were so damn filthy but it didn’t compare to the filthy scene of you leaking onto the strap. She whispered “my filthy girl” over and over as she fucked you through it until she let go of your hair and let you collapse on the bed.

She slowed her thrust until she simply sat inside of you. You struggled to breath as she left kisses all along your back before she remembered how pretty your breast were. She flipped you over with her still inside, leaving dark marks all over your breast and chest. She trailed down to the fat of your stomach, leaving a bite mark near your belly button.

“ Think you can give me one more? Really gotta make sure we work those muscles.” She murmured into your skin.

You looked down at her.

“ just o-one?”

She hummed.

“ Just one cookie.”

She was lying.

After that day you never missed leg day. And ever since that day Abby made sure to fuck you the day after

[fairestwriting]

Could I rq Riddle, Azul, and Ace seeing reader’s friend from RSA half-jokingly,half-seriously asking them to transfer to their school? They can even bring Grim with them.

I really like you’re writing btw <3

𐙚 Riddle Rosehearts

“The paperwork for that would be very complicated.” He interrupts their train of thought so quickly, but it’s just because he’s definitely heard that same joke himself before. “Believe me, I know someone who goes there too. It’d be especially difficult for them to allow in a familiar, I hear.”

He doesn’t really get the joke part. Just like he doesn’t get it when Che’nya jokes about transferring to NRC, or making him transfer to RSA. They’re both great, prestigious magic schools, and the transfer process is downright grueling, if there’s no specific reason for it, transferring would be a stupid idea— That’s what’s going through his mind right now.

“Besides, it’s not like going to different schools stops you from talking to each other. You’re doing it right now, aren’t you?” He comments, setting down his tea cup. Whatever your friend’s true intentions were with that comment, he shuts them down pretty efficiently, even if it wasn’t his intention at all. One might even wonder if the idea makes Riddle jealous…

…And it does, just a little bit, but that’s not the main point here. Really. Even if you ask him, he’ll just kind of pout about it and tell you that if you do want to transfer, at least make sure you do it properly. Gets embarrassed at how much he dislikes the idea, but he’s not a good enough liar to hide it.

𐙚 Ace Trappola

“Whaaat, you can’t do that! There’s no way a fancy school like that would let that weasel in.” His response starts off all dramatic and whiny sounding, but he quickly breaks into a smirk. He’s like the opposite of Riddle, instead of not catching onto the joking part, it’s the seriousness that flies right over his head.

He can tell your RSA friend is attached to you, sure, he’s observant enough to see that. But that would be a pretty crazy idea, wouldn’t it? If even transferring dorms within the same school is a huge pain, he can’t even begin to imagine how much work it’d be to transfer schools.

When you all go your separate ways, he comments about your RSA friend being a “funny” guy. It does really sound like the sort of thing a stereotypical RSA student would say, to him. It has a sort of overly charitable, “thinks the world is sunshine and rainbows” feel, he explains. Maybe it makes sense to you, maybe it doesn’t. Either way, Ace can’t possibly take it seriously. If you ever tell him you’re actually thinking about transferring, it’ll be a surprise to him.

Honestly, he likely won’t even associate your idea with your friend’s comment, unless you specifically mention that. Then it’s more like “Really? You’re willing to do all that just to get closer to some goody two-shoes? Wow, someone has a crush.”, laughing as he teases you, hardly believing the whole thing at all.

𐙚 Azul Ashengrotto

“Oh, it’s very kind of you to offer to help with the process like that. It would take a lot of work, if they do decide to do this.”Azul responds pleasantly, but the polite smile on his face doesn’t quite reach his eyes as they fixate on that friend of yours. It might’ve truly been intended to come off as just a silly, affectionate joke, but he doesn’t like it.

Depending on how observant you are, you might be able to feel the instant change of atmosphere surrounding the three of you. Obviously, Azul isn’t going to actually argue against the guy, who do you take him for— But there’s not a single overtly positive reply coming out of his mouth either. Anytime the idea of you transferring is brought up, he’ll sneak in a reminder of how difficult the process is, all while keeping that smile on his face.

As your RSA friend says goodbye to you both, you’re left with a bit of a strange feeling. And Azul will talk about how it was such a pleasure to be introduced to your friend, he’s looking forward to speaking to them again, the Lounge’s doors are always open to them if you want to hang out, etc. And he’ll pretend he has no clue what you’re talking about if you point out he’s behaving weirdly.

Of course he doesn’t want to admit it’s jealousy, that would be just childish— The truth is pretty clear if you know him well enough, however. He doesn’t actually think they could convince you to put yourself through all that… but it surely it wouldn’t hurt to remind you it’s easier to stay, right?

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[johanna-517]

"Special and unique"

(CHAPTER 5)

You were sitting quietly on the small couch in your house, watching some cartoons while your mom prepared dinner.

"Mamá... ¿Por qué yo no tengo papá? " you asked, with a curious expression as you turned to look at your mother.

She stood still, a little surprised by your sudden question, but... After all, you were almost six years old, it was obvious that sooner or later you would ask yourself that question.

You'd seen your friends with their dads, and you'd also seen how the characters in your favorite TV shows had dads too. So, eventually, curiosity arose in your little mind... Why didn't you have a dad too?

Mom never mentioned anything about Dad, you never met your father until now, you don't even know who he is, let alone the reason why your mom doesn't tell you anything about him.

"Ah... Escucha, mi adorable (y/n), tú si tienes un padre, es solo que... Él no está aquí, él vive muy, muy lejos. Y no puedes conocerlo" She explained, leaving the kitchen and walking towards you.

"De todas formas... No necesitas un padre, mi pequeña hija. Te prometo que yo te voy a cuidar y amar tanto que jamás te hará falta un padre" She murmured sweetly, hugging you.

"Tú me tienes a mi y yo te tengo a tí, eso es todo lo que importa". She finally stated, her voice as warm and soft as ever, as she placed a small kiss on your forehead.

Oh, how right your mother was when she said that... You didn't need a father. You didn't need Bruce. Because... It was obvious he didn't need you either.

After the incident on the stairs, you had to rest and stay in bed in your room for almost two whole days. And... It wasn't even difficult for you to accept having to stay locked in your room resting these days, since, after what happened... You definitely didn't even want to run into Tim, much less Stephanie or Cassandra. So it was better to stay within the safety of your own room, without any of them being able to get close.

Alfred took care of you; in fact, it's thanks to him and his diligent care that you've already recovered quite a bit. The pain in your body disappeared; only small marks remained, but nothing serious.

In times like these, you definitely appreciate that Alfred at least makes time for you. If it weren't for him, living in this mansion would be much more complicated.

He takes care of you, listens to you, makes sure you eat all three meals a day, teaches you English, explains to you about this family, and helps you in every way he can. You're truly grateful for that.

You sigh softly, really... It was so boring staying in your room all day. Luckily, you have something to help you entertain yourself a little.

You take the notebook and pencil that were next to you on the table, and you start to draw a little bit of the first thing that comes to mind.

Your grip on the pencil is soft, and you have a calm expression as you slide the pencil tip over the white sheet of paper.

You draw a house, a small but pretty house, with a garden, three windows, a big tree next to it, and a sun in the sky. Then, you take some colored crayons and start coloring.

The walls of the house are yellow, the flowers in the garden are pink, yellow, blue, orange, and red. Of course, the tree is green. And finally, you paint the sky light blue and the sun bright yellow.

You smile slightly at the result... You've drawn the house you used to live in with your mother before. Of course, a simple drawing can't fully capture your beautiful, warm home. But at least... This will help you remember what your house used to look like. Your real home.

You look to your side and suddenly remember that Toti isn't with you. You lost him when you fell down the stairs, and at the time, because you were hurt, you didn't notice and didn't pick him up. And for now, since you had to stay in your room resting, you hadn't been able to go out to look for Toti.

But... Now you feel better. Your body no longer hurts when you move or walk. So you could go out and look for Toti, but you hesitate for a moment, not sure you really want to leave the room, afraid you'd run into Tim, Cassandra, or Stephanie if you left your room.

You sigh softly, trying to calm down a little. Toti is important to you, you can't leave him alone any longer... Besides, with luck, you won't run into anyone this time.

You finally decide to get up and go outside to look for Toti. You get out of bed, walking toward the door. Before you leave the room, you notice that the little monarch butterfly you knew had returned. She flew in through the open window, approaching you and landing on your shoulder.

You laugh softly at the sight of her again... You're so happy to see your little friend again. She seems to want to go with you, so you let her tag along.

You walk calmly through the long, almost dark hallways of the mansion, trying to remember exactly where you fell and lost Toti.

After a while... You finally reach the spot. You shudder a little at the sight of the stairs and remember what had happened; what Stephanie said about you and how she pushed you at the end.

You shake your head, trying to push those memories away. Right now, the last thing you need is to remember that moment... After all, when there are painful moments, it's always better to try to forget them as if they never happened, right?

With determination, you approach the stairs, and look around carefully, searching for Toti.

You frown slightly when you can't see him; you can't find him on the stairs. So you decide to go downstairs to see if you can find him at the bottom.

Once downstairs, you tense up when you hear loud footsteps nearby. Then... You see him, you see Jason for the first time.

He... He's definitely very tall and intimidating, with a serious, tense expression. You freeze for a moment when you see him, not knowing what to do.

You remember Alfred telling you a little about him earlier, saying that Jason had a somewhat complicated and strained relationship with Bruce right now, and that was why he didn't come to the mansion regularly.

As you look at him, you notice he has a small wound on his face. He's hurt.

A feeling of concern fills your chest at the sight of him hurt, and without thinking, you try to approach him, but... He stops you, not allowing you to get any closer to him.

"What do we have here? Looks like this is the new little freak Bruce brought to the mansion... Really, he should learn not to accept just anyone here." Jason's tone was aggressive, a cruel, mocking smile on his lips as he looked at you, observing the peculiar color of your eyes.

You flinch at hearing him be so directly hostile toward you. You feel afraid of him, of how big and intimidating he seems. But, deep down... You can't help but feel annoyed by what he said, too.

"I'm no freak..." you muttered under your breath, looking away.

"Of course you are, just look at your strange eye color and you'll know. Only a freak could have eyes that hideous," he replied, completely indifferent to what his words might provoke in you.

Definitely... This is too much, you can't stand him talking about your eyes like that, he has no right.

With anger flashing in your eyes, you walk over and try to push him away in revenge for what he said about you. But... He stops you instantly, grabbing your arms in a tight, almost painful grip.

"Do you really think... that a little weirdo like you can do something to me? How ridiculous," Jason stated in a mocking tone, staring at you.

You wince slightly at Jason's grip, and try to pull away, but to no avail, as he's definitely much stronger than you.

At that moment... The little butterfly on your shoulder finally flies away, going straight for Jason's face, as if it wants to get him to let go of you.

And he succeeds for a moment, Jason is taken by surprise and lets go of you, now using his hands to try to push away the annoying butterfly that was fluttering near his face.

Jason was already angry, so having a butterfly trying to attack his face definitely pisses him off even more. Without hesitation, Jason manages to catch the butterfly in one of his hands, and then... He crushes it, closing his fist tightly until the small butterfly is completely crushed. Then, he opens his hand and lets it fall to the ground.

You felt like your heart had stopped the moment you saw it. You watched as the butterfly fell to the ground, its wings crushed and broken, not moving at all.

Instantly, your eyes filled with tears, you dropped to your knees as you stared at your little friend on the ground, completely broken.

Before you could complain further, Jason simply walks away. He turns around and walks away with cold indifference, not regretting what he's done at all.

You watch him walk away and turn his back on you, your eyes filling with tears after what he did.

"Jason... W-why?" your voice trembles slightly, looking down at the butterfly on the ground again.

You reach out with one of your trembling hands, touching the butterfly's broken wings. You try to murmur soft words, asking it to move even a little, to not leave, that I didn't leave you. But no matter how much you beg, it doesn't budge.

You carefully pick it up in your hands, making sure to pick up every little fragment of its wings as well.

You try to stop crying, you try to ignore the way your hands shake, you try to stop feeling... The pain in your chest.

You arrive at your room, close the door behind you, find a small, empty box, and put the butterfly in it.

You stand there for a moment, staring blankly at the small box on the table.

'I... I didn't do anything to him, I didn't do anything wrong to Jason, so why... Does he do this to me? Does he hate me too?' you thought, sighing softly. You were definitely no longer surprised to being hated by someone in this family.

But even if he hated you... It doesn't justify what he did. He literally shattered the little bit of hope and joy you had. Because that's what the monarch butterfly represented to you; hope and a chance at happiness. And he just... shattered it right in front of your eyes.

It's okay if he has issues with Bruce, if maybe he's upset all the time, it's okay if he doesn't like you, but... He didn't have to do this.

The unpleasantly warm tears continue to fall from your eyes, your gaze still fixed on the small box.

How should you feel? Angry, disappointed, or maybe... just sad? You don't know. All you know right now is that you've never felt that way in your life.

This is a different kind of pain, not the same longing you feel for your mother. This is much more... cruel. Being hurt without even a shred of mercy from people like them is too much.

It's incredible... As soon as you arrive, everyone seems to hate you. Every time you meet a new family member, they do something worse than the last.

And the worst part? The worst part is that you have to suffer in silence. Because you can't tell Bruce, you can't tell your own father about the way your siblings treat you. Because simply... He doesn't care about you either. And you're absolutely certain that he much prefers his other children to you.

You don't want to tell Alfred either because you're afraid of what will happen. What if he also prefers others to you? What if he leaves you behind too? You can't risk it. For now, it's best not to say anything.

❦: (I was going to post this chapter last night, but my internet was failing too much, so I better post it today. Thanks for reading, I appreciate the support, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.)

✯/Tag list: @hopingtoclearmedschool

(If anyone else wants to be added please ask in the comments :D)

[sky-scribbles]

hi, skyscribbles!

as an aroace writer myself, i struggle a lot with writing romance. how am i supposed to describe something so foreign to me?

i love how you've written your romances, so i guess what I'm trying to ask is - any tips? help?

Never fear, I have one easy trick that will solve all your romance problems (okay, that's an exaggeration, but it has been a massive help to me):

Just make them influence each other's character growth.

Here's the thing. I truly believe that we don't need to describe romance. We can sit here all day trying to imagine the sensation of romantic attraction, and we can try to capture it in words, but will that make the readers actually care about the pairing? We can say 'A was attracted to B, and it felt like this,' but can that alone convince a reader that A and B have a satisfying narrative to tell together?

We need to structure the story so that it feels as if everything is leading to these characters being together. We need the audience to feel that every interaction between them has payoff. We want them to crave more interactions. We want them to believe that these characters are better together than apart.

So how do we do this? We make each character shape the other one's growth. The result? At the end, each character is a different person to the one they were in the beginning, and it is because the other character was around.

Congratulations! Now these characters are inextricable. They are made from what they learned from each other.

Here are some of my favourite ways to do this:

They push the other character to grow past their flaws. Let's say Character A's flaw is that they struggle to stand up for themself. Have Character B be someone with a strong sense of justice who is horrified by how A lets other people push them around. Thanks to them, A realises they deserve better.

They correct false beliefs about the world that the other character has. For example: have Character A be someone who's been through some shit and thinks the world is universally harsh and cruel. Have Character B be unconditionally kind. Watch Character A go '???' and reconsider their whole worldbiew.

Make the characters have something in common, and then hit them with some good ol' 'learning to love yourself by loving your mirror.' Let's say both characters have done some messed-up things. Character A thinks they could never be forgiven. But hold on - they think B could be forgiven, and if B is just like them... oh no! This means they might not be beyond redemption after all!*

You don't need to describe the feeling of romantic attraction. If you make these characters change each other, the romance will write itself. Because there'll be interesting emotional conflict in how they challenge each other. Because there'll be satisfying narrative payoff in watching them grow past their flaws.

Make the important beats in their personal growth also be important beats in their relationship. Make the growth of the romance plot be inseparable from the growth of them as individuals. Not soulmates as in 'bound by fate', but soulmates as in 'our stories are intertwined, and I would not be myself without you.'

And one last thing: trust yourself. Seriously. As aroace people, we are not missing out on any crucial thing we need to be able to write romance. Think of the people you love most. Think of how they have changed and shaped you. Think of the phrases you started using because they said them; the hobbies and fandoms they introduced you to. Think of what you've learned from them. Think of the memories you share with them.

Think of how you've grown as a person because of them. Think of all the pieces of your loved ones that you have welcomed into your sense of self.

Trust me: you understand love.

—

*Yes, this is just Shadowgast. I'm predictable like that.

[nevereclipse]

Daddy

Pairing: Tim Bradford x exwife!fbi!reader

Word count: 1k

Genre: angst

Requested: yes, here

Summary: After being called in to help on a manhunt, Tim's ex-wife has to drop off their son Oliver to Tim.

Warnings: mentions of separation & divorce, allusions to serial killers.

A/N: I hope this is kind of what you wanted? I struggled with this a bit!

---

Tim was well and truly ready to go home. It’d been a colossal day – a serial killer had crossed over from Nevada and, for some reason, had thought it LA would be the best place to hide. Meaning Tim had spent his entire day manhunting for a man who had yet to be found. The FBI had mobilized, and was set to be arriving any minute, and Tim really, really wanted to go home. There was a game on he didn’t want to miss, and honestly, his joints weren’t what they used to be, so he was ready to spend some well-deserved time on a sofa, alone, preferably with an ice-cold beer. He’d even shut his phone off completely, a rare occurrence, so that no one could disturb his piece. Not even Lopez or Chen.

Your day, on the other hand, was only just beginning. You’d been called into Mid-Wilshire to help with the manhunt for Seamus Connery at midday, but you hadn’t managed to arrive until almost five. Your six year old, Oliver, had been stubbornly refusing to leave the house, and you were admittedly hesitant to bring him into a room full of cops without confirmation that your husband would be able to take him for a night that wasn’t scheduled.

You’d tried to avoid going to Tim, of course. After your divorce was finalised things had been… messy. Not hateful, but messy. You’d fallen apart the same way you’d fallen in love: quickly and all-consumingly. You weren’t even divorced properly yet, but you’d moved away from Mid-Wilshire to Hollywood, and the thought of seeing Tim… ow. But your regular sitter hadn’t been available, and frankly, you didn’t know how long you’d been in Mid-Wilshire tracking Connery for.

So here you were.

You walked into the station, Oliver on your hip, searching for Tim before you had to brief the night shift about how they were proceeding. You scanned the room, but Tim was nowhere to be seen.

“Am I gonna... to stay with Daddy?” Oliver asked, looking up at you with the blue eyes that where entirely his fathers.

“Yeah, baby, you’re going to stay with your Daddy for tonight.” You replied, brushing a hand over his head. You still couldn’t find Tim.

“Excuse me,” you said, catching a dark-haired brunette woman by the arm. You smiled to yourself slightly at the graphicness of her tee. Clearly a detective. “Do you know where I can find Tim Bradford?”

The woman glanced at you appraisingly. “Depends, who are you?”

You considered telling her the truth for a moment, but you didn’t know how much Tim had told his coworkers about you, and… well, he wasn’t exactly the type to mix his personal and work life. So you settled on, “Agent L/N, FBI. I need to speak with him.”

The detective squinted briefly, but nodded, before turning and yelling across the open room, “Oi, Bradford! There’s an FBI agent here for you!”

Tim turned around, and your eyes found each other immediately. Even six months after the divorce, you were still stunned by him every time you saw him. As was your son, it seemed, because he immediately pushed his way out of your arms and ran towards his father.

“Daddy!” he yelled, stumbling over his tiny feet as he ran to Tim. He reached Tim quickly, and despite the pain, your heart fluttered slightly at the sight of Tim hugging his son.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, picking Oliver up and walking warily towards you. You weren’t supposed to drop Oliver off for another three days. “What’re you doing here?”

“Mummy… uh… Mummy…” Your son frowned and looked at you, evidently unsure what the reason for your impromptu trip was.

You smiled softly and addressed your answer more to Oliver than Tim. “Mommy has to help out with finding a really important person.”

Recognition flared in Tim’s eyes, “You’re here for Connery?”

You nodded, “I’m your FBI liaison.”

Tim laughed slightly. Not in a judgemental way, but in a way that screamed ‘what are the chances I’ll be working directly with my ex-but-not-really-ex-wife for the immediate future.’ You couldn’t help but echo the sentiment.

“Can you take Oliver tonight? I know it’s not your day, but I don’t… know how long I’ll be needed here for.” You gnawed at the flesh inside your mouth, hating having to ask Tim for anything anymore.

But of course, he just nodded. “Of course.” Tim’s eyes lingered on your face for a moment, but he quickly broke away to address Oliver, “What do you say, bud? You want to stay with Daddy tonight?”

Words couldn’t express your son’s joy, nor the look of pure shock on the detective’s face as she stared between you and Tim. There was another girl, younger, in a patrol uniform next to her. Both had dropped jaw and wide eyes. Tim ushered you away from them, and the feel of his hand on your shoulder seemed to burn through your clothes.

“Listen.” Tim paused, visibly hesitant. “Do you have somewhere to stay?”

You shook your head, “I’ll find a motel somewhere. I’ll probably be spending most of my time at the station.”

Tim frowned, “You should stay with me. I know it’s…” He fumbled for a word, settling on, “awkward, but…”

You actually scoffed. “No, Tim. I… no. That’s not going to happen.” You knew he meant well, but you could barely fight the urge to laugh in his face. Sure, a big part of you that you tried your best to ignore still loved him, but you were also bitter. Bitter at how quickly the softness between you two had faded, how quickly everything had fallen apart. You’d been so good together, and now… you could barely look him in the eye.

Still, for your son’s sake, you put on a slight smile and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Tim,” before focusing on your child.

You didn’t wait to hear Tim’s reply.

[rotworld]

Meanvamps: An Introduction

Welcome to "Meanvamps!" Although this setting was inspired by other vampire media (mostly Vampire: the Masquerade), it has its own rules and features. This post will give an overview of how things work and a timeline of important historical events. It's not required reading but if you’re antsy to know all the background lore right away, this has you covered. Unique setting terminology will be covered in a separate post.

Qayin's Curse

The story is an old one from before words were written. Witches tell it one way and the nightbound tell it another. It does not matter how much of it is true. It built your world and it governs your life, the song that all kin must dance to. This is the tale of Qayin’s Curse as you know it:

Once, there were monsters who knew not death, nor time, nor fear, hungry gods ruling a world of sheep. There were so few in this early age that they never needed to learn how to share, and this made them selfish. They had many names, but you know them as vampires. It was Qayin the Kinslayer who led them, a warlord to whom all nightmares answered, and it was Qayin the Kinslayer who would ruin them with his endless greed and senseless cruelty. When he heard rumors of a plot against him, he gathered his monstrous brethren and went to see which of his cattle dared to dream of freedom.

They came upon a cave with a hole in its ceiling, permitting a circle of sunlight to shine upon the cavern floor. Humans had gathered there to conceal themselves from the ever watchful eyes of their conquerors, whispering their plans of rebellion where they would not be overheard. Qayin believed himself without fault or weakness, that the world held no secrets from him. That he had been outsmarted even in such a small, insignificant way, that the humans he saw as no more clever than common beasts could do anything without his knowledge, was a grievous injury to his pride. Qayin flew into a rage and led the others into unspeakable depths of depravity, killing every human in the cave without even drinking from them. 

Because vampires cared nothing for humans, they knew nothing about them. They did not realize that the ones they had slaughtered were healers, seers and wraithspeakers--your predecessors, who would be called witches today. Qayin had slain blessed humans and for this, he would be punished. When the last of these living divine fell dead, the sunlight streaming through the cavern roof became harsh and painful. The vampires felt a terrible heat upon their skin, their flesh blistering and sloughing off like melted wax. Those who fled the cave turned to ash, and so the others were forced deeper into the darkness.

They emerged at dusk, burned and blinded. They had learned fear and been found by death. They felt the ravages of eons pressing upon them as heavily as mountains, the oldest among them barely able to stand. Like dogs, they lapped at the blood crusted to the cavern floor in desperation and found it sweeter than any they had ever drank before. Even old, clotted and mingled with dirt, it mended their wounds and helped them forget the weight of their lived centuries. As quickly as it came, the power and euphoria faded and they became living corpses once again. Only then, far too late, did they realize the enormity of their sin. 

They would never again know the gentle kiss of the sun, only its fury. No longer would they be truly ageless nor impervious to all harm. They would not rule but suffer under the tyranny of their own endless appetites. This terrible thing they had done would cling to them, to their children, to their children’s children and all those who came after, for eternity. 

This is how the nightbound were born.

Nightbound

To the uninformed, a “vampire” is any monster that stalks the night and drinks blood. To the nightbound, it’s a controversial term reserved for a bygone era, describing what they once were and what many long to be.

->Prolonged exposure to sunlight is eventually fatal to the nightbound. Even in smaller doses, an unprotected nightbound may experience eye damage, burns, necrotic lesions, and organ failure. Sun-inflicted injuries always scar, even when treated quickly. 

->Nightbound are much more durable than humans and recover from injury faster, especially when they have access to blood, but they’re not invincible and can be killed by sufficient physical trauma.

->Nightbound show signs of aging if they don’t feed regularly or sufficiently. This can range from physical frailty to sudden death depending on their true age and the severity of their malnutrition. 

->All nightbound are sterile. They can only increase their number through turning, which is a difficult and dangerous process that does not always succeed. The mortality rate of attempted turning is 60%, although careful supervision and magical-medical intervention can decrease this to 40%.

->Nightbound have their own forms of magic distinct from the magic used by witches. These magics are referred to as “principles” and require many decades of study to learn and master. There are four principles: mesmerism, transfiguration, invigoration and sanguimancy. 

The nightbound have an intensely militaristic culture stemming from a long history of conflict with both humans and each other. Prior to the 20th century, war was so frequent and brutal that turning was almost exclusively a method of conscripting soldiers, the vast majority of whom would be dead within several years. Their politics are complicated, marred by millennia of vicious infighting, but most adhere to territorial boundaries based on the lands that ancient nightbound claimed for themselves. These territories vary in size but are generally large enough to contain several human cities. In official nomenclature, places or important historical events are referred to by a combination of nightbound and human names (ie Aneptyra-Lowbridge refers to the nightbound territory of Aneptyra and the human city of Lowbridge). Governments within territories take many forms and may change over time.

Here in Skelveross, power was wrestled away from the Dagaric dynasty after a bloody struggle, eventually leading to the adoption of the Council system. The highest elected office is held by the Lord Regent, a title chosen to indicate the eternal absence of a monarch.

Witches

There is no lot in life more unfortunate than that of the witch. Magic exists all throughout the natural world but not all humans are capable of interacting with it. Those who can have been both revered and abhorred throughout history, at times respected and sought for aid, at others mistrusted and burned at the stake. 

Alongside this tumultuous relationship with other humans, witches have an even more complicated history with the nightbound. Witch blood carries magic. It confers greater strength, healing and a portion of that magic to the nightbound who drinks from them. The taste is said to be impossibly exquisite, unmatched by the blood of any other creature. Consequently, witches are coveted as a source of blood and nightbound will go to great lengths to secure one as a donor however they can. Despite this, witches have most often chosen to align themselves with the nightbound over humans out of pragmatism. The nightbound's desperation for blood makes them hesitant to cause lasting harm, a mercy the witch hunters of humanity have rarely granted them.

->Some witches can use magic from birth, while others develop the ability spontaneously later in life. How and why this occurs is poorly understood and almost impossible to predict.

->The magic witches use is incredibly varied, ranging from simple divination to the manipulation of primordial energies. Most find that one particular variety comes more naturally than others. 

->Most witches in the modern world live in hiding among humans, rarely revealing or even practicing their magic in the hopes of going undetected by nearby nightbound. Some maintain contact with secret networks of their peers while others avoid one another entirely.

->Extensive or reckless magic use places tremendous strain on a witch’s body and may lead to a state of exhaustion, temporarily preventing them from harnessing magic. Given time and rest, they will naturally recover. Consuming nectar will expedite their recovery.

->Witches are attracted to nectar, uncontrollably so while in a state of magic exhaustion. Many nightbound establishments include nectar in alcoholic beverages in order to exploit this powerful instinct, as the scent is likely to lure in exhausted witches.

->It is strictly forbidden and punishable by death for a nightbound to attempt to turn a witch. The action is seen as a “vile and egregious waste of rare, precious blood.” Witch-turnings have a near 100% fatality rate. The reason why is not currently known and all research and testing on the subject is strictly prohibited. 

Lemures

Powerful emotions of living beings produce a form of aimless and ambient magic that will gradually dissipate. The magic born from negative emotions, however, has a tendency to linger. When enough of it gathers in a single place, it coalesces into strange and frightening phenomenon known collectively as a “haunting.” This is the larval life state of a creature known by many names--demon, shade, pain-eater--but most commonly as a lemure. 

Lemures are non-natural beings born of accumulated suffering. They are not believed to eat, sleep or perform any biological functions, existing only to perpetuate themselves by causing more pain and suffering. Lemures become larger and more dangerous when there is a malaise of discontent, fear and strife, often exacerbating crises such as wars and plagues. Their aggressive behavior and metaphysical nature makes them difficult to destroy and dangerous to nightbound and humans alike.

There is a connection between lemures and witches that is poorly understood. It's believed that the emotional energy of witches is imbued with magic, which means witches are more likely to accidentally create lemures or can even do so intentionally. This belief has been a cornerstone of witch persecution by humans as far back as the Middle Ages. Some believe that Qayin’s Curse itself was a unique type of lemure or haunting.

History

->Prehistory: The “Darkest Age.” According to legend, the vampire Qayin leads the torture and murder of a coven of witches and is afflicted with a curse in retaliation, creating the nightbound.

->Ancient History (~3000 BCE): Throughout the Dark Ages, territories are established by nightbound who claim “direct descent” from Qayin or his contemporaries. These early empires are highly unstable due to widespread conflict between and within them. It was not uncommon for rulers to last little more than a single year before dying under mysterious circumstances. Battles for territory, feeding grounds and mortal resources raged between nightbound dynasties all the way into the Middle Ages.

->1100s-1300s: The Order of Saint Gereon comes to prominence during the Crusades, specializing in hunting witches and “daemons” (both lemures and nightbound). Disagreements over doctrine and the use of “holy magic” lead to a schism within the Order and their eventual disbandment, though some rogue sects remained. A precedent was established for the Order to apprehend witches and protect them from persecution in exchange for their service.

->1500s-1600s: Successors of the Order of Saint Gereon take advantage of witch hysteria to commandeer resources and pursue their own agendas. The Crusade-era idea that witches are directly and knowingly responsible for the creation of lemures is repopularized to justify these expenditures. 

->Late 1700s to late 1800s: The “Century of Nightmares.” Human weaponry and hunting strategies grow more sophisticated. A domino effect of conflict between humans, witches and nightbound leads to the creation of enormous “shade nests,” places so inundated with suffering that lemures manifest in uncontrollable numbers. Overrun by lemures and facing extinction, all sides agree to a temporary alliance.

->1889: The Treaty of Aneptyra-Lowbridge is signed by human, nightbound and witch representatives. It results in the following:

->The nightbound recognize humans as sentient beings. Indiscriminate, fatal feedings become a punishable offense. ->Humans recognize both witches and the nightbound as sentient beings deserving of equal consideration and humane treatment. Vigilante “hunting” activity of anything other than lemures becomes a punishable offense. ->Witches become a “protectorate class” legally grouped with nightbound as “kin,” thereafter subject to nightbound law rather than the laws of humans. ->The Dusk Council system is first proposed, named for its inclusion of both nightbound and witch representatives.  ->The registration system is established as a type of census for kin. ->An early version of the partnership system is drafted, making it the legal responsibility of the nightbound to protect witches. In its initial conception, every nightbound and every witch is intended to have a partner.

->Despite a brief golden age in relations between humans and kin, the following centuries see significant pushback and a rise in extremist factions. Nightbound dissenters break away from their Councils to form their own isolated communities where they continue to treat humans as cattle, keep harems of witches and practice mass unauthorized turning, bringing up a new generation of nightbound who are taught the same callousness. Witch hysteria continually resurfaces in response to lemure outbreaks and continued treaty violations erode any lingering trust.

->By the 1950s, the already spotty kin census becomes entirely unreliable due to a lack of universal consensus on registration procedures and a record number of “dissenter” communes. No longer trusting the nightbound to protect them, witches pull out of the Dusk Councils and go into hiding. The extreme population imbalance makes it impossible for every nightbound to be partnered and the supply of witch blood quickly runs out. In desperation, the nightbound enact the draconian laws still in use today, stripping witches of any authority within Councils and putting them entirely at the mercy of the nightbound, leading to where we are now.

[yuurivoice]

This is soooooooo super minuscule and silly BUT I think it would be better if it was added that the director's cut is Bittersweet Chapters 1-3 remastered in the video title. This only occurred to me cause I wanna recommend your content to my friends, and from the title alone a new listener might not understand how the director's cut fits chronologically, esp cause chapter 4 is labelled. Obviously I'll tell my friends but if I had just stumbled upon your channel and wanted to watch Bittersweet chronologically I would most probably go to the OG Chapter 1.

I feel like I didn't explain what I mean by this well at all but I tried lol.

Welcome to the debate I have had to face 5ever when putting this together.

I would argue that for a truly new viewer...they don't know the difference. If they were REALLY that confused, it does say it in all the relevant areas, and the BitterSweet playlist featured on the homepage has it all chronological.

I do not think if a random person found this video they would be able to FIND OG Chapter 1.

The Actual Plan TM is that Chapter 4 would come out episodically and eventually become a roughly 3+ hour compilation...that also probably wouldn't get the chapter in the title.

In a perfect world, yeah I'm putting BitterSweet Chapter 1-3, but the real estate of the title is so critical that adding it in likely HURTS the video more than helps. So until we actually really have people who are confused instead of theoretical people who are confused...we gonna let it rock.

I think to cover my ass, I can work it into the first sentence of the description, but even that is prime real estate.

I just can't really express how little of a fuck the new viewer gives about this sort of thing, and I would actually argue that seeing 7+ hours AND that it's multiple chapters might actually make a potential viewer balk at the size and turn away vs giving them the impression that it is a complete experience. THAT'S the big thing. Because the WORST scenario is that someone goes "oh that's neat but not for right now" and then never comes back. The video length could actually be too much already, that's a possible knock against it as well.

And...playlists fix the whole thing, so it's a whole lot of potential issues that are total non issues in specific path people typically engage with series in the first place.

Not to like...answer your totally valid point with a million counter points because OMG YOU'RE SO WRONG ANON, but I wanted to explain the thought process I had to go through when trying to dial this in all on my own.

And in closing, I've experimented with "Part x" and so on in the titles for years and have largely found that it didn't really matter that much and you're actually better served putting your eggs in the "let the content make someone care enough to figure it out themselves" basket and reaching the most new viewers as efficiently as possible is how you leverage that.

tldr: I high key think that for the casual ASMR Roleplay viewer, they don't know the difference and we combat the confusion in multiple effective ways to the point that the good outweighs the bad <3

[livingdoll13]

understanding catra in taking control s5: ep 6

(lots of awesome people have already said some amazing things about this, but it’s been on my mind a lot especially since i’ve been seeing some anti catra bullshit lately)

first off, i want to say that i don’t think that catra is necessarily handling the situation well, but i often see people saying some crazy shit about how she’s so “ungrateful” to adora for rescuing her or whatever and just generally being incredibly insensitive to her.

you have to remember everything that catra has gone through up until the point. horde prime had just completely violated her body and mind, electrocuting her in the baptismal pool, cutting off her hair, and infiltrating her memories. catra, who is already deeply afraid of the losing control (namely to shadow weaver, who taught her that power and control were necessary to be safe from her abuse), just lost all of her autonomy in the most fucking disturbing, pseudo-religious way possible.

before this, catra fully expected to die. i’ve seen a lot of different takes and i’m relatively open-minded to about what it is that catra thinks specifically when she remembers that scene with her and adora’s younger selves in corridors, but i think that it’s something along these lines:

“all i’ve ever done is hurt adora, and all she ever tried to do was love me instead. i’ve loved her and wanted her more than anyone else, and still all i did was hurt her. adora finally gave up on me, like i deserved all along anyway. but maybe, just maybe, the last thing i do could be for her. maybe that last little piece of goodness in me could live on in her.”

hence the:

“all i do is hurt people. there’s no one left in the entire universe who cares about me.”

anyway, my point is that catra has been through fucking hell :(

adora rescues her, and in the moment, catra is (obviously) relieved, shocked, surprised, confused, even. (“why did you come back? we both know i don’t matter.”)

the confusion is the main thing i want to focus on. catra really truly believes that adora hates her (shadow weaver has conditioned her to believe that she has always been inherently worthless and unlovable), so catra can’t understand why adora would ever come back for her.

catra eventually comes to the conclusion that adora just wanted to feel like a hero. she just came back to rescue catra to prove her virtue or her moral superiority to catra.

so she lashes out. she feels so completely out of control, and bitter with adora for her actions, convinced that there is no way that adora came back for her out of love.

adora handles this like shit. the literal first thing she does is throw the mattress onto the floor, and later slams catra into the wall. adora lashes back at catra, hurt that catra doesn’t “appreciate” adora’s love for her. adora doesn’t even try for two fucking seconds to understand where catra is coming from.

(adora does have a consistent issue with only seeming to be able to empathize with catra’s emotions when catra is weak, vulnerable, and powerless throughout much of series honestly)

ugh and calling her a stubborn brat? like i love you adora, but that makes my blood fucking boil. it is SUCH condescending, shadow weaver-coded language to use toward catra. i understand, catra is being “difficult” or whatever, but god it’s so easy to see why catra is acting the way she is.

and ofc catra is scared of entrapta! obviously, catra wronged entrapta deeply, and catra has never lived in a world with grace and forgiveness. shadow weaver physically abused her all her life, and hordak suffocated her for losing shadow weaver and lying to him about it. catra knows that she hurt entrapta, so naturally she immediately assumes that entrapta is going to fucking kill her the minute she has a chance.

then adora’s reaction is to fucking shove her into the wall and tell her to “grow up”. catra just looks fucking terrified, backed into the corner in her little horde pjs :(

adora backs off for a moment and tells catra that she would respect her wish to drop her off somewhere, catra realizes that adora really could leave her, and immediately rushes to beg adora to stay, kneeling on the ground, reaching up for her hand. something about that whole scene just absolutely fucking breaks my heart.

it kills something in me when i hear people say that catra didn’t do enough for redemption. it’s never what her redemption was ever about. catra is genuinely so, so much more complicated than that. and so is adora! i’m still sad that adora never really made up to catra for some of her shitty behavior.

i don’t believe that their arcs are meant to be done at the end of the show. there’s still so much room for them to grow. and that is what the post canon fics are for lol

oops this ended up being wayyy more of a rant than i intended; i think about catradora all the time :)

[shadowofthesun123]

Tyler's police station monologue analysis - to hurt, frighten or warn?

The discussion of the police station scene, and specifically the posts by @fullofwoe5321 and @claimedcrossbows, inspired me to write my own analysis. It turned out to be really big.

I've been trying to understand and explain this scene since my very first viewing. I've considered it while writing fanfiction, participated in numerous discussions.

I can't even count how many times I've watched it.

First, I'll take a step back and write a bit about the torture scene.

I consider Wednesday's actions very foolish and reckless, motivated more by resentment towards Tyler than by common sense. First, because if he truly was the Hyde, he could have transformed under torture and killed everyone in the shed; second, because she didn’t try to grasp the full picture, to see something more in Tyler than just a monster.Her justification could be that Wednesday was certain Tyler's master had been killed, that he is free, but doesn't want to tell her the truth - though in reality, he simply couldn't.

But clearly, for Tyler, these tortures were a devastating blow - literally a knife in the back. Wednesday had been the only person in years who genuinely showed interest to him. He had a poor relationship with his father, no real friends, and Laurel had turned him into a murderer, exploiting him. Wednesday was his hope, and the torture shattered this hope. A genuine betrayal. He thought she'd be able to accept his darker side, but instead, she chained him up and inflicted pain - just as Laurel had done to unlock the Hyde.

Of course, Tyler wanted revenge, to hurt Wednesday back, to mock her, hit her where it hurt the most - to show that he had outplayed her.

But I've concluded that this wasn't the sole, or even the primary, reason he approached her and delivered his monologue.

At first glance, this scene is a classic reveal of the villain who pretended to be good (some call this the "Prince Hans move," referring to Frozen), meant to serve as a turning point and hurt us - all viewers who liked Tyler. And admittedly, it worked. This scene genuinely frightened and hurt me. It's brilliantly acted and directed.But from Tyler's perspective, what's the point of this confession?

He makes an effort and takes a risk to approach Wednesday at the police station. She’s already about to leave, but he stops her, convinces his father to let them speak... and then directly states that he's the Hyde, even though at that moment there's no real evidence besides Wednesday's vision. Why this straightforward confession?

To mock her and deliver a villainous "I'm bad, very evil and bloodthirsty - see how I've outsmarted you!" speech?

Two things:

1. It's premature. She hasn't lost yet. At that moment, Laurel's entire plan was seriously threatened. The Sheriff and Weems had just agreed Wednesday would leave Nevermore hours before the night of the Blood Moon.

2. From point 1, it follows that Tyler’s confession wasn't beneficial to Laurel’s plan at that moment. What does it achieve? It only confirms Wednesday’s suspicions that he's the Hyde, deeply frightening her.

Moreover, there's still a day left until the Blood Moon. He could have waited just a day and then gloated as much as he wanted about how he'd won and she'd lost - for instance, at the crypt or on the way there from the station. Because only then would she have truly and irreversibly lost...

What an impatient Tyler... He spent so long pretending but couldn't wait another day, exposing himself unnecessarily. Let me remind you, he says all this in the police station, a couple of meters away from some woman who could've overheard something. Wednesday might've even had a recorder with her...

However, he deliberately made an effort to speak to her precisely there. Therefore, I think the true purpose of this monologue wasn’t gloating at all. It was meant to frighten her - really frighten her. But most importantly, to warn her.

If you look closely at how the scene is constructed, the most crucial line is the very last one. It stands out musically and through intonation:

“You have no idea what's coming.”

What is this if not a warning? In the woods Wednesday repeatedly insisted that Hyde's master was Kinbott. She was certain the master had been killed, and the Hyde was now on his own. She stopped looking for Laurel, thinking she was dead.

Obviously, Tyler couldn't tell her directly that she was mistaken. But the phrase "You have no idea what's coming," I think, is precisely about this.

Later, when Wednesday visits Xavier, she explicitly says, "Tyler warned me that something bad was coming.

"I'll briefly step aside here for one paragraph to mention my thoughts about the scene with Xavier. In his toxic scene at the police station - which initially caused me a lot of negativity - he actually tries to protect her. I think he dreamed that she would die, and he's practically saying openly, "Do you want to stop this? Then leave! Go far away and never come back. That can't happen if you're not here. That's how you’ll save everyone!"

Despite my bias against him, it's an attempt to protect her. Interestingly, in their most toxic scenes, both Tyler and Xavier were actually protecting Wednesday.

But back to Tyler. The second purpose of his confession is to frighten her. Frighten enough that she would stop pursuing him, genuinely pack her bags, and leave Nevermore.I suspect Tyler knew about the arrangement Weems and the Sheriff made. It wouldn’t surprise me if he himself planted the idea of her leaving, something along the lines of, "While she's here, I don't feel safe. Make her leave." Because later, Weems explicitly says that Wednesday's departure was the Sheriff's condition.

It's hard to scare Wednesday, and Tyler knows this perfectly. He knows her obsession with the monster, her trip to the mansion at night. She's not the type to be easily frightened. But he says exactly what does scare her - that he enjoyed killing innocent people. That he's a real monster. She's scared and hurt; it’s clear in her eyes.

It's worth noting that from the perspective of Laurel’s plan, Tyler should have acted very differently. It would have been beneficial for him to continue playing innocent, pretending he understood nothing. Maybe even pretend willingness to cooperate, give her new evidence, rekindle her interest, and attempt to regain her trust.

In @thelovelybookworm comment I've seen the idea that Tyler knew the only way for Wednesday to survive would be his own death. Thus, he behaved in such a way that if a direct confrontation occurred, she'd be prepared to kill him. That seems too radical for me, but there's a grain of truth here.

Later, we learn Laurel sent Tyler to pick Wednesday up at the train station. Clearly, she didn’t know he had confessed everything. That means Tyler didn't tell Laurel about his monologue at the police station - after what he said there, would it be logical to send him to the station? To drag Wednesday by force and draw attention?

I wouldn't be surprised if Laurel also didn't know exactly why Wednesday was expelled, still believing Wednesday thought Xavier was the Hyde and trusted Tyler. Judging by the greenhouse scene, that's very likely. That means Tyler concealed this important, practically key fact from Laurel, and went to the station despite risking the whole plan.

By the way, interestingly, in the end, Wednesday is delivered to Laurel not by Tyler, but by Weems. But that's a topic for another discussion.

Perhaps at the train station, Wednesday would have been so frightened of Tyler that she would never go anywhere with him willingly - and she'd resist fiercely.

Now imagine the police station scene never happened.

Wednesday simply left; he didn't tell her anything. She'd feel defeated but wouldn't have been so scared. She would still believe Laurel was Kinbott, who was already dead, and Tyler was the only remaining enemy. Most likely, she'd continue pursuing him, seeking the truth, thus giving him a perfect opportunity to lead her right into Laurel’s hands.

In conclusion, I agree that one purpose of Tyler’s police station monologue was indeed to demonstrate his superiority to Wednesday, to hurt her deeply. But the primary goal was different - to warn her. And when Tyler utters the key line of the monologue, he's nearly crying. Clearly, he’s not thrilled about what's coming and about what's happening to him.

Previously, I believed it was the Hyde speaking at the police station, and that Tyler had lost control of himself after the torture - but now, I'm not so sure.

Tyler really is a good liar, actor, and manipulator - but in this scene, he's manipulating against his own interests. He confesses everything when it isn't necessary, genuinely frightens Wednesday, and permanently pushes her away, although from Laurel’s perspective, his goal should've been precisely the opposite.

Yet we remember he's angry with Wednesday, that she hurt him deeply by betraying his hope. Despite that, he's trying to protect her by pushing her away forever.

Many people say he was acting everywhere except in this scene - but I think the opposite: in this scene he was acting. Acting so convincingly that he broke not only Wednesday’s heart but the viewer’s as well. But I'm convinced it hurt him just as much as it hurt her.

In conclusion - I don’t exclude the possibility that everything I've written above is just my chronic hidden meaning search syndrome. And maybe it really was just a "Prince Hans move" by the writers to shock the viewers. However, I still believe that Tyler’s character is much more complex than merely a villain who enjoys killing.

[conallblackbar]

there was a chill that had nothing to do with the rain lashing at his skin, a vague sense of something he had no name for lingering in the quiet spaces between when conall spoke and when brianna did. the closest thing he cold equate it to was entering a room and knowing that those within it had ceased speaking about you only seconds before, that strange sort of vague unease. but it were a silly thought - there was none here but brianna and the sound of the falls.

brianna's voice broke through his thoughts, and he gave her a nod. this was supposed to be a simple walk, a way to shrug off some of their burdens for a few hours, but there was a heaviness he could not explain, his chest tight and shoulders beginning to ache with tension. perhaps it was simply his sodden clothes dragging him down, he thought. she let out a laugh that did not reach her eyes, and conall smiled, too. he did not wish her to see that something was tugging at him, particularly when he would not be able to voice it if she asked, but there was something in the way her voice faltered that had him wondering if she felt it, too.

it was confirmed in her words, the mention of the silent brooding they had fallen into. at that, conall laughed, and despite it all, it was genuine. "aye, something warm and something strong, i reckon." she was probably right. it was just the rain, casting a moody shadow that had stamped itself on to them, making it seem as though something was wrong when little was. the haze was enough to blur the edges of what was real around them, making the moors feel like a mythical place of song rather than something tangible. it almost made it seem as though brianna was in sharp focus, the only thing here that were truly tangible.

and you -

the smile slid from conall's face as he looked at her, eyes snapping to hers with a sharpness born of panic. her words were simple, but it was enough to stir a sense of dread in him, a fear born from the worry that she would say he had in fact changed. it was not that conall didn't know it. he was not the man he was, the happier, more carefree version of himself from years gone by. he saw it in the way ronan and omer spoke to him, in the look in caitria's eyes when he rose too late for breakfast with a pounding headache and bloodshot eyes, but something about brianna, with whom he always felt most himself, seeing it too had his pulse quickening. don't say it, he willed her, silently. don't tell me what i already know.

he cast his gaze downwards, bracing himself for the confirmation that she no longer looked at him and saw conall, but instead the ghosts that shrouded him. the worst part was, he could not deny it himself. there were no words he could offer her that he had not changed that would not be a lie, and he would not lie to her. but she didn't say it, that thing she could not bear to hear, and in the silence that stretched, he dared to peek at her again. what he saw in her expression was not pity, nor disappointment, nor the frustration that had become familiar in his own reflection in the looking glass, but something else entirely.

well, so are you con.

conall let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding in, the wind carrying it away from him. the relief was immediate, though he should have expected it. if there was any who could look upon him, and see him, as she always had, not a man shaped by grief and rumour, it was brianna. there was nothing he could say in return to it. how could he explain that he didn't feel the same anymore, after all that had happened to him? but then, maybe that simply didn't matter to her. he hoped it didn't matter to her.

"you're right," he finally found his voice, though it was rough, as though he were speaking through a hoarse throat first thing in the morning. "same silly old sod as i always was, ain't i?"

somehow he had ended up walking ahead of her, but found himself unable to keep from glancing back, so much so that he was striding forward at an odd angle, almost sideways against the path. "probably because the weather's always shite, and everyone else has the good sense to stay indoors rather than walking out in it," he suggested, though it did not seem to be the case. she was speaking of the past, giving words to what he was feeling, the weight of what had come before that only seemed to grow heavier as he walked. she said the word nostalgia as though it was a curse, and perhaps it was, the strange sort of melancholy that came from reflecting on even the happiest of memories, and in that moment, con could almost hear the echo of laughter from years ago, see the impressions of footprints in the mud from decades ago. he was not the only one of them who had been marked by hardship - brianna had, too, at far too young an age, and he could understand how it would make those happy memories all the more bittersweet.

"yeah. nostalgia." he confirmed, with a slight nod of his head. "creeps up on you from time to time. even feel it out on the sea sometimes, even when there's fuck all about to get me to thinking." it was an attempt to reassure her that this was normal, a natural feeling that had nothing to do with the falls nor his company. it was simply what it was to be human, to look at the past and feel that sort of longing.

"we'll come back," he said, and he knew then that it was a promise ; conall would not return to the reach without doing this again, without looking upon the falls with brianna by his side. "rain or not, we'll come back. can't be worse than this, can it?" he turned his face upwards towards the sky, rain drumming down directly on to his face, as though he was looking for a break in the clouds in that very moment, and then shook his head like one of his dogs shaking water from their coats. "not too much food, mind. it'll be a right pain carrying it all the way up." he stood still until she caught up with him, and nudged her with his shoulder. the thought of returning here was a balm, soothing the raw edges of whatever had caught hold of him. "something to look forward to, isn't it?" he said, and he wasn't sure if he was talking to her or to himself.

the path was becoming less treacherous now, mud beginning to give way to stone beneath their feet as they trudged back towards civilisation. it was more like than not that they would pass others on the walk back to stone hedge, and that was the moment when the world would cease to belong to just the two of them. it was fitting, then, that it was the moment where talk would turn to other riverlanders, emira mallister chief among them. "go on, then," he looked to her expectantly, a grin already unfolding on his lips. "i could do with a good laugh. what did she do?"

♣️

for the periods of time where the only noise was that of the hammering of the rain or the rush of the falls, the sound of her boots squeaking against wet mud and the slippery nature of the rocks acted almost as some strange interjection for brianna's thoughts; the quiet comedic relief seemingly ensuring she did not get too caught up in the soft melancholy that felt almost contagious within this small corner of the world. there were multiple times where even where the quiet did overtake them, and large doe orbs peered back at conall blackbar from behind her shoulder each time her boot squeaked against the rock, unable to stop a slight laugh slipping from her lips as the cold rush of wind and rain caused her cheeks to become increasingly red.

whilst she knew something seemed to be playing at his mind, she understood why - all too well. "aye, well," she started, picking her way carefully across the damp stones, boots slipping slightly before she steadied herself. "we are here again, aren't we?" she mused, glancing back at him over her shoulder. brianna let out a breath, a short huff of laughter that barely left her throat, more exhale than anything else. she hadn't expected him to say that, but maybe she should have. conall always had a way of pulling something real out of her, even when she wasn't looking for it.

"ah, fuck, i dunno. maybe it's just been too long since we were last here. makes the mind play tricks, don’t it?" she tried for levity, but it came out thinner than she meant it to. "or maybe you just need a cup of somethin' warm. reckon that'll fix whatever it is we're silently broodin’ over." but even as she said it, she knew a drink wouldn't fix it. whatever it was. whatever had settled into his chest and his bones, whatever had made him quiet as the falls roared around them.

it was not hard to imagine or recall it; youthful laughter and mindlessly chattering away on yuletide mornings, wrapped in furs and woolen scarves - not just the two of them, but all of their people and their closest; a brisk morning walk before returning to break their fast in the morning, attend the sept and finally go on to open their presents. there had been marriages then, yet those marriages had been made in the forges of love or affection; no widows, no grief, no rumours or accusations of murder. how much had his life changed since they were last back here? how much had hers remained the very same? one seemingly blurred with how much had changed, and the other forever frozen in time.

"and it feels the same to me," she continued, though she wasn't entirely sure that was true. she stuffed her hands deeper into her pockets, fingers brushing over the last lingering warmth where his had been only moments before. "maybe that's the problem, aye? me still bein’ here, same as i was. and you—" she cut herself off, squinting slightly against the drizzle as she glanced at him; droplets of rain against her eyelashes, and suddenly she realised perhaps she should say the rest. still, she had already come out with half of it. maybe he would expect her to say he was not. "well, so are you con."

because, as a person, he was the same to her. all that had changed were situations, and habits - and habits did not make people, did they?

who was in front and who was behind seemed to blend as they walked - his footprints stretched ahead of her, deep in the mud, and she found herself stepping into them one by one. his boots were larger, the impressions wider, and her own steps barely filled them. it was a silly thing to notice, but she noticed it all the same. she had always followed conall in some way or another—through reckless dares when they were young, through fields they weren't supposed to be in, through the kinds of talks only best friends could have. and now, through the old paths of their youth, though they were no longer quite the same.

she let the silence stretch for a moment longer before she nudged his shoulder, not hard enough to knock him off balance, just enough to remind him she was there. "i don't know why i never came back here for so long though. got no real excuse." perhaps she did - perhaps it felt like some sort of ancient sacrilege to come back here alone. "but i don't know, i think...even whilst we've been chatting, it's makin' me remember things. half good, half bad." she had half a mind to joke about ghosts and curses again, but something about the weight in his eyes stopped her. "probably just part of it though. what's the word, it's a fancy one...nostalgia?" the wind cut sharp as they moved further from the falls, the roar of water fading into something gentler, the hush of the gorge giving way to open land.

"can we should try come back before you return to the reach?" she indicated toward the rain, putting both of her hands out dramatically, almost as though she were playfully putting on a show. "perhaps it won't be pissing it down, and i'll bring us food."

the path ahead stretched towards the farmers' fields, the scent of damp earth and woodsmoke curling in the air. she could hear the distant bleat of sheep somewhere beyond the trees, a sound so familiar it might as well have been stitched into her bones. she swallowed, boots squelching as they left the last of the rocks behind.

she let the silence take hold for a moment, then sighed, rolling her shoulders as if shaking something off. "c’mon, then," she muttered, falling into step beside him again. "if i’m gonna lecture you about the riverlanders at court, we best get back before night falls. and don’t you dare let me catch you likin’ emira mallister, con. i mean it." her nose wrinkled slightly, feeling a sense of possessiveness over the idea of him liking someone else or spending time with someone else in the riverlands. anyone but emira mallister, with how insufferable she was. the corners of her mouth twitched, the ghost of a cheeky smile, but she didn't look at him. didn't want to see if he was smiling too, or if that look was still in his eyes. some things, maybe, were better left unspoken.

"you actually wanna know what she done?" she asked, laughter already slipping from her as she emerged onto the flat mud path, turning back to watch conall pull up beside her. "you'll laugh. actually fuckin' weird that one."

[no-light-left-on]

thinking still about how the Heart calls the Whalers 'puppets' and the amount of mystery there is around them, when playing as Corvo and perceiving them through the Heart, in comparison to how they are in reality.

we see them talk to each other in a manner any people would. they consider insubordination, they talk badly of Daud behind his back, we have Billie betray him. there are some that are loyal, yes, be it because they believe in Daud or because they see gain in this path, but by no means are they a monolyth.

however, we do hear from the Heart about a 'fog that surrounds them and hides their secrets' and it is even confirmed, by Billie (and also Galia in the books) that leaving Daud made them 'think clearly for the first time in years'

I've seen a couple theories and I do want to dive into each, to an extent.

there's the suggestion of the Heart talking badly of them, calling them mindless drones that only kill out of hatred and hurt. which, valid. the Heart also says certain things about Daud, 'why did you bring me here? do you expect me to forgive him?', so it's not unlikely that their attitude towards human lives and their willingness to kill for Daud is repulsive enough that the Heart does not see past it

another option is that the mindless puppets is more of a metaphor and is meant to talk about how the Whalers are, in a sense, a cult. which would be incredibly interesting to explore if we had more information on how the Whalers function. now I do want to point out that by cult I do not mean it in a Secluded Religious Organization but as a sociological thing. a literal cult if you will, with a leader that charms their followers, the seclusion and all the unhealthy attitudes of losing oneself to the group. and, that does check out - the loss of individuality, they are as one, following someone's orders without hesitation, someone they would die for. there are a lot of unsavory implications here (if you know how cults work, you probably had some cross your mind already), but arguably Daud is not charming enough to be a proper cult leader. the appeal is the magic, and his excellent skills as an assassin and a leader. maybe it's because of the time we see the Whalers at, right before a collapse, but Daud is regularly doubted and we see a lot of insubordination. the Whalers are not necessarily loyal to him because of who he is as a person. they want the power, they want the influence, maybe the protection, and the things keeping them from disobeying are fear, rather than loyalty.

the third thought or theory is, then, that many of these symptoms can be explained by the influence of the Void. we know the Void affects people, both physically as we see with Delilah's Witches or the Eyeless, as it influences them mentally, if the high numbers of people going mad because of their worship are something to go by. if, then, the Whalers are bound to the Void through Daud, it only makes sense that they would be influenced by this link to something that messes with people's brains. Galia saying she feels better after her Arcane Bond faded could easily mean that the influence the Void had on her has faded, and the creeping madness of it has subsided significantly.

all of these most likely come into play. one of the Heart's lines in dh2, if we point at a Witch, is reciting some of the recipes the Witches chant before quickly apologising. we do learn significantly more about them than we do about the Whalers, of course, possibly because Jessamine has more ill will towards the Whalers than to the Witches. still we see the Void affect the Heart. there is also a notion that the Witches are 'not quite human' due to their Arcane bond.

there's no real conclusion. it's just interesting

[cator99]

out of curiosity, would you consider yourself butch?

used to be a blonde underweight twink and now I'm a based jock still got the chanel bag and the sick albeit matured mind of a suckpig to prove it so I'm gonna let you decide whether you wanna call me that word just cuz I got a pussy and short hair. I promise you that there have been enough advancements made in the art of lesbian sexual dynamics in the past 50 years to broaden the vocabulary used to describe the plethora of types of masculine females.

[iguessitsjustme]

Ter stop talking over and making decisions for Dee challenge 2k24. Y'all ain't even friends at this point you're just the annoying coworker go away

[badgetfowles]

I like giving all my thoughts and I will continue to do so

-this episode actually rocked. The adult timeline’s much needed purpose has settled into multiple fun dynamics (s/o Lisa return!). I LOVE that tai has actually been other tai this whole season. That’s a great twist. Yes, my opinion on this season is still the same - but flowers where flowers are due. -the tape is interesting as well and it has me hooked on the implications. Is it technology that the bird watchers had or does that mean they did a hunt after they were rescued? -Sam hanratty is this weeks MVP for me. Her scene with Ben, crying and then telling herself to stop violently, wow. I did tear up a lil??? And I dgaf about Ben?

-crazy how we’re in Thanksgiving/fall suddenly? They’ve jumped a LOT of time in this season and it’s starting to look like season 3 will end with them being rescued. A big decision…

-jackieshauna being practically confirmed (at least from outsider vibes) is also cool. I fall into the “I don’t need the show to tell me what’s canon” camp but still nice to get those crumbs.

-overall their best episode of the season yet, I’d say. I think, as usual, the bones of the show is awesome. They have interesting things to say and thoughts on characters and the world, but how they’re getting to it feels scattered, uncertain, and wishy-washy. It makes me able to forgive them but will always prevent them from being truly great.

I watched yj s3 first 2 episodes …. Is this show bad

[solid-six]

Speaking of replaying things...got it in my head recently about maybe playing Death Stranding for a second time. Played it through once a few years ago and didn't think I'd want to do it over again.

So last night I thought I'd watch some of a YT playthrough, see how I felt about it. And after about and hour or so, I stg I've oscillated back and forth between...

Oh hell yeah! I can remember there was a lot here I really liked that was enough for me to finish the whole thing the first time; and

Bluhhhhhhhhhhhhh I also remember why I haven't wanted to play it again until apparently now lol

...like 20 times.

[rimouskis]

on the subject of museums though: I'm a FIRM believer that the smithsonians are genuinely some the greatest cultural heritage americans possess and I believe SO fervently in them being free to the public and accessible to all because they ARE our nation's history and tell (and ideally deconstruct) our national myths and help contextualize the natural world around us and show us the heights of human ingenuity and art. also my favorite of all of them is the national museum of the american indian and I personally think if you can only go to one smithsonian museum it should be that one