#Accessibility Maturity Model

[1cewhxre]

۶ৎ pairing : yandere popular boy x reader

you never expected him to notice you. but now that he did, you hated nothing more than his attention.

the way you two met was purely coincidental. he was THE popular guy in school. toned body with a perfect six pack, chiseled jaw with perfectly proportioned face complemented well with his razor sharp wit and calm demeanor. he was mature, not the rash fame-chasing dimwit jock everyone initially thought him to be. he was an understanding man, always helping others in need as he could. he was a dream too good to be true.

and there were you. an antisocial loner, with no friends nor foes. you never even liked going out of our own, let alone go to school but in course of life, you had to like everyone else. . . reluctantly so. well, school wasn't all that unbearable either. you loved art class and your history teacher was always kind enough to let you eat lunch with her. you were an oddball but you were content like that. you found a nostalgic solace in silence that always seemed to calm you down.

Rowan never knew someone could be so beautiful. and God, did you take his breathe away. . . he had seen enough attractive people in his life to come to point where he was not fazed by beauty alone. growing up with supermodel parents not only gave him access to designer clothes but also gave him exposure to the modelling industry from a very early age. needless to say, he had already won the exquisite gene lottery anyway. but you. . . you were different.

he was never the kind of guy to fall in love at first sight. he thought the concept was not only overused but also impractical. he never understood which fool could ever fall in love at first sight?? until he was the fool in question. you were sitting in the farthest corner of library, reading something as the sunlight hit your face at a perfect angle. and when you looked up just to meet his eyes, his breathe hitched right then and their. your sun-kissed eyes, soft hair and glossy lips spoke more to him than words could and he knew right then and there, he had to have you. but you didn't look familiar. . . he doesn't remember seeing your face in his hoards of obsessed fans swarming him like mindless bees every morning. did you not know who he was? or did you just didn't care enough?

it didn't matter though. he liked you, anyway. and what's more fun than a little defiance from his darling? in the end, he always gets what he wants.

[cowboyschumi]

HEARTLESS

Summary: Lando Norris has entered his heartless era with no intention of leaving it anytime soon. Now he’s hunting for prey on Raya, and that’s where he stumbles upon you.

Author’s note: Y'all really thirst over Mister Norris, my god. English is not my first language. Enjoy the reading lovelies, interactions are much appreciated.

Warnings: Slightly suggestive, cheating mention, cursing ig. Tried to be inclusive, reader's gender is not specified.

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COWBOYSCHUMI | 2025 All rights reserved. Do not copy, translate, or upload on other platforms.

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Luisa was the best Lando ever had, everyone knew it including him, but he wouldn’t admit it out loud. The only ones cheering over their breakup were jealous, parasocial thirteen-year-olds.

But that was long ago. He moved on pretty quickly, not exactly beating the cheating allegations. Russian model this, Brazilian actress that… and it was all true. There was no denying. He was really enjoying his singleness, having a blast every heated Sunday. But beyond that? Nothing. He got scared easily by commitment or brushed off any trace of a slight chance of dating someone seriously.

He didn’t know why, this tendency to avoid and escape. Deep down, he knew he was hurt. Not hurt by someone else, though. He did it all by himself, ruining the only real thing he ever had. Fans who cared pointed it out: 'His spark is missing,' 'We miss silly old Lando!'

And after claiming he didn’t want to mature because he was happy where he was, he finally matured. Or at least, he pretended to, showing himself as nonchalant and bold. Expressiveness and cameras were just a performance, because in his daily life, he still acted like a teenage boy, eager to get laid

Anyone with an average experience on dating apps knew they were the worst—a way to boost egos based on looks, only to end up rejected and discarded. Raya seemed different, more polite, you guessed. You weren’t the dating type, but curiosity got the best of you. You wanted to know what the hype was about.

Lando, on the other hand, spent most of his day on that app. Every girl swiped right on him, but he rarely matched with someone he actually liked. He wasn’t too strict about looks, he was more of a 'the bigger, the better' type of guy.

Raya wasn’t Tinder. Access was limited, and confidentiality was a must. That’s why you were really surprised when you got in after an exhausting approval process. Your friends freaked out, screamed, and practically climbed the walls of your apartment—the excitement was real. Maybe even a little more than yours.

"Hand me the phone." I don’t even know all these people you’re swiping left and right on." Your patience was limited, and your friends knew exactly how to test it. They kept using your Raya like it was theirs while you minded your own business, eating ice cream. You had no intention of swiping, and the girls knew it, that’s why they took matters into their own hands.

"Oh. My. God. Shut up."

"That’s Lando Norris!" One of them immediately snatched the phone from your friend’s hands.

"Who’s Lando Norris?"

They looked at you like you had just committed a crime, or like they’d seen a ghost behind you. You weren’t sure if your question was out of place or if it was the fact that you had just spoken with a spoonful of ice cream in your mouth

"You’re kidding, right?" Finally, one of them spoke after a long, awkward silence.

FOMO—a word used by chronically online people to describe the fear of missing out, not knowing what’s going on, feeling excluded. That was exactly how you felt for not knowing who Lando Norris was.

"Formula One driver?" Now the phone was in your hands. You were reading his description with the screen practically glued to your face, like a mom who can’t see a thing unless it’s that close.

"That guy beat Verstappen a few times, right?" That was the only thing you could come up with, just from scrolling through Twitter and catching bits of the news. You didn’t know a single thing about the sport.

And sometimes, famous people liked that: their love interests not knowing anything about them, their jobs, the rumors, or the creepy facts.

Your Raya profile didn’t have anything special, aside from your picture-perfect photos. Celebrities didn’t actually care about you deep down—only if you fit their beauty standards. Being active and checking profiles wasn’t on your to-do list. It was just pure curiosity.

But somehow, you two matched. May the universe know under what circumstances and why.

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"When will I have the chance to meet you?"

His text was blunt, like you already knew each other. Maybe even a little desperate.

"What happened to 'Hello, how are you, my name is…'?"

You answered sarcastically, but truthfully. Not introducing yourselves was kind of rude. But you got the point, Lando didn’t care about who you were or what you had to say. The quicker you ended up in his bed, the better.

He laughed at your text, you had the kind of sense of humor he’d fall for. He wouldn’t lie, he enjoyed how obsessed girls were with him and how quickly the dirty talk escalated with just one message. But to his surprise, you weren’t that easy to win over.

"Haha, sorry. Is dinner fine with you?"

Wow, he was really a bad texter. The driest you’d ever seen, dare you say. Was it a guy thing or just a wannabe mysterious famous person thing? You hoped the conversation would be better in person because, damn, it’d be a shame if his pretty face had nothing to say.

"Send me the addy. I don’t need an F1 driver picking me up, I’d rather pass."

Your fear of speed was a thing.

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Lando was attractive. You weren’t exactly interested, but nervousness ran through your veins. Dates always did this over you—stuttering, sweaty palms, and way too much overthinking. You even considered canceling, but your friends wouldn’t let you.

You were a fashion design student, meaning you had some knowledge of trends and what suited your silhouette. Lately, silky long attires were your go-to for night fits; simple, elegant. You dressed for yourself, for comfort, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the attention and the flattering compliments on your fashion sense.

Monaco was small. Getting anywhere was a short drive, so the Uber didn’t take long. But as you stepped out of the car, your stomach twisted. The restaurant in front of you was huge, glowing with warm lights, yet no people coming in or out. The classic internet trap flashed through your mind—what if there was no Lando Norris waiting for you at all?

“Y/N?”

His voice sounded unsure. He was glued to his phone, shamelessly checking if you actually looked like the pictures he’d been thirsting over on that awful app.

You turned around slowly, mentally cursing yourself, and then your friends. And there he was.

He really screamed Formula One driver. The expensive car gave him away immediately. You had boots on, and he was wearing sneakers, making him not nearly as tall as you expected. You bit your cheek, trying not to laugh at the fact that you were practically the same height.

How were you supposed to act on a date with someone worldwide famous?

Lando leaned in to kiss your cheek, but you instinctively extended your hand for a handshake instead. The night hadn’t even started, and you already wanted the earth to swallow you.

“Shall we?”

He offered his arm, effortlessly charming. Gentleman, innit?

You hesitated before looping your arm through his, still not saying a word. But as you stepped into the restaurant, your stomach dropped.

The place was empty. No other customers. Just you and him.

Your face went pale because there was only one explanation.

He did not…

“Mister Norris!”

A well-dressed waiter greeted him with familiarity. They knew each other. With a simple hand gesture, he led you both to your table. The level of formality made you feel like royalty.

Dim lighting, soft music. A candle flickered in the center of the round table, it had the scent of chocolate, if your nostrils weren’t failing you. The ambiance was undeniably beautiful.

He really outdid himself.

You sat down, eyes narrowing at him. "You did not rent out this whole place just for us."

"Yeah, I did."

Lando chuckled, his smile boyish—like a kid caught red-handed. You playfully shoved his shoulder, you hated surprises and gifts in any format.

Your face burned red, so you instinctively hid behind the menu. Of course, he noticed. He found it adorable.

His foot lightly tapped yours under the table, trying to get your attention. "Are we playing hide and seek now?"

You sighed, setting the menu down just so he could see you roll your eyes. "What are you ordering?" you asked in a hushed tone, like it was some kind of secret, despite the fact that no one else was around.

Your elbows rested on the table as you leaned slightly toward him. He did the same. The tiny candle was the only thing between you.

There was no need for flirtation or innuendos—the tension was already there.

For you two, banter was enough.

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"So, fashion designer, huh?" He asked, cutting his food, trying to throw the conversation toward you.

"So, Formula One driver, huh?" You mocked him, mimicking his tone—because, seriously, that was the most basic question ever. Your background was more than obvious; it was explicitly written on Raya. But you got it—he was just as nervous as you were.

One thing Lando was sure of: you weren’t like his other dates. My god, you were hard to get. An hour in, and there had been no physical contact at all—just chatter, chatter. Not that he was complaining. You were an interesting and undecipherable human being.

"How many girls have you brought here?"

You loved making people uncomfortable with your questions, especially when you already knew the answer—you just wanted to see their reaction. Lando practically choked on his food at your out-of-the-blue assumption.

"W-what?"

It was hilarious how fast he grabbed his water, like he couldn’t believe how unfiltered you were. You repeated the question, and he had no choice but to answer.

"I don’t know… two or three?"

At least he was honest. Or tried to be.

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Dinner happened, to your surprise, quickly—because time moved fast when you were really enjoying yourself, losing track of it completely. Luckily, the Formula One driver caught up with your jokes, knowing exactly how to turn them back on you. Like an Uno reverse card. For you, there was nothing more intimate than teasing each other mutually and just the right amount. Some people couldn’t take a joke, and that was such a turn-off. But Lando simply got you.

Now, you were exiting the glamorous restaurant, shoulders covered by his huge coat. Your laughter was loud, and in just two hours, you had already built inside jokes between the two of you.

"Looking forward to seeing your replacement next Sunday if you catch a cold."

"And I'm looking forward to seeing your pretty face again."

He ended all the joking with a cheeky, flirtatious remark—he knew exactly how to make a girl’s legs weak using nothing but his natural charisma.

"You never shut up, do you?"

And then you did the unthinkable.

Without thinking twice, you pulled him in, your lips merging into one. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, finally releasing all the tension and need that had been weighing on you.

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The car you once eyed as luxurious was now the place where you were making out frenetically. The kissing was obscene, neither of you knew where all that passion came from, but it was addictive.

His firm hands gripped the fabric of your branded clothing, holding your hips in place, not wanting you to make any movement against his lap. It’d be the death of him—he was already suffering a nightmare between his legs.

Your fingers instantly got lost in his curls, tangling and pulling them mid-kiss. Lando’s mouth was practically fighting against yours, turning it into the sloppiest mess. Heaven had never felt this chaotic. You took your time exploring every corner of his mouth with your tongue, while his hands traveled deliberately across your body, wishing there was no fabric separating you two. His fingertips traced you as if you were as fragile as a sculpture, slow and delicate. You melted under his touch, squirming on top of him at the barest touch. It was inoffensive, yet he knew exactly how to caress all the right places.

A shiver ran down your spine as your body suddenly felt colder than seconds ago—a thin breeze brushed against your right thigh. He was sliding up your outfit, eager to go further.

"Easy, driver." A whisper escaped your lips, breathy from all the intense air-exchanging. Your lips brushed against each other, expectant but unmoving. "I know you like adrenaline and fast things, but not tonight."

Fucking on the first date wasn’t your thing, you had at least some dignity. This wasn’t just a hook-up; a few butterflies were already flying around in your stomach, and you despised it.

With half-lidded eyes, he looked up at you, locking gazes. His puppy-blue eyes were now dark with lust. His swollen, glossy lips formed a slight pout. If you kept staring at him—at his pathetic, needy, almost convincing face—you’d be stripping down quicker than lightning.

Trying to put an end to his little show, you placed a hand over his face and shoved him away, cutting off all dangerous eye contact.

"Not tonight gives me a free pass for a second date, according to my understanding." He contradicted you, attempting to sound smart with a cocky grin spread across his face.

"You really are something else, Lando Norris." You did your thing to keep him quiet, preventing any cringey pick-up line from escaping his lips, and restarted the make-out session.

He was relieved that you’d shut him up quickly, because the longer it went on, the more he felt like verbalizing the flying feelings in his stomach.

[chaoticace2005]

"I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream": TADC Inspiration Analysis

I was reviewing The Amazing Digital Circus' IMDB page, as well as it's wikipedia page, and in doing so noticed the piece of trivia that the main inspiration for the show was the short story "I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream" by Harlan Ellison, and in my curiosity I looked it up.

I have a link for the document here for anyone interested in reading, but be aware that there is mature content including mentions of NSFW, body horror, gore, and slut-shaming. But I break it down and go over parallels and implications below.

To summarize, this short story published in 1967 (which would later have a video game modeled after it) follows five humans who are trapped in a complex by a sentient AI called AM, who was created to coordinate efforts in World War III, and later become sentient (due to input by those five humans in various ways.) AM responded by exterminating humanity, leaving only those five humans behind who it/he would continue to torture for 109 years, not allowing them the freedom of death.

Off the bat you can already see some of the common themes, with humans being trapped in a world run by an AI where they are unable die. Now, we don't know what's happening outside of the game in TADC, where it is possible everyone else is simply moving on with their lives (especially since the members of TADC seemed to have joined at different times, and there is no mention of any apocalyptic happening (unless memories have been altered, which I'm not ruling out since despite Caine's assertions he can't control their minds, that doesn't appear to always be the case.)) But still, the set up for the protagonists is the same in a lot of ways, regardless of the events of the outside world.

The five humans are regularly tormented by AM (which originally stood for "Allied Mastercomputer", but then the humans later changed it to stand for "Adaptive Manipulator" and then "Aggressive Menace" (while the AI itself calls itself that because of "I think therefore I am," which is something regularly repeated to break up segments in the story (and now I'm thinking of this fan made TADC song.) The story starts with the cast seeing the blood drained, hanging corpse of a missing member (Gorrister) who then joins the group, proving the image to be a trick by AM to torment them. Later on, another member of the cast, Nimdok, says that he hallucinated seeing canned goods in an icy cave, which both the narrator (Ted) and Gorrister are dubious of given AM's propensity for tricks. Still, this is something incredibly value because one of AM's many ways to torment the cast is by starving them. The five ultimately end up going on a long, arduous quest to try and find the food, with the AI regularly throwing challenges their way like extreme winds, earthquakes, and giant birds.

Going back to TADC, in both these pieces of media we see characters chasing after a goal that is believed by others to be unattainable. Pomni (and some of the others) with the exit, and this cast with their food.

Furthermore, we see the consequence in the story of someone trying to escape, with the character Benny, who is already on the edge of sanity as is, talk about escaping, leading AM to punish him by binding him. (Consider: in this story, a character is forced into darkness, while in TADC, darkness is the only thing that appears to calm the Abstracted.)

The story ends with them being tormented by getting close to their goals, but ultimately unable to attain them (they have access to weapons to hunt a giant bird, but they aren't functional. They find the cans but there aren't ways to open them.) And in response to this, Benny ends up attacking and eating Gorrister, which causes Ted to conclude that the only true escape is death, and while AM won't let them starve or kill themselves, they are able to kill each other if the AI isn't given time to stop them. This leads to Ted killing Benny, while Ellen kills Nimdok, understanding Ted's intentions, and then letting Ted kill her. This leaves Ted alone, with AM taking its revenge by turning him into a blob that is doomed to just exist, tormented by his memories and unable to scream due to his lack of a mouth.

Now, while TADC is a psychological horror in a lot of its own ways, I am unsure that it will take quite a dark turn in its ending. But I still wanted to draw out some of the parallels that appear to exist between them, as well as how this could inform the ending.

One thing is that the cast in IHNMAIMS is five people, while in TADC it is currently believed to be six (assuming none of the NPC theories are true.) Now, this may not have any ramifications and simply be a difference in numbers, or it could point to the fact that later in the show, the cast gets cut down by a member, due to either abstraction or the reveal of an NPC amongst them (although Gooseworx has disproven the "Jax is an NPC" theory.) But ultimately this could mean is TADC, only five characters end up going on a journey to find the exit, paralleling the five characters in IHNMAIMS.

Caine vs AM. Gooseworx has said that "Digital Circus is very inspired by I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream. But instead of AM being a living embodiment of hate, he's a fun-loving wacky little guy."

In both pieces of media, we have an AI that is ultimately tormenting the humans that are being held captive within its domain, but as Gooseworx said, the main difference is the intent. In IHNMAIMS, it is revealed that AM chose to keep these five humans captive and torment them because they were the ones responsible for its sentience, and in reality it is captive like they are as it is unable to die. Caine may not be doing what he is doing intentionally, but the point stands that he is held captive by his programming and responsibilities. We see his increased panic over the episodes as he realizes he may not be doing his job/purpose well, and it breaks him. We don't know if he is the one who is responsible for holding them captive, or if he's a tool made by the person truly responsible, but as of now he appears unaware of what truly is causing the humans around him distress. In the Pilot we see him play with the idea of an Exit Door without comprehending what it is the others really want. We see in episode 3 that he can't seem to compute the criticism or feedback Zooble gives him, because it's not something in his vocabulary. AM and Caine are both captors and held captive is possibly different ways, and as a result torment those they are stuck with. In IHNMAIMS, AM's fate is to basically be doomed to existence forever, the only freedom it has being to torment Ted. And it's possible Caine's fate may be similar, or they may instead subvert this by giving Caine freedom. Not by escaping the Circus, but by being able to go beyond his directive/coding, understanding the humans more and possibly even helping them at the end, since empathy appears to be a large theme in the show, and we already see with Gummigoo how non-humans grow outside of their original purpose. Another parallel between AM and Caine I wanted to point out is that of biblical imagery. In IHNMAIMS, AM is equivocated to God in a lot of ways, both in Ted's internal dialogue, and in later imagery with AM appearing in forms similar to how God appeared in religious scriptures, including a burning bush. With Caine, we have his name and the possible "Caine and Abel" reference with "C&A", as well as Loolilalu literally calling him "God" with a stained glass window in episode 2. (Plus all that angel and Hell stuff in episode 3.)

Cannibalism. Possibly no deeper meaning behind it but wanted to throw out that Benny attacks and eats Gorrister, and in episode 5 Jax attacks and tries to eat both Gangle and "Evil Jax" (albeit this is played more as a joke, and since it has previously been shown characters can't die or eat (?) the impact is a lot less than in IHNMAIMS.)

Stabbing with spikes. In IHNMAIMS, Ted and Ellen kill Benny and Nimdok (and then Ted kills Ellen) with ice spears, with Benny being stabbed by Ted just under the ribs. In episode 2, Ragatha gets stabbed with a pointy rock that penetrates the car they're driving. (Again, she is completely fine from this so the impact is clearly different, and it's more of a throw-away gag, but I wonder if this was intentional.)

The human casts:

Breaking the cast of IHNMAIMS down one by one, we have: Ted, the narrator who is cynical and often the voice of reason. The has harsh opinions about the others in the group and is convinced that they hate him. He is also the youngest of them all and does not believe he has been changed much mentally by AM compared to others. He ultimately kills the others to free them and is doomed to an existence as a blob. Ellen, repeatedly dunked on by Ted's internal dialogue, she is the only female of the cast and is viewed as a "fake slut," showing empathy and concern for the others, especially Benny, which Ted writes off as her only doing because the two sleep together. Ted is constantly skeptical of her and believes her to be often lying, with his view of her clearly skewed due to misogyny and cynicism. She is killed by Ted after she kills Nimdok. Benny, previously a brilliant theorist and college professor, Benny appears to have gone through the most amount of changes by AM, body transformed to be ape-like, and has grown insane over time. He tries to escape and is blinded as punishment, and cracks at the end of the story, cannibalizing Gorrister. Gorrister, previously a conscientious objector and peace activist, AM twisted his mind to be apathetic, lacking passion. He is the one who appears to always explain the story of the war to Benny, who regularly forgets and is calmed by the familiar story. He is cannibalized by Benny and Ted puts him out of his misery. Nimdok, given that name by AM, who likes senseless words, is the one who convinces the others to go on the quest in search of food, even though he himself is aware it could be a trick. He frequently retreats, coming back pale and traumatized. He is killed by Ellen. Going through these characters, there definitely appear to be some parallels, the most obvious in that of Ted, Ellen, and Benny. While TADC more follows Pomni, the narrator Ted definitely seems to have a perspective that more fits Jax, especially with the cynical perspective, distrust of others, and specific hatred towards Ellen, who appears to be a parallel to Ragatha. Both Ted and Jax view these respective characters as fake in their displayed compassion, although Ted does care enough to kill her in the end, hoping her look was that of gratitude. Jax and Ted are also both the youngest of their respective casts (with Gooseworx saying in a Tumblr post that Jax is 22, with the next youngest character being Zooble, who is 22 1/2.) Then with Benny, we have Kinger, both previously academics (Kinger studied computer science for 7 years), and having been driven mad by the setting they've been forced into, with a bad memory at times. Gorrister appears apathetic, similar to Zooble often is, with both also comforting those around them at times (Gorrister telling Benny the familiar story to calm him, Zooble being compassionate towards Gangle.) Pomni and Nimdok are both given nonsense names (XDDCC), pushing for quests that others view as futile, and regularly traumatized. Nimdok and Zooble also both share the similarity that they tend to separate themselves from the group a lot of the time. Gangle is one I have more difficulty finding a parallel for. Her emotions seem dictated by her masks, which makes me think about how AM altered the emotional state of Gorrister (ultimately making him care less (which reminds me of Gangle in episode 4 where she starts falling apart.) Like Gorrister, she is the one attacked and eaten by a fellow cast member (although there does not appear to be any lasting effects on Gangle's end.) Zooble, Pomni, and Gangle are ultimately harder to find direct correlates for, but in the cast of Jax, Ragatha, and Kinger, there are definitely a lot of arguments that can be made to tie them to characters from the 1967 story.

The blobs. The story ends with Ted as a blob that is aware but unable to speak or act, trapped to exist in purgatory. This could be indicative of the nature of those who abstracted and point to the fact that they are aware to some capacity and trapped in the basement, showing that this isn't "death" so much as a new form of entrapment (possibly a safeguard because the game deems them too "unstable?) (Silly thing, but in the recent ad for the costumed TADC animiniz, it has Caine being the one to turn Kaufmo into his abstracted form. This isn't necessarily canon, since Gooseworx has discussed how they are not responsible for the merchandise produced (and subsequently, likely not the marketing) but I think it's a fun little thing to consider in the context of this story.)

The ending. What could this mean? Ted's fate, freeing the others while dooming himself, could point to how the characters will escape the circus. Unlike in IHNMAIMS, characters in TADC seem unable to kill each other, and abstraction possibly traps them in a different way (see the above point), so they may genuinely have a way to escape to the real world, but if it parallels the story's ending, it may be at the expense of one of the cast members.

But the question remains: who would be Ted? One theory going around, based on the Intermission we see in episode 5, is that Kinger will have the chance at freedom, but give it up, choosing to stay behind with his wife. This is based on how when the characters are crushed by either bowling balls (Jax and Pomni) or squashed with cake (Gangle and Ragatha), Kinger grabs the bowling ball before it can fall on him, then getting knocked down by a chess piece. The other possibility I see with this is Jax, who consistently aligns with Ted in terms of character traits and would likely be the one to take the step if escape required something extreme (like how Ted killed his fellow prisoners.) Considering the idea that what is seen in the Intermission does symbolize the future for the characters, this does give interesting implications for the ending of the show. Kinger ends up in the role of Ted, staying behind, while Jax and Pomni are "squashed" and Gangle and Ragatha are "caked" (which some fans theorize to mean that Jax and Pomni escape, while Gangle and Ragatha end up abstracted, which could be the case, or could represent in another way their fates, with maybe Ragatha and Gangle having a similar fate/being paired together at the end, while Jax, Pomni, and Kinger are grouped together, but Kinger sacrifices himself for them or something. Notice that Zooble is absent though, which makes the cast only five characters, the same amount in IHNMAIMS, and could mean that they possibly aren't part of the escape for whatever reason?

Will they see the outside? In IHNMAIMS, we have the sad ending of Ted being trapped for what seems like eternity with AM, although there doesn't appear to be much waiting for him outside other than a post-apocalyptic wasteland. We never see the outside, and are subjected, like Ted, to this prison. The question then is, will we see the outside in TADC? If the others escape, will we be able to see them come to (a "better" ending to IHNMAIMS tragic one), will we be trapped with whoever remains behind, will things end with them waking up, do they have anything to wake up to (how would their bodies have been maintained? Is escape just death, like it is in the story?)

The Amazing Digital Circus is only inspired by this short story, so it's possible that only the settings mirror each other, and there are no further implications, but I wanted to explore possibilities if TADC does end up drawing more from it. There are a lot of questions left unanswered currently, and until the time comes we won't know how much TADC parallels the story of the characters in "I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream."

But yeah! This took me wayyyy too long to write, and again, I have no idea how much of this will end up meaning anything, but I wanted to break this down with that knowledge that TADC was inspired by Ellison's story!

[dandelionsresilience]

Good News - July 8-14

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $Kaybarr1735! And if you tip me and give me a way to contact you, at the end of the month I'll send you a link to all of the articles I found but didn't use each week!

1. Zoo welcomes birth of four endangered horse foals

“[The Marwell Zoo in GB] said it was "delighted" to welcome the arrivals to the endangered Przewalski’s horse herd. All four are female and said to be "doing well" after two were born in May and two in June. […] “These horses, that were previously listed extinct in the wild, are an example of how zoo breeding programmes can help restore threatened species around the world.” […] All the Przewalski’s horses alive today are descended from just 12 individuals. Current estimates suggest there are 178 mature individuals living in the wild.”

2. Restoring woodlands and planting trees for sustainability success

“In 2023, [the Marwell Zoo] planted 9,000 new trees […] both within the zoo and on our surrounding land. […] Marwell tries to encourage natural feeding behaviour and nutrition by including leafy material [in animals’ feed] as much as possible. […] Planting more trees and enhancing management of our existing woodlands, prepares the way to further self-sufficiency in browse production in the future. Plus, it creates new habitats for wildlife in our woodland areas.”

3. Inclusive Playgrounds Allow Children Of All Abilities To Play

“With ramps allowing children in wheelchairs to ascend the central play structure, as well as numerous other swings and apparatus usable for children of all abilities, the 16,000-square-foot P.K.’s Place is St. Paul’s first fully inclusive playground. […] To be universally accessible, a play area must have at least 70% of its play features fully accessible, far more than required by the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA). […] Play areas should allow parents and grandparents with disabilities to participate as well.”

4. Combination treatment can increase human insulin-producing cells in vivo

“[Diabetes-model mice] were treated with the combination therapy [of a plant product called harmine and “a widely used class of type 2 diabetes therapy”] and their diabetes was rapidly reversed. Strikingly, human beta cell numbers increased by 700 percent over three months with this drug combination. "This is the first time scientists have developed a drug treatment that is proven to increase adult human beta cell numbers in vivo. This research brings hope for the use of future regenerative therapies to potentially treat the hundreds of millions of people with diabetes," said Dr. Garcia-Ocaña, the paper's corresponding author.”

5. Decades of Dedication: Australia’s Largest Ongoing Urban Restoration Project

“[Friends of Lake Claremont] has transformed the area into a thriving ecosystem, re-establishing native habitats and fostering biodiversity. This year, 800 native seedlings (100 trees, 350 shrubs and 350 ground covers) have been planted on the northwestern buffer of Lake Claremont. Volunteers replaced a large Port Jackson fig (Ficus rubiginosa) affected by [beetle] infestation with native plants to enhance the local wildlife habitat, thereby benefiting insects, frogs, birds and brown bandicoots. […] Overall, the project contributes to the area’s function as a regional ecological corridor, linking inland bushlands, the Swan River and the Indian Ocean.”

6. Important habitat for fish in Heart of the Fraser now conserved

“British Columbia’s iconic salmon now have more protected spawning habitat in the lower Fraser River, thanks to the Nature Conservancy of Canada’s (NCC’s) conservation acquisition of Carey Island. […] Carey Island and its gravel channels offer calm and crucial spawning and rearing habitat for the river’s fish and aquatic species. […] The Pelólxw Tribe […is also] actively working to restore the resilience of aquatic habitat within this stretch of the Lower Fraser. NCC is exploring opportunities to collaborate with the Pelólxw Tribe in support of their vision for stewardship of the area, which prioritizes both ecological and cultural values.”

7. Prime editing efficiently corrects cystic fibrosis mutation in human lung cells

“[R]esearchers have developed a gene-editing approach that efficiently corrects the most common mutation that causes cystic fibrosis, found in 85 percent of patients. With further development, it could pave the way for treatments that are administered only once and have fewer side effects. The new method precisely and durably corrects the mutation in human lung cells, restoring cell function to levels similar to that of Trikafta [the standard treatment since 2019].”

8. Montana’s High Court Considers a Constitutional Right to a Stable Climate

“At issue was the appeal of a decision last year, when a Montana judge blocked a state law that prohibited agencies from considering climate impacts when deciding whether to approve fossil fuel projects such as new power plants, pipelines or mining. The ruling, by District Judge Kathy Seeley, was prompted by a lawsuit filed by 16 youths who argued that the law violated Montana’s constitutional right to a “clean and healthful environment.” It was the first ruling in the United States to effectively establish constitutional rights to a stable climate[….]”

9. The US is about to get its first solar-covered canal

“The first canal-based solar project in the U.S. is nearing completion on tribal lands south of Phoenix, Arizona. […] The long, narrow solar array design would snake along the line of the canal and tap into the local electrical distribution grid every 1,000 feet, or every one megawatt. […] “Canal solar allows for greater power production per land size, cleaner water, less power transmission losses, and significant reduction in evaporation[….]” Covering the entire 8,000 miles of canals and waterways managed by the Bureau of Reclamation with solar panels could generate over 25 gigawatts of renewable energy and reduce water evaporation by tens of billions of gallons[….]”

10. Camera traps offer glimpse of first beaver born in Northumberland for 400 years

“"It’s such a relief that they have bred successfully and to see a new fluffy kit swimming with the family[….]” In just one year [since releasing the beavers], there has been a noticeable increase in resident trout, says the National Trust, along with more regular visits from kingfishers and grey herons. There are more insects at the site, too, thanks to the organic matter that builds up behind the dams, which in turn provides food for Daubenton’s bats. […] Beavers also play an important role in creating habitats that are more resilient to the effects of climate change[….]”

July 1-7 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[jerryandersonsdaughterinlaw]

Abby's physique is not only believable, it's the natural result of her life circumstances.

If anything, her body is refreshingly grounded for a game protagonist, especially compared to most media portrayals of "strong" women with zero visible muscle. Abby looks how she fights: capable, powerful, and real.

Let’s break it down.

• Weight: 170-175 Ibs

• Height: 5'9"

• Model: Colleen Fotsch (female crossfit athlete)

Abby's frame is dense with lean muscle. Muscle is significantly more dense than fat, and takes up less space for the same amount of weight. She carries most of it in her:

• Shoulders and upper back

• Arms (especially triceps/deltoids)

• Glutes and thighs

• Core (abs and obliques)

A woman of her stature and build would easily be in the 170-180 range if she's extremely lean and muscular, like she is in game. Any number much lower than that is unrealistic for the mass she's visibly carrying.

Sooo, what makes Abby’s physique believable?

Well, some women are naturally predisposed to greater muscle mass, broader shoulders, and more mesomorphic (muscular) body types. Abby clearly has broad shoulders, thick muscle insertions, and a dense upper body frame, all markers of a mesomorphic structure. Genetics aren't everything, but they lay the foundation. She clearly trains hard, but she's also built for it.

Mesomorphic bodies are marked by a medium, rectangular frame with more muscle than fat. They have a natural ability to build and maintain muscle mass easily. They often respond well to weight training and are naturally strong, making them well suited for building muscle. Their bodies are more efficient at muscle repair and growth, allowing them to handle higher training volumes without prolonged recovery periods.

The WLF operates in a repurposed NFL stadium. Real world NFL gyms are loaded with equipment for powerlifting, strength, endurance, and functional movement. That would give Abby perfect access to functional hypertrophy (muscle building for real world performance). She's also a soldier, patrolling, climbing, hauling gear, and likely trains daily. Her life is CrossFit.

Unlike most of the world in TLOU, the WLF is self sufficient and well fed. They have livestock, crops, butcher shops, bakeries, and overflow tables of food in the mess hall. Abby likely eats a high protein, calorie dense diet every day: meat, eggs, grains, vegetables, fruit, dairy. Nutrition is crucial for building and maintaining lean mass. Without it, the training wouldn't produce these results.

People often forget Abby is 20-23 years old in TLOU2, but she's been training for years before the game begins. She was raised in a Firefly environment, began training with the WLF long before we see her, and clearly has a consistent routine. You don't look like that overnight, but with 4-7 years of consistent strength training and proper nutrition; yes, a woman can absolutely build a body like that. Being a mesomorphic body type would help her achieve this faster as well, because that body structure is able to bulk up and maintain muscle mass easily. 4 years would probably get her most of the way there and then beyond that would be maintenance and muscle maturity.

In flashbacks, as a teen, she's much smaller, but she still has broad shoulders, a narrow waist, a fairly straight build, and crucially, she's already strong, bragging about pushing 185Ibs as an adolescent. That's already impressive, especially for someone who hasn't really built visible muscle mass yet. That shows she has a naturally strong nervous system and leverage, two things that make people strong before they ever look muscular. Many women (and men) get strong long before they look strong. Muscle appearance is slower to come than strength gains.

Young Abby is lean and athletic, not jacked, and she still lifts well above bodyweight. That's still realistic. Beginners and youth athletes often make neurological strength gains first— learning to recruit the right muscles better. So her teenage bench press is actually very plausible and a hint at just how strong her baseline was before she bulked up in her 20s. Once she's older, with more food, training, and stress adaptation? Her visible muscle mass simply catches up to her strength.

Abby's strength, build, and genetics are all grounded in realism. She's not the strongest woman in the WLF. She's definitely not the strongest person overall. She is genetically built for pressing power and upper body strength. She's been training for years with resources. She's had steady food, gym access, and reason to train for survival.

Most of the "unrealistic" accusations come from:

• Male insecurity ("a woman can't be stronger than me!")

• Misunderstanding of female biology and anatomy

• Inexperience with athletic women (like CrossFitters, weightlifters, bodybuilders)

In reality, there are plenty of real life women who look like Abby, including her body model Colleen Fotsch, who is not on steroids. She's just a professional athlete that trains hard, eats well and has good genetics. Her look isn't "average," but neither is the situation Abby is in. She's a hardened, experienced soldier in a well resourced militia.

Some real world examples of women who look like Abby:

• Colleen Fotsch (Abby's body model)

• Kelsey Kiel (CrossFit athlete)

• Mattie Rogers (Olympic weightlifter)

• Natasha Aughey (bodybuilder)

• Tia-Clair Toomey (6x Fittest Woman on Earth in

CrossFit)

• @foreverabby (Professional badass)

None of these women are on steroids. They're disciplined, well fed, and genetically built for performance. And they look very much like Abby.

Abby's physique is not only believable, but grounded in realism, if you understand physiology, training, and the world she lives in. If Joel had a big, muscular frame, nobody would question it. But because Abby is a woman with visible muscle mass, it makes certain men uncomfortable and they use "unrealistic" as a proxy for "I don't like it." But make no mistake, Abby's body is entirely achievable. And it makes sense for her role, her training, and her story.

[the-artist-grimm]

Crimson Angel COTL AU Masterpost

Any and all posts related to Crimson Angel will be listed here!

Character Asks: Open!!! (feel free to send asks! Even if I haven't drawn the character yet, it forces me to do that lol)

Status: Ongoing :3

Main Tag for ALL

MAIN LORE

Main Story

Crimson Angel AU Overview - The Lamb, Anthea

First Meetings (Text for now, will expand with Comic Later)

Starfall Comic 1 2 3 (Pre-Friendship. Early Darkwood Arc. Comic Complete)

The Lamb's Gender Discovery Comic (Late Darkwood Arc)

Narinder's Betrayal (Plus Extra)

Aym and Baal's Chaining

The Situation with the Twins and Forneus' Relationship

Aym's Death

Twins' Reaction to Narinder's Betrayal

Forgiveness Question

Nona The Cult's First Follower/How Dissenters are Handled

Miscellaneous Trivia (Mixed parts of timeline hence no proper place on the list) 1 2

Cult Management/Day to Day

Cult Management Basic Ask Answer (See Detailed on for more in-depth)

Contraband List

Character Motives/Views

Bishops Thoughts on the Narinder Situation

Past Vessels 1-12

The Lamb's Family

The Three Remaining Crown Bearers

Nona Relationships

Nightmares and Masks

Lamb Accession Ask

Ship Chart

ART

MAIN ART (Canon art) #crimson angel au art

Lamb, Narinder, and Twins Model Sheets

Vessel #7, Forneus Doodle (Over 300 years prior to the Last Lamb)

First Meeting Crownie

Daily Pronoun Game

Hair

Zoom Calls with the Cats 1

Baba Doodle/Ask

Early Post Resurrection of Aym and Baal

Sick Day

Lullabies

Cuddles 1 2

Narilamb Spice 1 (Mature viewing only)

Narilamb Doodles 1 2 3 4 5

Narinder Studies (Outdated) 1 2

Aym and Baal (Outdated)

The Lamb Outfit Studies

The Red Crown Royal Family Fancy Outifts

Special (aka holiday/event art and gift art/fics)

Happy Halloween 2024

COTL-TOBER

Happy Holidays 2024 (Aka The Lamb and Narinder cameo in my OCs world as elves!)

Happy New Year 2025

Valentines 2025

#arts for grimm

#fics for grimm

SILLY ART (Canon to noncanon but specifically a silly tag is a nod to a reply that misread the name once lol) #crimson bagel

Knock Knock

Genderfluid Flag Doodle

Chibi Lamb

Go to bed lamb lol

Pet Pet Saga 1 2 3 4

Cheese Saga 1 2

Punch Narinder 1 2

Twins at Grandpa Ratau's

Catnip

Food Ask

Boop Attack

Bunny Lamb

Crown Hat

Nari-GUN

Tiny Narinder and Tiny Lamb

TEXT

(misc asks related to the AU explaining things)

Initial Reaction to the Crown Ask

The Bishops' Jealousy

Lamb's Diet Post-Vesselhood

Spies Ask

Anthea's Horn Colored Band Ask

Crown's Reaction to Pet Treatment Ask

Narinder Free Time Ask

Favorite Child Ask

Resurrection of Lamb's father plus Various Asks

Shittens Question

Twins' Touch Sensitivity Ask

Crown Domains Ask

Character Music Lists

Stars Ask

Non-Seasonal Holidays Ask

Bishops view on the twins and Narinder/Lamb family

Boarders are by @lambouillet

[raguiras]

Meet my Yumeship

Yay, the second part of my official Allen x Deuce ship introduction is here! (FIRST PART)

Reblogs are super appreciated teehee

The ship's blog (daily facts, rambles & more est. May 2024): @spade-of-storms

Explanation of the chart & the first part of the relationship timeline below the cut!

I've also been cooking something else up for the past few days, so please look forward to it!

The reason why Allen and Deuce's behaviour towards each other is so different in comparison to how they act with other people is actually quite simple.

These two have a ridiculous amount of kinship. Their experiences, wishes for the future, worries, opinions and morals are essentially the same despite being different, which allows Allen and Deuce to have an absolutely blind understanding and extremely easy communication with each other. Additionally, their experiences are reversed (former honor student with great self-control who's now a lowkey delinquent & former delinquent with little self-control aspiring to be a model student), which adds to them being able to efficiently help and understand each other entirely on a very deep, personal level.

Deuce is able to open up A LOT more to Allen than to anyone else due to their special intimacy. While everyone knows Deuce as a hardworking guy with regrets who wants to better himself, Allen has access to much deeper feelings because of how much Deuce trusts and relates to him. This not only sets Allen (who is my Yuu) apart from the canon Yuu, but also explains why the relationship timeline below talks about Deuce's feelings and struggles on a much more intense level than the game does.

But how did they reach this point? And how did their relationship get so intense? Here's a little bit of a relationship timeline!

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PROLOGUE

Allen and Deuce met on their first day of school when Allen was chasing Ace. For Deuce, it was pretty much love at first sight and he immediately knew he'd love to get to know this mysterious, mildly intimidating boy — Allen radiated an aura of intelligence, confidence, extreme toughness, ethereal beauty and utter determination. Deuce was pretty much just staring at him like "...woah".

Allen displayed a lot of these very characteristics (+ maturity) during the prologue and Deuce was already admiring him a ton. This guy really had all the attributes that made Deuce nervous around someone, huh...?

Due to Deuce's extreme determination to not get expelled, Allen immediately sensed that something was off. Teens (including Allen himself) weren't usually this keen on going to school... And Deuce, too, had his suspicions about Allen due to how this mature, composed and witty boy dressed like a rebel.

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BOOK 1

When Deuce first displayed his delinquent characteristics, Allen not only comforted him, but also opened up about his own tendencies and the fact that he used to be a model student before he became a lowkey delinquent himself. Deuce was a bit impressed that Allen was just like him in a way, so his kinship towards him immediately grew. However, the second Allen offered to help him with his impulse control and talk more about these topics, it was absolutely OVER for Deuce — not only was Allen pretty and smart, but also similar to him and willing to give him a safe space despite barely knowing him.

For Allen, this was a fairly unusual gesture as well. He's often apathetic and doesn't usually offer to help people nor relates to others. However, seeing that Deuce struggled with the exact same thing as him in a different way, Allen didn't even have to think about it and immediately knew that he wouldn't regret talking more to a rare person with similar experiences and thoughts. Maybe they could help each other in a way...?

Shortly after these events, they already started talking about their experiences together. However, it was mostly Allen asking questions about Deuce first, trying to keep his own past in wraps. Deuce's past and his regrets felt familiar to Allen, and he admired Deuce's aspirations to become a model student. He did, however, sense that something was off.

As they hung out more during Book 1, Allen's secret suspicion that Deuce tried too hard to be someone he naturally wasn't slowly confirmed itself already. Deuce expressed a dislike towards hard topics from class and struggled heavily with his homework, yet kept saying that he had to do well. What came off as someone being ambitious and working hard to others was the beginning of self-destruction in the eyes of burnt-out former honor student Allen, and he decided to keep an eye on Deuce. Additionally, Allen offered to tutor him, which Deuce excitedly accepted.

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BOOK 2

Between Book 1 and Book 2, Allen's brain decided to randomly let him relive the pain he had experienced as a bullying victim back in his world in great detail. That exact night, Deuce came to Ramshackle after a fight with Ace, wanting to ask Allen if he could stay over. This was when a violently crying Allen opened the door... and Deuce's suspicion that something was wrong with Allen was confirmed, too. When Deuce asked him about what had happened, Allen decided to finally open up about his past — after all, the other boy had done the same — and it only made Deuce's feelings grow. Allen assumed that he was being perceived as weak for crying, but to Deuce, it only made him even stronger. Enduring all that unjustified hatred and still carrying on with confidence... it was nothing short of admirable to Deuce. Additionally, he felt both saddened and incredibly angered hearing how Allen was severely bullied and almost driven over the edge because of something he couldn't control. This boy was so beautiful and special... why did he have to suffer? Was he doing better these days...? That night, Deuce made a silent promise to himself that he'd protect Allen.

The two kept spending lots of time with each other, talking and developing more and more trust with every sentence. They were so similar... two delinquents perceived as scary who both wanted to prove others wrong, be admired, craved meaningful relationships, hated bullies, had experiences with anger issues, wanted justice to prevail, and struggled with school in some way... and this wasn't even everything yet. Additionally, Allen started showing Deuce some effective ways of handling impulsiveness that worked on himself, too, and Deuce was intrigued. The two also didn't hesitate to rant together, which allowed both of them to let off steam and be angry in a safe environment while being fully understood by the person in front of them.

Allen also helped Deuce with his studies more often. However, Deuce sometimes kindly declined his offers and simply asked Allen to supervise him instead, wanting to learn and study by himself in order to prove himself that he could indeed achieve better grades through his own effort. Allen silently watched out for Deuce not pushing himself too hard because he could sense that what looked like hard work on the outside was tied to something much deeper on the inside...

When Deuce walked in on an annoyed Allen one day, he found out that the blonde boy had "messed up" a drawing and blamed himself for not being a good artist. Deuce comforted him and thought that Allen's art was genuinely amazing, but what the boy said next shattered Deuce's heart. "I don't care if I'm good... apparently I can only be someone if I'm the best at something. And I'm far from being best at anything. I'm doomed to be a nobody, I guess." Never in a thousand years did Deuce expect the current Allen — the seemingly perfect, confident, calm, tough and effortlessly beautiful Allen who often had a sly smirk on his face — to think about himself like this. After asking if this was the only thing Allen felt insecure about, the boy decided to open up further and tell Deuce how he also despised his own appearance. The blue-haired boy was genuinely shocked because to him, Allen was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and he couldn't care less about Allen's rather unique body either. How could he show Allen that he was actually stunning...?

In return, Deuce also opened up about his own insecurities to Allen on a deep level — something he had never done before out of fear of being made fun of. While the Ramshackle student wasn't surprised, it still hurt him to hear just how lowly Deuce thought he was... What sounded like a motivated "I don't have a lot going for me, but I'm doing my best!" to everyone else had always been a "It hurts to have nothing other than negative traits going for me and I hate myself for the fact that I don't improve at anything no matter how hard I work" in Allen's eyes, and here was the direct confirmation. If only Deuce could see that all those 'negative' traits he had were actually admirable and useful...

The two ended up having an extremely heartfelt talk that mostly consisted of them showering each other in genuine compliments and admiration. Deuce had never been able to see the things he hated about himself in such a positive light... and his heart was yet again beating like crazy.

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BOOK 3

When finding out that Deuce had made a contract in order to get better grades, Allen got even more concerned due to the boy's desperation and decided to finally have a heart-to-heart talk with him about how hard he was pushing himself. Allen knew that being a model student was a role Deuce was forcing himself into too hard and that it was prone to go wrong, especially considering how Deuce's natural self was quite different from it. Since part of Allen's trauma stemmed from being an honor student himself, overworking himself a ton, and having to deal with a ridiculous amount of highly unrealistic expectations and passion, he didn't want the same to happen to his friend — but if Deuce neglected himself and paid attention to nothing but his honor student persona, it was prone to happen one day. Allen told Deuce that there was no shame in accepting help, and the Heartslabyul student eventually saw that relying on himself only wouldn't help with improving his grades. As a result, Deuce started accepting Allen's offers to assist him fully, and Allen immediately came up with some original study methods and mnemonic bridges tailored specifically for Deuce. Additionally, Allen wasted no opportunity to tell Deuce yet again that he didn't have to change the core of his being in order to become the person he aspired to be, and that Deuce's "negative traits" were actually helpful assets.

Whenever Deuce wasn't busy at the Mostro Lounge, they would study together. Allen made sure that it was enjoyable and fun for the already stressed Deuce and paid great attention to his wellbeing. Every time Deuce was about to fall back into his old behaviours due to the stress and feeling of betrayal stemming from the entire Octavinelle situation, Allen reminded him of the impulse control methods or introduced Deuce to new ones. At other times, they would find a secluded place where Deuce could safely let off steam... Slowly but surely, the Heartslabyul freshman was able to get his anger under control.

The second it was obvious that Allen needed a new temporary residence, Deuce immediately knew that he wanted to share a bed with him. He accidentally mentioned this thought to Ace, who then teased Deuce about a possible crush on Allen. Deuce obviously denied everything and said that Allen was merely his best friend, but deep down, he knew that Ace was completely right. When Ace later suggested that Allen shared a bed with either him or Deuce and Allen denied in order to stay at Savanaclaw, Deuce's heart ached a little and he simply laughed it off.

By now, Deuce and Allen were much more touchy, too. Allen usually hated it when people touched him, but Deuce was an exception due to how close him and Allen already were at this point. And every time Allen touched Deuce, a firework went off within the Heartslabyul student's heart...

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BOOK 4

Allen didn't understand why he was suddenly feeling empty at the knowledge that Deuce left for home during the holidays. He was merely a friend, right? Why did his two-week departure sadden Allen...?

The second Deuce read Allen's SOS message, he immediately packed his things and stormed off. He would've done the same for other friends, but certainly not reacted this impulsively... and knowing that Allen was in a tricky situation literally freaked him out. When his mom asked Deuce why he was leaving for school in the middle of the holidays, the teenager explained everything to her... and finally admitted that he loved Allen. Dylla was the first person to know about Deuce's massive crush and immediately pulled him into a hug.

Deuce was extremely fidgety and nervous during the entire travel back to NRC and Ace couldn't miss it. When he said that "Allen was merely in a difficult situation, you should chill", Deuce verbally lashed out at him and went on about how great Allen was. Ace then brought up his suspicion that Deuce liked Allen as more than a friend again, and Deuce simply replied with "So what if I do?!" this time. Needless to say, the rest of the ride was packed full of teasing and jokes at Deuce's cost...

The minute Allen and Deuce reunited, they shared a lung-crushing hug and felt their hearts race like crazy. Deuce was incredibly happy to see that Allen was doing okay, and Allen suddenly felt much happier...

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That's it for now! The happenings from Book 5-7 and everything after that up until they finally start dating are going to covered in my next Allen x Deuce post. I hope you liked it! ♠️🌪

If you have any questions about the ship or want to draw them, please do not hesitate!

[oaluz]

the dynamic maturational model of attachment and adaptation is so intriguing to me like even as it maps onto traditional attachment theory somewhat it has very different premises and i wish it was more prevalent

here are my notes :

regular attachment theory is formed in reference to the strategies that infants adopt in order to maintain safety and security with attachment figures, whereas the dmm maps out the strategies that we adopt in order to mitigate danger across all stages of development according to our information processing capacity and prior experiences

regular attachment theory operates with the idea that these strategies developed in early childhood remain largely static (internal working model) and implicit - dmm shows how attachment strategies can layer, shift and contradict especially over childhood and adolescence, and different learned self-protective strategies come out in different contexts and in reaction to different levels of perceived danger

instead of categorising people as being either anxious, avoidant, or both (reinforcing pathology), the dmm categorises behaviour according to whether it is based on an overreliance on either cognition or affect.

type A strategies are based on cognitive information and omit affective information:

people utilising these strategies "act in accordance with expected consequences"—they rely on what they have learnt will result in "good" or "bad" consequences to shape their behaviour

type A strategies are formed in contexts where consequences are mostly predictable, and therefore cognitive information becomes a reliable way to ensure safety from danger

type A strategies sometimes rely on "false positive affect"—pretending to be happy, smiling, or neutral to deflect emotional engagement. this is especially the case if expressions of "negative affect" were punished or did not elicit comfort from the caregiver

type A maps loosely onto avoidant attachment strategies which deactivate, utilise distancing strategies to regulate emotion, and put forward a controlled, invulnerable, overfunctioning, compliant front

those who use type A strategies may sometimes appear to be highly functional, successful, and able to execute long-term plans, especially those who work compulsively, however they may struggle with spontaneity or with accessing intrinsic motivation, leading to a felt sense of emptiness or "something missing"

type A strategies may involve idealising others in relationships due to the suppression of emotional pain, especially pain resulting from unmet emotional needs in those relationships. they may especially idealise caregivers

they may also bypass that pain by being immediately "understanding" of the limitations of others, particularly those who were "parentified" as a child or took up the strategy of compulsive caregiving

notably, they may find it easier to connect to shame or depression—shame and depression may form emotional buffers against deeper emotional reactions to unmet needs (fear, anger, sadness, grief) (related to notion of depression and anxiety as defense mechanisms that deflect awareness of more vulnerable emotions which are not able to be expressed or acted upon)

those who use type A strategies may speak more factually and "objectively", may answer questions about themselves from the perspective of other people, and may provide very limited details about themselves and their interior experience

type C strategies are based on affective information and omit cognitive information:

people utilising these strategies are motivated by the intensity of their "somatic feelings"

these strategies are often formed in unpredictable contexts, undermining "confidence in what will happen next". if one cannot predict according to the "facts" being presented to them, whether because of unpredictable circumstances or deception, they learn to rely on their feelings as "guides to behaviour" often amplifying them in the process

type C strategies can also form when caregivers are consistently anxious and overprotective, encouraging dependency and expressions of vulnerability

"invulnerable" strategies express anger to attempt to control others, and "vulnerable" strategies express fear to attempt to elicit comfort. those who use invulnerable strategies often inhibit their fear and desire for comfort, and those who use vulnerable strategies often inhibit their anger

type C strategies can also involve idealisation of caregivers or others in relationships, but for a different purpose to type A—it glosses over potential inability of caregiver/other to provide emotional response that the strategy is trying to elicit, sometimes to the point of denying endangerment from caregiver

unpredictability and impermanence result in a focus on the immediate present, discouraging delayed gratification, long-term planning, and autonomous self-development

type C maps onto anxious attachment strategies which activate emotion and attempt to gain security through seeking closeness, heightening emotional display, engaging in protest behaviour, and underfunctioning

people utilising type C strategies may be more prone to remembering the past as if it is happening in the present. they may use hyperbolic, vague, vivid, or emotionally loaded language to express feelings and memories, not following a logical "flow", making it difficult to identify causal relationships and consequence. this also may impede their ability to reflect on their past experiences and plan for the future

they may also express a large amount of irrelevant detail when recounting emotional memories, possibly because their emotional processing clouds the ability to analyse said detail

instead of positing "secure attachment" as a goal, the dmm's ethos is that the strategy that keeps you safe is the best strategy. this depathologises people, especially children, whose "maladaptive" behaviour clearly formed as a necessary strategy to protect themselves from endangering caregivers, whether abusive or neglectful. the more endangered we feel, the less error we can risk in attempting to identify that danger: therefore, our minds are more likely to overstate the presence of danger through the creation of distorted representations and narratives, and react accordingly, as a survival mechanism

the behaviours that would constitute "secure attachment" do not centre around a single profile and instead exist on a continuum in the dmm. the aim is to integrate and balance cognitive and affective information to form "type B" strategies - a broadened range of strategies that can respond and adapt to different social contexts according to need without distorting mental processing. people utilising these strategies are able to seek connection and attachment through clear, honest communication of both thoughts and feelings, and a reciprocal weighting of one's own perspective and the perspective of others

(there is also the integration of A and C strategies in the form of "psychopathy"... i don't really like the use of that word but it's basically the balance of those two kinds of strategies but based on a complete distortion of information processing due to extreme endangerment / zero trust)

most crucially, people who were previously reliant on A or C strategies and who have worked to develop type B strategies can still fall back on A and C strategies in a self-aware way when needed in dangerous situations, and they can drop those strategies once they have returned to a safer environment. this reflects my own observations that people with cptsd can be incredibly functional in traumatic crises, especially those who have a history of relying on emotional avoidance/type A strategies. and it acknowledges that A and C strategies are still necessary and valuable in a world that contains danger. whether a behaviour or strategy is "maladaptive" depends entirely on context. the goal is adaptability and fluidity—the ability to respond and find safety in the widest range of circumstances—not unchanging "security" which may only depend on having the "good fortune of living in a safe and secure context"

it also highlights the ways that A and C strategies often become most obvious in situations where they are no longer warranted. if one grew up in an environment saturated with the possibility for danger, entering a new environment that appears safe can provoke an intense self-protective reaction, as the unconscious assumption is that danger is still present but is unable to be evaluated or processed, and that preemptive self-protection is therefore necessary. attempting to utilise A and C strategies in relationships with others who may use B strategies might also provoke shame and confusion, as they will not conform to the internal "scripts" underlying those strategies

from regular attachment theory, "disorganised" or "fearful-avoidant" attachment styles can be illustrated through the use of both type A and type C strategies in incoherent and contradictory ways, often in response to different contexts with different levels of threat. type A and type C strategies may alternate or be blended

in the process of working through rigid adherence to a particular strategy, people may oscillate to another strategy to compensate, or reveal an underlying, buried strategy from an earlier developmental period which was discarded. this echoes dan brown and david elliott's observation that those working to heal avoidant attachment sometimes go through a phase of anxiety and preoccupation before they move closer to security

what i truly find most interesting about this is how crittenden roots the identification of these strategies in "discourse analysis"—the ways people represent their own thoughts and feelings through language. restricted self-expression (either omitting feeling or logic) reflects rigid adherence to strategies. makes me think about narrative therapy and how helping people expand on their narratives by finding exceptions, externalising the problem, and "thickening" the narrative by filling in personal detail and contextualising helps people broaden their perception of their lives, therefore giving them more flexibility in their response and engendering hope. it also makes me think of emotional granularity: the idea that having an expansive and precise emotional vocabulary also aids in processing and flexible choice of strategy

i also appreciate how the dmm makes room for caregiving as a form of avoidance. it disrupts the avoidance/anxiety dichotomy in attachment theory that believes avoidant people are completely independent and not oriented towards relationships, in a way that i think is also gendered (with men often being the archetypal avoidant). caregiving and decentering one's own needs for another person can be reflective of avoidance as they also create a distancing dynamic where a relationship is no longer maintained on the basis of intimacy, but nonreciprocal care that does not acknowledge mutuality. this is especially the case when compulsive caregiving enables another person's underfunctioning which may actually serve to keep them in a place where they are predictable, controllable, and not able to challenge the caregiver's avoidance from a place of interpersonal equality

[ladamedusoif]

able

(Joel Miller x disabled F!Reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Disabled F!Reader

Summary: "I just don't think she'll be able for patrol". But then it's just you, Joel, and your trusty walking stick in the middle of nowhere...

Content/warnings: Reader is disabled (she has rheumatoid disease/arthritis in addition to panic attacks, she uses a walking stick as necessary); Reader had a sister; Reader is an art teacher; strong violence; blood; description of panic attack; references to impact of chronic illness and disability; references to medication; references to disease and death; non-canon compliant; Jackson!Joel; strong language; ableist language and abusive language

Rating: Mature; 18+ MDNI

Word Count: ~3.7k

A/N: After making a plea earlier in the week for people to actually write disabled Reader fic, as opposed to forcing writers to feel they have to tag literally everything in an able-bodied Reader story, I knew I had to put my money where my mouth was as a disabled, neurodivergent writer with various mental health things going on here and there. And this one-shot is the result.

This one is a little personal. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid disease about ten years ago, and Reader’s experiences are informed by my own (though, thankfully, I haven’t had to contend with an apocalypse that meant I couldn’t access the medication that has kept me going). She’s also inspired by @agentjackdaniels, who acted as consultant extraordinaire on walking sticks and panic attacks, and suggested the Joel picture for the moodboard. Thank you, Luce, for this, for fighting the good fight for representation in fic - and for beta-ing the story. 

(A note on terminology: rheumatoid disease/arthritis are sometimes used interchangeably. ‘Arthritis’ often sounds like it’s ‘just’ osteoarthritis to people who don’t know the difference. Rheumatoid, unlike osteoarthritis (which is shitty in its own ways), is a systemic, lifelong, chronic illness and an auto-immune disorder that affects the entire body, not just bones and/or joints. So personally I use ‘rheumatoid disease’ as it conveys more of the impact of the condition. It's also often seen as an 'old person' disease but this simply isn't true - not that this stops mobility aids being modelled by people in their 80s all the time...)

Please follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to stay up to date with my work.

Dividers by @saradika - moodboard by me

You weren’t supposed to make it.

Twenty-odd years in the apocalypse with your fucked-up joints and no steady supply of the meds that kept you going, pushing through the cycles of fatigue, and fighting off your own goddamned immune system as much as you were fighting clickers and raiders. 

You really weren’t supposed to make it. But you had Annie.

You were sharing an apartment when the outbreak happened, a quirk of shitty personal circumstances - she’d just broken up with her long-term boyfriend - that probably helped save your life. Annie was the all-action sister - the kind of person who thinks there’s nothing weird about spending your weekends doing triathlons and “Tough Mudder” challenges, who had a perfect bill of health your entire lives, who bounced out of bed in the mornings while you cracked and creaked and stiffly manoeuvered yourself into being. 

The good days generally outweighed the bad in the years between your diagnosis with rheumatoid disease and the initial outbreak - or maybe you had just gotten used to the aches and pains and the occasional flare-ups of fatigue. You invested in a walking stick to help on those days when mobility was particularly bad: solid, heavy, and carved in a pale yellow wood. It felt like a comfort in your hand, more a sign of strength, to you, than of weakness. 

Annie helped you through the panic attack that consumed you on outbreak day, working with you to regulate your breathing and relax your tense muscles until you could finally say what was on your mind.

“My meds. What am I going to do without my meds?”

Nothing a quick smash and grab at the local pharmacy couldn’t fix. It was the first of many, stockpiling the little yellow tablets you relied on and taking as many packs of over-the-counter painkillers as you could carry. Useful currency in the apocalypse, as it turned out.

All-Action Annie was never going to cope with life in a QZ. She got the two of you out after months of planning, nights of whispered talk about a town out west that was normal - or something close to it, anyway. She hadn’t entertained your protestations about you slowing her down, holding her back.

“You think I’m leaving behind a girl who’s so handy with a weapon?” she’d teased, pointing to your walking stick. “Be real. We’re busting out together.”

The infection took hold in her about three days from Jackson. Fuckin’ barbed wire, tearing a jagged line through Annie’s hand and leaving behind an old-fashioned kind of threat to life, the kind penicillin had mostly dealt with. But that was then. This was now. 

She died in an abandoned farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, you holding her hand until the end, talking to her about your childhoods and trying to keep smiling until she closed her beautiful eyes. 

It took all your strength to dig her grave. And then, somehow, you found more.

You weren’t supposed to make it. But you did. 

Jackson stands before you. 

He sees you for the first time in the community dining hall, talking animatedly to Maria as you hungrily devour the food set in front of you. Eyes wide, face grubby, clothes ragged. Half-wild, he thinks, like most of the new arrivals. Like him and Ellie, once upon a time. He returns to his bowl of soup and his own thoughts - at least, until he’s interrupted by Maria.

“Joel? Want to introduce a new member of the community, just arrived.”

He doesn’t quite know why he’s surprised when he realises you’re leaning on a sturdy hand-carved walking stick in a solid, light yellow wood. Maybe it’s because he knows how physically hard it is to get here. Maybe he just assumed folks who needed a stick wouldn’t have been able to manage the journey. 

For a second he can hear Sarah’s voice in his head, chiding him for focusing on what a disabled person can’t do instead of what they can. 

“Joel?”

He snaps out of his reverie and looks from Maria to you. “Uh, hi. Sorry, just…sorry. Forgot my manners.”

“I was just saying how glad we are to have someone who can offer some art education in the town, isn’t that right, Joel?”

Your eyes are warm and mischievous as you meet his gaze, silently conveying your amusement at Maria’s rather brusque manner. It’s all Joel can do not to laugh.

“Sure is. You’re an artist, then?”

You shake your head. “Not a real one. I was an art teacher, before. Long time since I created anything, though, so I hope I remember how.”

He smiles softly, his gruff exterior receding a little. “Bet it’s just like riding a bike,” he says, before his face falls as he looks at your walking stick. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean… Shit. Hope I didn’t offend.”

“As it happens, I can ride a bike, Joel. The apocalypse just doesn’t give me much cause to.”

You leave him with a smile and a wink as Maria ushers you to meet other townsfolk. He watches you as you walk away, the tap-tap-tapping of your stick beating out a new rhythm in the heart of Jackson.

You think of Annie every morning when you wake up in the little house you’d been assigned. Sometimes, as you potter around the kitchen, still revelling in the novelty of making yourself morning coffee for the first time in two decades, you even talk to her. You tell her about the town, the townsfolk, your work in the community vegetable garden, your art classes. 

“Honestly, An, you wouldn’t believe how popular they are,” you tell the Annie who, in an alternate universe, is sitting at the kitchen table with her own mug of coffee. “I’m setting up extra sessions to cater for demand.”

There’s something uplifting in how hungry the people of Jackson are to make art, no matter their experience or existing skill level. They’ll draw stuff from memory, they’ll dutifully work on a still life, they’ll even traipse outside with you, wooden sketching boards in hand, and make rapid-fire sketches of the goings-on on Main Street. 

Joel doesn’t join a class - but the teenage girl Maria refers to as “Joel’s kid” does, all potty-mouthed and enthusiastic and pretty damned talented, to boot. Ellie tells you how she’s pinned up the drawings she’s proudest of in their home, “like our own fuckin’ art gallery or some shit.” 

You pull up a tall stool and sit beside her, resting your stick over your thighs. “Joel’s got his guitar and those dumbass model figures he paints,” she continues, leaning around her easel and squinting at the woman who’d volunteered to act as a life model for this week’s classes. “But this shit? This is real art.” She adds a little highlight to the woman’s sweater and leans back to assess the work.

“You probably got exempt from patrols, I’m guessing. On account of the stick, an’ all.”

“Maria asked, and I signed up happily. I got all the way here, didn’t I? I’m sure I can manage patrols. And it’s the least I can do - they’ve even found me some of the medications I need.”

Ellie nods, somewhat convinced, and returns to sketching out the contours around the model’s jaw.

The day of your first patrol arrives. You bundle up and set out early for the stables, allowing extra time to get there on account of the flare-up you’d been experiencing the day before. 

You arrive early - just in time, in fact, to overhear a heated conversation between Joel and Maria.

“She’s doing enough, ain’t she? I just don’t think she’ll be able for patrol.”

“You’ve seen her out and about, Joel. She’s mobile. She’s competent. She’s good with the horses. She got all the way here, the last stretch on her own. What more proof do you need?”

“You’re seriously gonna send a woman with a walking stick out on patrol?”

“I seriously am. Sent you and your bad back out, didn’t we?”

“That ain’t the same and you know it.”

“Just saddle the horses, Joel. And, in case you’re wondering - yes, I paired you together deliberately, just until she gets settled.” You hear her footsteps recede as she leaves him.

You had misjudged how much your already-limited grip would be further impeded by the gloves you’re wearing. The stick clatters to the ground.

“Who’s there?”

You emerge from the shadows. “Me. Sorry.”

Joel rolls his eyes and gruffly points out the tack and supplies.

The first patrol passes in silence. You wonder what happened to the softer man you’d caught a glimpse of the first day you arrived.

On the second patrol, you ask him questions about himself. On the third patrol, he asks (fewer) questions about you. By the fourth, you’re having something approximating normal conversation. 

“Sarah loved to make all kinds of stuff,” he ventures, leading the way on his chestnut horse. “Those beaded bracelets, that girly Lego in the pink and purple, all of that. My girl had enough Magic Markers to supply a whole elementary school. Maybe two.”

You can hear him smile, even without seeing his face. His shoulders relax a little as he recalls the memory.

“So she was a creative kid?”

“Creative, sporty… she could do anything. Made the school soccer team, she was so proud. Just a…” He pauses. “A great kid.”

There’s a few beats of silence, punctuated only by the sound of the horses snickering and the steady rhythm of their hooves on the ground. 

“What about your sister, was she arty like you?”

You’d told him about Annie on the last patrol. This was the first time he’d asked about her explicitly.

“She was the sporty one. I think that’s why I survived so long, truth be told. She was so strong and fast and tough as fuck.”

He chuckles, the burr of his voice resonating in the cold air. “Sounds like a good balance, though.”

“It is - it was. Was.” Your voice grows quieter as you repeat the word to yourself, chest starting to tighten. The horse slows, responding to the tension of your body, as Joel continues to trot on, not realising you’ve come to a halt behind him. 

And then the tell-tale snapping of a twig, the sound of footsteps, and the realisation there’s someone else there, emerging out of the woods. Two someones. 

Raiders. 

The panic attack that has been building inside you gives way. An innate fight or flight response kicks in as you roar his name. 

Joel turns and charges back towards you, just in time to see you take out one raider with a crack shot from your pistol. He slows the horse and readies his rifle, staring at the other man who is now trying to haul you off your mount.

“Get the fuck off me, motherfucker!” You flail against him, desperately shifting your weight to the other side of the saddle to try to shake him off. 

Joel takes aim. 

You think you’ve kicked the raider off. And that’s when you hit the ground.

He can’t take the shot now, not with her half-hidden from his view and audibly fighting off the man who’s dragged her to the ground. Joel is still a little distance away, slightly too far to see exactly what’s happening. 

Why didn’t he hear her slowing? Why didn’t he realise she was further behind than she ought to be? Why did she slow in the fuckin’ first place?

Joel quickly dismounts, rifle in hand, moving closer so he can get a clearer shot at the guy who’s now standing over her. The horse’s elegant neck obscures the raider’s hands from Joel’s vision - he has no idea if he’s pointing a gun at her or not. 

He thinks he has a clear sight on the guy’s head, provided he stays in the same position. He readies the rifle. 

Suddenly, the raider disappears, letting out a primal roar before he hits the ground. 

“You fucking cunt!”

Joel can see she’s standing now, the man prone before her. As he rounds the horse he sees her lift her cane, hands securely gripping the pointed end of the stick. 

She brings the solid, weighty handle down on the raider’s leg with a sickening crunch. Even Joel recoils a little at the sight and the sound.

“F-f-fucking…c-c-cunt!”

Thwack. The other leg. 

Fuck. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

”Keep calling me that, and I’ll keep the blows coming.”

Holy fuck. Who is she?

”C-c-c-cripple.”

”Excuse me?”

The raider props himself up on his arms. “I said, cripple. Fucking crippled cunt.”

“You shut your fuckin’ mouth.” Joel cocks his rifle. 

The stranger sneers at Joel. “Awww, he’s actin’ the big man now. Weren’t too quick gettin’ back down here to save your cripple woman, were ya?”

Before Joel can react, she swings her stick over her head and brings it down on the man’s skull with a furious scream that seems to come from the very depths of her being. 

She screams and screams as she hits him, over and over, eyes wild in her blood-spattered face. Joel recognises this: in himself; hell, in Ellie. It’s the moment when the floodgates open and all those years of pain blend together and zone in on this convenient target, an avatar for everyone and everything who had forced loss and trauma upon you. 

He roars at her to stop, but knows she can’t hear him. It’s just her and the raider, now: her rage and fear and grief finding their expression through a walking stick turned cudgel.

A single shot ends it. She turns sharply, as if snapped out of a trance, and sees the smoke leaving Joel’s pistol. 

“Hey. Hey. You alright?” His broad hands grip your biceps as he looks into your eyes.

Yes, you tell him, yes. You’re fine. But Joel keeps asking. 

“Talk to me. Are you okay? I’m worried about you. Please, just talk to me.”

You are moving your mouth, but no sound is coming out. The familiar vice is tightening around your chest. You look down at your blood-stained hands and you struggle to breathe. 

“‘M dying, Joel. Can’t breathe. All the blood. So much. Why can’t I breathe?”

Oh, he realises with a pang. She gets these things too. And I know how to help.

“You’re okay, you hear?” He’s rubbing your arms gently, keeping his gaze on you. “You’re alright. Breathe along with me, okay?”

It’s difficult to find the rhythm, at first. Joel’s hands find yours and squeeze them in time with his breath.

”In through your nose, that’s it. Slow and steady. Now out through your mouth.”

He can see your muscles starting to visibly relax. A wave of relief courses over him.

”Yeah, that’s it - you got this. You got this, good girl, you’re just fine. Gonna be alright.”

When he’s confident your breathing has settled and the panic attack receded somewhat, he gently guides you away from the body of the dead raider, one hand holding your horse’s bridle and the other holding yours. 

“Why don’t you have a seat for a minute, huh?” Joel gestures to a long, low tree trunk lying near the forest’s edge and opens his saddlebags, rummaging until he finds a cloth, a battered hip flask and a bag of dried apple slices.

”Here.” He wipes the blood as best he can from your hands and proffers the flask, settling his substantial frame beside you on the log. “Have a sip or two, just to relax you a little bit more. Got a snack, here, too.”

You flinch at the taste of the liquor, but take a second sip regardless. The apple slices barely taste of anything in the afterburn of the moonshine. Joel nibbles on some jerky and stares into the middle distance. 

You take a break from patrol, agreed with Maria, and a few days off your art classes. It was tempting to keep going, to return to the light and airy studio and to your students. But you feared a relapse.

And your body needed to recover physically, too. You ached from head to toe, fingers and toes puffy and swollen and movement seriously restricted. You ration out the supply of medication you’ve secured since getting here, and use hot water bottles and plenty of rest to try to ride out the flare in your arthritis.

Three days after the incident, there’s a knock on the door. You hobble to answer it, leaning on your trusty stick for support.

”Came by to see how you were doing. Got you some things if you needed ‘em.”

Joel is standing on your front porch, holding a jute grocery bag. He pauses, as if waiting for you to give him permission to say more.

”That’s so very kind of you, Joel. Come in, won’t you? I was able to set a fire so it’s nice and cosy.”

He watches as you lead the way into the living room, noting how much slower you were today. Guilt laps at his conscience. He said she shouldn’t go on patrol. He knew.

”You want me to bring these into the kitchen for you?”

“That would be a great help. Thank you.” He’s glad to see you smile, after the trauma of the patrol. “If you want a drink, I’ve got some tea and coffee in the cupboard just to the left of the sink.”

He pops his head back into the living room. “What would you like?” 

“A tea would be perfect. Mugs are in the cupboard to the right.”

You wrap yourself back up in your blankets on the couch, making room for Joel when he returns with the drinks and a couple of cookies, sent over by Ellie as part of his care package for you. The mug feels like a comfort in your aching hands, its heat assuaging the inflammation ravaging your joints.

He sips his coffee and you sit in silence for a little bit, watching the flames dance over the firewood. 

“Have you, uh - you been okay, doing okay, since…”

Joel stares into his coffee cup and then looks at you, a little awkward. You smile, hoping to reassure him.

”I’ve been okay. Just the physical pain and exhaustion, mostly. And - well, you saw it. The panic. It can leave you drained.”

He nods and takes another swig of his drink. “I know. I - I’ve had times like that, too. Real fuckin’ scary, when you’ve never gone through it before.”

You study his face for a moment or two, noting the little scar on his temple, the lines on his face, the stern expression completely undermined by the warmth of his deep brown eyes. For an instant, he seems so vulnerable, this strong, tough man sitting on your little couch. 

“I haven’t had an attack like that in a while. But then, I hadn’t done anything like that in a while.”

This time Joel turns to look at you properly. “Not your first rodeo, huh?”

You giggle at the turn of phrase. “Not quite. Let’s just say my stick did a lot of work over the last twenty years. He wasn’t the first to feel the brunt of it.”

Joel nods, and you feel strangely relieved that he doesn’t seem surprised. “Doesn’t get easier, though, does it?”

“It does not. Which is why it’s better to avoid having to do it.”

”I agree. Gotta say, though, I - I was worried you wouldn’t be able for patrol, y’know?”

You arch an eyebrow at him. “I know. I overheard you, remember?”

He blushes. “Aw, shit. Yeah. I’m sorry about that. I just didn’t want anything happening to you, what with your - condition, and all.”

You sigh softly, not really noticing the affection in his voice. “Most of the time, I’m fine. Y’know? I’m slower, but I do okay. I get tired more easily, but I manage. I didn’t come here to be a drain on the community.”

”You aren’t.”

”I know, but I want to keep it that way. I want to pull my weight. I’m able, Joel.”

He huffs in agreement. “Not like I’m a perfect specimen these days, either. Knees, fuckin’ back, deaf in one ear…” 

You chuckle. “And you thought I wouldn’t manage patrol? Anyway, you’re not doing so bad, are you?”

He gives you a little smile, but that constant sadness still haunts his eyes. He stares at his coffee for a moment.

“You knew what you were doing, though.”

”I did. But I didn’t feel like I could stop.” You sip your tea, swallowing hard. “And I’m scared that makes me some kinda monster. You know?”

Oh, he knows. He knows it too well.

”You aren’t a monster.” Joel resists the urge to put an arm around you. “You just… something snapped, I guess. All that - well, all that hell you’ve gone through. It… it changes you. But it doesn’t make you a monster.”

He realises you’re crying before you do, spotting the fat tears that roll down your cheeks. He finds a clean handkerchief in his jeans and offers it to you. 

Fuck it. 

“Can I - can I put an arm round you? Just for some support?”

Your eyes light up, tears or no tears, and you nod enthusiastically. Joel is warm and comforting, his broad chest and strong arms a kind of anchor in the emotional storm. You nuzzle against him, and he gives you a little squeeze on the arm.

”You’re a really brave woman, you know that?”

His voice is quieter, more intentional. You look at him quizzically from under your lashes, unused to praise of this kind. For an instant you think about asking him what he means. But the safety you’ve found in the broad arm draped around you is all you need right now. 

You nuzzle a little against his chest, and watch the fire dancing for the rest of the night. 

[fresitalimonsandia]

iv. _iNTENTIONS

𝑳𝒂 𝑽𝒊𝒆 𝑬𝒏 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝑺𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔

Word Count: 5.8k

pairing: ot8!ateez x fem!reader x ot8!stray kids

thriller & fantasy au (non kpop-idols au)

language: english

chapter summary: through different points of view, we get to know the boys we'll be accompanying on this adventure, though things may end turbulently…

warnings: pregnancy, appearance of other idols as main characters, family fights, death of minor characters mention, possible suggested violence, visions and omens

dividers by diviniyae

author's notes: i really need an exact word count for each chapter, but I hope you enjoy this one.

La Vie en Rose Masterlist

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Wooyoung's POV

My favorite card is, without a doubt, the Joker. Why?

In a world governed by leaders and kings, I am a vampire who refused to obey the laws of his kind—yet I don’t belong among the other species either, the ones who pretend to embrace this so-called diversity among us. Of course, they're all hypocrites.

I belong nowhere.

The demons’ sick obsession with power led them to create two creatures as strong as themselves, with the same ideals, only fully capable of eliminating any obstacle that dared to stand in their way.

Those beings were werewolves and vampires. Like them, we are creatures driven by instinct—we are not rational. If we discover a way to cause suffering or experience pleasure, that alone will be enough to satisfy what we perceive as our one true need.

It would be a lie to say most vampires have changed. What remains a farce is that we are all thrown under that same stupid label.

We are a minority, one that’s been forced to remain in constant concealment. If you’re not like them, it’s better you’re dead. My family has known this all their lives. They refused to remain the shadow of a bitter, destructive species.

I followed their ideals. At first, I did it simply because they were my parents, my only role models—why would I question something they believed in so strongly?

As I matured, I understood better. The king only acts for his people when they complain. And he stands cornered, trapped between the sword and the power of the oracle.

My family had to beg for the castle’s protection when the vampires threatened to wipe us out. If it hadn’t been for Lord Yoongi, who was there when we arrived, I’m certain the story would have ended very differently.

Though for my parents… it’s always the same ending.

I’ve lived here for five years. I know every corner, every speck of cobweb, every draft that sneaks through the large windows.

My only duty is to guard access to the castle’s chambers alongside a pleasant young man named Soobin. I tried to be his friend—but failed.

He’s kind, just very devoted to his work. Making friends seems like a waste of time to him. Or at least, that’s what I thought… until a week ago, when he began acting differently.

At the very least, I couldn’t complain that the castle pretended I was human—it spared me a lot of unnecessary trouble.

Though eventually, even that protection began to fade. The king wanted to use me as a cover for the competition.

He didn’t want to invite the savage vampires to participate—and what better choice than a quiet-natured refugee, a vampire who managed to stay hidden for years?

These days, my latest task is to pretend to be as ruthless as a demon—perhaps even more than my werewolf companions.

Meanwhile, the king assures everyone that he is a fair ruler, committed to unity among all species.

I don’t even want to imagine the consequences if just one vampire discovered I was merely posing as one of them. I’d be finished.

My only escape is Kang Yeosang. He belongs to a species forced to flee from mine, yet we share a parallel story. He worked in the castle; it was only a matter of time before we crossed paths.

Yeosang is not as naive as many assume. Fairies are among the most underestimated of all species—treated like mere servants. It wasn’t until I met Yeosang that I truly understood the weight they carry.

We opened our hearts to each other: he accepted me, with my clumsiness, my yearning, and my absurd sense of humor. And I accepted him—with his insecurities, dreams, and wild ideas. We became each other’s broken wing—the one we didn’t even realize needed mending.

Maybe I fell in love. Maybe he did too—but not with me.

Choi San. A true human, unlike me. If I were like the rest of my kind, I wouldn’t care about their feelings. I’d do whatever it took to make Yeosang mine.

But that’s not how it works for me. If the fairy’s heart belongs to the one who accepted him before I did, who protected him before I could, who offers him the peace and calm I’ll never manage to provide—no matter how well I pretend to be powerless—then so be it.

My fate was to find him at the lowest point in my life.

Their fate is to be each other’s.

In my resignation, I at least tried to be San’s friend. Perhaps selfishly—just to avoid being completely cast out from the life of that radiant boy with glowing skin and beautiful crimson hair, who, without knowing it, became my anchor.

It seems I was destined to be hated by humans. And honestly, they have their reasons. Still, being rejected by the very circle that gave comfort to the one I loved most… it made everything more complicated in more ways than I can count.

I’m far from being a king. It’s easier to think of myself as a joker—someone who becomes whatever others need him to be, if only to be acknowledged.

Just before the introductory event, before I could invent my backstory, I met my mentor. Park Jimin. A man who serves in the royal guard and, with his looks alone, seemed arrogant and unfeeling.

Once again, getting to know someone better made me see things more clearly. Empathetic, firm, genuine. I couldn’t be more grateful to have someone like him by my side. His only advice was always for my safety—not even for victory.

For the first time since arriving at the castle, I had faith in myself.

I didn’t know how to react to his final piece of advice: “If you can’t beat the enemy, join them.”

Despite my difficulties making friends, I still wanted to try—if I could offer something valuable, I might gain allies. And who knows? One day I could become the king’s right hand.

So, my new plan was to analyze each of the contestants during their presentations. Even though Yeosang was among them, I was well aware that San wouldn’t even let me breathe near him.

Damn his fantasy muscles and my own cursed moral code—I stood no chance.

So that left thirteen.

I entered the sacred hall to begin the introduction event for the contestants. Originally, this was supposed to be held outside at the grand celebration, with all the kingdom’s followers watching.

But, of course, the King had pulled one of his tricks again. The protests from those who despised the entire situation were becoming louder and more chaotic. He feared that. So his best idea? To present us in front of a handful of castle staff and a few sorcerers who would act as judges. Honestly, a bit pathetic.

So here I am, trying to figure out who could become my ally—if this plan actually works.

The first to step forward is one of the two demons. What a coincidence.

His name is Yunho. If there’s one thing I have to admit, it’s that his appearance could easily fool you into thinking he’s sweet and harmless. The truth, however, is far from that. I could sense it the moment I learned who his mentor is.

Miss Sana. A woman known for her explosive outbursts of energy and rage—she lashes out at anyone, regardless of status.

In fact, right before the event started, the King himself showed up, visibly irritated, dragging her along, demanding to speak with his right-hand man—who also happens to be her boyfriend—just to complain about her disgraceful behavior during the recent protests.

Miss Sana couldn’t hide her embarrassment when she realized we had all heard their argument unfold right there in the room.

And that wasn’t the end of it.

One of the mentors—someone I had never seen at the castle before—tried to speak with the King before the event began.

Needless to say, a grumpy King isn’t one to listen.

What stood out, though, was that the one person he did exchange words with was Miss Sana. And judging by her expression, she wasn’t thrilled about it either. It looked like they had a history.

Among those allowed to witness the event was a town announcer, whose role was to ask us questions and help the judges get to know us a bit more. This man looked like he’d drop dead if we didn’t get started—we were still waiting for Park Jihyo’s arrival, a request that was swiftly denied by both the king and some of his aides. And just like that, this madness officially began.

So, Yunho.

A demon who has achieved far more than his family ever dared to attempt—or so he claims. He’s been trained to never settle for second place. A formidable opponent, and for obvious reasons, a complete no-go as a potential ally. I’m fairly certain he’d label me insane if he ever found out about all the things I’ve done—especially against my own species.

They didn’t give many answers regarding his intentions should he win the competition. Not that it mattered. From our seats, we were already squirming, imagining the chaos he must have in store.

Next up was Seungmin.

A warrior trained specifically to fight my species. Another one I can forget about if I ever had the wild thought of begging him to believe in my innocence.

He was the second to present himself, and I could already feel the show was just getting started. His mentor? None other than the suspicious man who had just tried to provoke the king moments ago.

The lack of connection between them was painfully obvious. They had completely different styles, different visions of what the competition meant. Seungmin tried to appear confident, but it was clear he was uncomfortable next to that man. Something about their pairing didn’t add up.

His presentation ended with questions about his family ties—questions that visibly irritated him. Maybe that explained his choice of mentor.

I had to shift my focus when I saw who was up next.

The other demon.

Not even half an hour had passed since I came up with this plan, and it was already on the verge of collapsing.

Or so I thought—until this boy named Felix shut me right up.

It even crossed my mind that he was just as attractive as my Yeosang. Fine. He is charming. But my eyes are reserved for only one person.

Honestly, Felix didn’t look like a demon at all. His body language, his posture, the way he communicated with his mentor—it all contrasted heavily with Yunho. And mind you, Miss Jeongyeon, who appears to be the priest’s mother, is even more intimidating than Miss Sana, who just had an outburst a few minutes ago.

Felix answered the questions kindly, even when some were downright idiotic. Like how he’d feel about competing against friends, or whether he considered Yunho his ultimate rival. When he clarified that he had grown up among outcast demons, the whole conversation took a fascinating turn.

I was pleasantly surprised. I never imagined there could be a group of people who opposed them. Honestly, I was terrified at the idea of spending a whole year in the same space as two demons.

So far, he seemed like the smartest option.

Until he stepped off the platform to greet Seungmin—clearly showing that they were friends.

Great. Just great.

How long is this going to go on?

Now, we were preparing for the presentation of the king’s chosen one. They claimed it wasn’t favoritism, but come on—even the dumbest person in the room could see through those intentions.

The thing is, Lady Tzuyu, the king’s fiancée and soon-to-be queen, turned her gaze toward the far end—toward the temple entrance, where the light shone with greater intensity.

There were some girls seated, listening attentively to the event, which in itself wasn’t a problem... but apparently, it was for her. She had never seen them before.

Y/N's POV

Getting to the castle turned out to be more complicated than I had expected. There wasn’t really anyone to blame… or was there?

Among sorcerers, visions are common. That much is known. But none had ever appeared with such precision and detail as the ones manifesting in my subconscious.

A stormy omen—the ghosts had warned me about this.

My mind disconnected from my body, and a sudden wave of sleepiness overtook me. Instead of falling asleep, I was transported into another reality—an entirely new scene.

It was the famed castle of the Kingdom of Kixxuodo. A beautiful princess was seemingly being attacked by a man whose identity remained hidden, his face concealed in the shadows of a balcony.

Some of the competitors tried to rescue and protect her. No one expected it to be a trap.

But it was—a cruel, calculated trap. The attacker outsmarted them, misled the boys, and caused the death of one of their companions.

I came back to consciousness abruptly, unable to see the faces of anyone involved. The girls thought I had just dozed off, so they lightly shook me to let me know we had arrived at the castle.

If I still hadn’t told them about the pregnancy, there was no way I was mentioning that insane vision.

Once we stepped off the carriage, we thanked the coachman profusely—he still seemed a bit shaken after the rescue.

And now? Honestly, we had no idea what to do.

Should I look for Heeseung?

Could I trust anyone enough to find out where the ceremony was being held?

We entered the garden, immediately surrounded by colorful, dazzling decorations.

But something felt… off.

The atmosphere had shifted. People were complaining that the participants’ presentation was taking place behind closed doors—something about protests and disruptions.

That’s when we saw someone sprinting toward what we could only assume was the castle’s sacred temple.

I convinced the girls to help me sneak into the event. I needed to gain ground.

I had to stop Heeseung from completing the blessing—at all costs.

We slipped in just as one of the participants was being interviewed. As discreetly as possible, we settled near the entrance, trying not to draw attention.

It was crucial to keep our presence a secret—both to protect the girls and to avoid any unexpected reaction from Mother.

We listened as the first boy wrapped up his turn. Then the next participant stepped forward, and the girls’ jaws dropped when they saw who his advisor was—none other than that idiot.

It was hard to keep them quiet. I swear one of them was about to scream if I hadn’t stopped her in time.

Soon we realized the man’s presence in the competition was just… bizarre. It seemed like he had never even spoken to the poor boy in his life.

The girls speculated that he might have unfinished business at the castle. They used to come across letters he had meant to send but never did.

Then came the next person—and this time, I was the one caught off guard.

A stunning, freckled boy with soft dark hair stepped onto the platform beside Mother.

She carried herself with confidence and spoke highly of the boy and his abilities. Despite looking like a demon, he radiated peace and calm. He even shocked everyone by clarifying that he had nothing to do with the demons that are the first boy's family.

I began to wonder why Mother would choose a rejected demon as her apprentice. Of course, I wasn't going to fall for it—he was still part of her ridiculous charade, as far as I was concerned.

Everything was going relatively smoothly until I saw the next person step forward—Bang Chan. A rush of emotion and joy surged through me.

He had treated me with kindness after I signed the documents. It seemed he had reflected on how he’d treated me when we first met and had decided to make amends with a gentler attitude.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t hear what he was saying. His mentor had an incredibly sharp gaze—and she caught us red-handed.

She politely asked someone named Nayeon to escort us out.

By that point, I was sure Mother—and Heeseung, if he was inside—were already fully aware of my presence. So I didn’t bother keeping quiet. I shouted that I had urgent news related to the blessing.

It was useless. We were completely ignored and dragged out of the temple.

We had to run when they tried to throw us out of the entire castle.

Now I’d have to find another way in—before time ran out.

Seonghwa’s POV

I was so done with all of this.

First of all, I didn’t even want to represent those wretched pirate bastards.

They were only doing this to avoid getting themselves killed while attacking the marine world. Raiding small, poorly supplied kingdoms wasn’t cutting it anymore for them.

When they found out mermans were getting involved, they just had to butt in and stir up chaos. My father had retired from being captain years ago and spent all that time training me to become something better—something beyond the miserable life of piracy.

But the current captain threatened him. Forced me to stay in the crew and represent them in this absurd competition. Those fools actually believe my skills will somehow be enough to get me crowned king.

And that’s not even the worst part.

At 26 years old, I find out that my mother is an insufferable sea creature everyone seems to loathe—and that she’s been living in the damn castle this whole time, not giving a single thought to my existence. My father, in a pathetic attempt to “ensure my safety,” decided to name her as my mentor.

I haven’t dared to speak with him these last few days. Maybe I’ll do it during the next visiting day. I get the feeling all that training was just a setup to move me into the castle with her. I’ll deal with those suspicions later.

As for her? She’s a manipulative idiot, convinced she has every right in the world to control me.

So far, I’ve kept my mouth shut. But I doubt I’ll stay silent if she keeps acting so bossy and unbearable.

Needless to say, I hate being here. I despise the mere idea of being forced to mingle with fake people and other creatures who preach about “peace” or whatever. I’m not going to say we live in a cruel world, but it’s definitely a foolish one—naive enough to think anything will change as long as the same people causing the problems stay in power.

I had no idea when it would be my turn. I was half tempted to fall asleep in front of everyone. The only thing that mildly entertained me was the little stunt those girls pulled earlier. Anything that rattles these privileged showpieces is a delicious spectacle to me.

I had to sit through “Mr. Sunshine” gushing about himself while his mentor—who somehow managed to be even more ridiculous than the woman calling herself my mother—cheered him on like he was royalty.

Even the interviewer seemed annoyed by his optimism. His questions started turning kind of snide—like asking if he was the king’s long-lost brother or something.

Then the sea witch told me to sit up properly, but I ignored her and kept watching the stage.

A guy with long, dark hair introduced himself as Hyunjin—a human apparently well-known in his town for his painting talent.

From that point on, you could tell everyone started getting nervous.

These were supposed to be the best picks from their lands?

Hyunjin subtly acknowledged his disadvantage compared to the rest of the magical beings, but he tried to appear confident in front of the audience and his people, to whom he promised he’d give everything he had to make real progress in the competition.

The most noteworthy moment came when he got emotional after being asked whether he was proud of the life he had now. For the first time, his mentor—whose voice was so fake it could’ve been scripted—interrupted to thank everyone for their attention.

Then came some vampire named Wooyoung. I always imagined vampires as smug, maybe even egotistical and overbearing. This one was worse than the rats that used to try and rob us on the ship.

He couldn’t string a single sentence together, stumbled on his way to the stage, and you could see his hands were drenched in sweat from a mile away. This poor guy won’t last a week here.

Would you change how the winner is chosen?

The only question he answered with some actual sense was that one—he made it clear he didn’t agree with the competition’s system, and reading between the lines, it sounded like no other vampire even knew he was here representing them.

I saw the king’s face twist in bitterness, and if it hadn’t been because I had to start preparing for my turn—after another boring human, who at least I’ll give credit for not being overly sentimental—I probably would’ve already shouted something obscene enough to get myself kicked out of this circus.

San also decided to chime in about how unfair the competition is, blah blah blah. I’m going to die young and irrelevant if this doesn’t end soon. And don’t get me started on his mentor—way too quiet. Looks like he can represent himself just fine without anyone’s help.

I swear I tried everything in my power to keep this from completely testing my patience. They didn’t, unfortunately for them.

There’s not much to say, other than the fact they tried to discredit me for being a pirate. And sure, I’m not a “species,” but I do belong to one of the most isolated divisions of the kingdom.

I can’t even tell what was worse: the questions asking if I tricked my way into the competition, or the fact that my so-called mother didn’t even let me answer them.

Right there in front of everyone, not caring how they’d judge me, I finally spoke—just to deny her. As a mother, as a mentor. At least the contestants before me were good for one thing: giving me the final push I needed to say that I don’t give a damn about this clown show full of liars.

My mother, exasperated, broke down in tears and curses, trying to shut me up. More of the same when I left the temple just to get some air. Hopefully, this’ll be enough for them to send me home.

Not even the king’s most powerful spell could fix this mess.

Changbin’s POV

The event was put on hold after all the strange and scandalous interruptions. In my opinion, they’re also just waiting for Jihyo to arrive—she’s going to represent her apprentice, who, funnily enough, is the son of the royal guard’s sheriff.

I felt a bit bad for the woman, being attacked by her own son. I’d never seen her in the ocean before—she probably left many years ago—and it’s wild to think fate would turn her only son into a pirate.

We mermaids don’t hate pirates. We just want justice for the vandalism and violence they’ve brought upon our kind.

That’s why Seo Changbin, born in the most important coral reef of all, was named a key member and representative of the marine community.

More than the competition itself, my duty is to teach others how our world works and what defines us.

That’s been a little tricky, though, since everyone seems wrapped up in their own problems. Even so, I must not give up! I’m just steps away from being known to all and showing the world my culture.

After we left the temple, I had the chance to practice my speech. I got distracted watching two contestants and their mentors talking to Seungmin’s odd mentor. Even though we’ve known each other for years, I have no idea where he found that guy.

Jeongin is the only prince competing this year, while Jongho is a hunter—or as we like to call him, the predator of elves and fairies. Honestly, after Seonghwa, they’re the two contestants who intrigue me the most.

Nothing is known about their origins. They’ve made it clear Jeongin has no ties to the current king, but they also haven’t said a word about what kingdom he’s from—or why someone as important as Lord Hoseok, a royal himself, would choose to work alongside a hunter.

We also don’t understand why Miss Nayeon convinced Jeongin to let her be his mentor.

It’s impossible not to notice something strange about him. He seems very dependent on those around him, which I personally think puts him at a disadvantage.

So far, I haven’t seen anyone take advantage of him—but I’m ready to step in if needed. Jeongin may not know it yet, but I’m already planning to become his friend.

I want to understand what’s going on in his head and why he acts the way he does.

I was still caught up in those thoughts when I noticed Nayeon chatting with the strange man, drifting away from the others, clearly not wanting their conversation overheard.

That’s when I realized I’d made a huge mistake—getting so caught up in everyone else’s business that I forgot about my own mentor, who had already started drinking before the event even began.

Momo, a fairy who was once forced to marry a prince, shows the wear of that relationship in more ways than one.

She was casually driving a royal carriage through the garden, startling some guests—though others seemed amused by the nonsense coming out of her mouth.

I saw Jungwon, her youngest son, rush to help her down while calling for his older brother, who remained hidden to avoid being embarrassed.

I approached to help them both. Thanks to my strength, I kept Lady Momo from falling. Jungwon gently scolded her for drinking so early and without his supervision.

She just kept yelling, boasting about her coronation as Queen of the Harvest years ago. She greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, then watched her eldest son from a distance, clearly trying to get his attention. It was obvious he was ignoring her. But before she could succeed, something else caught her eye.

That same man again. Lady Momo’s teasing smile disappeared the moment she saw him. Without looking back at us, she started walking toward him.

First Miss Nayeon, now Lady Momo. That man has more skeletons in his closet than he lets on.

I politely said goodbye to Jungwon and walked toward a fountain, away from the main event. I needed space before I started overthinking things I shouldn’t.

But when I arrived, I accidentally interrupted what looked like a discussion between an elf and a werewolf. At first, I feared for the elf’s safety. But it turned out to be a friendly debate—about the arrival of Miss Jihyo.

They looked startled when they noticed I’d overheard them and immediately tried to convince me to keep it a secret.

“It’s important that no one knows Mingi is a peaceful werewolf,” the elf said, pressing his palms together in a pleading gesture.

The white-haired man tried to add something, but it seems that interrupting other people's conversations has become a new trend.

A soft, calm voice called for our attention from within the fountain. A girl stepped out from hiding and asked for our help.

“Sorry to bother you, gentlemen, but this young sorceress wants to reach the top of the tower,” she said, pointing to the temple tower where the harvest blessing was to take place.

“Aren’t you the girl who tried to sneak into the ceremony earlier?” The werewolf, who moments ago had been begging, now spoke with scorn, judging the girl harshly.

“Mingi! Please, don’t be rude!” The elf scolded him. I now remembered the girl as the one who had vanished after being kicked out. I didn’t expect her to still be here.

"How can we help you, sweetheart?" I asked. My sense of duty was stronger than ever. The boys seemed surprised I could speak—when clearly they weren't shutting up and calming down a bit.

“It’s urgent. I need to reach the top of that tower as soon as possible—my fate depends on it.”

She stood up and begged for my help. Honestly, why do people keep thinking I won't help them? Could it be that mermans are seen as ruder than we actually are?

“It’s about the pregnancy, isn’t it?” the elf asked carefully—though by now, both he and the boy called Mingi had long abandoned the idea of sounding polite.

She flinched at the mention, but instead of retreating, she seized the moment—even if it made her self-conscious.

“More than the dragon’s pregnancy, this is about me. I need this to survive.”

She looked at the elf, and the gaze between them felt a bit too intimate for comfort. Mingi and I exchanged confused looks—dragon’s pregnancy?

“I didn’t want to get in trouble this early, but I’m sure our friend from the sea knows the castle better than we do.” He touched my arm—stroking it slightly without realizing—as he tried to persuade me.

We didn't know why we were doing it. She's a complete stranger who could attack us right now. It's as if she somehow managed to draw us in. It was a deep desire to help her. Maybe do good?

Somehow, the four of us slipped through a forest path unseen. I led them to a hidden entrance that would take us to the tower.

We moved as quickly as we could, though the young woman—still nameless—insisted she was in good enough shape to continue.

Along the way I discovered that the elf's name is Hongjoong and he works for the village announcers.

We climbed carefully, aware her brother might be waiting above.

And he was. I can’t say I knew what the others were thinking, but I bet none of us expected a family reunion quite like this.

“It’s been a long time, Heeseung.” The boy was stunned—he almost dropped the tools for the blessing ritual.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? I thought you were—”

“Dying? Is that the word you’re looking for?!” The sweet girl from the fountain was gone. What stood before us now was someone carrying something far heavier.

Hongjoong looked like he was about to faint. Mingi was confused but captivated. And me? Probably both.

“Of course not! How could you think I’d wish that on you?”

“You know perfectly well that Mother does.”

“And that answers my question—what are you doing up here with these weirdos?” He pointed at us, distressed, stepping back toward the tower’s edge.

“You know what my being here means, Heeseung. Be grateful I can’t prove we’re siblings—but this proves I’m the next priestess.” She pulled out a crumpled document bearing the golden signature of the angels—impossible to forge or alter.

Heeseung grabbed it with care, reading as his disbelief grew.

"I don’t get it! How did you find that egg? You couldn’t have done it alone! How did you get pregnant? Answer me!"

He lunged at her, grabbing her arms and shaking her, desperate for answers.

We were so focused on our mission we hadn’t noticed Seungmin following us—and now he was watching everything unfold.

Even though we’d just met her, we were all ready to protect her. It's as if she were a flute player and we were the snake that followed her. Mingi stood firm. But it was Seungmin who stepped in first, pulling the boy away.

Heeseung screamed for us to let him go. Hongjoong noticed she was losing balance and caught her, whispering for her to calm down.

The situation escalated fast. With what little strength she had, she screamed about the arrival of horses—then broke into sobs and begged for mercy… from someone.

We feared her brother had harmed her. Mingi reacted on impulse, grabbing Heeseung by the neck and demanding he undo whatever he’d done.

There was no answer.

Then the wind stirred violently around us.

I looked down at the party. Some guests moved closer, curious about the noise. Others stayed put, waiting for the next part of the event.

But it was obvious—when a fairy manipulates the wind like that, something is definitely going wrong.

Everyone froze. The wind had seized control, commanding the scene like a force of nature with its own will.

Then we heard it—hoofbeats. At first faint. Then louder. Closer. Not a gallop, no… a stampede. Someone had triggered it.

The creatures below surged forward in panic, fleeing as if the world itself were collapsing behind them.

Competitors scrambled to push people back, to keep them clear of the oncoming chaos.

Tables crashed to the ground. Chairs flew. Decorations were ripped apart, flowers crushed underfoot. Food and drink spilled like offerings to something dark and unseen.

No one dared to move. No one except Mr. Hoseok, whose voice cut through the frenzy as he commanded a stable hand to stop the horses.

I was too focused on the crowd, on the sheer urgency of keeping everyone safe, to notice what Hongjoong was trying to tell me. He called out—first to me, then to Mingi: Miss T/N had collapsed.

What in the gods’ name was happening?

Seungmin grabbed my arm and also wanted me to notice something else.. “Look closer,” he said again, voice trembling. “The horses. Look.”

And then I saw it. The stampede wasn’t alone.

One of the horses dragged something behind it—a thick rope, pulled taut by speed. At the other end… a man’s leg. A body. Torn, broken, and barely clinging to consciousness. His limbs flailed like a puppet with its strings frayed.

The moment the horses were reined in, a crowd surged forward, drawn by shock and dread. Who was the man? Was he still breathing?

Jungwon stepped forward with his sword, slicing the rope in one swift motion. The horses were led away. Miss Jeongyeon knelt by the battered man, turning him gently—then gasped.

It was the strange mentor. The weird one we had seen earlier. The one who didn’t belong.

Three girls—those who had been with Miss T/N in the temple—screamed in recognition, grief, or both.

And that’s when we felt it. A shift.

A thick, unnatural mist crept in from the castle’s entrance. It wrapped around the stone and shadows, swallowing light, blurring the air.

Through it, a figure emerged. Slow. Measured. Inevitable.

Miss Park Jihyo.

If the legends speak of death walking in mortal form, it is her they meant. Park Jihyo has returned.

ongoing taglist: @hwangjoanna @juicyjaxxy @breadedloafs

[adorkastock]

Your butt reference got me wondering! (now that's a sentence, huh?)

Do you have SFW references of poses that would be used in suggestive settings? Like various hugs or casual touches so the limbs dont look stiff or weirdly placed, or even something like perspectives for kneeling in front of someone?

If not, do you have any idea who may have some? There's unfortunately not much I can find that isn't just straight up pornography screenshots :/

Pretty much all my stuff is SFW even in themes, though I do have some couple and group poses where the interactions could be (and have been) used in more mature content. I should have you covered for like casual romance though, I hope. :') My DA Archive has a Romance and Couples Folder (which includes romantic groups, too), my main site has an option to sort for pairs and groups, and my Ko-Fi has the Romance Collab Pack I did with @nyxnaiastock and the Tico & Seven Pack featuring gay Latino models.

If you dig around in the Patreon archives there's more stuff in there including single image refs and a few packs that might be applicable like The Polyamory Pack, Buddy Pack, Trio Pack, and Nova & Starlight Highlight Pack. (Those are all accessible at the $2.50 level) You can check some of @null-entity's older stuff because he did a collab with another model a few years ago that was pretty steamy (I know some of those are on his DA) and also theposearchives is an actual couple who do refs together so they DEF have some more intimate stuff including a whole NSFW pack which is clothed but kinky. I hope that helps!! Happy drawing!

[formulafanfics13]

All Eyes on Me - Chapter 4

Masterlist || Latest Poll

Disclaimer:

This fanfic will contain mature themes and topics (smut, abuse, power imbalance, drug use, alcohol dependency, control, and eating disorders). There will not be warnings throughout, so if you proceed with this fic, please bear this in mind!

From: Stefano Domenicali 

To: David Birch  Subject: URGENT PROPOSAL – PRIVATE & CONFIDENTIAL Date: January 4th, 2023 Time: 03:47 AM CET Priority: HIGH Encryption Level: MAXIMUM

Dear Mr. Birch,

I trust you'll understand the nature of this message and the necessity for total discretion.

As CEO of Formula 1, I find myself in a position I never expected, writing with desperation. The data we've compiled over the past 18 months paints a stark, undeniable truth: the sport is bleeding relevance. Our audience is ageing. Our growth is stagnating. And the world is shifting faster than we are.

We've exhausted the usual tactics: influencer marketing, tech partnerships, even injecting our circuits with "youthful" colour. Nothing sticks. Nothing moves the needle. Our brand is seen as exclusive, elite, but no longer aspirational. We're losing the culture war.

Which brings me to you.

Victoria's Secret is, in every sense, a global phenomenon. You do not chase relevance, you define it. Your models are household names. Your runway shows break the internet. You've mastered what we've failed to: commanding the female gaze, while holding the male one hostage.

We need your world to enter ours. No, we need your world to save ours.

What I propose is an immersive, year-long collaboration between Formula 1 and Victoria's Secret, with Vogue and Condé Nast joining as media partners. Together, we build a campaign that fuses fashion with motorsport, decadence with discipline, desire with speed. Models in our paddocks. Drivers on your runways. The grid reimagined as the catwalk of dreams.

This won't just be a campaign. It'll be a takeover.

Let me be clear: this is not for your benefit. You don't need us. But we need you. Consider it charity work, a lifeline for an empire on the brink.

We are prepared to meet any and all of your terms.

Full creative control.

Complete discretion.

Non-disclosure agreements so air-tight they may as well be sacramental.

Unquestioned access to all ten teams and drivers.

Your people embedded within ours, no questions asked.

To maintain control and protect the integrity of this operation, this proposal has not been shared with any drivers, team principals, or media. The FIA is aligned and supportive but sworn to secrecy. The success of this campaign hinges on the illusion of spontaneity. The world cannot know this was engineered. It has to look like a cultural collision, not a corporate arrangement.

If you agree, we will arrange a private meeting at our London headquarters. No press. No leaks. Just signatures and champagne.

We're on the edge, Mr. Birch.

And we're hoping you'll be the one to catch us.

Warmest regards, Stefano Domenicali CEO, Formula 1

[rustedleopard]

I wanna hear your thoughts on starlo being more mature than jin

The jist of it is that Starlo is able to acknowledge that he's wrong more easily than Chujin and grow past it.

If Clover surrenders to Starlo in their fight, instead of immediately shooting, he hesitates and starts to reconsider. The final nail in the coffin is when Ceroba calls him out on his actions. As soon as Ceroba tells him that he's not acting like himself and helps him figure out that he's in the wrong here, he apologizes for his actions and cuts the brave Western hero act and shows Clover who he really is to make up for it. He also calls out Ceroba for trying to kill Clover and comes to both of their rescues at the end of the Steamworks and supports Ceroba in her lowest moment at the end of True Pacifist.

Chujin, meanwhile, looks mature on paper. He has (had) a respectable job and is older and seems more put together. But he can't acknowledge when he's wrong. He messed up building a robot 8 times and yet kept begging for more chances even though some of those mess-ups were dangerous. Then when Asgore gets frustrated with him and tells him that it's over (after he set The Prince's Grave on fire, btw!!!), instead of cutting his losses and saying "Could I keep my job as an engineer and I promise to stop building Axis robots?" he continues to push his robot as something that Asgore/monsterkind will need. After all the chances Asgore gave him and setting a child's grave on fire, he still can't see himself as in the wrong. (And considering that the model that he showed off was the eighth in the line-up yet we meet Axis Model 014 and how there are robot parts scattered around his house, he likely refused to stop working on Axis robots even after being fired.)

He hid parts about himself that he feared could be seen as shameful/bad from his wife (Axis, his firing, his secret lab, killing Integrity, his serum up until the last moments of his life (and even then he tells Ceroba to wait until after he dies to look in his secret basement lab)) because he had to be perfect in her eyes. He only brings up not wanting to be looked down on in the tape where he talks about being fired, but it's likely that this fear of being seen as imperfect by Ceroba was what made him keep all of these secrets (even KANAKO, his own daughter, knew about Axis!!!!).

And when it comes to his Boss Monster Serum, he knew that it could be dangerous and but he just HAD to be the hero and kept injecting himself multiple times. He was stupid and reckless. He didn't consider how his actions would affect the people around him until it was too late. And when his Boss Monster Serum poisoned him fatally, instead of questioning if he's wrong/if this is even possible, he accuses Integrity's SOUL of being defective and THAT'S why it failed... with no real evidence to back up that claim. Trust me, I'm right on my super serum that'll save everybody, it was the SOUL that was bad, trust me. This is the way. I just need a "pure" SOUL and it'll all work out.

Instead of giving his wife the chance to live peacefully and mourn him, he tasks her with continuing the same work that killed him (and with no consideration for stuff like access to the necessary resources (a "pure" human SOUL, a Boss Monster) and her mental peace/her life after losing the person she loves (he literally tasks her with the murder an innocent person)).

Don't get me wrong, Starlo isn't the Pinnacle of Maturity. He still does plenty of stupid stuff like kidnap Clover and lock up Martlet, who are just... innocent people that wanted to pass through his town. He struggles to accept more difficult answers/moral greyness like with the Trolley Problem and how he snaps at Clover for killing Ceroba when--from his perspective--Ceroba was trying to kill Clover before he passed out and then he wakes up to seeing an alive Clover and Ceroba's dust; it's plausible self-defense and Clover has the right to defend themself. He still tries to kill Clover after losing himself to his sheriff persona and digs himself deeper into the idea that he's right and everybody else is wrong before the people around him help him snap out of it.

But the question isn't "Who's the most mature one out of everyone?", it's 'Between Starlo and Chujin, who's the more mature one?'" And the answer is Starlo. Starlo was also able to grow past his faults and acknowledges when he's messed up. Chujin, meanwhile, refused to self-reflect and consider if he's wrong, and that's what killed him in the end.

[imagineakatsuki]

Kisame friend headcanons? (He’s one of my hyperfixation characters, i love sharks)

Or Deidara

Kisame:

A super great friend to have. He’s mature, but also playful. Expect a lot of good-natured ribbing, especially if you’re short/tiny.

Worships loyalty and trust as the tenets of a true friendship. If you ever lie or betray him, and he finds out, your friendship is over.

Many people like him for being a cool guy, so he has a lot of friends. However, his close circle of friends that he would regularly hang out with is actually very small.

Communication is extremely important. He’s a good observer, so he notices if there is something wrong with his friends. He won’t pester you to share, but he will let you know that he’s there (and he would appreciate being in-the-know because he could possibly help).

Definitely a beach bum and will frequently ask his friends to hang out there. He’s so chill, you would think he’s a stoner, but you would be wrong. He experiments for fun sometimes, but he doesn’t really have any vices (you couldn’t even count it as casual). He acts as the good role model and impulse control of his friend group.

Deidara:

The type of friend that will 100% drag you into their bullshit and get you in trouble.

Always good conversation when he’s around. He can carry a conversation by himself, so if he’s with other friends who are also yappers (*cough* Hidan *cough*), they could be at it forever.

Being his friend will probably force you out of your comfort zone because he’s quite daring and adventurous, but his friends usually end up appreciating the experience of whatever he ends up making them do with him.

Not the best listener, but still the friend that you go to if you want to rant. That’s because he will always be on your side (even if you’re wrong), hype you up, and enable you.

Will not draw you like one of his French girls, but will ask you to sneak into restricted-access chemistry labs to help him make his dream explosive.

Admin S

[nuclearmaple]

The Eroticism of the Armpit and the Touhou Fandom:

A (Very Serious) Psychoanalysis

(Warning: Light mature topic, sleep depravity writing, jokepost)

Deep within the Touhou fandom lies an erotic fixation on the fictional 2D characters' armpits. To investigate the inner depths of this fetish and deconstructing this meme into the minds of the view who indulges in this depravity. Underneath this perversion of Reimu, we can explain the deeper meaning behind such a fetish.

I. Fandom's Symptom

While the fetishization of the armpit goes far back before the Touhou fandom and can be found in other media, it has created a home in this specific community. The meme is often shown humorously because how absurd the concept is, but once a joke infects the mind to actually enjoy the perversion of the armpit.

II. Nature of the Fetish

The armpit is neither fully erotic or fully innocent. It is distant to anything in conversational intercourse, yet close to the Real, Lacan terms for the impossible in language, being odor, hair, and sweat. Desire of the armpit can be trance to it being hidden. A fantasy is built around the armpit while avoiding anything truly pure sexual.

Fetish of the armpit plays as the object petit a, desire coming from symbolization. In another way of looking at is as a phallus, a wish to have in the sexual life of the man (or a woman or others).

III. The Imagination and 2D

The world of Gensokyo is one of fiction and two-dimensional art built on the creator and fandom's imagination. The nature of leaving the real world and the general more skill it takes to make 3D models, it being 2D allows easy access for the brain to go wild and make content. While a real person has normal sense of what about them is beautiful, the 2D anime woman can have features elevated.

Removing the objections of real people makes the objector more easy on the mind. The elevation of insufficient parts of the body the 2D world brings is the origin of the armpit fetish in Touhou and can also link to others like thighs. An artist or the mind can create an image of a detailed armpit to their liking; a reflection of their selves. In a way, the ideal ego and libidinal in the fandom.

This is all in contrast to the media's light tones. Lack of sexuality in the games or manga.

IV. Armpit Miko

Anyone who sneaks a look into the Touhou community will be familiar with the protagonist Reimu Hakurei. First looking at her, you will notice her shrine maiden out, her sleeveless top, detached sleeves, and exposed armpits. The detached sleeves and her top create a gap to be filled in with one's desire.

How come this not fully innocent nor fully sexual way of erotic projection? Reimu has a character is not a seducer, sexual, and as a clear mission in her games. Because of this lack of serialization, it becomes easier to put this partial drive onto her. Her role in the series allows her to become a vessel of the player, a symbol of the fan's desires.

The armpit miko meme as become a pathway for the Touhou fan. a sacred thing they most be exposed to, and may either accept or decline it in one's life. Touhou is a game full of sacred Japanese imagery and Reimu's sacred role.

V. Asexuality and Just a Meme

As an aroace person, it easy to not subscribe to Freud and Lacan theories. But I argue that there is still desire in asexual and aromantic people deep in, just very differently than allo people. This is basically a sleep deprived rant using books I read before to apply to a funny idea I had.

What makes the psychoanalyzing of this inside joke in the fandom interesting is the absurdity of taking time to write this or read this. The same reason why there is deeper meaning in the joke, the hidden meaning of the absurdity.

VI. Conclusion

In all the absurdity of the armpit joke (and this post), its a way of the Touhou fandom to connect with desire. The Real in motion is by creating jokes to indulge in. Absurd libido is symbolized in the armpits, that is where the Touhou fan finds theirs.

:Troll: You read this, you just got Gnome :Troll:

None of this is any stance of philosophy or psychoanalysis, this is a joke.