#which would be told over different mediums

[betelgeuses-wife]

Beetlejuice x fem reader [slight hurt/then comfort fix]

Reader is an adult with a job, living in the beetlejuice house. Fine for 16+ but bear in mind the POV of character for this fic.

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Notes: written for fem reader. Fem pet names.

Type: oneshot

Genre: hurt/comfort

Length: short/medium? Idk word count

Warnings: not sure if any are needed. Some suggestive comments on Bee's part.

Barely proofread.

Do not steal my work or copy and post anywhere else.

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The clock was still chiming as you walked in the door to the house, the bird popped in and out of the clock but the sequence had ended a moment later as you ditched your shoes and bag by the door for a later, more tired you that would remember it right before bed. The house was depressingly quiet, not like you had expected any different. It was just you after all. Well...you and one annoying ghost.

The aged wallpaper seemed greyer than usual and it only provoked your want to rip it off and put up a new pattern. You loved the house and how it was originally decorated but it was in need of some T.L.C. which was something you had the money for but not the time. Your frame slouched as you shuffled over to the couch and sat down on the edge, you knew why it was quiet.

After an argument yesterday about Bee always being around and in your space, especially when you had friends round or the odd date, you had selfishly made him disappear. You had been so frustrated that you said his name three times just to get him off your back but now you felt guilty. It was something that had plagued your mind all day. Nagging at you. You took a breath and rubbed your face, sighing before you spoke quietly to yourself.

"I'm such an ass. He was an ass first. But...still."

You didn't know if you should summon him, to do so would only to be for your own gain. To get some form of comfort. Because you had no one else. Not right now. You would be selfish to. You knew that. So you sat there alone, flicking the TV on though you barely watched it. You couldn't help but think about what Bee had told you over the last couple of years. How he married and it didn't work out. How he helped the couple who lived here before and was let down. And he had helped you. Albeit for a deal. But you had kept up your end of the deal until yesterday. And even still, without asking or without expecting anything he had helped you out with much more than you deserved. He kept an eye on you. Made sure you were taken care of when you got hom even though he'd act like he wasn't doing it for you and it was just out of boredom.

And you had sent him away. All because, what? You didn't like that he called out the new friends you made who said things they shouldn't have? Because the dates you brought home did something that made you uncomfortable? Did you really get annoyed with him because he looked out for you and you were too stubborn to realise it?

How could you summon him for your own comfort after that? You couldn't. It would be an asshole move. You knew that. So you sat in your own pathetic guilt for the evening. You heated up a meal you had made and frozen earlier in the week, it was a lousy meal without your usual dining experience. The reruns of shows didn't seem as funny as they usually did either. You sighed heavily and tried to power through your dinner but suddenly you didn't feel hungry anymore. The day was was feeling heavier by the minute and you contemplated just having a shower and going to bed.

You forced yourself from your spot on the couch and threw the rest of your meal away before placing your dirty dishes in the sink. You'd do that later. Tomorrow. You didn't really have the energy to care in that moment.

You convinced yourself that maybe getting an early night would be best. Then you'd have a longer weekend if you didn't sleep in. You were lying to yourself that you'd get a good night's sleep. You put your shoes away on the rack and lazily placed your bags up against the wall. It was good enough to not be a trip hazard later at least. It felt like you were dragging your body up the stairs but your mind was elsewhere, the pesky thoughts of how lonely it must be for Bee. He was probably up in the tiny model graveyard. That's where he had been before.

Sure, Bee had said some nasty things too yesterday. A slur of names. Theoretical accusations too. But you had still sent him back to where ever he had been before. You could've just gone to bed or the bathroom. Out of respect he kept out of those places unless, for whatever reason, you called for him while there. You had other options and you still picked to say his name three times. What a dick move.

Those thoughts swam in circles in your mind as you wandered into your bedroom, your dazed mind barely able to figure out your next move. You showered and pulled on your worn shirt that had transitioned from outerwear to comfy bed top which was paired with a pair of shorts from a set but you had lost the shirt to it years ago. A strange combination that was quite normal for you now.

You climbed into bed, the sheets were fresh as you had fallen asleep on the couch yesterday, a strangely nice surprise that you welcomed. Freshly clean, comfy clothes, you should've felt content and ready for sleep and yet you stared out the window numbly. You laid there, waiting for sleep set in, waiting for your eyes to grow tired but it seemed your mind was far too determined for that. You sighed and closed your eyes for a moment.

"Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice." And you waited.

And waited some more.

But there was just silence.

You opened your eyes and still the room was empty. Until you looked over at the door frame where the pale man in a striped suit was leaning. His eyes on his hands as he picked at his nails before crossing him arms. He looked less than pleased.

"Well, thank ya for lettin' me out, toots. Nice t'know ya need me." His words were anything but sweet this time. The sarcastic poison dripped from his words. The tone just made you sink back into bed without a retort unlike you usually would.

"I'm sorry I sent you away. I shouldn't of. You can have free reign of the house. I'm getting an early night anyway..." Your voice was quiet. Defeated. Bee seemed to notice and instead of his usual mocking manner, he moved around to the empty side of the bed and sat down.

"Doll, ya really think bein' put in time out for a day is gunna do much t'me? I'm a ghost! A day's nothin'." You watched as he exclaimed and moved to get comfortable on the bed; sat up against the pillows and the headboard, his legs crossed at the ankles.

"I don't know...I promised I wouldn't. I made a deal and I broke it. Like the people here did before...I thought you'd hate me." You hated the whole 'woe is me' confession but it still needed to be said.

You heard a snort and glanced up to see Bee looking out the window before shifting his eyes onto you.

"Hate ya? C'mon. Ya think I could hate ya for that? Annoyed? Sure. Ready t'make the rest of ya life a livin' hell? Definitely. But it'd take more than that t'make me hate you, sweetcheeks"

You sighed and shifted under the blankets, you felt a little relieved but still also felt bad for what you did.

"Do you think..." Your words trailed off.

"Do I think what, Toots?"

"Do you think you could stay here tonight? Just until I fall asleep anyway..."

"Oh? You're invitin' me to sleep with ya?" You watched as his annoying smirk grew.

"Bee. Fine. Get out. I'll sleep by myself." You stated as you turned away from the man. Your back now facing him.

"Hey- hey- hey-! I'll behave. I promise! I'll just lay 'ere. Like a statue! See!" You heard his voice desperately pipe up.

"Put some pyjamas on then. No shoes on the bed." You mumbled as you rolled back over onto your other side, watching as Beetlejuice got up and change into striped pyjamas with a cloud of smoke. He did a little show of jazz hands for added affect.

"Ta-da-! How'd I look? Sleek? Sexy? Seducing?" His words drawn out while he posed for each word.

"Just get in the damn bed, Bee. Before I change my mind." Rolling your eyes at the theatrics.

You watched as he scrambled to get under the covers and shifted closer to you. And closer still until you stopped him.

"Don't push your luck, Juice." Your words earned a groan. You closed your eyes and tried to settle, laying in silence for a while. You knew he was just pretending to sleep so you'd feel comfortable. You peeked up and scooted closer until you were nearly against his chest. Perhaps this was too close. You tried to back away but you found Bee's arm over your waist.

"Don't try t'run away now, Sweets." His voice was low and gravelly but he still spoke in a softer voice than usual.

You huffed a little but didn't move away again. You didn't speak for a moment. You just laid silently, eyes on Bee's chest though you were lost in thought.

"Work got the better of ya today"

"I never said that."

"Ya don't have'ta"

"Great. Glad to know you can tell I hate my job."

"I can tell ya tired, Dollface. Its'all I meant"

His words were strangely comforting. He was trying at least.

"Stop tryna be s'tough and lemme help ya"

He was right. Usually after a bad day you'd cling to him and watch some stupid show. But now you were in bed. A place he wasn't ever allowed before. This felt...different.

You sighed and snuggled up to him like you usually would on the couch, you felt his arms tighten around you before one moved up to the back of your head, his fingers gently running through your hair.

"I'll be 'ere, Doll. I ain't got anywhere else t'go anyway. Or maybe we could get things heated up if ya cold-"

"Beetlejuice."

"Alright- just layin here. Like a statue."

You soon started to drift off to his familiar touch. His arm holding you close and his fingers massaging your scalp, it lulled you into a deep sleep. It had you questioning whether you should invite Bee to bed more often.

[gabiioartist]

every versions of the ruler from a story ive been building since 2018. from mahenge (2018/2019) to eurydice (the last two pictures, frm this year), heres a little improvement/developpement

[feminist-space]

"Artists have finally had enough with Meta’s predatory AI policies, but Meta’s loss is Cara’s gain. An artist-run, anti-AI social platform, Cara has grown from 40,000 to 650,000 users within the last week, catapulting it to the top of the App Store charts.

Instagram is a necessity for many artists, who use the platform to promote their work and solicit paying clients. But Meta is using public posts to train its generative AI systems, and only European users can opt out, since they’re protected by GDPR laws. Generative AI has become so front-and-center on Meta’s apps that artists reached their breaking point.

“When you put [AI] so much in their face, and then give them the option to opt out, but then increase the friction to opt out… I think that increases their anger level — like, okay now I’ve really had enough,” Jingna Zhang, a renowned photographer and founder of Cara, told TechCrunch.

Cara, which has both a web and mobile app, is like a combination of Instagram and X, but built specifically for artists. On your profile, you can host a portfolio of work, but you can also post updates to your feed like any other microblogging site.

Zhang is perfectly positioned to helm an artist-centric social network, where they can post without the risk of becoming part of a training dataset for AI. Zhang has fought on behalf of artists, recently winning an appeal in a Luxembourg court over a painter who copied one of her photographs, which she shot for Harper’s Bazaar Vietnam.

“Using a different medium was irrelevant. My work being ‘available online’ was irrelevant. Consent was necessary,” Zhang wrote on X.

Zhang and three other artists are also suing Google for allegedly using their copyrighted work to train Imagen, an AI image generator. She’s also a plaintiff in a similar lawsuit against Stability AI, Midjourney, DeviantArt and Runway AI.

“Words can’t describe how dehumanizing it is to see my name used 20,000+ times in MidJourney,” she wrote in an Instagram post. “My life’s work and who I am—reduced to meaningless fodder for a commercial image slot machine.”

Artists are so resistant to AI because the training data behind many of these image generators includes their work without their consent. These models amass such a large swath of artwork by scraping the internet for images, without regard for whether or not those images are copyrighted. It’s a slap in the face for artists – not only are their jobs endangered by AI, but that same AI is often powered by their work.

“When it comes to art, unfortunately, we just come from a fundamentally different perspective and point of view, because on the tech side, you have this strong history of open source, and people are just thinking like, well, you put it out there, so it’s for people to use,” Zhang said. “For artists, it’s a part of our selves and our identity. I would not want my best friend to make a manipulation of my work without asking me. There’s a nuance to how we see things, but I don’t think people understand that the art we do is not a product.”

This commitment to protecting artists from copyright infringement extends to Cara, which partners with the University of Chicago’s Glaze project. By using Glaze, artists who manually apply Glaze to their work on Cara have an added layer of protection against being scraped for AI.

Other projects have also stepped up to defend artists. Spawning AI, an artist-led company, has created an API that allows artists to remove their work from popular datasets. But that opt-out only works if the companies that use those datasets honor artists’ requests. So far, HuggingFace and Stability have agreed to respect Spawning’s Do Not Train registry, but artists’ work cannot be retroactively removed from models that have already been trained.

“I think there is this clash between backgrounds and expectations on what we put on the internet,” Zhang said. “For artists, we want to share our work with the world. We put it online, and we don’t charge people to view this piece of work, but it doesn’t mean that we give up our copyright, or any ownership of our work.”"

Read the rest of the article here:

https://techcrunch.com/2024/06/06/a-social-app-for-creatives-cara-grew-from-40k-to-650k-users-in-a-week-because-artists-are-fed-up-with-metas-ai-policies/

[kissitbttr]

I SEE YOU (FIRST TIME IS A CHARM)

a/n: a simple first date of frat!miguel and cheerleader!reader after the party

warnings; tiny angst but then turned to comfort<3

—

miguel sometimes think it would be good if he occasionally pinches himself in the arm. or glen could do it if he wanted to since he’s got quite a grip. enough to make sure he’s not living the dream.

for example, finally scoring a chance to take you out after months of pining on you? not getting rejected by his long time crush?! scratch pinching, somebody slap the dog shit out of him and tell him that this is real,

he had texted beck prior the date that he needed his right hand man to keep tabs on everything at the party. and being the good best friend that he is, beck congratulated him for finally having the balls to actually do it,

beck: so i guess that means we don’t have to hear about you moaning her name again during sleep?

miguel: shut the fuck up, kingsley. do as what you’re told.

beck: aye aye buddy

“so uh.. are you hungry? we could grab something to eat if you want to” he asked you while looking over to the passengers seat

“starving, actually” you replied with a giggle, and he felt his heart skip a beat at the sound. “got any recommendations, o’hara?”

but for a guy who knows his ways around women, he sure is nervous when it comes to you. and fuck, he cursed himself for being like this. he wanted to look cool in front of you, not stupid. what is wrong with him?!

“well we can have something off the diner on 13th street. that’s twenty minutes from campus, though. sushi stop, i know one where they serve the best sashimi. and kebab food truck but i don’t think you-“

“a kebab?!” a gasp fell from your mouth, eyes widening at the sound of middle eastern delicacy. “yes. no doubt. i want it. let’s punch it!”

he swore he’s not the type who falls in love quickly. but the way your eyes twinkle in excitement when he mentioned about kebabs,

he might just have,

he smiled at you before putting his focus back on the road. “kebab food truck it is”

one thing that miguel had forgotten to mention, is that food trucks don’t have tables and chairs. so people either eat them while standing up or inside their cars,

he didn’t want to trouble you at all, because looking at you right now, in a very pretty dress and heels, he doubt. that you actually wanted to eat while standing up,

“i’m so sorry, muñeca. i forgot to say something about this” he scratched the back of his head. eyes looking through the window where the kebab truck is at,

with a shrug you shot him a reassuring smile. “i don’t mind standing up while eating if that’s what you worried about”

he shook his head. “i mind actually. can’t let you eat and get tired while standing. how about we’ll eat in my car and i’ll go order something for you, si? what do you prefer? i swear if it you say vegan, i will leave you”

you laughed at that comment, “no of course not. i’ll get the chicken one, medium sized. and a cold water”

he pulled out his cash from the back pocket, smiling at you. “be right back”

there was definitely something different about him. a good different. one of them was how miguel is not how the people at campus had painted him to be. could be too soon for that conclusion but throughout the car ride, you were extremely sure that miguel is not a jackass.

instead, he had asked about which songs you wanted him to play in his car. whether or not if you’re comfortable and constantly saying sorry if he overstepped. it all seemed so sweet to you,

your friends would probably give you a weird look praising such simple things. the bare minimum. but these days, those ‘bare minimums’ are hard to pluck from a decent person, correct? nothing’s wrong with praising them anyway.

he knocked on the window, pulling you out of the train thoughts, in which you then rolled it down. “here you go, muñeca. the man assumed that it was for me so he put a lot of chicken there, so-“

“it’s fine. i said i was starving anyway” you took it from his hand, the smell of the delicious meal was making your mouth water.

miguel had himself crouched down to your eye level, thumb pointing over his shoulder. “so. standing up? or my car?”

you thought for a while, then an idea came into your mind with a pretty smile. “got a better one”

miguel frowned in confusion at that, watching you opening the door before walking out of the vehicle. and that’s when you and him standing almost chest to chest, unintentionally.

the moment he looked at you, his mind immediately went blank. in that exact moment, he thought that if it was possible to put charges on someone for how they stare with their eyes, yours would be number one.

because it felt like he was getting hypnotized by your beautiful irises and that there’s no turning back for him. he would volunteer to drown himself in them if it means he gets to see those eyes forever,

“—way nicer”

he blinked. mentally slapping himself in the forehead because he had just realized he wasn’t listening to you at all, too busy day dreaming about your gaze.

“i’m sorry, w-what were you saying?”

an amused smile made it towards your lips, “i said, we could sit by the pavement here. it’s way nicer. we could act like one of those drunk people after night out.”

“but we’re not drunk, muñeca”

“i said act, miguel” you reply in a duh tone, closing the door behind before guiding him to one of the empty ones where it’s not taken, “see? this one’s good spot”

one thing he noticed, you were wearing a pretty dress. “wait!” miguel then rushed towards the back of his car to grab a jacket before going back to you and laying it down on the asphalt. “there. now you can sit”

that one made your heart flutter, eyes moved up to him. “miguel you can’t just do that. your jacket will get dirty”

“I don’t mind. they made washing machine for a reason. i wasn’t going to let your dress get dirty anyway. the color is too pretty” he smiled, finally taking a seat on the rough surface with you following his actions after,

it was quite a cold night, and you regret not bringing a jacket along with you. what even was this weather? sometimes it’s hot, sometimes it’s rainy and sometimes you couldn’t even fucking predict it,

you tried not to let the chills get to you, because it seemed like miguel wasn’t really bothered by it. this man had his whole arms out in a muscle tank and he sat still like it was nothing,

“this is the best kebab i have ever tasted” you moaned with your eyes close on you had the first bite, chewing on the sweet delish,

miguel tried not to let his mind wander when he saw you doing that. “you like it?”

“like?! i love it! miguel this is amazing!” eyes turning into hearts when you gaze the food upon your hands, “how did you find this perfect place?”

“me and the guys often tried to find new places to eat other than burgers and hot dogs after parties and football practice” he settled his legs down, crossing them. “saw this truck while passing by and decided to give it a go”

you hummed. “do you do that a lot?”

“do what a lot?”

“partying” you took another bite, looking over at him as he raised his brows at the question,

“w-well” he chuckled nervously, thinking of a better way to answer. “if i’m being honest, i don’t enjoy it… as much as i did before”

“really?”

“yeah. it was fun at first. partying, getting shit faced… feels lame now. also, probably because now i think of alcohol are just empty calories”

“is that why you wanted to take me out? so you didn’t have a reason to stay there?”

his eyes turned wide, shaking his head in panic mode. “what? no! no of course not! i wanted to! i mean—it just felt like it was the perfect timing! and i— I—so—didn’t i tell you i have a crush on you?!”

with that, you laughed. placing a hand over his knee. “just joking, miguel”

oh fuck you’re touching him.

‘keep it cool, miguel’ he thought,

“oh-oh right, right. sorry” he replied, clearing his throat. still feeling nervous. “you know, i rarely see you at our weekly parties. only gloria and some of your friends.” he pointed out. wiping some of the sauce from the corner of his lips,

you answered. “not really my scene”

“you don’t like parties?”

“not really. i prefer when it’s just a few people that i know. not a whole campus. i like it better when it’s intimate”

“why is that?” he couldn’t help but ask,

“so i can hear people better when they talk. i love having a conversation”. it’s simple really. and it’s true.

you haven’t gone out to wild parties or clubs in a while, and it was safe to say that your life is truly at peace now. not saying that you would turn down any offer to go to one, but you just don’t do it as often,

waste of money and energy. simple things like sleeping before eleven, waking up early, getting your work done and having walks or working out regularly have been your main priorities now,

“ah, i see” he nodded at that, a smile appeared on his face. “intimate party yeah? i keep that in mind”

you raised one of your brows. “you don’t have to just because i said so, miguel”

he shrugged, taking another bite of his food “if that’s what i have to do just so i could see you around more often”

his response completely took you by surprise. and you had no clue what to say to that. fluttered? sure, that’s why you tried to suppress the smile on your face by looking away. you were quite thankful that it was dark out. that way, he wouldn’t be able to see the blush prominent on your cheeks.

the two of you sat there in comfortable silence for a while. devouring the perfect late night meal while watching the cars go by, accompanied by mindless chatters from left to right,

it did come to a surprise that you and miguel have a lot more in common than you think. something that you didn’t see coming. hell, you didn’t even think that you would actually converse with the head of a fraternity and captain of a football team.

a person whom you always try to avoid ever since freshmen year.

“another thing—why haven’t i seen you in lots of my games?”

“miguel, i come to your games. i’m the cheerleader for crying out loud”

“what i meant was why have you never stick around? you do your part and then poof! you’re gone”

raising an eyebrow, you eye him. “are you stalking me now?” he laughs at the accusation, but it’s not entirely false. “i have no reason to stay, why would i stick around?”

“not even for me?” he fakes a dramatic gasp, hand over his chest as if he’s actually hurt. “that pains me, muñeca”

“you’re getting way ahead of yourself, o’hara” you reply with an eye roll but smile anyway,

miguel then looks at the road, shaking his head. “unbelievable. and here i thought about handing you my jersey for you to wear next at our championship game”

and man, did your heart somehow stop for a second there.

because miguel o’hara do not give away his jersey numbers. not the real one nor the merch ones.

“you’re joking?”

“why would i be?” miguel turned his head at you, finding it is much better to look at you rather than the busy road ahead of him,

shrugging, you looked down at your open kebab. “people talk about how your jerseys are off limits. you don’t give away those numbers for anyone”

“well” he breathed out, chewing his lower lip while fiddling with his fingers. “you’re not just anyone to me”

a breath hitched on your throat when his ruby eyes met with your pretty ones once more. and he made a mental note on how your smile deflated in seconds after he said that,

and fuck fuck fuck, he didn’t mean to make you feel weird or uncomfortable. it was the last thing he wanted to do. because he did feel like he was confessing too much to you that night.

but what could he have done?! he likes you and you make him nervous. put the two and two together, and miguel would sputter bunch of shit from his mouth without actually thinking,

“shit” he shook his head, looking away from embarrassment. “i didn’t—I didn’t mean to say that— i mean, i did but—sorry if it made you feel weird. that was too straight forward”

you couldn’t lie, it was rather entertaining to see the captain of a football team and the so called ‘player of campus’ stumble upon his words like that. usually, you would simply roll your eyes and brushed every single guy who had said that to you. because you knew all they wanted to do was to get into your pants,

however miguel looked genuine. and by how fast his cheeks were warming to the color of crimson red or how he scratched the tip of his ears was pretty explanatory,

he wasn’t trying to get into your pants,

instead of giving him a dirty look, you just smiled shyly at him who looked down on his lap. probably re-thinking about his life choices.

“that’s cute” you managed to mumble, scooting a bit closer to his body. putting the half of kebab down beside you. “you actually like me, huh?”

he scoffed at the silly thought, as if the answer to that question had already been written well enough. “i really like you” he confessed, craning his head towards you and he almost passed out on how close you were to him. “makes me go crazy every time i see you, muñeca—i counted the times that you looked at me for just one split second and i died on days that you didn’t”

the way he spoke so carefully and lovingly with you was truly something you had longed from someone. took you by surprise just how much it meant to him for something so simple like wanting you to look at him for once,

one that you didn’t expect miguel o’hara would have said,

“yeah?” and this time, your voice wavered a little. almost like he made his mission accomplished by making you nervous too. “have you been gawking at me then?”

“god you made it sound like i’m a creep” he shook his head out of embarrassment making you laugh. “not gawk—just simply admiring you from afar—during class and your cheerleading practice. but it’s not a weird ass admiring or something like that. hope that’s okay”

it was. indeed it was.

because before this happened, you always assumed that miguel was the typical jock that romcoms have always shown. heartless, player, annoying, screw ups, and the list goes on.

but fuck was he different.

“more than okay” you responded rather quietly, letting your shoulder touched with his and it made miguel’s eyebrows quirk upwards,

and the moment miguel let his eyes looked into yours for more than twenty seconds, he knew for the second time that night—he was in. hooked line and sinker.

you pulled him in deeper than anyone had ever did without you even realizing. he hadn’t even shared a three hour conversation with you. this is the longest he had spoken with the girl he had a crush on,

miguel gulped by the sight of your pretty lips and doe eyes looking up at him. the innocence twinkled within your gaze and he had to refrain himself from kissing you out in the street,

it was one of the hardest thing he had to do that night,

“i just wanted you to give me a chance” he admitted, resting his arms on his knees as he stared at you. “to look at me as me—not as someone who people had spread rumors about on campus—because i’m not that— i don’t sleep around, i promise I don’t”

it was a weird feeling on how your heart broke a little by how defeated he sounded at the moment. his eyes were soften, voice turned small. he was begging silently for you to look past the ‘playboy miguel’ talk from the people that barely even knows him,

he didn’t care if others don’t believe him but he cared if you did.

that’s the only approval he needed,

“i want you to see me” he shyly continued when you chose not to say anything, only looking at him with your widening eyes. “that’s all”

trust has always been something you struggle with from time to time. because it’s easier said than done.

relationships are indeed not your strongest virtue. you shared some in the past but not all of it were pretty except for one. and you haven’t even heard about that person in a long time but you did wish he was okay.

it is unbelievably difficult to put your heart upon someone else’s hands and asking them to take care of it knowing how easy it would be for them to break it along the way,

which was the reason why you avoided miguel in the first place,

to say you hate him with all of your guts and soul would probably be too much. you wouldn’t go that far. you hardly know the man.

but you were persuaded by the gossips and girl talk scattered throughout campus. how he used girls for sex, only to dump them the next day. despite gloria telling you the opposite, you refused to believe her. you were solemnly only trying to protect yourself.

yet only now the guilt was eating you alive. why didn’t you even try to find out for yourself instead of listening to a gang of plastics who love to start off disgusting rumors about others?

looking at him now just made your heart clenched and for your head tilt to the side, just so you can look at him a bit better. you wanted to look at his eyes. you wanted him to not avoid your gaze because you understood now,

more clearer than ever.

“i do. i see you, miguel” you placed a hand on top of his, gently rubbing the skin until his ruby eyes turned to you at the sudden affection,

miguel’s heart almost did a somersault at your smile. even more to the words you had chosen to say next,

“i see you, baby”

—

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! it would make my day:)

[thirsty-hoes-central]

The Bet- Loscar x reader

A little drabble set in this universe created by @maxlarens and me about doing Oscar’s makeup

Tw: None really, reader is implied to have a visibly different skin tone than Oscar (sorry not sorry perfectly tanned girlies) if I missed anything, let me know

“Dude, you lost the bet; you’ve gotta pay the price!” Logan told Oscar.

“Fine, let’s go get y/n,” Oscar begrudgingly told Logan.

Once they arrived at your dorm, they knock on your door. You open the door, wearing a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, with your hair up in a high pony. “What’s up, babes?” you ask upon seeing your boyfriends.

“Oscar lost a bet,” Logan informs you.

“And…” you prompt.

“And the loser has to get his makeup done by you.”

“OMG! I thought you would never ask! Yes, come in. I’ll get my makeup.” Logan makes himself comfortable on your bed will you direct Oscar to sit at your desk chair. “Uh uh, shoes off if you’re on my bed.”

Logan groans before pulling his shoes off and throwing them by your door.

“Oscar, do you mind if I sit on your lap while doing this?” you ask softly.

“Not at all,” Oscar responds, so you straddle his thighs, being mindful of his crotch. This causes Logan to pout.

“First we need to skin prep. I’m just gonna use my moisturizer which is suitable for all skin types. It’s a gel, so it might feel a little cold at first.” You squeeze out just the right amount of moisturizer onto your fingers, warming it up slightly before applying it to Oscar’s face, with extra focus on the places you tend to get driest.

“Now we wait for your skin to absorb the moisturizer. Then we can apply spf.”

“So what exactly do you plan on doing to me,” Oscar asks.

“I’m thinking for you I’m gonna do a simple neutral eye look to really make your brown eyes pop. I’m not gonna use any complexion products because,” you gesture to your face before gesturing to Oscar’s slightly tanned skin. “And then I think I’m gonna use this baby pink blush with shimmer on the cheeks and finish off the look with a lip oil.”

Oscar nods his head in agreement before you touch his cheek to see if the moisturizer been absorbed into the skin which it has. You then apply the SPF onto Oscar’s skin evenly. While that dries you rummage through a makeup bag for the pallet that you plan on using. While rummaging through your makeup bag, you pull out your mascara, makeup brushes, and your eyelash curler.

“What the hell is that?” Logan asks you.

“Ummmm, an eyelash curler. It curls your eyelashes,” you state the obvious.

“Yeah, but how does it work?”

“It’d be easier to show you. Oscar, do you mind?” Oscar shakes his head, so you hold his jaw to keep him still, and use the eyelash curler on his lashes. “Et voila! See how his lashes on the left eye are more straight while the right eye’s are more curled?” you ask Logan.

Logan gets up from his seat at your bed to truly inspect Oscar’s eyelashes. While he’s looking at Oscar’s eyes, you get your eyeshadow palette and open it up. You pick up some of a medium brown shadow onto your brush and apply it to Oscar’s crease and outer corner. You then take a fluffy brush to blend out the harsh edges. You then apply a beige shimmer onto his lid, blending it into the brown shadow. Finally you put a white shimmer on his inner corner and the brow bone. You then move onto his eyelashes. You place the eyelash curler over his eyelashes and clamp down, being careful not to clamp down on his eyelid. Once you think the lash is significantly curled, you apply the mascara.

“You’re gonna have to blink for me, hun,” you tell Oscar. Oscar blinks on command as you coat his lashes. You then copy what you did to his left eye. “I’m using a burgundy mascara which will really make your brown eyes pop.”

You then get your blush and a fluffy blush brush out of your makeup bag. You apply the blush to the brush before tapping the brush against your wrist to evenly apply it to the brush. You then dust the blush on Oscar’s cheekbones making sure that the application is even.

Next you find your lip oil from your bag before unscrewing the cap. You apply it to Oscar’s lips only for him to lick it off. “Osc, you’re not supposed to do that,” you tell him dejectedly.

“If I’m not supposed to eat it, then why is it flavored?”

“It’s flavored to hide the flavor of the oils used in the product.”

“Well it tastes good, what flavor is it?”

“It’s lychee nectar. Now this time you don’t immediately lick it off, okay?” you asked.

“Okay,” he replies, putting his hands up defensively. You then reapply the lip oil, humming contently when he doesn’t immediately lick his lips. You then give him a big kiss on his cheek, being careful to not mess up his makeup.

“Logan, you want to see the finished product,” you ask.

Logan gets up from where he was laying on your bed, scrolling on his phone. “Wait, why is that kinda hot?” Logan asks rhetorically.

“I know, right? Masc guys wearing makeup is honestly such a turn-on for me. It awakens something in me,” you tell the boys. You then move to find a mirror in your makeup bag to show Oscar your handy work.

“Okay, I think I kinda like it,” Oscar tells you a little reluctantly.

“As you should, you look hot! I’ll go get the makeup wipes to take the makeup off then we can go for somewhere for lunch.”

“Wait, would it be that bad if I said I want to keep the makeup on?” Oscar asks.

“Not at all, honestly, there’s nothing hotter then straight men who are comfortable enough in their sexuality to openly express themselves outside of what’s expected of them in public.” When you said straight men, Oscar gave Logan a knowing look.

You get your wallet and phone and tell the boys that you’re ready to go.

“Where do we wanna go for lunch,” Logan asks.

“Oh, there’s a new Thai place downtown that I think we should try,” you inform your boyfriend.

“Does Thai sound good to you, Osc?” Logan asks your other boyfriend, always considerate of both of your feelings.

“Anything sounds good as long as I’m with you two,” Oscar answers.

[markantonys]

i'll be interested to see if this holds true for WOT s3 since the s1 finale had so many extenuating circumstances and can't really be included in the comparison, but based off of the s2 finale, i believe that season finales tend to bear the brunt of "It's Different From The Books!" ire because they are the culmination of all the smaller changes made throughout the season.

this turned into a bigger analysis post than i expected lmao par for the course with my blog! read on for exploration of how the 2x08 conclusion of each season-long arc is the the most emotionally satisfying conclusion and/or the most thematically appropriate conclusion possible based on the show's particular version of the story, plus a bonus tangent on the nature of adaptation.

for a finale episode, the writers' prime concern 100% has to be "wrapping up all the season's arcs in a way that feels satisfying with everything that's happened in the first 7 episodes, using the book version of the finale event as the framework" rather than "recreating the book version of the finale event exactly as it is with all the same scenes and themes". the nature of storytelling inherently means that every single person who tells the same story will focus on different themes (just think of how many versions of the hades & persephone story there are), and a good adaptation knows that being internally consistent with its own Emphasized Themes is more important than copying-and-pasting scenes from the source material without making any changes to account for the specific way this adaptation is telling the story.

(but a lot of people can't even get past this first point because they don't understand that this is how adaptations - how storytelling in general - work. like, person B literally cannot tell the exact same story that person A told without putting their own spin on it. it's not possible! unless they're simply reading out the exact words that person A wrote, which can't be done when putting 14 massive books into maximum 64 hours of tv. so many readers like to meet this point with "but why does the books' version of the story need to be changed at all?" which is just a non-starter because a) medium differences require a ton of changes, and b) even if no changes were *required*, they would happen anyway because that is human nature when it comes to storytelling. when it comes to story-listening too! ask a hundred different book fans what WOT is about and you'll get a hundred different answers. rafe & co can't possibly make an adaptation that captures every single reader's idea of What WOT Is About, and nobody in the world could ever re-tell the story of WOT in the exact same way that RJ told it, not even the most die-hard book fan; all rafe & co can do is focus on making sure the show honors the core of the books' story while also telling a good story in its own right, independent of the source material.)

i was a classics major, okay? it gets to me! anyway, corralling myself back on topic.

for 2x08, it's very telling just how far Minority Reader Opinion deviates from the general audience opinion. general audiences fucking LOVED this episode (it's the highest-rated on imdb out of the entire show, currently at a 9.0; most episodes are in the 7-8 range), but a bunch of readers call it disappointing and one of the worst episodes of the show. if it was actually a poor quality episode of television, the general audience ratings would reflect that too (as they do for 1x08, currently at a 6.4 (i personally think 1x08 gets way more hate than is deserved and i thoroughly enjoy that episode, but i accept that's just me)), but they don't.

so what does that mean? to me, it means that 2x08 is objectively a very good episode of television which general audiences found satisfying, but which some readers disliked because it prioritized the emotional & thematic needs of its own version of the story over the exact nature of the falme events in the source material. which is exactly what a good adaptation should do! if you forget the books and just look at the show (which the vast majority of viewers are doing), then every resolution that happens in 2x08 is the most satisfying resolution possible and/or the only resolution that was thematically permitted for that particular season storyline.

egwene: her season arc was about learning to stand on her own two feet and not cling onto her mentor figures or compare herself unfavorably to others. thus, her freeing herself from the a'dam is the most satisfying possible conclusion to her season arc. nynaeve and elayne freeing her in the books is nice, but in the show version, thematically, it would've undercut egwene's Overcoming Impostor Syndrome arc to go "yeah actually it's true that she's not good enough on her own and when it comes down to it she does always need nynaeve to help her out". that version worked in TGH where she didn't have an Overcming Impostor Syndrome arc, but it wouldn't have worked in the show where she did. (but, yes, egwene learning in 2x08 that she doesn't have to rely on others is a double-edged sword, which nicely sets up her later-series struggles with trying to shoulder too much herself and not letting even her friends or partner help her.)

rand: his season arc was about learning to lean on others and not isolate himself or try to protect his friends by withholding his burdens from them. thus, him failing to defeat ishamael until all his friends come to lend aid in various ways is the most satisfying possible conclusion to his season arc. rand defeating ishy singlehandedly in the books is nice, but in the show version, thematically, it would've undercut his Learning That Strength Is In Numbers arc to go "yeah actually it's true that rand is capable of winning his biggest battles all by himself and thus it's no problem for him to push his friends away". given the themes that s2 emphasized for rand, the only appropriate finale outcomes were either success with his friends' help or total failure on his own, and they chose the former. (that being said, rand pushing his friends away is a continuous issue for him throughout the series, so i doubt he's perfectly learned his lesson after 2x08; we shall see!)

interesting to note that rand and egwene have inverse arcs in a way (foils!) and that some elements of their book falme climaxes were swapped, and that the way the show has done it subverts the expected gender roles. typically, men are expected to be Lone Wolves and women to be Team Players, and the WOT books absolutely play into these stereotypes throughout the series (sometimes intentionally as social commentary, sometimes unconsciously as an accepted truth of the world), but 2x08 and s2 more broadly did the opposite with our yin-and-yang co-protagonists. it's egwene who has the arc about learning to be a Lone Wolf and rand who has the arc about learning to be a Team Player. and imo these subconscious gender role expectations are a part of why some readers (esp reddit) got SO heated about "how come egwene can succeed by herself but rand can't", because it feels Wrong to them and Not How Things Are Supposed To Work (they've never questioned why rand can succeed by himself but egwene needs her friends' help in TGH, or all the other times in the books when men succeed by themselves and women succeed by relying on each other). but it's a totally apples-to-oranges comparison because egwene and rand had totally different season arcs and focal themes (but many paralleling & foiling moments within that), and so they each get a conclusion tailor-made to their individual stories.

mat: his season arc was about realizing he's a good, worthy person, finding the inner strength to overcome his worst impulses and temptations, and coming through for his friends after leaving them at the waygate. thus, him getting his Big Damn Hero moment with the horn of valere, getting validation that he is literally a hero, and overall spending the episode doing all he can to support his friends is the most satisfying possible conclusion to his season arc. (but stabbing his bff just as he was flying on a confidence high and trying to save the day was a downer note to end on, so we've complicated his relationship with heroism and set up some more internal issues for him to wrestle with next season.)

perrin: his season arc was about learning to acknowledge his inner wolf but also coming to regard it with fear and to believe that wolf & human sides can't coexist and he must Choose One (.......suddenly being struck by the bisexuality metaphor of it all. nice!) thus, him giving into violence to murder a human to avenge a wolf is.....well, it's pretty upsetting for him and serves to reinforce his growing belief that his two sides can't coexist, but thematically, it's fascinating and sets him up for some really great internal (and external) conflicts in s3. he's just gotten what he thinks is pretty strong evidence to corroborate ishy's claim that embracing his wolf side means embracing the shadow, so he's set up for a season 3 of deep-diving into his relationship with violence and his inner wolf. it's also a neat parallel with 1x08: there perrin's avoidance of violence allowed fain to escape, whereas here his embracing of violence has traumatized him (again), so our poor guy is really feeling conflicted in the pacificism-or-violence question because both sides seem wrong to him right now. huh, i guess perrin's full-series arc is about finding a middle ground rather than one extreme (pacifism/tuatha'an/human) or the other (violence/aiel/wolf). i feel like i've just had an epiphany lmao this is why i love the show! it tells the same story as the books, but tells it in a different way that makes me think about it differently and gain new insights!

nynaeve: her season arc was about learning that she, on her own, as she is today, is not enough to protect her loved ones. this is a tough pill for both her and the audience to swallow! but it's needed for her character, and we see it in the books too. nynaeve has an incredible amount of power, but she's terrified of having that much power and wants to pretend it doesn't exist. she's resistant to change, she's used to being in charge, and she's very "my way or the highway". these are all things she needs to grow out of (or moderate, at least) in order to be able to step up and do her part for tarmon gai'don. she has to learn how to embrace her power instead of being afraid of it or being too stubborn to let other people guide her and teach her, so s2 shows her what happens if she doesn't, first hypothetically in the accepted test (everyone she loves dies because she's blocked and refused channeling training) and then for real in falme (she couldn't help elayne fully or rand at all because of her block). so her 2x08 conclusion being Total Failure is not emotionally satisfying, no, but it's thematically exactly what she needed and will goad her into facing her block head-on next season. thematically, like rand, nynaeve only had 2 options for falme: break her block and succeed, or retain her block and fail, and it was too soon for the former (we gotta let her cook a while longer, plus the story will become too easy if nynaeve, or rand, reaches supernova capability too soon), so it had to be the latter. if the show had gone with a third option of her succeeding without breaking her block, then that would've taught her and the audience that it's fine to leave the block in place and she doesn't need to challenge herself to grow as a person, because when it TRULY matters she can always get around the block.

other characters get appropriate resolutions too! moiraine and lan get to work together to succeed after being at odds and failing on their own all season (rand foils!). elayne gets validation that she is an essential and trusted part of the friend group after feeling like somewhat of an outsider earlier in the season. ishamael getting vanquished and lanfear betraying him only to be betrayed by him in turn is exactly where their mutual mistrust was leading them (and it shows us why it's so important that Team Light be able to work as a team rather than as self-interested individual operators; the contrast between ishy & lanfear looking at the seals together while plotting to betray each other vs. rand standing on the tower with all his friends behind him makes me cry your honor. imagine hating that ishy's defeat was a team effort, could not be me!)

(it's also worth noting that the characters who had the least individual success/victory in 2x08 (nynaeve, rand, perrin) are the ones who will have the biggest individual storylines in s3 (tanchico & moggy, waste arc, two rivers arc), whereas the characters who had the most individual success/victory (egwene, mat, moiraine, lan) are the ones who will be taking a bit more of a backseat (of course they all have their own stuff to do, but none of them is *the* lead character of their TSR/s3 traveling group). this is intentional!)

so there you have it. 2x08 is adored by the general audience, and it's because of this: it gives us some damn satisfying conclusions to all the season arcs (and some exciting and visually stunning battle sequences to boot), and all the viewers who AREN'T beleaguered by "But The Books!", which is most of them, recognize that for the good storytelling it is. i for one will always care far more about the show telling a good story within itself than the show being identical to the books, and rafe & co will too, as they should.

the only downside to the episode is that, yes, it is quite cramped for time because there are a lot of arcs to wrap up. this should be less of an issue in future seasons when the season finale isn't "every single major storyline converges in the same place at once". for example, judging by the "goldeneyes" episode title it seems s3 might split it up so that perrin's conclusion in the two rivers is in 3x07 while other conclusions in other locations are in 3x08, giving each more breathing room. whereas 2x08 had no choice but to stuff everything in that episode into that specific episode because it's not like perrin could just do his falme stuff an episode early and take a nap while everyone else was doing THEIR falme stuff in the next episode, nor could the full falme sequence have been split into 2 episodes since that would have disrupted the flow of the story. the only solution would be for 2x08 to be extra long, which is nice to imagine, but we all know that streaming shows almost never deviate from their set episode lengths and so there isn't much point sighing about "this episode should have been 90 minutes long!" because that just is not on the table, never has been, and never will be. the first step to being able to jive with an adaptation is making peace with the limits of its particular medium!

plus, the only things i might deem "missing" from 2x08 are non-essential (ingtar darkfriend reveal - that is NOT important fight me, it's only important in the books as our first example of a morally-gray shadow-aligned person but the show has already been doing that in spades) or will likely be included in 3x01 (the gang spending some time together to breathe and process and catch up). at the end of the day, the show is always going to need to be paced very very tightly with not as much breathing room as those of us accustomed to entire books dedicated to reacting to the previous book might expect. and 2x08 did manage to pack in a LOT of character work amidst all the action and did a good mix of resolving s2 arcs while leaving some unresolved to carry into s3 and introducing some new arcs/issues/conflicts, all within 70 minutes, which i find pretty impressive. in conclusion, 2x08 my fucking beloved <3

[gay-wh0re-slut]

HEYYY

Can you write rhea x fem!reader where they are at the movies and they decide to sit all they way in the back away from everyone because reader doesn’t like being near anyone and rhea gets the idea to fool around while they watch the movie (smut please)

heyyyyyyy thank you for your request hehehe i’ve always wanted to do this

this is so cheeky oooooo let’s see how this goes

Two Tickets

rhea x fem!reader

content: sexy fun times with your hot buff wrestler gf in a movie theater. def some touching and teasing, def some kissing

“Thank you, baby,” you say as you walk through door held open for you. You insisted on bringing a blanket because you always go too cold in the theaters, she loved cuddling up to you anyway.

The buff woman chuckles behind you, letting the door close behind the two of you. She quickly walks in front of you to the ticket counter.

Rhea saw online that they were doing a special showing of Friday the 13th. If you wore merch, you’d get fifty percent off the tickets, so of course you had to go. Half of her closet was horror movie merch.

“Two tickets for Friday the 13th, please,” her accent echoed a bit.

The worker looked intimidated by her, which was funny to you and almost immediately rang you up for the tickets. “Uh..anything else?”

She turned towards you, “popcorn?” she shrugged her large shoulders.

“Sure,” you chirped.

“Medium popcorn plea-”

“And a large lemonade!” you added on.

She rolled her eyes playfully, “and a large lemonade please.”

“Y-you got it,” he pushed buttons on the screen. As the card reader loaded, he scooped the popcorn and got the lemonade, placing both on the counter in front of your girlfriend. The tickets printed after she removed her card and he handed them to her.

“Thank you,” she handed the drink to you, then took the popcorn and tickets.

“Enjoy your movie,” he said quietly as you walked away.

“We will,” she winked towards him.

His knees almost buckled right then. It was fun having her around you thought, you almost got everything you wanted.

Walking into the theater, there was more people than you thought there would be. You froze for a second before Rhea looked at you with a soft smile, letting you know that everything will be okay. You followed her to the very back, right under the projector. Both of you sat down and situated yourselves under the blanket. This theater had the seats that could move so that you were basically laying down.

The previews played as more people trickled in. To your surprise, no one else sat in the back row. Was it Rhea's aura or did they want to be scared? Either way, you didn't mind.

The movie finally started. The wrestler hit your leg playfully out of excitement. She told you earlier that she has always wanted to see the movie on the big screen, "I was born too late," she would say.

As the movie went on, you finally realized that her hand was resting on your thigh, luckily under the blanket. Which wasn't any different than normal but what was different was that she was slowly moving it...up your leg.

"Baby," you whispered.

"What?" she whispered back teasingly.

"We're in pub-"

"The movie is loud and we're the only ones back here," her accent tingled in your ear as it sent chills down your spine.

She leaned over to start kissing on your neck, "c'mon baby," her whispering got more sensual as she talked.

"I thought you wanted to watch it on the big screen."

"Well, yes..." her hand was insanely close to your center now, "but you are much more intriguing." Her other hand reached to your chin and gently pulled you towards her. She glanced into your eyes then flicked her gaze down to your lips then back to your eyes, "be a good girl for me, yeah?"

You bit your lip trying to silence the whimper that was pushing its way out. Nodding your head in desperation, you scoot yourself closer to her wishing that the arm of the chair could fold up, but unfortunately it couldn't.

The movie played as her teasing went on. The more suspense in the movie, the more pressure she put on your center, and the more you struggled to keep yourself together. Every so often she would kiss your neck holding your face away from her for better access. Her tattooed hand massaged its way to your core as the people in front of you cowered in fear. The jump scare got closer and closer as her hand added more and more pressure.

"SHIT!" you screamed in arousal as the rest of the crowd screamed in fear at the jump.

She chuckled in your ear as the crowd died down and removed her hand, but only slightly.

Finally the movie ended, "get your ass in the car," she growled as she ripped the blanket away from the two of you. You quickly grabbed the half full drink, barely eaten popcorn and basically ran out to her big truck. She followed close behind you lazily folding the blanket.

Squirming all the way home, you jumped out of the car, dropped the popcorn and the drink on the counter and before you could make it to the bedroom-

"Uh uh, princess," as she caught you from behind, engulfing you in her big arms. She carried you back to the couch and threw you down.

You giggled as you plopped down.

"You did so well, my love," she kneeled in front of you landing her hands on the outside of your thighs.

You relaxed the muscles you didn't know you were holding tense. Letting out a long breath as you did, you let your head fall back, resting on the back of the couch. Your hands tangled themselves in her raven dark hair as she kissed along your thighs. Her hands toyed with your waistband, tugging on them hoping you get the hint.

Of course you did, but you loved the feeling of her teasing you, "not yet," you breathed.

"Correct answer," she grinned. She continued to kiss up your thighs and grazing her hands all over you. They trailed up to your sides, to your stomach, to your tits then finally back down to your legs. She slowly pushed them open causing her to kiss the inside of your thighs.

A small moan fell out of you as you readjusted yourself to move closer to the edge of the couch. You heard a faint giggle come from below you, sending a shock through you straight to your core.

Instead of tugging this time, Rhea purposely pulled harder on your waistband, silently telling you to lift your hips. So you did, allowing her to pull your pants off and thrown to the side as you helped.

"Look at you," she sat back holding your legs open staring at the arousal that soaked your underwear, "all for me?" she cooed.

"Mhmm," you whined, "please baby..."

"So desperate," she mocked. Her devilish smile dove back down to kiss on your now bare skin. Finally, after what seemed like forever, she trailed the kisses up to your core. Planting her soft lips right above where you need them most.

You shifted your hips closer to her but she backed away in perfect timing, "uh uh, you know the rules babygirl."

You sigh loudly, "hmph," as you drop your hands from her shoulders.

"Aw, a lil frustrated are we?"

"No," you lie.

"Right, so me doing this," she carefully grazed her thumb over your clit, "doesn't do anything?"

Your hips jerked as you grunted in frustration, "n-no."

"Right...and this?" she did the same motion but added slightly more pressure.

"Fuck," you said under your breath. You took a short but deep breath, "no," you growled.

"Uh huh," the devilish grin grew back. Her icy blue eyes flicked over your body, watching you writhe in front of her. It didn't take her long to figure out what to do next. She stood, then bent at her waist, placing a hand under your chin, lifting your head up to match her gaze. "Stand up," she whispered sternly.

You followed orders and stood as your legs shook, but only slightly. Her hand was on your chin the whole way up. She grabbed you more aggressively, then pulled you in for a long deep kiss before pushing you to the side. She took your seat, manspreading in front of you. You watched in awe as if she's never done this before. She draped her arms on the back cushions. Once more, her eyes danced over your body before she patted her thigh to tell you to sit down.

You followed her command and straddled her waist, resting your arms on her large shoulders.

"Hmm," she hummed in content, "I love making you like this."

"Like what?"

"Sooo... desperate," she trails a finger down your neck, to your chest, "sooo needy," the finger continues to the elastic of your underwear, playing with it.

"I can't help it," you moan at her touch.

"I know," she whispered in her husky voice. She grabbed your face with her free hand and pulled you in for a sloppy kiss, quickly followed by her other hand diving underneath the cotton and straight to where you needed her most.

You were moaning loudly at her touch, as she held your head in place, not letting you go. Her skilled hand was forming small circles on your clit. Your hands flew to her hair gripping at anything you can.

She finally lets go of her death grip, "that's it, baby," as she pushed some stray hairs out of your face before cupping your jaw.

"Holy fuck," you whined. Her hand was going full force now, giving everything you wanted. The pressure and pace was perfect. You didn't realize you were grinding on her hand until she placed her other hand on your ass helping you through it. You moaned and whined into her neck, resting your head on her shoulder.

"Look at me," she said quietly, but you didn't listen. She immediately stopped her working hand.

"No please don-"

"Then look at me," she said harsher.

So you did.

"Good girl," her eyes were dark and hungry. "Now, I can tell you're close," she slowly starts again, causing you to ache for a release, "I need you to look at me when you come...undone," her pace quickens a bit, "can you do that for me, love?"

"Mhm, yes, yes I can, y-yes," you pleaded hoping she would stop teasing.

"Good," finally, she quickens her pace and adds more pressure perfectly as her other hand supports your back.

You almost immediately drop your chin to your chest before picking it back up again. One of your hands grip onto to her neck and the other is braced on the back of the couch. Your breath becomes more shallow, your hips are moving back and forth quicker than you thought possible. Moans and whines continue spilling out of you. You rest your forehead on hers.

"Oh shit, Rhea," you were basically whimpering now.

"C'mon baby," her voice was deep but breathy.

The knot that had been forming in your stomach since before you left the theater finally snapped, "FUCK," you cried out, throwing your head back. Loud moans filled the room as you rode out your high on her hand, slowly calming down as she followed suit in slowing down her pace.

As you caught your breath, you laid your head on her shoulder. She took back her hand and wrapped her arms around you letting you rest.

You finally lifted your head, "you're so fucking hot when you're mean to me by the way."

"Yeah? Should I call you a slut next time then?" she giggled, half joking.

"God, yes," you groaned.

"Well, then," she easily picked you up and began carrying you, "let's see what happens when I do," as she took you to the bedroom.

[bro-atz]

knots

in which: your coworker recommends that you see a massage therapist for your many, many muscle aches, and you do just that with massage therapist choi san

pair: san/afab!reader

word count: 4k

content: smut, masseuse!au, table sex, massage, completely consensual!

apply for the permanent taglist here!

Thank god your thighs were fucked up. Actually, it sucks. Your thighs were eternally fucked according to every single doctor you’ve ever been to. They all said that you have incredibly large knots in your thighs and that you would need more than one session to bring your thighs back to normal. You didn’t really think about seeing a massage therapist until you threw your shoulder out working your day job like there was no tomorrow.

One of your coworkers from work always told you to see one of the massage therapists at the place that she goes to.

“They’re all really good! My go-to therapist is usually Yeosang, but Wooyoung filled in for him one day, and he did a good job as well. I’m telling you, they saved my life,” she explained to you while giving you their business card.

“Do they only have male massage therapists?” you asked, unsure if you would feel comfortable having a man massage you instead of a woman.

“They do... I think… I was the same way, too, but the person at the front desk recommended Yeosang for me because each massage therapist has different styles and pressures. Some of them can be really firm, but others have a light touch. I usually need medium to firm to bounce back.”

You nodded, still hesitant about the place, but after you left work and stepped onto the sidewalk wrong and feeling a way of soreness and pain shoot through your calves and thighs, you decided that you would go to this place that your coworker told you about.

Upon entering, you were greeted by a cute receptionist who looked like a massage therapist himself.

“Welcome to SPATZ. My name is Jongho. How can I help you today?”

“Uh…” you hesitated, unsure of how to go about asking for their services.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No…”

“Not a problem, we do take walk-ins. What kind of service are you looking for today?”

He opened his book and flipped through some pages while you thought about what parts of your body were in pain.

“Honestly, I have no idea. My doctors keep telling me about knots in my thighs, and today I threw my shoulder out at work… I guess my entire body?”

“And what kind of pressure do you prefer?” he asked without looking up from the book.

“I… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

The man finally looked up from the book. You shifted slightly as you felt his gaze burn a hole through you and then let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when he opened up another book and jotted down some details.

“Name?”

“Y/N.”

“Insurance and ID, please,” he asked you as he held out his hand.

You handed the cards to him. He scanned them then returned them to you as he continued to scribble away in the smaller notebook.

“Shoulder… Thighs… Your calves are a little tense, too… And your back is definitely stiff,” Jongho said to himself, but you were still able to hear him slightly. He raised his voice as he addressed you, “Luckily, we have our most versatile therapist available at the moment. Since this is your first time, you get to test out our service for free, and when the session is over, we can discuss scheduling future visits. For now, if you could just fill out this paperwork and have a seat.”

He handed you a clipboard, which you took. You didn’t take long to fill out the paperwork, but before you could get up and hand the board back to the receptionist, the door to the inside of the place opened, revealing a man who seemed more equipped to be a sports therapist than the receptionist.

“Y/N?”

“Yes!”

“Come with me.”

The man disappeared through the door, and you quickly got up, returned the board to Jongho, and shuffled towards him until you were walking right behind him. He opened another door and gestured for you to go in. You did so and stood in the room awkwardly as he shut the door behind you two. There was a table in the middle of the room and towards one of the walls was a bunch of cabinets and a countertop with a various collection of oils and lotions lined up.

“You can put your bag on this chair and have a seat on the table,” he said with mild amusement upon seeing your timidness.

You nodded and did as he instructed. There was a rolling stool near the counter and cabinets that he sat on and rolled on so that he was right in front of you. The stool was significantly shorter than the table itself, so when he rolled over, his head was near your knees. You swallowed nervously and held your legs closer together as you looked at this massage therapist.

He was beautiful. He smiled at you softly, slightly exposing his dimples which you know would go deeper the moment he laughed. He eyes were sharp, but his eyebrows were even sharper— they were definitely not sisters; they were twins. The shape of his nose accentuated all the sharp lines on his face, and his plush lips truly added to his charm. You felt your face get warm. You silently thanked God that you wouldn’t have to look at his face while he worked on your knots since he would most likely have you be face down for the most part.

“My name is San, and I’m going to be your massage therapist today,” he introduced himself. “Before we get started, what kind of pressure are you looking for?”

“I really don’t know. This is my first time getting any sort of massage, so I have no idea what kind of pressure would be best for me,” you answered truthfully.

“Okay, so what we can do is start soft, then if you need me to go harder, I can.”

It was the way he phrased that sentiment that made you shift slightly, trying to calm yourself down.

“According to Jongho, you want to work on your shoulder, legs, and lower back, right?”

You nodded. San opened one of the cabinets and pulled out a sheet. He shook out the sheet and nodded his head, indicating that you should get off the table. You did so, and he covered the table with the sheet. Then, he said, “I’m going to step out of the room for a minute. Undress, get under the sheet, and lay face down. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Your eyes widened. Why did he need you to remove your clothes? Couldn’t he just work over your clothes? San seemed to read your mind as he clarified, “To work out the knots and give you the best effect, working with skin-to-skin contact will be best.”

With a hesitant but understanding nod, you allowed San to step out of the room. You quickly removed your clothes and got under the sheet, worried that San would just step in when you were completely naked. You ensured that the sheet was tucked tightly around you so that you were only showing so much skin and put your face down. Several seconds later, San knocked on the door.

“Ready?”

“Ready!”

San entered the room again and closed the door behind him. You kept your head down as you waited for him to do his thing. You did not want to make eye contact with him at all.

The first part of your body that he uncovered was your shoulder itself, and you were suddenly aware that the side of your breast was exposed to the chilly air in the room. You pursed your lips and tried not to think about the fact that with one wrong move, San could see your entire naked backside. However, San remained professional. He didn’t pull any moves on you.

The session went really well. Your thighs had never felt such relief before. According to San, your thighs needed an insane amount of pressure, but the rest of your body needed a lighter touch. After your session, he recommended that you schedule your appointments with him if you planned on returning for their services. You did just that.

You had many, many, many sessions with San since that first time. You developed a sort of professional friendship with him in that time, and on your first anniversary since starting the services at the place he worked at, you got an email from the company itself celebrating that anniversary. To celebrate, you went for another massage.

“Can you believe I’ve been seeing you for a year?” you asked him, unaware of your choice of phrasing.

“You make it sound like we’re dating,” he responded jokingly.

Your face went red. The thought of you dating your massage therapist felt taboo in a way, but that wasn’t why you were blushing— if you ever got the chance to date someone as hot as San, you probably wouldn’t be able to function ever.

“So, what’re we working on today?” San asked as he laid out the sheet.

“I slept on my neck funny—”

“I told you not to sleep with so many pillows!”

“I’m not anymore! But I fell asleep on my sofa last night…”

“Y/N! Don’t do that! You’re going to make your condition way worse,” San lectured. “You better sleep in a proper bed tonight.”

“I will, I promise.”

“Good. Undress and go face down. We’ll work on your neck and shoulders. Also, maybe your lower back. Your posture needs a little work.”

After undressing and getting under the sheet, San entered the room. He moved the sheet down so that your traps were completely uncovered then put some oil on his hands and rubbed his hands together to generate some heat. He started massaging lightly.

You didn’t know what was different about this time. He used the same lotion as usual, and he used the same pressure, but you were incredibly turned on— maybe it was because he was massaging much slower than usual. It didn’t help when San brushed your hair away from your neck, his nails grazing the nape of your neck almost making you moan. Your ears were burning as his fingers pressed into the sides of your neck and along your shoulders.

It was only when San traced a line down your spine and blew cool air lightly along the way did you confirm that he was definitely not doing his usual service.

“San…?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to call him out for not maintaining his usual style of massage, but you also didn’t want him to stop.

“Is everything okay?” San prompted since you didn’t respond.

“Y-yeah…”

“Want me to move onto your lower back?”

“Sure…”

San moved the sheet down further, exposing your lower back. He worked on your back, and his service went back to normal for a solid minute before you felt his hands work lower than your lower back. He was on your tail bone, then his hands went further. The sheet moved down even more, and the second he cupped your buttocks, you gasped and moaned slightly.

“S-san,” you said his name breathlessly.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“It’s a stress relieving massage. It’s meant to make every part of you feel good.”

You wanted to respond, but before you could, San squirted more oil onto your body and started rubbing your ass cheeks inwards. His firm kneading on your buttocks made your legs tingle. You had to hold onto the sides of the table to keep your sanity, your nails digging into the sheets. Small moans escaped you every so often, earning a throaty chuckle from San. The sheet completely slipped off you— rather, San pulled it off— and his hands moved to your thighs. They went from the back of your thigh to the inside, his fingers rubbing against your labia and clit over and over again. You couldn’t tell if you were wet because of the oil or because he was turning you on, but the one thing you knew for certain was that you felt the tension in your pussy build exponentially.

You gasped loudly when San’s fingers pressed into you ever so slightly, the tips of his fingernails grazing the inside of your pussy.

“You doing okay?” San asked, his voice reaching a teasing tone.

“Uh-huh,” you nearly moaned.

“So is it okay if I continue?”

“Mmhmm,” you responded, desperately needing him to help you reach your climax.

“Then flip over for me.”

San moved away from you, allowing you to turn so that you were now face up. He placed your arms and legs accordingly to assist with his massage, which meant your arms were pinned to the sides of you, and your legs were spread wide open, nearly dangling off the edges of the table. Before he resumed the massage, he poured more oil onto your body. You watched through narrowed, bleary eyes as he kept a stoic face while completely covering you with the warm oil until the bottle itself was completely empty.

The feeling of the warm oil hitting your bare skin was electrifying, and it only got better as he continued the massage. He first focused on your hip joints, your pussy still impatiently throbbing for him to satisfy you. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back as his hand neared your crotch once more, his fingers rubbing along the sides of your pussy once again while his other hand massaged your breast and played with your nipple.

Then, he drew circles over your clit. The circles started slowly at first, but they gradually sped up. Moans tumbled out of your mouth as your hands reached to push San’s away, but he had no intention of letting you interrupt his flow. He positioned himself so that no matter how you grabbed his arm to pull his fingers away from you, there was no way in hell that was going to happen.

The combination of him rubbing circles on your nipple and clit was too much for you, but you had yet to hit your climax. That was when San trapped your clit between his two fingers and rubbed vigorously, making you cum within seconds. You did your best to keep your cries of pleasure on the quiet side, but that was just not happening when San fingers slipped inside you.

“Wait, San! Ah!” you cried out as his thick fingers rushed in and out of you.

He barely gave you time to recover from your first climax, and with the added element of San’s fingers curled inside you as he pushed them in, you barely had time to resist cumming once again. You held onto San’s wrist with both of your hands, your arms weak from the pleasure. This time, you moaned loudly as you flung your head back, your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pure ecstasy. You prayed that San wouldn’t continue with this spectacular massage of his, and your prayers were answered. After you came the second time, San moved away from the table and grabbed a couple of towels for you and him.

“Your session is over,” San said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “However, if you would like to extend, I’d be happy to continue with the service when I get off of work.”

Despite cumming twice within the session, you wanted more from him. You nodded, your face still flushed, your words not formulating properly, and your eyes unable to maintain eye contact with him.

“I get off my shift in thirty minutes. Wait for me in the parking lot.”

San left the room, allowing you to wipe down yourself completely, dress, and head to the parking lot. You did as he instructed and waited for him in the parking lot, anxiety starting to prick at your skin. He got off his shift right as he said he would. He walked to his car and unlocked the doors. He opened the passenger’s side door and watched you fully sit inside before closing the door on your behalf and getting into the driver’s seat.

The drive was silent. This was the first time you had ever been with your massage therapist outside of the workplace, which made you realize that you practically knew nothing about the man other than some of his hobbies and daily activities— very surface level stuff. You couldn’t even bring yourself to ask him any questions; the sexual tension was heavy, and it felt like you were choking on it.

You arrived at San’s place. You walked into his apartment timidly, completely self-conscious about the fact that he was right in front you. He led you to his bedroom where you stood awkwardly as he disappeared into his closet. He emerged bearing a soft, plush robe. He handed it to you as he said in a low, quiet voice, “Go take a shower. You still need to wash the oil off.”

“Right,” you nodded and accepted the robe.

“You can leave your clothes in the bathroom for now. When you’re done, come back into my bedroom.”

Acknowledging what he said, you went into his bathroom and did as he asked. Your mind was in a daze as you cleaned the oil off your body to the best of your ability. The evening had moved so fast that you didn’t even know exactly how you got to be standing naked in San’s shower, and you even wondered if being there that night was even a good idea; but then, your mind flashed to how good the man in the other room made you feel, and you decided that being in his apartment was definitely going to be worth it. You quickly finished up in his bathroom shortly after that revelation. Wearing the robe, you left his bathroom and returned to his bedroom, where he was standing by the foot of his bed. He had changed out of his work clothes and into a pair of grey sweatpants and a white tank top. You felt your body heat up and your face burn upon seeing him.

“Did you wash everything off, Y/N?” San asked you as he turned his entire body to face you.

“To the best of my ability.”

“Hmm, let’s check then. Lie here.”

San gestured to the side of the bed he was standing near. You walked slowly towards him before sitting then lying on the bed face up. Before getting on the bed himself, San dimmed the lights in his room. He trapped your waist between his knees, his face hovering above yours as he brushed your hair away from your face. His fingers wiped the side of your neck as if he was actually searching for any missed spots, but it was definitely a ruse— his fingers trailed down the side of your neck across your collarbones and down the center of your chest. His hand slipped under the robe and began to feel up your breast. You tilted your head to the side, squeezed your eyes shut, and whimpered as you felt San’s other hand hold your waist tightly. You couldn’t help but yelp when San ran his finger over your nipple and began to play with your nipple.

Your hands clutched the bedsheets as if you were holding on for dear life, and your legs were pressed together as you felt your pussy get wetter with every passing second. Your eyes went wide open when San moved one end of the robe away from your breast, his lips planting on your nipple instantly. Your whole body lurched as he sucked painfully hard, his tongue flicking your nipple. He still had his hand on your breast, which he squeezed as he continued to lick and suck, nearly driving you crazy. Your eyes were shut once more as you flung your head back to fully experience this newfound ecstasy.

Your eyes fluttered open when you felt his lips and hand release your breast. You watched his chest heave with every deep breath he took. Your heart fluttered as that broad chest of his lowered so that it was nearly pressed against yours. He tilted your chin so that you were forced to make eye contact with him, and you felt yourself get turned on all over again. His lips parted momentarily, as if he wanted to say something or ask you a question, but he settled for running his tongue over his lower lip before bringing his lips to meet yours.

San’s lips were sweet and warm, but his kiss was rough and hot. Your hands found his forearms and held onto them tightly as you pushed yourself further into his amazingly intense kiss. His lips were magnetic. When the kiss ended, you wanted to return to him so quickly, but he instead sat up. He had the most intense and sultry look on his face as he gazed at you.

It was only when San took his tank top off did you realize how muscular he was. Sure, you saw his biceps and triceps when you first laid eyes on him in the tank top, but you weren’t thinking about what his body looked like underneath. He remained upright as he tossed the top to the ground. You could barely count the number of abs you could see on him in the faint light, and before you could figure out the number, he took your hands in his and neared you once more. He placed your hands so that they were on the back of his neck.

“Keep your hands right there, okay?”

You nodded. You were expecting him to kiss you again, so it completely took you by surprise when his fingers untied your robe and pushed it aside, his hands forcing you to spread your legs. He rubbed your pussy lightly before checking his fingers, his tongue running along the tips of his fingers to taste. You desperately wanted to cover your red hot face in embarrassment, but you did as San told and kept your hands firmly planted on the back of his neck.

“You did a good job cleaning yourself up,” he told you, a slight smirk appearing on his face.

San lowered himself and placed his lips right by your ear, his hand returning to rubbing your pussy. You let out little erotic gasps as San’s thumb pushed lightly into you as he rubbed. You moved your head towards his, your hand slipping from his neck to his cheek. You guided him gently to kiss you as his fingers continued to make your pussy wetter.

It was when San let out impatient grunts did you begin to feel a little restless. You desperately wanted something in you whether it be his fingers or his cock, and you knew that he was reaching his limit; so, you moved your hand down to his waist and cupped his crotch, the bulge in his pants immediately getting bigger. San’s breathing hitched as he moaned your name.

Without a second to lose, San stripped himself down completely before ripping the robe off of you. You were both completely naked, and while San had seen you naked plenty of times in the past, this was the first time you ever saw him in his entirety. You couldn’t really gauge how big he was when you felt him up just moments before, so you certainly were not expecting to see a massive weapon at his disposal. Reaching towards his nightstand, San grabbed a condom and swiftly rolled it on. His hands reached for your waist and pulled you towards him gently, his lips near your neck as the tip of his dick pressed lightly against your entrance.

“Breathe in,” San whispered as if you were lying on the massage table.

You took a deep breath in, and when you exhaled, San pushed his way into you. Your exhale turned into a loud cry, your hands automatically reaching for his neck once again. You held him close to you as he began to move, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt his length reach all the way inside you and his girth stretch you out completely.

San’s thrusts slowly sped up. He was being rather gentle with you, which at first made you want to demand more from him, but when he slammed his pelvis into yours, you decided to keep your mouth shut— he was incredibly strong and big, so him being gentle was a courtesy. Loud moans left your lips as he continued to speed up, the bed underneath the two of you slightly squeaking as his fully body force moved the mattress upwards, your eyes still glued shut.

“Y/N, look at me,” San said with a rough grunt.

You blinked a couple of tears out of your eyes as you barely made eye contact with San. He wiped the tears from the corner of your eye, his other hand still firmly grasping your waist. You felt time come to a standstill when you stared into San’s deep, beautiful eyes. Just looking into your eyes was enough for him; San let out a deep shuddering sigh as he slammed into your waist loudly, his dick quivering inside you. Seeing San bite his lower lip as he came made you cum as well, a whimper leaving you as your cries of pleasure died down.

Silently, San got off his bed. He removed the condom, tied it up, and threw it away before joining you on the bed again. He laid down right next to you, his arm snaking around your waist and bringing you closer to him. You pressed your ear against his chest and listened to the sound of his beating heart as the two of you calmed down.

“How was that for you?”

“Heavenly… But San, I have a question.”

“Yeah?”

You both leaned away from each other so you could see your faces as you conversed. You unconsciously rubbed your knee against his dick, causing him to flinch and pull away from you a little bit more; you couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction.

“Why?” You asked him your question.

“Why what?”

“Why did you sleep with me?”

“Because I wanted to,” San said matter-of-factly.

“But why me?”

San let out a light exhale. His fingers brushed past your ear as he cupped your face gently and brought your face the slightest bit closer to him.

“I thought you were cute from the moment I first saw you last year, Y/N. Then, I thought you were incredibly sexy the second I saw your body.”

“You’re lying,” you said with a scoff.

“No, I’m not. Every session is always difficult for me because I always wanted to do unspeakable things to you. You know, I don’t do skin-to-skin contact with any of my other clients. Only you.”

You went silent upon hearing this confession from him. You felt your heart rate go up the tiniest bit while you asked quietly, “You really like me that much?”

“Yes, I really like you that much, Y/N.”

“So then why now of all times?”

“I finally broke today because, like you said, it’s our one year anniversary. Happy anniversary,” San stated simply as if the two of you were celebrating a romantic anniversary.

He kissed the top of your head and hugged you closer, his bare skin making yours feel fiery hot. You also felt him get incredibly turned on as his waist pressed into yours, his hips rotating slightly as he pushed himself closer to you.

“Let’s go again,” you told him, your lips right at his ear, causing him to shiver.

San pulled you on top of him in an instant, your knees on either side of his waist. He had a breathtaking smile on his face before and after you left a sweet kiss on his lips that made your heart flutter even more. He held your waist as he nodded and said, “Again.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

savanaclaw light novel: the importance of introspection

I’ve previously discussed how TWST benefits from telling us the same story across different mediums. Different mediums provide different benefits over others, and some can “patch up” rougher bits of story or add more detail to them. The game is interactive and serves as a baseline for most new content. The manga is able to have far more freedom of movement and expression due to being visual-heavy. And last, but not least, a light novel, which is mostly text, has the boon of letting us see more of each character’s thoughts and feelings. We can elaborate on what the game already established and understand the characters on a deeper level.

I would say that the light novel’s format will most benefit the OB boys, as they are the ones who will go through the biggest character arcs in the main story. Because the game’s story is told via mostly dialogue and some sound effects, we rarely, if ever, get a clear understanding of what the OB boys are truly thinking and feeling outside of their brief post-OB flashbacks. The same goes for the manga, which has limited pages to tell its story, so it has to keep a certain pace. But a light novel? Well, you can go ham there with an omniscient narrator.

Today, I want to talk about Leona’s expanded post-OB introspection in the second volume of the light novel as an example of this. Then I will combine it with the information we have from the game and see how the light novel complements what already we know of his character thanks to hindsight. (I’ll be referencing this fan translation if you want to read and follow along!)

First thing’s first! From the game, we know that Leona enrolled in Night Raven College one year late (and then got held back a year, which makes sense considering he is 20 in the main story present). He didn't find a use in attending school since he, by royal birth, was able to afford all the best tutors in the world and didn't think NRC had anything left to teach him. In Leona's Birthday Boy vignettes, he further specifies that he decided to enroll at NRC after Cheka was born. As Leona says in his post-OB flashback in-game, Cheka's birth means "the despised second son loses what little claim he had to the throne forever", essentially putting an end to his hopes. This would imply that this specific change in circumstance was the push that made Leona want to physically distance himself from home. Furthermore, it's supported by Leona's other behaviors: he does not take calls or read letters from home if he can help it (implied by Cheka asking why Leona doesn't answer his letters and Cheka calling on Halloween night to catch up with him; Leona lies and quickly hangs up), he makes excuses to avoid going home (as Kifaji states), etc. If we want to extrapolate even more, how is it that Leona, second born prince, initially crossed paths with Ruggie, who was born and raised in the slums (which, I imagine, must be quite some distance away from the royal palace)? This makes me think that even before Leona enrolled at NRC he would leave his housing and roam around, finding alternative places to stay because home just felt too uncomfortable and suffocating for him. There's also the implication that Leona often brooded over his circumstances, as he confesses to thinking about it and going to NRC to get his mind away from the tired cycle--although he also acknowledges that he's running away from "the pain" of having lost the throne.

The distancing would prove itself to be beneficial to his mental health, as Leona cites that his heart started feeling lighter, his restlessness dulled, and his pain numbed. With the throne out of sight, so, too, was it out of mind, and his longing softened. But that same haunting despair returns when another group starts to place expectations on him. This time, it's no longer the palace servants, but his own dorm members. Instead of fear and derision, his new pack looks at him, their "king", with desperateness--and, more importantly, hope. Speaking about the future with sparkling eyes. That, in turn, made Leona hopeful too. He can't let these people who look up to him and rely on him down, so he must do anything to win. That's all he ever wanted: to win, just this once. No matter what, he wants to win.

But when Leona's plans crumble, that crushing sense of despair rears its ugly head. He fails. And he suddenly understands that all his efforts will always amount to nothing, that they will always be meaningless, that there is no future for him. Leona's hopes have been dashed. He has been struck down by the world once again, just as he had started to climb up, fighting tooth and nail, to prove himself. Yet when defeat came, he also claims it doesn't bother him as much as he thought he would--perhaps because he's so accustomed to not winning, because maybe this is the outcome he had expected all along in the deepest recesses of his heart. That familiar disappointment begins to hurt him once more, and Leona wants to forget it all, to retreat to the shadows and to lick his wounds, to be far away from that pain.

One interesting new detail we glean from the light novel is that Leona is terrified by his dorm mates staring at him with hopeful eyes. It's not their expectations he's inherently scared of, but what those expectations can do to him. Leona is scared of himself, of being motivated by others to act, to never give up hope, when he still anticipates being beat down again and again by a world that rejects him and denies him. He even goes so far as to say he would be pathetic if he let his dorm mates' words inspire him and keep his waning hope alive. Ruggie, who had wanted to turn the world upside down together. Jack, who was inspired by his play three years back. All the mobs putting faith in their futures on him, their one and only leader. With so many people looking to him, how can he not be swayed by that positivity that had once been so elusive to him? How could that not ignite what little spark of hope is left in him? And that's exactly what Leona finds so dangerous about it. He's lived almost his entire life being put in his place, hurt every time he tried to demonstrate what he could do, how he could contribute--yet time and time again, here comes life, tempting him to try again, just to inevitably be compared to his brother and kicked down, delivering another blow to his pride and his self-image. Leona truly seems to hate himself for not being able to let go of that small fragment of hope he has left. He wants so badly to give up and not have to worry anymore about something he can never obtain. He's so tired of struggling and suffering for nothing. If he just caved, then he would never be hurt again. He can't be hurt if he doesn't care about anything. Yet no matter how much he wishes or tries, he can't run far enough away to detach himself from those expectations of grandeur, of being something more.

There's been many fan theories about Leona's mental health in circulation well before the release of this light novel, many of which mention self-loathing in spite of how proud and confident he typically presents as. You'd have to read in-between the lines of dialogue from the game to draw these clues out, whereas the light novel lays it more bare to you. It hits very differently reading hateful statements made by the character to himself. Leona calls himself all sorts of things: a fool, pathetic, insignificant, boring. That he isn't strong, that he isn't wise, that he's not loved. (In the in-game flashback, Leona also talks in a self-deprecating way, but to a far lesser extent than in the light novel; we also see that Falena does his best to discourage Leona from this kind of behavior.) That this is who he is, that it's the one thing he's afraid to admit and accept--but he also says he lacks the "strength" to give up. That's why Leona would rather run away than confront that potential truth. The option to embrace complete nihilism just isn't possible for him, because he can't just quash that pesky little thing called hope. This is much more complex than what's explained in the games and demonstrates a maturity and degree of self-reflection from Leona that we've never seen before. What's more, this gives us brand new context with which to view many of his other seemingly mundane actions mentioned in the game. At face value, Leona often acts very callously and doesn't care to help others unless he gets some kind of benefit from it (like agreeing to poof the contracts in book 3 just because he has his own deal he wants to get rid of). We see this time and time again when he instructs others reliant on him or less knowledgeable than he is in various matters where he is well-read and experienced with. For example, he takes note of his club members' strengths and weaknesses and offers tailored advice to help them improve their play. He tells others how to mine magestones of an adequate size in Vargas Camp. Maybe he's just doing these things to make the circumstances easier for himself (so he can put forth less effort to leading them in a game, or so he can nap heartily). But from what we've just learned from the light novel, now I'm suspecting a different secondary motive.

What if... Leona is, in part, encouraging and helping others to hone their own skills to subconsciously compensate for what he doesn't believe he himself is capable of? Because there's still so much hope for his dorm mates, for his underclassmen... (and, let's not forget, it was those in Savanaclaw that first motivated Leona to "try" again for the first time in forever) but he doesn't have that same amount of hope for himself. I get these vibes as late as book 6, when Leona and Jamil have a talk. In their conversation, Leona directs many pointed, blunt words at Jamil--words that could very easily also be thrown back at Leona's face and be applicable to his book 2 self. He accuses Jamil of making excuses so he won't have to actually act, just as Leona has continuously run away from uncomfortable situations to put himself at ease. At one point, I believe Leona event states that Jamil “*isn’t like [me]”, Here, again, it can be argued that we're seeing Leona's self-awareness on display, as well as a willingness to warn others to not follow down the same path he once treaded, to lose all hope in the future. Again, it's done with a double purpose: the other one being to get Jamil out of his way while they're exploring. And (of course) Leona's way of expressing his message is gruff and not very warm, not to Jamil and certainly not to himself. He's become prickly and defensive himself after all of his experiences--but that just adds to the complexity of his character when we synthesize what we know of him from TWST multimedia.

I really wish a lot of what was in the light novel post-Leona OB was also in the game. It would have helped to flesh out Leona's motivations and fears, which book 2 was sorely needing. As he is presented now, he appears shallow and selfish in his goals, and we don't fully understand the emotions spurring him on, a lot of which is genuine self-loathing and the sinking despair that comes with thinking you're not enough and you'll never be enough. That would have been so much more relatable than the in-game Leona having himself a pity party with a great amount of emphasis on the throne--a throne which, in actuality, just symbolizes a desire for recognition, love, and acceptance. It was never about explicitly being king. It was about being seen as his own person and appreciated for it instead of being admonished and compared to his exalted older brother.

Now, as an adult, Leona has become someone who pushes away those who try to give him that which he craves. He sees a lot of people--his own family and his dorm mates, the closest thing he has to friends--as dangers to his own mental wellbeing. He's scared to let them in, so he's built up these emotional, arrogant walls around himself. Think at how often he rejects advice from Falena and refuses Cheka's affection for him. Look at how this behavior extends beyond those who are keeping him from a literal throne and to his classmates. They instill hope in him, hope which scares Leona. The things he has wanted all his life are now poison that chips away at him. Considering all of that together, it makes Leona's story far more tragic than how it was initially shown to us in the game alone. But guess what? That can also become his strength, fuel for his character arc. Leona isn't running anymore. He's actually returning home for winter break in book 4. He's determined to not get held back again. He's committing to an internship in a field (an energy lab) which will immensely help his country (which is rich in natural resources). All of this, coming from a young man who once acted bitter when his older brother suggested that there were many things Leona could do with his intelligence to benefit their homeland. Leona is making slow strides and steady progress toward a future he used to think was unattainable for him. From that darkness, he's rising anew--like the sun upon the savanna.

[whenyouwishuponastar7]

Hi everyone!

I have to address something that has gone on and is currently occurring. This is the last thing I want to do because I have spent eight years in different fandoms and avoided as much drama as possible. I want no part in it. I want to enjoy my time here.

Unfortunately, this is no longer drama. This is about an individual harming people, their mental health, their safe spaces, their enjoyment of fandom, their favorite ship, and their writing. This is about an individual who chooses bigotry over friendship and will align themselves with bad people for popularity.

And they don’t care who they harm by doing it.

This person made my life a living hell for over five months. It started in August, but things took a turn in October. I was finally free of them in late February because that is when a fandom event ended that tied me to them.

During this event, this person stressed me out to the point of tears. They made passive-aggressive remarks about various things, which made me feel insecure about my fic and writing. They unexpectedly changed their medium and didn’t talk to me about it before they did; I admit I was taken aback, hurt, and short with them. I apologized and took accountability the following day.

From then on, I tried to be as supportive, kind and understanding as possible.

I was “pushy” in December and January because this person had not produced a single finished piece of their art, which would total ten pieces. I knew it was too late in January to get a pinch hitter, and I don’t care that I asked a few times how it was going when I had nothing. I handed them a completed fic on August 28th. They had nothing until mid-January (and almost didn’t make it to this deadline) but didn’t start the bulk of their work until late January 22nd and finished (except polishing and watermarking) on the 26th.

Final submissions were on January 31st.

It took them four days to do what they hadn’t done in five months. I asked if they needed an extension, and we got one because they were not done by the final submission day. I had watched another writer’s artist drop out at the last minute, and mods said they couldn’t find anyone to pinch-hit for them.

This experience was a bad one. I can’t express how shitty it felt. I didn’t write for three months during it, and the fics I’ve written since then aren’t very good. I also have watched my readership disappear—getting the hits and kudos I did before October stopped.

I had a feeling this individual might have been involved if they were talking about me, but I thought I was being paranoid. I still may be, but since this has all happened, I have started to regain readers. I find that interesting.

Anyway! This whole thing ended, and it was bitter for me. I don’t have any more enjoyment in this fandom. I love my ship, but I currently have no desire to write them. I’ve been depressed and I’m scarred from fandom events. This person took away my joy when I only wanted to participate in a fandom event with my friends and have fun.

Because fandom is supposed to be fun, it’s not supposed to do this to people. It’s insane that it does this to people, and I never wanted to be involved in this bullshit.

This person has gone on to enjoy other fandom events, write and produce art, and seems to be doing fine.

Through small but interesting events, I started to learn about this individual’s ‘perspective’ on the entire thing with me. And, hoo boy, it was a fucking ride.

I am still shocked, amazed, flabbergasted and kinda pissed off about how this person lied about me. Everything they said was a complete lie. They shared my DMs via screenshots out of context, warped what we were talking about to play the victim and get sympathy, and flat-out lied numerous times. I have been accused of forcing them to do things during the event when I have screenshot proof that never happened.

For everything this individual accused me of, I provided screenshots to tell the fucking truth.

Two people have told me the same phrasing: they made me out to be a monster.

A monster.

If anyone knows me, my character, they know I’m not a goddamn monster. I try to keep my head down, stay in my lane, play in my sandbox corner, enjoy my ships, and have fun with my friends.

To be called a monster or to have someone say, ‘you’re nothing like they made you out to be,’ is the most surreal moment of my adult life.

This is fiction, fandom; it’s not real, and not everyone makes a living off it. It’s a hobby, and it’s supposed to be enjoyable. Once we step away from our computers and phones, no one knows us as so and so, writer or artist of Ship. Meanwhile, this person is making me out to be the worst human being alive, and it is absolute insanity to learn how deep it goes.

The twists and turns, the lies, the complete lack of reality, the delusion. It’s creepy and disturbing. And, through finding all of this out, I pieced together a pattern of behavior that this individual has:

When you do something they don’t like, they distance themselves, become cold and passive-aggressive, and hold themselves above you. You are no longer of use to them. They dangle their friendship and attention on a lure, hoping you’ll bite, only to throw you back under.

Please understand that this is a dangerous thing—this is not fandom drama—this is a dangerous individual, and the person with whom they choose to spend their time speaks volumes.

I will not share names or screenshots. Screenshots have been shared with the right people, and I will not make it a public spectacle. I also choose to protect the privacy of my friends and others involved in this, of which there are many.

I have been accused of forcing this individual to do things, hating them and their work, being extremely pushy and stressing them out, and that my server was unwelcoming and the people in it were unkind, and various other things. Small things that didn’t mean anything to me were taken extremely personally and made into more lies to make this person a victim.

Such as my preferred formatting for posting my fic links on tumblr. They did not respect it, even though I attempted to respect their formatting for posting their art numerous times earlier, but I was told not to stress about it and, you guessed it—accused of forcing them to change things behind my back. Again, screenshots have been given to the right people.

This individual can delete everything, but we have our proof, as we have been gathering it. We will not publicly share anything, but if this individual decides to, we have the evidence to back it all up.

There were so many creepy and fucked up things that happened. I can’t list them without getting too personal, but please understand this person does not belong in our fandom.

They chase popular people, especially artists, to ‘collect’ them and lie to and manipulate their friends for sympathy. Their friends need to step away and see the light because they are being used—it’s not a real friendship. It is transactional.

And you should be offended. They will cast you aside when you’re useless to them, too.

If I seem mad, it’s because I am. I have been dealing with this since August, when I realized that many of their comments were strange. I didn’t know those were red flags at the time. This individual pretends to be friendly and claims to be ‘the nice one’ when things go wrong so they can keep their reputation. Interactions with them might seem harmless, but looking at them with a different scope makes them something far different.

Don’t ignore red flags or gut instincts.

This is my story, and it is not told exactly how I wish I could tell it. But I know this individual has hurt numerous other people. I was going to make this post without the ability to reblog, but I am leaving it open for now.

If you want to add your story, as I suspect many of you know who I am speaking of, please do. I ask that you avoid telling anyone else’s stories for them unless you have permission. Protect each other.

This stupid shit unites us. I’m not afraid anymore because I’m sick of watching my friends get hurt again and again.

This individual has befriended a known bully and transphobic person. I won’t speak any further on this because it is not my story, but please bear in mind that they chose a TERF over trans friends. And we know what they say about association.

Blindsided victims of this individual are not at fault for this person’s actions.

See something, say something. Terfs and bullies can GET FUCKED.

Share your story.

[whirlwindwonderland]

What do you like about Princess Tutu (as someone who only knows the name)? What made you enjoy it?

Oh boy.

Okay so Princess Tutu is one of my favourite ever stories. And if I were to list everything I liked about it we'd be here long enough for you to actually go watch the show yourself.

Which you should do.

Because it's awesome.

But to sort of sum up my feelings... I like Princess Tutu because of how it chooses to tell its story. Every story is told a specific way for a specific reason, and Princess Tutu chooses the medium of a Magical Girl Anime about Ballet to tell a story about Love, Hope, and Willpower triumphing over Tragedy and Despair.

That's fucking genius.

It plays its premise completely straight. There's no subversive takes on the magical girl genre here. No turning to wink and laugh at the camera to try and save face. It's completely earnest, plays its tropes completely straight, and makes it all work together, and it all serves the main themes of the story.

You can really get a good summary of this in the main character Ahiru.

Because Ahiru, in the general space of the magical girl anime genre, is not an outlier from what I can tell. She's kind and she's sweet and she's a clumsy, and her power comes from her empathy and her love of others. There's a lot of characters like her.

But Ahiru is different because all of these things- Her empathy, her kindness, her silliness and innocence and clumsiness and big open heart, they all serve the themes of the story. Because when the main villain, the big bad, the thing you have to stand against, is a seemingly inescapable force of fate, pulling you down the path of tragedy, it takes a special kind of truly indomitable soul to fight back.

See, this is a magical girl anime built around the stories of ballet, and a neat thing that many don't know about ballet is that a solid 75% of what's considered the 'Classics' of the medium are tragedies. Swan Lake, Giselle, Romeo and Juliet, and La Sylphide are all referenced in the show proper, with Swan Lake and Romeo and Juliet being referenced particularly often. The overarching Villain of the story could be said to be this conceptual tragedy that Ballet seems so enamoured with.

But by applying the fixings of the magical girl genre to this tragedy, approaching this idea of roles in life being fixed like the roles on a stage, of working towards helping someone you love knowing that the result will ultimately be your demise, with the attitude of "I'm going to fix this problem with the power of love and friendship". you get a really interesting story.

Over and over again, Ahiru sees dangerous situations, and reaches out with a kind hand to help those involved. Over and over again, she succeeds. Over and over again, Ahiru almost falls in the face of the despair of her situation. And over and over again, her own kindness comes back to help her, as the people she's befriended come to her side, to support her, to catch her when she falls, and to give her the openings she needs to solve the problems.

Despite being told that her life is meant to be a footnote on the stories of others, that her role is one no one else would take because no one else would want it, that she can never share the love she feels with others, because to do so would literally kill her. Ahiru continuously chooses love. She never becomes bitter to her situation, and continuously chooses to do what she thinks is right, to be kind, to care, and to try to help, and it is this unfailing kindness that, in the end, forces the genre of the story around her to change.

By being unflinchingly and unfailingly herself in the face of adversity and a story that wants her to suffer, she inspires others to want to help her succeed. And in doing that, she forces a grand, cyclical tragedy, to finally resolve with a happy ending.

It's such a clever and beautiful marriage of two different storytelling mediums, and that's just the basics of what you can talk about with the protagonist. The rest of the cast is equally as interesting, and I love them all so very much.

I love stories about storytelling, stories about the triumph of hope, and stories about love and friendship, and Princess Tutu is all of the above. I honestly cannot recommend it enough, it's one of my favourite things ever.

Also it's hilarious. Where else am I going to get a cat ballet teacher that repeatedly threatens his students with marriage if they don't improve at ballet? Or a girl in a donkey costume delivering love notes all around the school? Or... Femio? Just Femio in general???

Great show. Go watch it.

[tomorrowillbeyou]

Thursday 2005 demos

These are some early demos for A City by the Light Divided which were stolen from the band and leaked in September 2005. I haven't seen anyone post about them so I thought I would myself. Below are lyrics and some extra context. I have tried to transcribe the lyrics as best I can but I have pretty bad auditory processing disorder so there will inevitably be some errors. If you spot a mistake, let me know and I will edit the post. The formatting and details of the lyrics are mostly based on the CD booklet.

Blog post

After the demos were leaked, Geoff made this blog post on the Thursday website on September 21 2005:

1 - At This Velocity - Lyrics

Hey friends-

SO… we see that the early demos we did for the record have FINALLY leaked. In this day and age anything and everything that passes through a computer eventually ends up being available to everyone at the click of a button. Many of you know that Thursday is one of the few bands that actually supports file sharing!!! We love the fact that music is available to everyone whenever they need it. We have always told our friends and 'fans' that they should download any of our albums that they can't afford or can't find in stores.

These demos, however, weren't ready for anyone to hear. These songs have all changed substantially since those demos and will probably change between now and the recording. Just to help you guys understand these demos, here's a user's guide: 1. most of these songs don't have names because the lyrics are still being written… a song only really becomes a song for us when we figure out EXACTLY what it's about. 2. One of these songs is actually the reincarnated out-take of a song that we cut from war all the time. 3. Andrew had just joined the band as a full fledged member when we recorded these and his keyboard parts were still sketchy at best. 4. There is one song, however, that is much closer to finished than the other's. It's called "At This Velocity" and it's about a crash landing in an airplane on the other side of the world. This song was started when we were in Australia on tour with the Flaming Lips, the Mars Volta and Poison the Well. The first line of the song is, "We were safe, Now we're paralyzed, Suspended in flight…" We hope you enjoy it.

On a related and timely note, we are very excited to announce that we will be heading into the studio with Dave Fridmann at the beginning of October to start on our new album. His work with the Flaming Lips, Weezer, Mogwai and Sleater Kinney has produced some of the finest albums of the last ten years. Dave is one of the few modern producers really pushing the medium and he's one of the nicest guys in the business. We started preproduction on the sixteen songs we've written. In the short amount of time we've been working with Dave he's already pushing us to new musical and emotional ground.

Anyway, thank you all for the love that you have always shown us. These demos aren't really a good indication so try not to listen to them too much (we don't want you to get used to them this way!!!). We're just happy that all the really great stuff on this album is still a secret!!!

Keep checking the website for updates and tidbits.

thanks and love,

Geoff (and all the Thursday boys)

We were safe

Now we're paralyzed

Suspended in flight

At this speed it makes no difference

Where I start and where you end

Or if you sit in an emergency aisle.

We could be dead

Complete the equation:

Our names are X and N

We have no value

In these calculations:

We're placed on a plane,

Pointed straight down,

Traveling at five hundred feet per second,

Five thousand feet from the ground -- how long will it take us to hit?

How fast will we start the disintegration?

No time left - just keep moving

No time left - just keep moving

How fast will it take us to hit?

How long till we start the disintegration?

2 - Telegraph Avenue Kiss - Lyrics

We could be safe here, forever,

Floating in the clean blue air.

Somewhere between the sun that gives us light and the ground that puts it out.

And we'll kneel in the aisles

Press our hands together, close our eyes, speak these words so softly into the black box

And it goes:

"Mother, father, can you hear this?

I want to thank you for all the sweetness.

I'm not coming home, we're never coming home."

She's the song that you tried to sing

And the note that you couldn't hit

So you locked her up in a music box

Turned the key on all of us

She spins silver strings in the dark

With metal teeth that ring in her heart

When the cover drops

The world just fades away, away, away

From her, waiting, waiting, waiting for her to say:

It doesn't matter what you say,

Doesn't matter what you think you mean,

You know our love's not unconditional.

A book of matches and a cigarette

A love note that you never sent

You can fold it up but you won't forget

You can strike a match but it still might not light

Now I'm the one that's stuck inside the silver cage,

The bird that can't fly away, clip its wings if it sings

Of the way, the way, the way that it hurt

Waiting, waiting, waiting for her to say:

It doesn't matter what you say,

Doesn't matter what you think you mean,

You know our love's not unconditional.

Doesn't matter what you say,

Doesn't matter what you think you mean,

You know our love's not unconditional.

The music box is open

It's spinning with the room

If you're the record playing, I'm the needle in the groove.

Listen to our song:

You're in my heart,

In my hands

In my lungs.

3 - The Other Side of the Crash / Over and Out (Of Control) - Lyrics

We move like a carousel

Streak lights and mirrors in our eyes

It's time to let this go

Can't stop spinning

Around, around, around, around, around, around, around, around, around, around, around

You know our love's not unconditional

Unconditional

Unconditional

You know our love's not unconditional.

Note: This contains a section from Panic On The Streets Of Health Care City, the "reincarnated out-take" mentioned in the blog post. Panic later appeared on Kill The House Lights.

The lights go down, outside (before our cars collide)

The city silhouettes itself (in forty shades of fire)

Do you know where these lies are leading? I'll meet you there.

I'm covering up my eyes

Before they cover up your eyes

And wrap your body all in white,

And we awake in the light of all the lies

This can't be happening

These sirens are for me, yeah

We wake up

Covered in the marks of all these razors

Racing up our veins

We'll live and learn to love again

Open up your eyes and we'll be safe again

From the razor's edge.

And the hospital ward sleeps

Through the surgery

Hiding needles in the drawer

(for emergency)

While upstairs they sleep

In maternity

Fever and the pitch.

It's a brand new day,

Just to be awake,

This is how it feels

To live and learn to love again

Open up your eyes and we'll be safe away

From the razor's edge.

4 - Autumn Leaves Revisited - Lyrics

The I.V. drips, the days drag on

The anesthetic's not wearing off

Adjust the light switch in the hall

Someone has left it on,

And maybe the x-ray screen keeps it from getting dark

The bulb burns out when it gets too hot

Keep crashing this car (over and over)

Keep crashing this car (over and over)

Keep crashing this car (over and over)

I can't keep crashing this car

Still it spins out of control

So hold me close or I might disappear this time

Out of control

We fight currents in the water

When we can't let go of the shore.

We've lost control.

The leaves will fall and so will you

When you do, bury me under them too

Seconds pass, we'll make it through

Eventually we all go home

It won't be long

It won't be long

I live with a girl who’s been waiting

Seven months left till they bring home the baby

He swore he was paying for school

They shipped him over. Now he scatters on the front lines

He swore he would follow his conscience

But done the wrong way follows his orders instead.

When he shoots, he sings this song

But he doesn’t know that she’s been singing it, too.

It won't be long

It won't be long

Until they find a way home

We walk along the wire tied between horizons

You close your eyes like it's nothing at all

Throughout the rise and fall, everything, everything

Changes, I will be here when you die

Did you hear the trumpets play the day your father died?

Did the violins swell those circles under your eyes?

Did you play the part straight like a march?

Or get lost in the beat, thinking and feeling…

Did the drums in the streets make the people dance?

Or fall to their knees from the sound?

Knock the leaves from the trees,

and they fell from the branch?

They looked beautiful

As they hung in the air

Spinning around

Did you float in the air?

Spinning around?

There must be somewhere that cigarettes burn through the night

And the leaves don't abandon their trees to the light

Where the sky's always clear and the summer never ends…

Won't you take me there?

5 - Untitled - Lyrics

The leaves will fall and so will you

When you do, bury me under them too

Seconds pass, we'll make it through

Eventually we all are going home

Note - this didn't end up on ACBTLD, but did make it onto Common Existence as Last Call.

The center cannot hold, the side collapses

Full of broken words, sing the song inside the dark arcade

Color me in city greens

The streets unwinding, spitting flames

Cars around the arteries

We scream and swerve and fall apart.

Everything we love, it falls apart,

And the architect abandons us.

I'll save us from the sky until a feeling burns, you try

It plants a seed of fire that flowers in the corner of your eye

Circular breathing

We'll keep them always moving

Heart attack efficiency,

Erase the figure as it falls.

Everything we love, it falls apart,

And the architect abandons us.

Everything is falling apart.

The city shakes like tired hands

The light divides what darkness mends

Our bodies echo in our plans.

Everything is falling apart.

The wedding starts

The guests appear

The church bells ringing endlessly

The bride and groom are hand in hand

And everything goes as it's planned:

The parents smile,

The priest chokes up,

The organ plays "Amazing Grace"

And underneath the thin white veil

And the people sing:

La la la la, da da da…

Everything is falling apart.

The city shakes like tired hands

The light divides what darkness mends

Our bodies echo in our plans.

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 8

The Gallifreyan village of Slothe was populated by people who relied solely on hunting and gathering, leading to the near-extinction of several species including the ulanda, trunkike, yaddlefish, and broakir. A Krafayis sent to the village by Death as punishment.

There is a TARDIS cradle at the Academy for students who already have symbiotic bonds but have not graduated.

The Doctor's Aunt Flavia named her cat "the Doctor."

As a child, the First Doctor played in the tunnels underneath the Panopticon. Also underneath the Panopticon is the Eye of Harmony.

The Twelfth Doctor calls the Tenth Doctor "Bambi" and refers to Rose as "Blondie."

On prehistoric Gallifrey, the aspects of the Time Sentinels would toss time sensitives into the Untempered Schism.

Barbara kept a diary that she intended to leave for Susan for when she began to live in the 22nd century.

The Eighth Doctor claimed he could think of fourteen different instances of wars being started over someone refusing a cup of tea.

The Dancing Plague was caused by mass hysteria. The lack of an evil presence causing the plague caused the Fifth Doctor some severe confusion.

Cameca gifted the First Doctor a brooch while he was leaving, which he eventually regifted to Susan in his Eighth incarnation.

The Fourth Doctor took Sarah Jane back to kill the would-be dictator as a baby, but upon seeing his Sixth self fail to do so, he realized there was another way. Thus, when his Eighth self went to go kill the baby, the Fourth told the mother, foiling all of the Eighth's plans. The mother realized her love for the baby and raised them better. And thus wraps up the the-Doctor-tries-to-kill-a-baby arc.

Following the TV Movie, the Eighth Doctor promptly loses all of his memory again and gets arrested for possession of cocaine.

Knowing that the Doctor took on the name Merlin, it is interesting to note that in King Arthur's court there was a woman named Ganeida, who was Merlin's half-sister and the daughter of a nun and a "demon."

Hecuba is the Queen of Time and the Toymaker's sister. Her games often relate to clocks and time, and if someone refuses to play, she turns them into clocks.

Satthralope was the Housekeeper of Lungbarrow (basically a medium between the family and the sentient House). She thought the Doctor was a "disappointment to the House" and a "wretched child." In fact, one of the Doctor's first memories is of Satthralope smacking him so hard that he could hardly walk afterwards. If the Doctor refused to come to dinner, she let the drudges attack him.

Some Time Lords have a tapetum lucidum, including the Corsair.

Yarvell, Davros's half-sister, was a peace activist. Calcula, their mother, drowned her, and Davros used her body for experiments.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28

[umlewis]

Mercedes gave Hamilton short F1 contract to keep Antonelli option open

Toto Wolff has admitted that the Mercedes Formula 1 team didn’t commit to a longer-term contract with Lewis Hamilton because it didn’t want to risk losing protégé Andrea Kimi Antonelli.

Last August, Hamilton signed a two-year contract with the team, which was widely assumed to be fixed for the full term and left open the possibility for Mercedes to take Antonelli in 2026; however, Hamilton was able to use escape clauses to miss the second year and take up an offer from Ferrari, leaving his seat free for 2025 and giving Mercedes the chance to take Antonelli as early as next year. Antonelli, who is just 17 years old, is moving up to Formula 2 with Prema this season, having won Italian F4 in 2022 and the Formula Regional European Championship with the team last year. Wolff has compared the situation with 2014, when the team was keen to sign Max Verstappen but had nowhere to put him, while Red Bull was able to offer him a Toro Rosso seat for the following year. "There was a situation many years ago where we had the opportunity to let Max drive," Wolff told Austrian broadcaster ORF, "and that wasn't possible back then because we simply didn't have a cockpit. Rosberg and Hamilton were tied to us long-term, and Red Bull naturally seized the opportunity. They gave him a contract with Toro Rosso, with the possibility of driving for Red Bull the following year. We then lost the young driver, and you can see how successful he has become, and precisely because we have a junior on the horizon who is really driving at a very high level, I simply wanted to keep this option open. Wolff reiterated what he said in a response to Motorsport.com in Bahrain last week by stating that the newly-vacant 2025 seat is not necessarily being saved for Antonelli, who has yet to start his first F2 race. "That does not mean that we will actually put Antonelli in the car next year," he said. "He is 17 years old, and that might be a bit early. But with a view to the next five or ten years, I just wanted to have this option." Regarding the Italian’s potential, he said: "In a way, he's a wonderkid. He won everything there was to win in karting and then moved into F4. He won all the championships in his rookie year, then moved up a level and won everything there too. Now we've decided to skip F3, partly because there's not much time to test there. Instead, he'll go straight into F2, which is a huge leap for him. These are really big cars with power. Most of the races are part of the F1-supporting programme, so we'll have a good overview there too." Wolff has confirmed that Antonelli will do some private running in a 2022 car, noting that Mercedes will "run a big test programme with him in 2024 and then we'll see, is he ready for 2025? Or for 2026, will there be a different situation?" The conundrum over opting to hold him back until 2026 is that it would require another driver stepping in for 2025 only, assuming that George Russell remains in the other seat and his contract is extended beyond 2025. Wolff said that the driver market will be "incredibly interesting, because really strong people will be available for 2025," and that Mercedes will review the situation "over the next two or three races." He added: "Do we want to rely on experience and perhaps try something new? Or do we want to focus on youth and take the risk that we have a rookie and then have to look at this from a medium- to long-term performance perspective?"

op note: do not leave hate for a 17-year-old literal child in my notifs. absolutely hate on toto all you want tho.

[filmnoirsbian]

hope yr doing well out in the physical world! realized i havent seen much of you around. i was having a conversation with a dear friend on indie horror and its use on childhood abuse and stalking of women and if there's an over saturation of these stories (and if that's the case why are these stories being used so often). we talked for hours about it and i thought "wow, i would love to hear joan's take" (yr a favourite of mine for horror opinions so i thought id give you an ask)

What an interesting question...personally, I don't believe there's such a thing as an over saturation of themes or types of stories. I think you can have 100 different stories about the same theme made by 100 different creators and you'll still be able to get something new from each one. Whether or not they're all objectively well done can be debatable, but I certainly think they shouldn't stop being made just because a similar story already exists. Nothing is new under the sun and I think that can already give creators some unnecessary anxiety because they worry that their version won't be "new" enough, and tbh I think that's silly! I myself love mommy issues horror in particular. I've consumed tons of those stories and I'll keep consuming them until I run out because it scratches a particular itch for me, and even if one doesn't really hit for me, that doesn't mean it won't hit for some other mommy issues bitch out there.

Now onto childhood abuse and the stalking of women in indie horror...which I think is kind of an oddly specific niche considering both of those broad themes have been present throughout mainstream horror for centuries, because people have always been horrified by the real life dangers posed to children and women, two of society's most vulnerable demographics. Think of fairytales, in which children are so often victimized, or vampire tales, in which women are so often stalked, groomed and preyed on. These are both foundational staples of the genre. That they seem more prevalent in a current medium (independent horror films) to you is likely because you and your friend have been gravitating towards that medium in particular.

The reason for their longevity into the current day is because these are, sadly, often relatable experiences. Statistically, 1 in 13 children experience abuse in the U.S., to say nothing of the rest of the world. One billion children globally are estimated to experience sa, to say nothing of all the other types of abuse that are so prevalent. In 2019, 3.4 million people in the U.S. aged 16 and up were victims of stalking, with women and girls making up the overwhelming majority. It's human nature to want to see our experiences reflected, even if in a fantastical way, and perhaps especially in that way. Until the abuse of children or stalking of women becomes less common, I think these types of stories, told across all genres and mediums, will continue to find an audience.

[the-real-housewives-of-waterdeep]

“Papa and Tara” Oil Paint on Canvas, 1499 DR

Gif credit to @gale-gaze

“Papa!” the girl cried out excitedly as she burst into Gale’s library. His daughter was technically supposed to knock before entering her father’s library, but Gale adored his daughter’s visits. Even when she did interrupt his work, he was more excited about her than any composition he could make with the Weave. Tara was asleep next to him as he read by the fire. The tressym awoke with a soft trill, her wings twitching.

Karlach was born the year after he and Tav were married. From the moment that Tav told him that she was pregnant, Gale was enamored with his future child. He fussed endlessly over Tav throughout the pregnancy, hyper-attuned to any slight grimace of discomfort, craving, or restlessness from his wife. He paused all of his arcane research and teaching students to attend to her, despite Tav’s protests that he didn’t need to worry himself so much. “My love, there is nothing more important in this world or any other than you and our child,” he would say, placing a hand on Tav’s belly. “The Weave will always exist and I will shall always be able to compose within it, but this is worth more than kingdoms.”

Gale, true to his nature, read any book he could get his hands on related to child-rearing. Since having a child with Mystra was out of the question, he never imagined being a father.

Gale smiled proudly upon seeing Karlach, marking his place in the book before closing it. He always gave his daughter his fullest attention. Karlach skipped over to where her father sat on the sofa. Gale’s library was her favorite place in the house. She loved the way it smelled like old books and dust, just like her beloved father. More than that, it was where she could most frequently find Tara, who was her best friend next to Gale.

“Ah, Karlach!” he exclaimed. “My dearest daughter. How were your lessons today? I am certain that you are excelling, as always.”

“Today was so much fun!” she said, her voice still brimming with excitement. “I made you something!”

“My goodness! Is it another addition to the gallery?” Gale asked. His library was filled with Karlach’s creative works, all of which he cherished. When his daughter began bringing her artwork home from her classes, he cleared any space he could in his library to display Karlach’s work. Each painting she made was framed with a tiny orb of light suspended overhead so that Gale could fully appreciate each work of art in full detail. Beneath each of them, there was a tiny plaque with the name, date, and medium: “Papa Doing Magic,” Watercolor on Baldurian Parchment, 1498 - Karlach Dekarios; “Mama and Papa”, Oil pastel on Waterdhavian Parchment, 1498 - Karlach Dekarios. While Karlach dabbled in many mediums, painting was her favorite.

“I think you and Tara will really, really, *really* like this one,” Karlach giggled. Her face was smudged with paint, her nose spotted with deep cerulean. Although his opinion was biased, never before had Gale seen a child as beautiful as his daughter. She was his spitting image; sparkling brown eyes, untamed chestnut curls and his smile. There was no denying that she was a Dekarios.

Karlach produced a small canvas from behind her back and handed it to her father. “It’s you and Tara!” she exclaimed, beaming with pride.

The painting portrayed Gale and Tara sitting on the flocked velvet sofa of his library. Gale was portrayed with an oblong body, stick arms, and a beard. Tara’s likeness resembled a brown and orange egg with disproportionately large white wings. In the background, there were several asymmetrically drawn bookshelves adorned with books of many different colors.

Gale took the painting from Karlach’s hands, looking upon it with amazement. “Karlach, my darling girl, this is your best work yet. Such skill you have!”

Karlach bounced on her heels, grinning from ear to ear. “Really?!”

Gale nodded, admiring the painting as if it was the finest piece of artwork he’d ever seen. To him, his daughter’s work was always beautiful and he grew prouder of her by the day. “Tara, hasn’t she captured your likeness beautifully?”

“Yes, Mr. Dekarios! Little Miss Karlach is truly a natural! So very talented!” Tara trilled. Objectively, Karlach’s art was like any other child’s, but Tara loved seeing how happy Gale was when Karlach brought him her paintings.

He patted the space next to him on the sofa. “You must tell me all about your creative process.”

Karlach sat beside her father, her legs dangling above the floor. Describing her creative processes was her favorite part of showing her father her art.

“It’s your and Tara’s favorite place in the whole wide world so it’s my favorite place too!”

Gale ruffled Karlach’s curls. “Right you are, sweet girl. The level of detail is remarkable. As always, you never fail to amaze me.”

Gale looked down at his daughter, the child he never thought he would have. Even though she looked like him, she had her mother’s spirit and the tenacity of her namesake — Karlach Cliffgate.

“Now, where shall we hang this one?” Gale asked Karlach.

“Hmmm…” Karlach hummed, pursing her lips together as if attempting to solve a difficult problem. “I think it should go… over there!”

She was pointing to a vacant space over her father’s piano, the last empty wall space in the library. Admittedly, Gale had hoped to use the space to hang a rare tapestry that Elminster had gifted him for his 50th birthday, but Gale couldn’t say no to Karlach. Tav worried about Gale spoiling her, but Karlach’s puppy dog eyes never failed to sway him.

“You have such an eye for design. That spot is absolutely perfect. Shall we hang it tomorrow?”

Karlach nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Can I help, Papa?”

“Of course you can, my love,” he answered, kissing the top of her head. In the meantime, he would need to make a new plaque for the painting.

“Thank you, Papa!” she exclaimed, giving her father a tight hug. “I love you!”

Sometimes, Gale found himself misty-eyed whenever his wife or daughter told him that they loved him. They both loved him so purely, not for his capabilities to compose the Weave, but for the husband and father he was. And he loved them, more than he could ever have imagined. Nothing in this plane of existence nor any other could compare.

Gale embraced his daughter. “I love you too, my sweet girl.”