#you're framing this in a really dodgy way!

[hacash]

the discussions around the 4B movement in America are making break into anticipatory hives not because the poor men Need The Sex or whatever, but because it adds an element of 'should/should not' to women's sex lives where we've been trying so hard for so long to remind people that that element should not exist (except for things like consent, obvs).

like, if you personally feel like with everything that is going on in the US you can't enter into a romantic relationship or have kids or whatever, I fully support that. I would have said as much if Trump won or Harris won or Stein won. only having romance or sex or kids when you're in the place for it should not be a concept that is new to anyone. if people had started and stopped at 'ladies, just remember that contrary to Trump's every statement, your body is your own and you should make these choices based on what's best for you', I would be all for it.

but it's the fact that this is being framed not as a personal choice made for the benefit of the choosers, but a movement. it's the call for women to join the movement as a way of supporting their sisters. it's the people saying women should be cutting off romantic relationships with men until they behave better; it's the people saying women should not have sex with men to punish them for their votes. so are we now agreeing with the framing that there are times when women should have sex and times when she shouldn't (beyond the basic 'when she wants to/when she doesn't want to')? can't you see how that's a pretty dangerous concept to lean into?

(never mind that portraying sex and romance as a reward for men is hella dodgy framing in itself. but that's a whole other post.)

and what does this mean in practical terms? what happens if one of your 4B sisters meets a man who voted for every protection for women imaginable and decides this is someone she wants to make a life with; how do you react then? are you going to support her or shun her? how are you going to react if someone in the 4B movement decides that actually she'd love to have kids? do we not yet get that the wider implications of separatism never actually work? are women who do decide that sex and romance and families with men is something they want now letting their fellow women down? we agree it's unacceptable for a man to say when a woman 'should' have sex/kids/romantic relationships, but it's ok when it's another woman saying it?

it's all very well to say this is a personal choice people are making and I wish I could believe it, but I'm already seeing posts on social media along the lines of 'ugh well there'll always be stupid women ready to be with men so they're already letting us down'. ok great, so now we've circled around so far that it's becoming acceptable to shame women for having sex with men. it's a good thing no-one else does that.

(also any movement that is cited as coming from the radfems should be treated with definite caution. just saying.)

[suugarbabe]

Mattheo Riddle 27 & 36, possibly a smutty end?

(27) "Are you really so oblivious?" (36) "Can I kill him now?" 18+ MDNI!

"oh come on, Matty, he was just being nice! Other people are allowed to be nice to me, yanno," you were doing your best to keep up with his strides. He huffed in annoyance, "Cormac is not people, he's dodgy, a right fucking tosser he is, and he was fucking hitting on you." You scoffed as you followed him through the portrait hole, and through the common room, right up the steps to the boys dorms, "He was not hitting on me, he was just-" Mattheo spun around, cutting you off, shouting at you "Are you really so oblivious?" He was angry, you understood that but for him to scream at you, imply you were daft was too far. Now it was your turn to be frustrated, to be pissed off and now you were going to play with Mattheo's mind. You flicked your wand, opening his dorm door. "Room. Now." you practically spat the sentence at him and you saw his adam's apple bob as he swallowed. As tough as he was with everyone else, he never yelled at you; you didn't allow it. But he just broke that rule, and now you were seething. He backed into his room, every step he took backwards you took forward until the back of his knees hit the foot of his bed frame. With another flick of your wrist his door was shut and locked, silencing charm applied. "Do you really think Cormac would have any chance with me?" a shudder of a breath left his lips as you ran your finger up his chest, tracing a line beside his tie and up to his neck. You grabbed his chin, forcing him to look down at you, "You know you're the only one, I want Matty. The only one I'd let touch me here," you grabbed his hand, placing it between your thighs so he could feel the heat radiating from your cunt, the dampness on your panties that was forming. "Bloody hell," he breathed, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head. You ran both hands down his chest now, lightly scratching at him as you made your way to his belt, unbuckling and unbuttoning his trousers as you spoke, "You know you're the only one I want in my mouth, deep down in my throat." A whimper left his pretty pink lips and you dropped to your knees, tugging down his trousers in the process and freeing his cock finally. "Fuck, Y/n," he breaths out when you grab the base and lick the underside and up, wrapping your lips around his leaking head as his hand moves to the back of your head and gives you a little push as you take him fully in your mouth, allowing him to bottom out to your throat just like you said. His hand grips your hair tightly and the burning in your scalp only fuels you further, swallowing around him at the back of your throat before pulling back slightly, working him with your mouth in tandem with one hand as the other comes up to cup and massage his balls. Mattheo is a whimpering mess, doing his best to restrain himself from just grabbing hold of your face and fucking your mouth until he's spilling down your throat. You grab his thighs, raking your nails down the flesh as you bob your head faster, deeper each time until you're nearly gagging each time. "Fuck," he hisses as you scratch down his legs, "you keep doing that, princess and I'm gonna be filling your mouth." You can't help but laugh to yourself given the current state your mouth is in, the vibrations from this on his cock being exactly what sends him over the edge and you grab hold of his ass, holding him deep in your throat as you swallow around him, lapping up everything he's giving you in his release. You slowly release him from your mouth as he's panting. He runs his thumb along your bottom lip, gathering a little bit of his release that managed to leak out before pressing his thumb into your mouth and you're sucking on it greedily, savoring the last of him. "Feel better?" You ask as he's stuffing himself back into his uniform. He's still panting, catching his breath but he nods. You know he's still probably angry and this is confirmed when Mattheo gently cups your cheek, kissing your forehead, "I'm going to pay you back for that in the best way later tonight. But, can I kill him now?" You sigh, nodding your head and in a flash he's out the door.

[aboringredmop]

k still don't know how im gonna post the videos (YouTube? unlisted?someone please help) but I can't sleep so I thought it'd write down whatever I remember happening!

(edit: here's the full recording! )

Becky and Joe walked on stage wearing sunglasses and red leather jackets and threw 3 of the trio plushies into the crowd. didn't get one unfortunately but it's really cool some people got free plushies :)

they made this robot child called the Inspiration Child, who's clearly meant to be a nod to ai (can learn from our show and generate it's own content!)

they explained how they met (and had some dodgy animated retelling), and how they started with small projects like commercials and music videos, until they came up with designs of the trio (and a mysterious fourth fella)

they made the designs first, then made the set, then the song and finally wrote the script for creativity. red guy was just a red mop head with legs at first ("alien squid thing") but Joe put the red guy head on for shits and giggles once and Becky thought it was hilarious so they kept it in the show

they were really not expecting it to blow up, and when Sundance called because they wanted to show creativity Becky thought it was a scam caller lol

they talked about the kickstarter and the credit card fraud kid. the mailed him saying "hey maybe dont do that" but the kid didnt know how to undo it cuz he just found a website full of credit card information and went ham, so Becky and Joe had to contact kickstarter because people were pulling out of the funding because they thought the project was overfunded (kickstarter was very difficult to contact)

they also made (lighthearted) fun of nsfw fluffybird art ((no padlock 😔) "using OUR characters to act out their SICK FANTASIES" - Becky) and theorists, especially because most if not all of the webseries is just them fucking around.

Inspiration Child also says something along the lines of "wow what a cool show with a great message of how corrupt the media is. I hate the media!"

Becky and Joe had these rules to make the show as vague as possible (no pop culture references, no names, no swearing and way too much detail put into small things)(the duck guy drag queen absolutely obliterates the no swearing rule lol)

they talk about the pilot, how they focused too much on the story because they felt like they had to due to it being on the big screen now, and how it ended up ruining the atmosphere and such of the pilot. they did show the entire thing sped up but my phone sucks ass so I could not get it to focus correctly. I'll see what I can salvage so you people can dissect frames of your blorbo you're Legally Not Allowed To See (which is also the official reason we don't get the pilot)

also pilot concept art showed that Mean Steve is in fact just called Key

they showed a whole post-it wall full of ideas for the tv show. don't know how much I got on footage, but what stood out most to me were 2 episodes called Money and Christmas. Joe mentioned "clock in a wheelchair" specifically

also really fun fact. Becky made the Lesley suit during covid, and pretty much threatened Baker into writing a human character into the show to wear it. concept art also shows Lesley with a mask made out of the same fabric, don't know if this was part of the original suit tho

they showed Warrens old models (?). he was gonna be a wayy more ugly looking silicone pug-worm thing y'all got lucky with the bald fuck

lily and todney were directly based off of some cancelled show about two porcelain doll children with panda parents. do not for the life of me remember what it was called but Becky and Joe were very enthousiastic about it (UPDATE: Candy and Andy!)

international release of the show soon!

Inspiration Child talks about what he's learned and sings a little song, then generates his own dhmis inspired content of a cult meeting in a forest at night. the dhmis Discord server called this "potential new content" but I doubt it

3 cultists walk on stage, face the screen backs to the crowd, drop their cloaks and boom! drag queens!!!

they were not mentioned on the site or during earlier parts of the show at all so they were a complete surprise. I asked Becky about it later during the night and she said she really wanted them there, so she asked and they were excited to! hope this means more official content with them soon I love them

they dance to There's Three Of Us, then Duck lipsings the shredder song which turns into a techno remix while Red and Yellow dance during the background

then Duck and Yellow make out while Red tries to undress to the instrumentals of the Fucked Up Part of Creativity but can't get out of his suit on time before the song ends

the drag queens, Becky and Joe and the Inspiration Child walk around during the meet and greet later and I got signatures from all of them! except inspiration child he didn't have thumbs

the drag queens were so fucking funny. Duck adopted inspiration child and loudly yelled at everyone to "GET AWAY FROM MY FUCKING CHILD" (their duck voice is sooo good). yellow stood in a corner staring at a wall for like 10 minutes and red was constantly awkwardly hovering just outside the frames of pictures (and also could not see shit lmao)

Becky liked my shirt! (the one with the melting trio heads) said she handdrew it

I'll post the signatures and some more stuff tomorrow because it is. 5 am

edit Heres the signatures! yellow guys is Italian I think? and means hi I love you :)

(the liyskaen is duck trying to spell my name. they got pretty close)

[clavissionary-position]

✦✧✦✧ 𝗔 𝘀𝗶𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗲𝘅𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗮 𝘃𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗿𝘆

ɪ ᴋ ᴇ ᴍ ᴇ ɴ ᴠ ɪ ʟ ʟ ᴀ ɪ ɴ ꜱ JUDE × READER 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞-𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬

✦✧✦✧ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦 Jude, Ellis 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘 fluff, crack, slice-of-life 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗧 2300+ 𝗣𝗛𝗢𝗧𝗢 Dominika Roseclay 𝗩𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗢 Enrique Silva

ONE OF THE BIGGEST CLICHES IN THE BOOK is falling asleep out in the open—you know, a hallway, a dining room, or in this case, a drafty library inside a secluded castle—and then waking up all nice and wrapped-up in the hero's coat. Swaddled like a baby.

But Jude probably hasn't acquainted himself with those types of books, or he doesn't care for what is or isn't cliché. Or, chiefly, he knows that neither of you would consider him to be a hero, not in a million years, or in a million-million.

Truth be told, he probably doesn't care. About you, that is. After all, there's an inverse relationship between caring and carrying coin. Something that London teaches you right off the tit, even if one does pride themselves on being an optimist. So while Jude may have seen it within some realm of personal etiquette to toss his coat on you (it looks like he placed it gingerly…), as well as half-heartedly attempt to pin it around your shoulders (most likely to keep those godforsaken sleeves from dragging on the ground; why else would he drape one of them over your eyes?), you would be a fool to fish for any other meaning.

In fact, you'd do well to remember that you've known Jude and his dodgy colleagues for less than forty-eight hours. Forty of which you've spent embroiled in equally-dodgy encounters. Being alive is truly something you've been taking for granted.

But of course, you fish for that other meaning anyway, and you smile like the proper fool that you are. A pleasant warmth dawning over your mouth and cheeks until your upper teeth sit flush against your bottom lip. A delightful spot of sun that eases the stiffness from your jaw, and eases the pressure boiling to temperature in your temples (half the reason you dozed off in the first place). All very welcome side-effects after the horrendous nightmare of the past couple of days. Whether you're wrong about Jude and this one, tiny, insignificant-in-the-grand-scheme-of-things gesture, you needed this win.

Without fully understanding the implications of your decision to believe in him, you sit up in your armchair and watch Jude, who is at present perched on one of the library ladders on the landing across the atrium.

A faint glint focuses your attention on something you only vaguely registered in your waking state. It appears Jude donned a pair of reading glasses sometime during your nap. Peculiar, small, round lenses locked into a frame most noteworthy for how ordinary it is. But the overall effect of the glasses is even more striking. They sit on Jude's canted cheekbones with little fanfare and fuss, all the while annihilating the gangster from him and sanding his rough edges down into something almost innocent.

Except for that nasty glower he's hurling back your way. So pointed and menacing that you can feel it shoot up through your sinuses and all the way to the back of your skull.

Rude.

Jude shifts his weight on the ladder. "That's one hell of a stare," he grumbles to himself, just on the edge of audible from where you're seated. "Right creepy, innit."

"Not really, Mister Jazza," answers Ellis, on standby two meters to his right.

"Rhetori—" Jude turns his back to you, flounders for something, grabs a sheet of paper off a shelf, and flings it at Ellis. "It was a rhetorical question!" The paper barely gets within a meter of Ellis before beginning a lilting descent to the floor, with all three of you watching on in awkward silence, until finally Ellis crouches and delicately pinches it just before contact with the wood.

The young man uprights himself, then gently blows on the paper as if to clean off any dust it accumulated during its brief flight. After, with just one of his gangling strides, he covers the distance to his employer. But before handing the paper back, he jerks to a stop, hesitating, his mouth giving a curious spasm. The picture is clear from your vantage point. Ellis is no doubt amusing over how even whilst mounted on a ladder, Jude fails to reach his height. How one day Ellis might even discover a bald spot on Jude's head long before the man himself does. But the moment passes and Ellis fixes his mouth before dutifully presenting the paper. "You dropped this, Mister Jazza."

"I bloody well see that!" Jude snatches the paper as Ellis withdraws his hand the way one might flinch from fire. The library railing blocks most of your view of the next bit, but you can assume from the crinkling sound that Jude is smoothing over the wrinkles on the sheet (for which he is to blame) against his thigh. His hand and paper come back into view before he slaps the paper back onto the shelf. Whether he realizes or not, the adventurous little sheet slips off the edge anyway.

Watching this entire exchange you can't help the bubble of mirth building in your throat. After a second or two of trying to seal the laughter away behind silent, chest-thumping hiccups, the entire library fills with your bright cackle, during which Jude's overcoat slides from your quivering shoulders, hitting the floor in a whump of weighty fabric. Well, at least that weight is no longer turning you into a human furnace. The library draft actually feels refreshing.

But even a cheated-on wife would lose against the utter carnage of Jude's expression toward you. If his stare breaches bone, his glare outright disintegrates it. You think he might hawk a spit when he goes to say "I ought to yank your pretty little teeth out for that."

You sit forward in your seat, hands latching onto the armrests as your laughter tapers off. "An upstanding gentleman like you has only one coat now, has he?"

"He has two," answers Ellis, helpfully.

"Rhetorical. Question." Jude sighs, a line of shadow falling over his eyes as he descends the ladder. The glasses come off. Get tucked into a breast pocket. Without them, Jude's glare is truly biblical, and like casting judgement he points a finger you could swear he's been dying to point at you ever since he first laid eyes on you. "Pick that up before I get me pliers. And need I remind you that this library here's for reading? Reading, researching, studying"—he withdraws his hand and holds up a finger for each item—"or pretending to read, research or study. Now. Did you at any point hear me list 'taking a fucking nap' amongst these noble activities?"

You stare.

Jude stares.

Ellis stares.

Jude snaps his head to Ellis. "Well then, did you?"

Ellis shimmies, startled. "Uhm, did you want me to answer that one, Mister Jazza?"

"Please and thank you, Mister Twilight."

"You're welcome, but I haven't done anything yet."

Jude flares his nostrils and huffs past Ellis without another word.

You assume the conversation to be over until Jude takes the corner and suddenly begins bounding toward you. For a second the thundering clack of his shoes overtakes all other sensory input. Mid-stride, he grabs a book off a shelf to his side without looking. In fact, his eyes refuse to leave you, holding your sight with such electric intensity that you start to worry the whole coat thing might be a greater faux pas than you initially thought.

Another part of you worries about the part of you fixating on Jude's eyes. That shock of purple, like anemones, but also not unlike the glaze off a bruise. Every step he advances encroaches onto your world the hues of violence and vitality, the hues of���

Jude clicks to a stop before your chair, hair disheveled, lips drawn into a line. He stands backlit, chest out, muscled legs astride, holding himself larger-than-life in a way no ordinary man would even think to. Maybe it's borderline parody, even, but you're the one still looking at him, the one taking fervent inventory of his motley collection of scents; London in the springtime, London in the dark, London drowned in smoke, and like an eye-catching garnish, the citrusy tang of bergamot.

Look upward and you're trapped in the pistil of his gaze, where running away feels like it'd invite certain death, and where running is somehow not exactly the thing you want to do.

What changed in the last five seconds? Him? Or you?

Jude extends his hand, the open cuff on his sleeve framing his slender wrist like dove wings.

Without thinking, and with your heartbeat suddenly flooding the entire room, you lower your hand onto his surprisingly soft palm.

What is happening? You—

Jude's shapely brows suddenly look like they're about to strangle themselves. He flicks your hand away as if swatting a fly. "Me coat, damn you! Hand over me coat!"

"I got it, Mister Jazza!" Ellis darts around the atrium, slides onto the floor, skids under Jude's arm, snatches up the coat and uprights himself in the smoothest sequence of movement a set of human limbs has ever executed. But when he holds the coat out for Jude, all he's met with is a scowl that makes vengeance look like affection. Ellis tilts his head. "...?"

Jude's response isn't immediate. A troubled sheen glosses his gaze. He works his jaw, casting his eyes to you for enough of a fleeting second for you to understand that you and his hesitation are inextricably (and damnably) tied. And that's how you know his next words to Ellis are a lie. "Aren't you going to blow the dust off it like you did with the paper?"

Ellis smiles suddenly, throwing you a sidelong glance as well, one of joyful knowing. "I was going to, but I remembered the look you gave me last time, so I didn't."

That very look gets directed at Ellis anyway. Jude rips the coat from the young man's grasp. "Get the carriage ready. Let Victor know not to wait up."

"He's going to wait anyway."

"Tell him anyway." Jude surprises you by placing the book he's holding in your care. Before you can react, he turns partially away to don his coat. The motion is grand and showy, and again you're struck by that captivating impression, of this little man being much larger-than-life than he seems. The library seems too small for him, for his ambitions. The castle is a pit-stop, an outhouse, on his map to greatness. You can't take your eyes away, but you do roam them, examining the whole of Jude, just a little closer, with a little more care, and a little more curiosity. Far more than you would have before. And again, you ignore the implications.

Only now that Jude has his coat back on do you realize how diminutive and almost frail he looked without it. Not weak. Grand. But frail. And only then do the needles of guilt arrive, writhing up from your stomach and stopping up your throat. All for letting that damned coat sit on the floor for so long.

Just because Jude is a villain doesn't mean you have to be an ass.

Jude settles the errant creases over his chest. Whatever sour mood had seized him only moments earlier is nowhere to be found, and this is after you take into account that is default expression is a mild scowl.

Does Jude know how to smile sweetly? Just as you think it, his gaze intersects with yours. Again that anemone, that bruise-like hollowness. For an instant, you two stare at each other, nakedly, across a space you just happen to occupy with the trappings of reality. Something in your heart changes shape, for the second, maybe third time, in the last few minutes.

Then just as quick, his sour look descends on his brow twofold. "God, how many creepy expressions can one person have?"

You kick his shin. You don't even realize it until you've done it. You kick it again.

"Bloody—what is your problem?!"

Ellis bends down to your level. "Is your foot okay?"

"Foot?! What about my leg!?"

"I'll stop by the good doctor on my way to Victor."

Jude rubs his face and heaves a sigh worth a thousand words. "Oh, don't bother." Then a smile cracks over his features. "I'll just be adding this," he gestures to his shin while heckling with you a smug grin, "to the running tab."

You hang your head. Was it too late to stomp the hell out of that stupid coat?

Ellis pats the top of your hand. "Don't worry." He stands up and holds his hand out for you to take.

Jude swats it away. "I ain't done talking here. I gave you a job, go fucking do it."

Ellis shrugs and imparts a rueful smile to you before making his exit. Once you're alone with Jude, he nudges his chin to indicate the book he gave you.

It's a well-worn volume, leather cracked and binding frayed. The title seems familiar to you but you can't pinpoint why. When you look up at Jude for some sort of hint, he rolls his eyes and turns around with a swish of his coat. "I ain't got any use for a fucking narcoleptic. Even someone as daft as you should be able to read this." Saying nothing further, he walks out the way Ellis went.

Rude. Rude. Rude. Rude. Ru—

The answer comes to you. The book in your hand is on the same subject as the book you'd fallen asleep while reading. The book that's oddly nowhere to be found now.

You flip through the pages on a hunch. Jude was right. The words are simpler. And there's notes, tons of them, crowding the margins.

"You stupid ass," you hiss into the empty library as you throw your head back against the chair with a thunk. But your anger dissipates with your next breath, replaced by something almost serene. Something you don't want to assess the implications of. "I didn't fall asleep because the words were too hard."

Thank you for reading! I own literally 0% of the jokes in this, and my characterization is based on what I've seen others in the fandom produce.

[wannaeatramyeon]

SAMUEL SEO FLUFF >>>>>>

Honestly. Why are we all simping for this unhinged man? Present company included. He's an absolute menace to society but for some reason I just want him to be happy and at peace.

Samuel Seo x Reader: Spectacles

You hover in the store, trying on different pairs of glasses as a way to kill time.

Lucky for you, your vision remains 20/20. No matter how many times you were scolded to not sit too close to the television, stare at a screen too long, or read with proper lighting, you have avoided the need for specs.

Still, it's fun to accessorise.

An arm snakes its way round your waist while you admire your reflection. An outlandish and aggressively pink pair of frames rests on your face.

"Beautiful as ever," Samuel eyes follow your movement, "But I'm not sure you need those."

You feel your lips lift at the compliment as you return them to the stand, "How did it go?"

"Fine, still the same prescription. We can go grab some lunch now if you prefer?"

"Wait, hold on," You wander to a collection a few displays over. "I found some glasses that I think would really suit you!"

You hold out a particularly obnoxious pair, horn-rimmed and tortoise-shell. Samuel lets out a snort, and indulges you. He takes off his own stylish and sophisticated glasses and hands them over, his eyes flashing playfully.

As soon as he wears them, you can't help bursting out laughing. He inspects himself in the mirror and snickers too.

"I've worked my way up, just to have my reputation destroyed by these. I'm not sure anyone at work would or could take me seriously."

One after another, you hand him multiple styles. Each somehow more distasteful and objectionable than the last - round and owlish ones, excessively thick purple frames, another comically oversized that takes over half Samuel's face, aviators reminiscent of dodgy men from the 80's.

Between your giggling and his chuckling, the next 30 minutes passes by in a blur.

Upon returning back the final pair, you couldn't help but comment earnestly, "You're so handsome, Sammy. I think you actually could pull off any of these."

Samuel rewards you with a self-satisfied smile, "Come on Y/N, are we done here?"

"Hmm... What about contacts?"

"What about them?"

"Just at the weekend or whatever. Maybe it would be nice to actually see your eyes y'know," You hesitate slightly, "Without a barrier."

Without a barrier? All his life, Samuel had been building a wall around him. An impenetrable fortress. His glasses have become his shield to the world. And now you want him to start to break this down for you?

He reflects on the past 30 minutes of silliness, the days and nights and months and years spent with you. Both the deep, meaningful conversations and the light hearted banter. The secrets and hopes and dreams shared with promises to always remain loyal.

Maybe it would be nice, he agrees.

[changingplumbob]

Foster Household: Chapter 9, Part 4

Carson can hear the music before he gets in the building. It may be freezing cold but as he steps inside the heat from students bustling about and dancing has warmed the place up. First port of call, the voting booth. He doesn’t recognise most of the names on the ballot, they’re probably the older students, but he does an obligatory tick for the ones he’s seen the most posters for. Turning around he searches for Onyx and finds them standing on the edge of the dancefloor.

Carson: Hey

Onyx: *pulls funny face* This is boring. Why are we here again?

Carson: blah blah important teen milestones blah blah

Onyx: Hmm, so how’d your appointment go? Feeling less... compulsive?

Carson: Not yet, it’ll take time I guess

Onyx: Did you talk to him about... you know? Wait was it even a him in the end?

Carson: It was a him called Chad

Onyx: Chad? A Chad that's a counsellor?

Carson: He looked like he’d taken a break from surfing to be there, but he was a pretty good listener

Onyx: Did he help with dating issues

Carson: Basically he was like, you’re young, don’t be stressing about woohoo right now, ask her out if you want. But he mentioned something called being asexual that I might look into

Onyx: Not to cut you short mate but Ariadne is heading your way

Carson: Very funny

Onyx: I’m serious, she's been glancing over at you and now she's walking

Carson: Wait- where are you going

Onyx: To see if Zharfira wants a dance, you got this

Onyx said a quick hi to Ariadne but sped off leaving Carson alone to talk to her.

Ariadne: Imagine seeing you here

Carson: *laughs* I’m sorry about jetting off this afternoon but I had scouts and the ferry can be a hassle

Ariadne: Oh? How long have you been a scout

Carson: Since I started school. My older sister Keira did it and it looked like fun so I gave it a go. I’m actually a Llamacorn scout, I’ve earned every badge there is to get

Ariadne: Very impressive. Do you want to grab a seat? It’s a bit loud just here

Carson nodded but he really wanted to say he’d love to.

The pair sat down and watched some of the other students dancing. William and Darwin were trying to master the robot while Onyx had managed to pull Zharfira on to the dance floor.

Carson: You look really nice Ariadne

Ariadne: Aww, thanks. Alexander wanted me to have a simple dress and save for senior prom but James let me go for the sparkly one. He says you only live once

Carson: Definitely the right choice

Ariadne: So I imagine it takes a lot of work to get to be a... what was it again? Llama scout

Carson: Ah, Llamacorn

Ariadne: What is a Llamacorn

Carson: Honestly, not certain. I imagine it to be a llama with a unicorn horn

Ariadne giggled and Carson felt himself get more confident.

Carson: Uh, I might grab a bite to eat, do you want anything?

Ariadne: Thanks but I’m okay, if I eat I’ll just spill it on my dress

Carson went to the buffet and looked over the offerings. The meat options looked dodgy, they were probably not stored at the proper temperature. No, no, they were food poisoning waiting to happen. But a desert? Surely a fruit tart would be safe. Turning back to the tables he noticed an unwelcome sim had moved near Ariadne and was talking to her. Squaring his shoulders, he returned.

Artemisia: If you wanted I could show- oh, Carson

Carson: Hi Artemisia. Would you like to join us

Artemisia: *scoffs* You're not here together. Ariadne you could do so much better than four eyes. Not leagues better but better

Carson: Aww, are my see through frames not fooling you? How sad

Artemisia: Ugh, why do you have to be so calm? It takes all the fun out of it

Carson: I’ve been dealing with your snark since we were toddlers, I can survive it

Ariadne: *surprised* You two go that far back?

Artemisia: We’re not friends but our siblings are so yeah, we know each other. Knew Carson here when he first begun to poop himself

Carson: You’re not my friend? I might cry

Artemisia: Shut up. You look like a marshmallow in that suit, pink and round. Haven’t you ever heard of exercise? Tell me you don't find him attractive Ariadne. I'd give him a 2 at most

Carson wanted to get back to flirting but Artemisia seemed content to stay and have Ariadne’s attention. It didn’t help that alongside her looks she could turn the charm on when it suited her. He didn’t think Artemisia really liked Ariadne, most likely she just wanted to annoy him. Eventually distraction arrived.

Roger: You ready for that dance Ariadne

Ariadne: *smiling* I’d love to

Carson felt his heart sink, why couldn’t he have offered first. He disliked dancing but the chance to hold her hand... But like normal Roger and Artemisia couldn’t be in talking distance without an argument occurring, and began to bicker over outfits before Ariadne could stand up.

As the bickering continued Carson took the opportunity to talk to Ariadne again. He may not get much more time tonight.

Carson: So, I mean, if you enjoyed the sun and sand today you could always stop by my house tomorrow? I live within walking distance of a ton of beaches and it could help you get some warm in before the school week

Ariadne: I-

Roger: You’re a piece of trash Artemisia!

Artemisia: Projecting again are we Roger?

Roger predictably stormed off and Ariadne got up to go after him, speaking over her shoulder.

Ariadne: Friend me on social bunny and I’ll let you know what my day is like

Artemisia: I will

Carson: She wasn’t talking to you

Artemisia: Keep telling yourself that, we know no one would choose you when I'm around

Previous ... Next

[greeen-bean]

Saturday

"'That'll be the boys,' he says, and the way he says 'the boys' reminds me of the way the fans always call them 'our boys'. The boys. Our boys."

"I feel myself starting to shout at Rowan. 'Stop treating me like I'm younger and dumber than you!' Rowan falters, his eyebrows furrowed. 'I'm not! It's just... you're more fragile than... than...' 'What? Than you and Lister?' Rowan steps towards where I'm standing in the door frame. 'Well, yeah, basically!' 'I'm not fragile! Why do you always treat me like a baby?!'"

"'Fereshteh, what is it? Tell me. Tell your maman. I'm here, my girl. I'm here.' 'Are you still angry with me?' 'I was never angry, my darling. Only scared.' 'Why... were you scared?' There's a pause. 'Because I felt that I suddenly didn't know you,' she says. Her voice is so quiet, or maybe the line is dodgy due to the rain. 'Hearing you so angry, so determined to see this band... and not caring about your own achievements. I wondered whether you were growing up to be a girl who valued nothing about herself only. A boy band.'"

"I wish she could hold me, cuddle me like she used to do when I tripped over as a toddler and scraped knee. 'Do you think it's stupid?' I say, my voice hoarse. 'Do you think I'm a stupid teenage girl?' She does. She must do. 'No Fereshteh,' says mum. 'No. I think you are the girl with the deepest heart.'"

"'Well, thanks for leaving me to deal with it by myself,' Rowan snaps. 'I was dealing with it by myself as well.' 'You didn't have to. We could have dealt with it together.' 'No, we couldn't,' says Bliss. There's a pause. 'No, we couldn't. We can't do anything good together anymore, Rowan.' [...] 'You're right,' says Rowan after a moment. 'Ha. You're actually right. We just snap at each other all the time.' There's a longer pause this time. 'You know I love you,' says Bliss. 'I care about you a lot.' 'Yeah,' says Rowan. 'But it's not... a romantic sort of feeling any more.' 'Oh.' [...] Rowan Sniffs again. 'Sorry. sorry for everything.' 'There's nothing to be sorry about,' says Bliss. 'I had a fucking blast, mate.'"

"The weird this is, I actually trust Angel. I trust everything she says."

"Maybe The Ark was an escape for her, like it was for me. But maybe, ultimately, she's strong enough not to make it her everything."

"'You can see it's not the same as it used to be... right?' I ask desperately. Echoes of our past selves are dancing around us. Lister jumping on my bed, banging drumsticks on the wall. Rowan grumbling when he can't get a microphone to plug in to my computer. 'You can feel It's... not the same?' 'Why should things stay the same?' Rowan asks. 'Well... maybe they shouldn't, but they're getting worse. the contract, the fans, the rumours... it's all getting worse.'"

"'Maybe we should go,' he says, looking at me. 'What, me and you?' says Rowan, looking at Lister. 'Yeah,' he says. 'I don't think jimmy wants us to be here any more.'"

"'You're part of my truth.' He blinks. 'You're part of mine too.' 'Am I?' 'Yeah. '

"I watch him exit the room. I glance back at the photographs on the wall, then get up and have a look a look, peering at the sepia photographs to find one labelled 'Angelo Ricci'. I finally lay eyes on a man with high cheekbones, dark doe eyes, and a lost expression. He looks just like Jimmy."

"Was I even listening properly? I'm always so consumed by myself. Why don't I notice anything that's happening to anyone else?"

"I glanced at [Rowan], and I can't tell whether he's crying or whether there's just raindrops falling down his cheek. 'I can't deal with you both leaving me,' He says. Am I really going to leave him? I don't know. I don't know any more."

"'We'll find him,' she says to me as we run, and it's like a real-life angel has promised, a real-life angel knows exactly what is going to happen for the rest of time."

"And next thing I know Rowan's holding me back, pulling me down into the wheat, while they take Lister away. No, I need to be with him, I need to be there in case, just in case he... For a while, all I can do a sit there .And cry. And pray."

[rickybaby]

Laila I hard agree with your tags RE: Italiano leaving. I’ve seen people joke that Danny must have fucked his girlfriend or something but I don’t think it’s anything personal (in that way)

If I had to guess I’d say it was something big, maybe business/money related. I kind of hoped Daniel just realized what a shit trainer Michael was (I can rant on his bs practices all day, but he pushes some unsustainable and sometimes outright dangerous ideas like extensive fasting, etc. etc. which have always rubbed me the wrong way). BUT I think in reality Daniel hasn’t really acknowledged/processed how NOT OKAY that whole McLaren stint was for him. He still talks to Zak, all the McLaren mechanics, friendly with Lando and Oscar, so if it was just “Michael let him down and wasn’t putting his best interests first in McLaren” I think Danny would have just let it go.

One thing he’s not stupid about though, is his money/business (and also, what a lot of people don’t acknowledge, his privacy). We don’t really hear a lot about Danny post-season. So I feel maybe the fall out had to do with Italiano going on podcast after podcast talking about Daniel and then also (presumably) raking in money for it. Again, all allegedly completely-just-going-from-my-own-vibes, Michael Italiano do not sue me

I do think there was a catalyst that led to their break-up sometime after the last race last year, because if I remember correctly, Jack (Doohan) had mentioned that Michael would be training him for F2 while still working with Daniel during his year off. But then, this never happened and MI ended up going to AT. All I'm saying is, whether something happened or someone sat Daniel down and talked to him about it, Daniel on his own would never have realised how harmful whatever MI preached was. And i think whatever it was, really hit Daniel hard because every time he's talked about coming back this year, whether it's the lone wolf comment or other things, he's constantly talked about how he's approaching training differently and how he's realised prioritising his recovery and rest is important.

Regarding your comment about whether Michael wasn't putting Daniel's interests first at Mclaren, I think a lot of people got the same impression, especially if you go by his comments on his Pitstop appearance this year. The way he framed it kind of implied that he was annoyed at Daniel's decision to take a year off and there was the implication that this derailed his own career and aspirations, which fair enough.

But coming to whether it could have been money/business-related, I feel like this is more like it. You do get the impression he was more in it for the money and the fame. Forget the part about dming girls and the cheating allegations, but the side-hustle part of it?? With the F1 season getting more and more hectic and trainers like Brad and Angela leaving because they can't keep up with the strain and time demand of the new calendar, how can you have the time to dedicate to other private clients? To me, it just means you're not really giving your 100% to the driver you are meant to support. Then, there was the mask debacle thing in 2020, his whole 'merch' collection and the way he continued to make money off his posts of Yuki this year.

And then the privacy thing - I know just because Daniel looks like such an open guy that people don't realise how private he is. Even during the whole mclaren debacle, not one person from his side ran their mouth in the press when you constantly have the family or friends of other drivers making snide comments or liking posts they shouldn't. And then, there's mr. Italiano making appearances in dodgy podcasts and obviously whatever he says, people are bound to take it as him meaning it about daniel because that's who they associate him with. And then the whole leaking of his private medical info, coming after the one and sole sighted interaction of theirs must have come as such a betrayal to Daniel

[bthump]

How much do you think authorial intent matters in analyzing Berserk? Because I've seen your post on Charlotte and how you interpret her sex with Griffith as consensual because Miura usually does a good job portraying sexual trauma, and sex scene tropes in media are usually dodgy while being intended to be consensual. I always have a hard time with this way of thinking because it doesn't change what objectively happened in the scene.

I actually differentiate between authorial intent and narrative intent to an extent. To me narrative framing matters the most. What Miura may have intended can be important inasmuch as he successfully conveyed it in the story, but I don't think his word is the final word on the story itself. If he gave an interview where he said he intended X, but I think the story conveyed Y, then Y is more important to my interpretation of the story.

So to use the Charlotte sex scene as an example, the biggest reason I read it as consensual (if psychologically fucked up to an extent) is because that's the narrative function of the sex. A rape scene would have a different impact on the story. The sex scene furthers Charlotte's love for Griffith, to her it's a contrast to her father's subsequent attempted assault, Charlotte has no misgivings about it, and the king doesn't accuse Griffith of rape but of theft from him. If it was intended to be a rape scene, it would be essentially nonsensical as a story beat and a bigger failure of writing imo.

And yeah, in addition to that there's the greater media context where a lot of sex that should be rape is treated as consensual.

But yeah I get what you mean about having a hard time viewing things that way. I find the terms watsonian and doylist helpful when discussing stuff like this in fandom, where watsonian refers to discussing characters and events as though they really exist, as though characters have agency and lives and make decisions, and doylist refers to taking account of the fiction of the universe, the knowledge that it's written by someone who has a point to convey and might have biases and make mistakes.

So on a watsonian level you can't really argue that it isn't rape because Charlotte says no. If it happened in real life, it would be rape, the end.

But on a doylist level it doesn't fit the story, and there are better ways to interpret that scene to suit the overall narrative better, which we can understand based on the various context clues I mentioned above.

When I discuss stuff I'm usually doing it on a doylist level because that's just how I roll lol, I enjoy analysing media as a construct created by people attempting to convey a meaning. To me, characters/setting/plot/etc are first and foremost tools to futher that meaning. But a lot of fandom is really into the watsonian level, which makes sense because that's where headcanons and fanfiction thrives, and it's a lot of fun to explore and speculate about the characters as though they're real people with real psychologies, to explain away plot holes and bad writing with in-universe explanations, etc.

It's totally cool to prefer one over the other imo! But yeah I think it's always good to differentiate between those different types of analysis, because they're trying to accomplish very different things, and to be aware of what level you're interpreting the story on. I find that it's really easy to get into discussions where people just talk past each other because one person is discussing the story as a fictional construct and the other is discussing it as if it's a real event that happened. It's how you get arguments like ''the depiction of this character is sexist because she's naked for no reason except to titilate the het male audience' 'there's totally a reason though, it's because she breathes through her skin!' or whatever lol.

Thanks for the ask! I like getting the opportunity to explain where I'm coming from when it comes to meta.

[shit-talk-turner]

Like, sure, Louise didn't noticeably show up in the lyrics to The Car, but I don't think its a coincidence that around the same time he was taking home videos of her and exploring an aesthetic with her that ended up also being mirrored in the tone and aesthetics of the album. It must be literally impossible to be with him in any meaningful way if you're not willing to submerge yourself in his world/creative whims.

I have to disagree with this although you bring up good points in her defence. With this I have to say Alex didn’t need Louise as he was exploring this style with the puppets first and second album, first more so. Louise fit what he was after. Let’s not forget Louise was a fan first and when she found out people were finding her posts she deleted them. She also went as far as diving into the Birkin thing after Alex talked about it. She was never into it. The evidence is all there in interviews. She manipulated herself into the group. That’s why she is different from the rest of them. Her cosplaying is really not normal. It’s very dodgy. And it went on for years after she got him! Her album wasn’t bad but she did nothing to help herself with it except maybe hope Alex’s tie to her would catapult her career. She dated someone influential on the voice too and was not favoured. The hate she gets I’m assuming is mostly due to her being arrogant

I will never forget the photo she posted last summer in green shorts and a white tank top that copies Taylor frame to frame. Posting photos of the piano with the same notebook is also something to show how serious she is. She wanted a fast ticket to success and has removed all the music related posts and even her bio to “artist”. It’s like that Beckham kid who thinks he’s a photographer because he got into the industry through his name. We don’t like her because she’s privileged but acts like she’s “relatable” and “nice” and “empowered”. If I see one more of her political crap….lol

^

[nekropsii]

Do you have any sources for your recent "Vriska did nothing wrong" post? All googling of the phrase seems to indicate it grew far more popular in recent times, rather than the 2000's-2010's time frame you specify in your post (I only found 10 results for the phrase between 2010-16 on Google). It's possible it grew popular on the back of "Thanos Did Nothing Wrong" from when Infinity War came out, in my opinion. If you have any sources showing the phrases' origins, such as a post that popularized the phrase, or posts from early HS fans talking about it having antisemitic origins from that 2010s time frame, it would be greatly appreciated!

[Re: This Post.]

..."Thanos Did Nothing Wrong" literally came from the same source as "Vriska Did Nothing Wrong". It means the same thing. They have the same exact origin. It's still a snowclone of "Hitler Did Nothing Wrong" either way. Apologies for using KnowYourMeme as a source, but they tend to be the most accessible source for these sorts of things.

It's difficult to find results from that time period, especially if you're searching for Tumblr posts, so the fact that you can't really find many results makes sense. Searches tend to prioritize recent results, and are pretty bad at archiving things properly. What doesn't help is the fact that a lot of Homestuck blogs- and blogs in general- have been deleted by now. I can say that I did see "Vriska Did Nothing Wrong" in the early-ish 2010s. "Hitler Did Nothing Wrong" was popularized as a meme around 2012. 2012-2014 was around the peak of Homestuck's popularity, and the peak of Vriscourse.

You can choose to not believe me about the time period in which this specific iteration of the phrase was coined and popularized, and that would be fair. Would not blame you. But that does not change its origins. Whether or not you choose to believe me about the time, the source is still the same. It's not great.

All I’m trying to do is have people at least be aware of where it comes from, really. There’s no way to get people to stop using a meme due to it having dodgy origins, that, famously, is not how the internet works. Notice that my original post wasn’t a rallying cry, nor a call to action. That’s a futile fight that I’m not here to pick. All I’m here to do is inform the people who might not want to associate with the phrase’s history where that saying came from.

[blankd]

People are very familiar with how konami utterly fucked the Silent Hill IP and in that vein my personal franchise that "got SH'd" would be Breath of Fire.

Certain fans assigned the 5th game (Dragon Quarter) as being what killed it, but I'll defend that game for being a fairly unique RPG (and good!!) in its own right. I feel like if it came out now, people would appreciate it more.

It's relatively short (if you're fast you can legitimately beat it in <8 hours), brutal (flavor/setting + finite resources, finite enemies) and there's a simplicity to it that people seem to mistake as a problem rather than a choice.

read more of me rambling on about how one mechanic can uniquely define a game

One of the loudest fan criticisms of DQ is that it didn't have the dragon gene mixing/summons people loved and that there was !!only one dragon form!! But I'd say it was a worthy sacrifice for doing more with the dragon mechanics.

Your dragon/"I win" button was strapped to Ryu's/the MC's lifespan- sure you'd get devastating dragon powers, but it would also eventually kill him and could deadlock* your game if you abused it. Even walking around would (slowly) tick up the death counter which generates a good sense of urgency *without* condescending railroading.

As a result of this, DQ features something most of the other BoF games generally lacked, meaningfully dangerous encounters.

Other entries would be more typical random encounters that could be snuffed out or eventually grinded out of being a threat.

Meanwhile DQ has finite enemies (and EXP). Battles would take place on a 1:1 map, terrain, enemies, hazards, and items were retained from the normal map and vice-versa.

The game also cranked up the stakes by having limited hard saves (it required a consumable item), but still allowed you to have a soft save anywhere (the latter would be deleted upon reloading the game). Retaining your progress was always on the line and properly framed the dragon option as a temptation with consequences.

*note: the game wasn't so unfair as to leave you without any recourse, you could get a Restart+ where you carried over some items and EXP from a failed run to start the game over again, but leave it to gamers to puzzle out a way to exploit this courtesy to grind/farm, kudos on figuring it out but newspaper whap for going against the spirit of the game

This sort of decision working mechanically, playerwise, AND as a story point was a unique experience. Most games get bogged down in complexities and convulsion but DQ kept to a simple and sweet execution of "this power comes with a terrible price" and is a stronger experience for you.

As a game designer, the cohesion of story and mechanics is a solid inspiration.

Anyway did you know that there was a BoF 6? It was a mobile game and it shut down in about a year. Yes it is was soulless as it sounds. Yes the art is as bad and generic as it sounds.

---

Bonus Round! BoF Game Rankings + Misc.:

BoF:DQ (in case it was not obvious) is my favorite of the series, it's an RPG I can easily revisit and enjoy, truly a lean game. My ideal remake would tidy up the graphics to be nicer and to tweak some fiddlier bits, but the best I can hope for is a lazy port just because I don't think there are many copies (and more people should play it!). The NA box art is a crime though, horrible, 1000 years dungeon.

BoF 4, I like the overall plot and what it tried to do, there's some dodgy TL but I like the weird dragons and the art. Unfortunately it suffers from being in that PS1-PS2 transitory era and from RPG trappings of the time.

BoF 2 (GBA) has a a soft nostalgia spot in my heart. The TL work was incredibly jank, but is what defined JRPGs for me with its funny little freak party and the whiplash of weird goofy shit and Horror that Just Works.

BoF 3 and 1: I never really got around to properly playing either of these and have no real motivation to fix that.

I actually own the BoF artbook (in Japanese) and if you happen to enjoy them, I rec the the purchase even if you know nothing about the series. It actually contains *art from all 5 games* and having a consolidated timeline for how the art evolved over time is fascinating.

[interdimensionalburnout]

>> [In the mess more sweets arrive! It's a bright orange Halloween-themed plastic bowl filled to the brim with bite-sized hard candies in transparent purple wrappers. The candies themselves are colorless and semi-opaque, a peek of colorful syrup showing at the center. The star note attached to the side of the bowl reads: 'Each hard-candy and syrup is flavored and paired differently; most batches of this candy are hand-sorted to make sure they're /good/ pairings but I thought you might have fun with some extra randomization. They're all flavors you'd find in a bag of Dum-Dums, so nothing /too/ crazy. Thought they'd be nice to have around! :^) -Mads'.]

>>You're quick to respond to the alert of Gilly, who's remained more or less in the same state of tense quiet she's been in since she came back to life. The blurred lines between intelligences you walk, brought about by your cybernetics and your psionics, has left you exposed to the palpable feeling of unease expressed by your AI crewmate, and you're happy to hear her say ANYTHING.

>>You're back in the mess, in time to intercept a halloween bowl, filled with halloween candies. These things remind you of a really dodgy "zero gravity" bowl you had an idea for once, the way the syrups seem caught in the murky orbs of clear candy. The explanation for these things only makes them trippier, and you feel inspired to dig the prototype out from under the cabinet. And then you run to your jacket harness, where your camera drone is mounted, and turn it on.

>Berri's posted a video of a device, one that's been built out of old waffle-iron parts, sloppily spliced together with a levitating weapon-display thingy from who-knows-where. It powers on with little fuss, sending a tiny ball, covered in what looks like little speakers into the air about a foot above the bowl. "Hey Mads! Thanks for the candy! You reminded me of a 'non-spillable bowl' I was working on that your candy would look so tight in."

>From it's tethered position, it emits a sort of shimmery field in a nearly perfect sphere, a semi-opaque ball of gray-tinted, energized air. A single crunch echoes from behind the camera, over the dim hum of the bowl, and then a piece of wrapped candy flies from out-of-frame, hitting the bowl and drifting into the center, losing speed before eventually just sort of drifting in a slow orbit around the emitter. "YESSSSSS" Right after, Berri can be seen scurrying in and dumping the entire bowl into the orb, where they spend the momentum settling into a lazy orbit around the emitter with the rest of the candy. "There! That'll keep this from spilling everywhere if the ship has to slam the E-Brakes again. Also, Lemon-Lime and orange, friggin amazing combo, thanks Mads!"

[tunastime]

If you're still taking requests for the fanfic two words list ask game, how about #11 with ethubs?

11. stain / unravel (x) (781 words)

He hears Etho before he sees him. He hears snow being pushed aside as he cuts through the wall (why they haven’t made a door is beyond him), as Etho worms his way through. Etho drops his tools and bag in a pile as he walks in, sighing to himself. Bdubs feels his gaze on the back of his neck for only a moment before it slides away.

"Hey."

Bdubs looks over. Etho’s halfway up the steps. His hands are stained red.

"Hey-yoh,” Bdubs starts. Etho’s halfway up the steps. His hands are stained red. “Yo. Woah."

Etho turns to him. He still hasn’t pulled the mask from his face, but his eyes give away his confusion.

“You good, Etho?"

"What?"

"You got a little..." Bdubs gestures to his hands, then to the stains on his jacket. Etho hums. Bdubs narrows his eyes, hands moving to find his communicator. He would’ve gotten a message. His mouth suddenly feels very dry. "Did you...?"

"Hm? No, it's mine."

Well that’s not any better. Etho frowns, more with his eyes than anything else.

"It's nothing."

Bdubs scoffs, folding his arms.

"Well, clearly it's something, otherwise you wouldn't be so damn dodgy—"

"I slipped, that’s it,” Etho quips. Bdubs winces.

"Ouch."

Etho shrugs. Something about him radiates discomfort more than apathy.

"It's fine. It doesn't hurt."

Bdubs lets him turn away and walk up the rest of the stairs, watching the patches on his jacket.

"Okay,” he says, to the impression of him.

He follows him a moment later. He hears him rustling around more than he sees him, and something in his chest becomes unbearably tight. 

When he steps into the space, hands braced along the wooden beams of the fence, skipping over the notches, Etho is ducked over his hands, holding a rag. He scrubs at his hands, as if to wipe off the blood that stains them. He rubs, and he rubs, and he isn’t stopping.

"Etho." Bdubs says it slowly, announcing his presence. Etho doesn’t stop. 

"Etho," he tries again. Etho keeps scrubbing. His skin is red raw under the stains. He doesn’t stop. Bdubs braces his hands on the fence before he hauls himself over. He doesn’t stop. "Etho, stop—" 

He grabs at him, hands around his hands, and Etho freezes, muscles going taut under Bdubs’ hands. Etho meets his eyes. His are wide, dark, still green, framed with his pretty white lashes. His mouth hangs open like he can’t make words form in his mouth. His mask is off.

"Bdubs,” he finally says. Bdubs watches him swallow.

"Stop,” Bdubs manages, even if it comes out as a whisper. Etho tenses, more if possible.

"Other side,” he says. Bdubs shakes his head.

"No,” he says. “Not if you don't stop."

Etho squirms, but only for a moment. Bdubs keeps holding him.

"Let me go."

"No."

Finally, Etho seems to sag under his grip. Or resign. He isn’t sure what’s worse. But when he lets go, Etho doesn’t move. He also doesn’t look at him. He doesn’t look up when Bdubs finds a bucket of water, or when he takes Etho’s hand again and rinses the cloth. Bdubs wipes the palms of his hands, littered with nicks and cuts, a slice on the heel of his hand that only looks bad when it’s bloodied. His hands come surprisingly clean with little effort, still rubbed raw. Bdubs works gently, his eyes flicking up every so often to Etho’s face, expecting to see something. He never does. Etho keeps watching his hands, like he might watch Bdubs disappear from his grasp, or better yet, watch Bdubs take his first life.

Bdubs wraps his hands, too, pulling the bandage over his wrists. Only when he’s satisfied with his job does he pull away. He takes the bucket with him, the rag, the rest of the bandage. He turns his back to Etho, a dangerous thing that he cannot help but do (I’m not going to hurt you. Not right now. I don’t think I ever really could). He’s braced on the fence, again, dividing them, before Etho speaks.

"Thank you,” he says. Bdubs nods.

"Sure thing."

Etho looks up at him, tries to look him in the eye, finally, and something inconsolably warm washes over Bdubs. He doesn’t know if he wants to truly meet those eyes.

"Thank you."

"Hey,” Bdubs ducks his head, smiling a little. He can’t meet his eye, as much as he wants to. He gives him a shrug instead. “Don't worry about it. You're welcome."

He leaves when he feels Etho’s eyes leave the back of his neck and pretends that he won’t be staying up to make sure he sleeps.

[esther-dot]

I really like your stance Willas×Sansa au especially when she is grown up. One thing made me curious is how would Olenna matter would be solved considering she used Sansa as pawn to kill the king and put her in danger. I think Willas didn't know about it. How do you think situation can be handled?

(about this ask)

I’d have to reread because I know I was unduly influenced by the show last time and they didn’t have all the characters/flesh out the motivations, and now, I can’t remember who was behind what and why. In the show, Olenna is conniving, but in the books she places the blame for some of the nonsense on Mace and it felt to me that she was trying to make the best of a situation she wasn’t really in control of:

"She might think we have some wits about us. One of us, at any rate." The old woman turned back to Sansa. "It's treason, I warned them, Robert has two sons, and Renly has an older brother, how can he possibly have any claim to that ugly iron chair? Tut-tut, says my son, don't you want your sweetling to be queen? You Starks were kings once, the Arryns and the Lannisters as well, and even the Baratheons through the female line, but the Tyrells were no more than stewards until Aegon the Dragon came along and cooked the rightful King of the Reach on the Field of Fire. If truth be told, even our claim to Highgarden is a bit dodgy, just as those dreadful Florents are always whining. 'What does it matter?' you ask, and of course it doesn't, except to oafs like my son. The thought that one day he may see his grandson with his arse on the Iron Throne makes Mace puff up like . . . now, what do you call it? Margaery, you're clever, be a dear and tell your poor old half-daft grandmother the name of that queer fish from the Summer Isles that puffs up to ten times its own size when you poke it."      (ASOS, Sansa I)

I don’t remember the rest of the information we’re given about what she is responsible for, but to me, even though what she did was at Sansa’s expense, it was understandable that she would do it if it meant saving her Margaery. Obviously, framing Sansa is cruel, but if the option is to let a monster have your beloved grandaughter or find a way to kill him, I think most of us would find a way to rationalize that choice. All the same, there is a comparison between Joffrey and Robb’s murder, so the contrast between her/Mace and the Stark morality which is to protect children becomes the takeaway, and we have poor Sansa as an additional victim of her scheming to remind us these actions aren’t without additional victims, and of course, we also have Tommen and Myrcella to worry about. Anyway, I don’t think there is anything to indicate Willas would have had knowledge of her plan. Although, as I say that, as heir, it seems like he would know what his dad was up to?

He heard them cheering outside even before he reached the doors. The mob loved Margaery so much they were even willing to love Joffrey again. She had belonged to Renly,  the handsome young prince who had loved them so well he had come back  from beyond the grave to save them. And the bounty of Highgarden had  come with her, flowing up the roseroad from the south. The fools didn't  seem to remember that it had been Mace Tyrell who closed the roseroad to  begin with, and made the bloody famine. (ASOS, Tyrion VIII)

Not that he could stop it, just…their quest for power has a lot of victims. I do think Martin’s goal is to have characters do thinks that make sense to them and have that in conflict with what’s good for our favs, and at times I think that means he is…more forgiving than we are.

All what we don’t know aside, when writing fic, it’s really easy to work around impossible things. Willas could be written as ignorant because his family knew he wouldn’t accept their actions, but the fact that his family was plotting and doing things and as a result Sansa was targeted...well, that is a nice obstacle in the romance. Sansa can resent it. She could know, assume he knew, and be very cold/closed off and the fic is about falling in love regardless until they have an argument when it comes out and Willas is horrified. He could have believed it was Tyrion and had no idea his family was involved.

Or, you can allow for suspicion from the outset. Willas could think maybe she did poison Joffrey, so he struggles against caring for her because he thinks she’s dangerous, and then the climax of the story happens when he finds out the truth and chooses Sansa over his family, essentially. I mean, I think he’d come to love her even if he believed she killed Joffrey because Joffrey killed her dad so it would be understandable if she did, but of course, she didn’t and, if we’re to believe the characterization we have of him so far, I think he’d certainly disprove of using Sansa in such a way.

The point is, there are lots of ways to spin it for a fic!

[nine-mp3]

- a one-shot inspired by OnlyOneOf’s Love going back to black hair recently

- vampire!love / jisung

- reader!witch/warlock

- word count: 1755

- warnings: blood mention, narrator only curses once, other than that it is very pg-13 

Lifting up the hatch to the roof of the cabin, you carefully move your way up to the surface. The cool night air of the forest is inviting; promising for days when you couldn't sleep, too many thoughts in mind. You walked across the ceramic tiles, careful not to slip. In one of your hands was a can of Coca-Cola, a favorite drink of the mortals in the world. And it so happened to be the same for yourself though you were a witch/warlock. As for your other hand, you held a medium-sized juice pouch with dark red liquid contained inside; it was made of primarily cranberry juice and other herbs, a known supplement for blood that only witches or warlocks can make. A very popular consumable in the supernatural market. 

You sat down at the other end of the roof, a few feet away from the trap door, and set down the juice pouch, while opening the coke. As you take a sip, the carbonation hits your nose strongly, making you wrinkle your nose for a moment. A black and tawny cat, Chestnut, leapt up from the trap door. She walks over, joining you, brushing against your arms. Though it seemed like the cat was accompanying you, she in reality was waiting for someone else. But you give the cat what she wants anyways; attention, rubbing her head generously.

It wasn't long till said person came, as they had promised to do so the other day. You barely had enough time to blink when someone appeared besides you without any warning. Most people would be shocked, or perhaps fallen off the roof. And that is speaking from personal experience, from when you first befriended Jisung. 

You eventually got used to it; being friends with a vampire simply just came with these surprise appearances. It’s one of the lesser terrifying things in the world when you think about it, considering the life you live as one kind of supernatural being as well.

Chestnut leaps out of your arms without another thought and into his, purring endlessly into his chest. Jisung laughs, happy to greet an animal who wasn't afraid of him. Hands running through fur, he hugs the cat with the same amount of affection. 

"You made it. And on time," you said, a smile reaching your face upon seeing him. 

"Did you think I wouldn't show up?" Jisung asked, his dark crimson eyes moving away from the cat to look at you. 

He idly played with Chestnut's paws as the cat rested on his lap now; it was quite scary to see a cat be in the hands of a vampire literally, wary of Jisung's long dark nails. But over time, you came to know that he was one of the gentler vampires in the world. And cats knew better than all of us; Chestnut wouldn't approach Jisung if she felt he was dangerous. 

"No. It's not an easy travel route to here, I mean," you said, setting down your can of coke to poke the straw into the juice pouch you had reserved for him.

He scooted over closer and was mindful not to jostle the cat in his lap as he did. Jisung smiled giddly, teeth and fangs showing, as if he was a child receiving sweets, and took the juice pouch from your hands to take a sip. You watched as his image changed once he took a generous glup and swallowed; he ran a hand through his black locks of hair, before leaning back against his arms. The light from the night stars made his pale skin glisten, even more than usual. It's hard not to look at him. 

And here's the confession; you thought Jisung is very beautiful. Vampires just came with good looks. He's not the first vampire you've met in your life either. Safe to say most of them are assholes and only have one goal in mind: to survive. As for him, he is both beautiful inside and outside; the supernatural transformation did not take away his ability to be kind or blurr the meaning of it. You assumed it took a great amount of willpower to do such a thing. Comparing the life of a mortal to a vampire, it was drastically different.

"Worried that I can't handle a couple of forest demons?" Jisung asked then, elbowing me playfully. 

"I guess it's something like that... anyways, do you know what day it is?" you responded.

"March 20th? Or is it one of your witchy / warlocky holidays?"

"...Witchy / warlocky holidays? Name one."

"Halloween."

"Huh? That one applies to all supernatural creatures-"

Jisung snickered, seeming to enjoy the confusion on your face. You knew he was joking then and shoved him to the side as hard as you could with your shoulder. Unfortunately, vampires have insane super strength in this world also; your physical shove did nothing to him. It might've hurt just your own shoulder in the end. The vampire, unmoving, laughs even harder.

"God, you're annoying. I'll send you across the field with a fireball if you don't shut up," you said, folding your arms and rolling your eyes in irritation.

"You like me too much to do that," Jisung responded, his smile turning into a knowing one.

In moments like these, when he was making fun of you, it was easier not to look at him out of spite. Jisung teased you relentlessly, but it was part of the friendship. You did the same back, except this moment was particularly different. The meaning of this day. The vampire notices your demeanor, the seriousness, and stops laughing.

“Aw, come on...I know what day it is, y/n. March 20th, the Spring Solstice. The anniversary of the day we first met," he said now. "I remember and...it's not something I would forget."

You didn't immediately look at Jisung again when he said that. It was because no one had ever said anything like that to you, the level of genuineness you felt from his words; it caught you off guard. Warmth had crept up on your face, paired off with the sudden acceleration of your heart. This wasn't something you can hide from a vampire though, it was more out of embarrassment to not look at him now. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw Jisung's face become written with surprise.

It was probably also good to note that a witch’s /warlock's blood was particularly toxic to vampires, which was another reason why it wasn't hard to become friends with him in the first place; you didn't have to worry about him thinking of you as a midnight snack. 

There was a good moment of silence as you attempted to muster the courage to find a way to respond to that and of course, explain why in the world you were reacting this way. You were trying to figure out for the longest time about how you truly felt about Jisung; if you were confusing feelings of friendship for...something else. The last thing you wanted to do was to ruin it all. 

This had happened several times and before Jisung could ask any questions, you teleported away from him. And you were about to do that again. He seemed to have anticipated the move and grabbed your hands, a tight grasp, preventing you from casting the spell. This forced you to look at him, though mainly out of your own surprise. There was a concern on his face now instead, and you couldn't miss the dilation of his pupils either; this made you know, whatever you were feeling, Jisung mutually felt the same. You felt stupid for not seeing it sooner; it made sense since you did literally disappear every moment before you could see his reaction every single time. But you were only scared. 

“Sorry,” you blurted out, breaking the heavy silence. “I’ve just been confused and I don’t know what this all means and you’re like my best friend and I don’t want to lose you and you know how complicated it would be for beings like us and-”

Jisung removed one of his hands to cover your mouth, stopping you from talking. 

“Okay. Now when I remove my hand you’re going to breathe. Sound good?”

You nodded, complying with his words. When he takes his hand from over your mouth, you inhale and exhale as directed. Looking back over to Jisung, he has an assuring smile on his face. He held both your hands in his again, his thumbs gently stroking in comfort. You noted that Chestnut the cat had gone from his lap; she must’ve thought you two needed to work something out when sensing tension from you and fled. It was one less thing to worry about. 

“So, all of that...was the reason why you kept running away?” he asked. 

“Yes. It was,” you admitted, the feeling of embarrassment returning. 

Jisung laughed lightly and you saw it now, his own shyness visible. 

“It’s hard to find the words...but I honestly wondered if you’d ever really think of me that way. I know that I have this irresistible beauty-”

You rolled your eyes for the second time today at that statement, almost wanting to retract your hands, yet he again prevented you from leaving until he finished his sentence. 

“- let me finish! But we both know it’s the vampire charm, blah, blah. Anyways, what I’m really trying to say is that I do have the same feelings- I mean at least what I sense your heart is telling me and all your stinky blood rushing around like that in your veins. Since day one, if you really want this to get anymore cliche...a vampire falling for a witch/warlock, vice versa...happens once in a blue moon, doesn’t it?”

Of course, Jisung still manages to joke while making a confession out of awkwardness. Yet you couldn’t be any more happier though. You pulled your hands away from his to wrap your arms around his shoulders for a tight hug, not minding how cold he was. There was no hesitation from Jisung either, his own arms immediately moving to loop around your frame, enjoying the warmth that emitted from your body, tucking his head against yours. The two of you spent a while like that, enjoying each other’s presence, before beginning to talk again about memories, addressing the moments where you both were dodgy; overall, catching up with each other’s feelings as the night continued on.