#this likely seems insane without context

[toffeebrews]

steel + charcoal + lilac + ... apricot

apricot is the reason why you see me so often *evil laugher*

haha what you have failed to account for is I LIKE POSION MWAHAHAHAHAHAH

(thank you, bro :3)

[windupaidoneus]

editing my pinned little by little as i get normaler over time there will likely never be a point where i am fully normal but i can dream

[herrscherofmagic]

innocent, unsuspecting me, starting the Black Shores quest, unaware of what's about to happen:

"Alright, looks like this is the last main quest before the Rinascita stuff! This seems like it'll be a sort of interlude chapter, probably pretty short, maybe a bit of exposition, so I may as well go ahead and see what's about.

Oh. oh no. oh god. holy shit. OH FU—" [the transmission abruptly cuts as I'm splattered by a runaway Mach-5 emotional rollercoaster]

okay for realsies though I was NOT expecting all that. and I ain't complain', far from it, that was absolutely mind-blowing!!!

I have to get up early for work tomorrow so I can't afford to stay up all night writing a massive essay about how much I love the Black Shores story (and Camellya's story quest)... but I do need to share some quick thoughts:

vistas: gorgeous

characters: fascinating af

music: divine

plot: fucking awesome

Shorekeeper's identity and story was WAY more interesting than I expected tbh, and ditto for Camellya. I was a bit worried about it being slightly waifu-baiting, but the way the Rover grew close to each of them felt surprisingly natural.

I'm kinda impressed by how well WuWa has handled this, where nearly all the character relations so far feel organic and well-founded given the circumstances that they've met under. There's a lot of deep bonds, but they all feel believable to me ^.^

It's also kinda funny how ordinary Aalto and Encore feel in contrast, too, and I can't stop thinking about how Aalto must've felt when he realized that the random interesting person he found ended up being the 30,000+ year old (at MINIMUM) founder of the entire Black Shores organization lmfao

and tbh I quite enjoy how Rover has a sort of air of authority about them, I felt like it was there fairly early on (maybe appearing sometime in the middle of the Jinzhou arc), but in this chapter it really was plain as day. the way they just took command??? and the respect they received??? simply astounding. fantastic.

Tethys Deep is also such an amazing map design! Easily one of the most beautiful places I've seen in any media. It's such an interesting mix of deep-sea imagery and sci-fi design, and tbh the thing i love most is that it's *INHABITED* and alive :D

[kutepik]

Eyes on you - Part 2

(mdni 18+) Caleb is aware that you know about the hidden cameras all over his house. Now he’ll have to face the consequences of his actions once he gets home.

3k words. also posted on ao3!

Part 1 HERE (please read it for context)

Did you... Winked at the camera? 

Did you... know? Were you aware of the cameras all along? And you did all that, knowing he'd be watching? 

Caleb stared at the large monitor in his office like a maniac, replaying the part of the tape where you left your soaked panties on the bathroom door handle and looked directly at the hidden camera next to the painting in the hallway. He played the scene once more, pausing at the frame where you winked directly at him. Caleb's lips curled up into a sick smile. He could touch himself and cum right there and then, but you were clearly waiting for him at home to “relax”. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You were as fucking insane as he was. And that made him even crazier about you. 

Flustered and in a hurry, Caleb left his office without explaining himself to anyone, determined to arrive in less than twenty minutes - no, ten if he ran over a few stop signs. It didn't matter how many tickets he got, he just had to be quick enough to find those panties still wet. And trust him, he would. 

Now he found himself in that hallway, standing in front of the closed bathroom door with those panties between his fingers. He could feel the wetness and viscosity of your fluids against the soft fabric. It was so soaked that his fingers got wet enough to bring it to his lips and lick it like a hungry dog. It wasn't enough. Caleb brought the panties to his mouth and nose, sinking into their smell, taste and wetness. And that was the scene you witnessed when you opened the bathroom door, dripping from the shower and wrapped in a towel. 

The lilac eyes of your oh, so dear friend Caleb seemed more violet in the dimness of that corridor. He looked at you like an animal, not a man. It was almost threatening, if you didn't know that this man would never be able to do anything to you - at least not something you didn't want him to. 

At first, when you left the panties on the doorknob, the plan was to get Caleb into the bathroom, where you two could work out the sexual tension that had built up over the years. But now, here, with this man explicitly pleasuring himself with your used panties, obsessed, hungry, and unashamed to show it to you, all you could think about was how far he would go for you. 

"Pathetic” you said, lifting your chin, your eyes locked on his. His pupils dilated as he heard you, his hand still holding your panties to his nose, as if he could not fucking stop smelling and feeling you in that dirty piece of cloth, even with you here, watching him and scolding him for it. "I knew you stole my panties in high school," you muttered quietly, taking a step forward. "But you're still doing it as a full-grown man? Really pathetic" His erection was obvious "And what about those cameras? Hm?" You pushed your hand against his, suffocating him with the panties he smelled like a pervert. Caleb smiled while groaning under the fabric, breathless. "Did you think I wouldn't find out?" You pushed him, your hand still over his nose and your panties, making him stagger backwards and through the bedroom door that was opposite the bathroom in the hallway. With one last push, Caleb fell onto the bed, his elbows supporting him, and you took the opportunity to grab your panties back. He panted like a dog after his favorite toy, forcing you to put a knee between his legs — against his hard-on — to prevent him from moving. 

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he groaned, rubbing his clothed cock against your leg. “I- you're driving me crazy-" he gasped, holding your thigh "Literally. All I think about is you, all I want is you, all I..." He panted, still thrusting against your bare skin like a pervert. You pressed your knee down harder, making him moan louder and stop moving. 

"Since when did you install the cameras?" You waved your panties in front of his face like a tempting reward. "Hm?" You brought the fabric close to his nose and pulled before he could grab it. 

"Ever since you came back to Linkon and told me you were coming to see me," Caleb leaned his head against your stomach, like a devotee holding onto their god. "I just wanted to see you when I wasn't home, Pipsqueak. I just want to make sure you're safe." The Colonel's rough fingers curled into the fabric of the towel wrapped around your damp body, pulling you closer, secure in his embrace. "You're everything. Everything" He lifted his face, still pressed against your abdomen, staring at you with eyes that were now a deep purple. 

"You say it like that was your only intention." You pulled his hair back, forcing him to pull away from you "But what about the cameras in the bathroom? The ones near the shower? Are they there to protect me?" He bit his lip and tried to pull you close again, but you pulled even harder on his hair. Caleb groaned, and even with the force that your knee exerted on the middle of his legs, you felt the abundant pre-cum against your skin. 

"I told you, crazy. You drive me crazy, Pip. I want it all, to see it all, to touch it everything-" He dug his fingers even deeper into the towel. "I tried, I swear, I really did. But you're like a fucking drug. The panties weren't enough, I needed more." His voice was rough, like he was about to lose it, about to give in to his desires, but he kept fighting with everything he had. 

"More." You repeated and loosened your grip on the back of his neck, bringing the same hand up to caress his face. With the other hand, you released your panties on the floor. Then, you moved to the knot holding the towel and loosened it, letting the fabric fall to your feet. "Like this?" 

That was all it took for Caleb to sink his face into your stomach again, this time feeling skin on skin, covering it with mouth-open kisses. "Yes, yes, yes, fuck-" He sank his fingers into your flesh, bringing your mound against his lips. "Fuck, yes, like that," he said, almost desperate. 

"I'll give you what you need." You replied in a sweet tone and lifted the leg that had been caging against his cock to rest on the bed. This gave Caleb full access, and he understood the message. He started eating you out like a starving man who hadn't eaten in days. His tongue sank between your wet flesh, up and down, while his nose circled over your clit, soaking in your scent as if his life depended on it. One of his hands that had been holding your waist went down to your dripping pussy, and Caleb ran his fingers into your folds, wetting them with your juices. Suddenly, you felt his calloused, lubricated fingers enter you, curving as they fucked into you deliciously. 

"Thank you," he whispered as he kissed and licked your clit non-stop, at the same time as he fucked you with his fingers at a frantic pace. The whole situation had already turned you on, and the way Caleb fucked you with his fingers was too intoxicating for you to last long. Soon, your thighs started trembling, betraying the orgasm that was about to come. "Princess, please, please, come on my fingers, please," he begged, desperate, as he increased the speed of his thrusts and the movements of his tongue against your sweet nub. 

"Caleb!" You grabbed his hair again, trying to keep his face away from the squirt of your orgasm, but he grunted and stayed between your legs, drinking every drop. 

"You think I wouldn't want you to come all over my face?" He stuck out his tongue and licked your pussy again, looking at you obscenely. "I fucking dreamt about this for years. God, you're perfect." He kissed your belly again and nuzzled his face there. 

"You're really crazy." You grabbed his face, watching his drunken, cum-slicked smile. He seemed satisfied with it, as if your pleasure was all that mattered, and in fact, Caleb could die now, and it would be more than enough. But that wasn't enough for you. Not at all. During the time he was supposedly dead, if there was one thing you had learned, it was how much you regretted not having done more. You put yourself through hell, thinking about what might have happened if you'd just admitted that you knew about his crush on you, or that you knew about the hidden panties, or that you'd heard him masturbate countless times and call your name when he thought he was alone. You spent sleepless nights back then, thinking about what Caleb would do if he found out that you liked this, this obsession, this devotion, and worse, you felt that way about him too. You were obsessed, crazy, and attentive to him and what he did for you and to you. Now that he was back to you and had made his intentions clearer than ever, there was no point in hiding. 

"Take your clothes off." Your eyes lit up as you stared at the large stain in the middle of his pants. That wasn't just pre-cum. He came just from eating you out. Crazy bastard.  

Caleb pulled off his clothes carelessly, as if he couldn't believe what was happening. "Are you sure? I mean, I don't really need you to do anything. It already feels really good just to have had the chance to eat you out and make you come." You could tell he was holding back, and it made you angry. You wanted all of him, everything, completely honest and true, to you and to himself. 

"Caleb." You climbed on top of him, rubbing your wet pussy perfectly against the length of his throbbing and once again erect cock. Caleb moaned with pleasure, bringing his eyes down to meet your folds as you licked his cock clean. "You can do whatever you want to me." Your hips moved back and forth slowly. "I love that you're fucking insane about me..." You both moaned as your clit rubbed against his swollen tip. In one smooth motion, you lifted your hips slightly and held his hot length, rubbing the throbbing head over your clit, using his cock to please yourself. 

"Oh my god, that's so fucking hot," he cried as he began to thrust against your clit, moaning loudly along with you. 

"Caleb, I love that you're insane about me, because I'm just as insane as you are, and for you." With another roll against his tip, your lips let out a loud moan that was soon interrupted by Caleb's rough hands pulling you into a kiss. It was dirty and unceremonious. Your tongues met obscenely and without shame. 

"I-I can really do whatever I want? You sure?" He said between kisses, lowering one hand to your ass and the other to your soaking cunt. 

 "A-Ah! Yes! Please." You felt him thrust his fingers into you again, fucking you. The noise was wet, erotic, and your moans mingled with your panting breaths. 

"I want to fuck your pussy with my cock, please, please, please - I know you said I can do whatever I want, but I want to hear you tell me that I can, and that you want it as much as I do. I want to fuck you stupid and make you come again and again and again and fill your pussy with my cum to the brim," he said against your ear, spreading kisses as he continued to push his fingers inside you without stopping.  

"I want you inside me. Fuck." You whimpered at the speed of his fingers. "I want your cock, I – I want you." Your lips came together again in a hasty kiss. 

He thrust his curved fingers in harder, eliciting an obscene sound from you, before pulling them out. "I'll give you what you want. I'll give you anything, anything you want." Caleb ran his wet fingers over his own throbbing cock and held it, slapping it against the folds of your sensitive pussy. With his other hand, he lifted your hips just enough to bring his cock closer to your hole. He let out a loud sigh as he circled the tip over your entrance, feeling you, soaking into your juices. Then, in one smooth motion, he thrust in and reached your bottom. You swallowed him whole at once, both moaned in unison. This was just insane. 

"Are you okay? Are you feeling okay?" He said, breathing heavily, his eyebrows scrunched up, violet eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort. You smiled and relaxed your hips a bit more, lowering yourself enough to feel him balls deep into you. "Oh my god, you're so fucking good, you're taking me so deep. God, you're so tight—so perfect for me." Caleb looked so happy, finally being able to feel you, to be inside you, to fuck you. The two of you stared at each other breathlessly, still, savoring the sensation of being connected like this for the first time. "Look at you," he said, moving his hands up to your breasts and caressing them. "I need to fuck your breasts, cover them with cum, bite them and suck them..." Caleb murmured in a trance as he ran his hands over your body, imagining the possibilities. He brought his fingers up to your mouth, and you opened your lips and sucked his index and middle fingers. "I need to fuck your mouth too... I've imagined you sucking me off and me slapping my cock against your pretty cheek just to paint your face with my cum. I bet you'd look so beautiful." You moaned with his fingers inside your mouth. He withdrew the wet digits and guided them into his own mouth, sucking on them. 

You couldn't take it anymore, so you threw your torso back, leaned on his knees with your hands, and started rolling back and forth, riding him. Caleb watched as your pussy swallowed his throbbing cock up and down. "Holy shi- Yeah, just like that, fuck- like that." He brought his thumb to your sensitive nub and started stimulating it in slow, circular motions. 

"A-Ah, instead of thinking about what you are going to fuck, why don't you concentrate on this?" You teased, lifting your hips just enough to reach the sensitive head of his cock, only to slowly roll over. 

"You are- " Before Caleb could finish, you sank down again and started fucking yourself on his cock at a faster pace. Caleb threw his head back and cried out, moaning your name like a mantra. "'Holy fucking shit, where did you learn that?!" Before he could think too much about how you had acquired your sexual skills, you decided to hit him with another brutal ride. He groaned again, gripping your hips tightly. That would leave a mark 

"Better than you imagined, huh? When you touch yourself thinking of me." You said breathlessly, without stopping the movement of your hips. Caleb lifted his face to look at you, his eyes full of water and his mouth swollen from biting down to hold back his moans. 

"Are you kidding? Fuck. There's no comparison." He rubbed his thumb against your clit again, encouraging you to roll over more, seeking more friction. "Ah- Ah, yes! Good girl, use me however you want, fuck me, please." His finger followed the increasingly rapid speed of your hips, almost violently, abusing your already swollen spot from another orgasm. "Please, please use my cock however you want, fuck, sit on it, cum on my cock, please" 

"C-Caleb- Ah, ah, Shit!" You were breathless at the way he rubbed your clit, and suddenly, you stopped riding, sitting on him with your legs trembling, as you felt the orgasm come for the second time, wetting his cock with your liquid again. Your walls were contracting non-stop against his member, making him curse loudly. 

 "Fuck, you're so hot, squirting all over my cock, so fucking pretty.” He moaned, eyes filled with lust as he absorbed the vision of his cock soaked from your juices,  “You're going to drive me crazy squeezing me like this, shit-" He suddenly pulled your torso into a tight embrace, pressing your breasts against his chest as he began to thrust into you like a savage animal. "I'm sorry, I really can't hold it anymore," he bit your shoulder as he rammed into you with all his might, fucking and fucking you deep and dumb. Your sweaty skin seemed to melt and fuse together, and it was almost as if you were one. "You're so beautiful, so perfect. Your pussy was made to be fucked by me and only - shit - by me." He hugged your back as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling you two as close as possible. "You were made. for. me," he punctuated the words with each thrust, and took on an erratic rhythm. 

"I was. And you for — Ah! Me." You said, burying your face in his neck, and it was like a trigger: Caleb's legs started shaking, and his cock started throbbing, shooting his load inside you, over and over again. You both groaned loudly and hugged each other even tighter, as if that were humanly possible. The two of you stayed like that, hugging, soaked, stuck together, panting, and even after a full minute you could feel Caleb's cock twitching inside you, releasing one last hot spurt. 

After a bit of quiet time to catch your breath, you began to laugh and planted a few kisses on Caleb's sweaty neck. Carefully, you lifted your face to look at him. He had his eyes closed and a smile on his face. 

"Hey, Colonel, how's it going?" You said, your voice hoarse and tired. Caleb let out a quiet "mm-hmm" of approval. "Can you let me go now? We're disgusting." You looked down, feeling the sweat that glued your breasts and belly to his chest and abdomen. Caleb wrapped his arms around you and kissed your forehead. 

"I'll never let you go," he said with a smile. You laughed and nuzzled your face against his neck again. You stayed like that, together, your breathing calming down and your heartbeats synchronizing. Suddenly, something popped into your head. 

"Hey, how long do these cameras keep the recordings?" You whispered, and Caleb shivered. You looked at him again, and he opened his eyes, his pupils getting bigger again. 

"I don't know... A few hours, or days, maybe." He stroked your back, lost in thought. "Do you want to see?" 

You laughed and stared back at him, "Absolutely." 

[4e7her]

finished chap. 1 of rip and tear yesterday and am now halfway through chap. 2 (which is where we get into the actual first origins episode). i'm thinking i'll post chap. 1 either end of next week (12/08) or after i finish writing chap. 3, we'll see what comes first. should i post rip and tear on ao3 as well or should i just stick with quotev? idk where the audience for oc mlb fics is

[empiressmp]

So you wanna know what's going on with dream?

Here is your crash course so you can enjoy the nonsense with all of us, this is super high speed so I am missing a fair bit but if I miss anything that you think is vitally important to the context of this drama please add it!!

Background context: dream and quackity had the same idea for a server, a multilingual server with live translation, they announced them at the same time, quackity ignored dream and dream had a breakdown, Tommy made a video making fun of youtubers where he made fun of dream, dream dm'd Tommy's mother on twitter because she was fighting with his stans.

Also: After Dream's face reveal several people accused him of grooming, Dream put these rumours to bed very succinctly in a video, however people continue to joke that he's a nonce including Tommy's best friends Jack Manifold and AverageHarry.

Okay so onto the drama:

Tommy and Jack make a podcast, Tommy says that the person he disliked meeting the most in 2024 was Mizkif, Mizkif responds, XQC butts in and says Tommy is cringe, Tommy says XQC is cringe XQC says Tommy is cringe, Dream replies with this, unprompted.

Nobody liked that.png

Dream makes and deletes a Reddit post where he says he doesn't get why everyone thinks it's okay when gumball called him slurs but now he can't say slurs, he also says Tommy is spineless:

Tubbo responds, says you shouldn't say slurs, defends Tommy and shares that he dislikes dream because he dmed Tommy's mum when they weren't friends and he facilitated inappropriate behaviour in the dsmp discord and he is a very toxic friend

Dream responds in a 3 hour stream where he:

doesnt apologise for saying a slur

yells about quackity for ages

cherry picks tubbos criticisms of him to make tubbo seem unreasonable

Claims he made no money on the dsmp (??)

sends weird shots at HannahxxRose, Aimsey, and Caitibugzz*, while saying he is opposed to naming people with unfounded rumours

Says people hate him because he played the villain on the dsmp?????

reveals he called a friend of ludwig a whore (unprompted)

reveals that porn was shared in the dsmp discord around MINORS

He's very upset that Tommy and his friends have continued to make jokes that he is a groomer.

deflects all criticism and plays the victim

* Caitibugzz is the person that George groped when she was 18 and drunk and he was 26.

Tommy responds with a 5 minute video saying: don't say slurs, you're a man child who demanded credit for everyone else's success, you're a misogynist, and you need to get a life.

Tubbo responds to the live stream with a 6 hour live stream where he slowly goes insane watching Dream absolutely lose it, he makes a lot of arguments here but honestly it's mostly just debunking wording and correcting statements, Tubbo is genuinely very mature and he only loses it a little bit.

Dream makes a 9 minute video response to Tommy where he claims Tommy is running and editor sweatshop where he doesn't pay his editors, and that Tommy did child slave labour for his merch. He also says he has no idea why Tommy thinks he's misogynistic.

Ludwig mentions the drama in a clip and says that he doesn't like dream cause dream called his friend a whore, then when confronted sent a 5 paragraph message defending himself, but the entire message was about a DIFFERENT GIRL HE CALLED A WHORE

Tubbo responds to Dreams video where he reveals:

Dream is talking about the merch situation because he knows for a fact no cc's involved can legally discuss it so he could get away with saying whatever he wanted, however when claiming that the merch company scammed Tommy's followers and friends he uses screenshots of invoices that were actually from a weekend tubbo and some friends spent in LA, where tubbo rented a mansion and a fancy car, and dream doesn't know this because he was using the screenshots without any actual context because he is entirely clueless on the facts of the situation.

And: all of Tommy's editors have formed an Avengers team to say "no actually he pays us great" and the only screenshots used in the video to claim he doesn't are actually 2 from Jack Manifold (who paid a new editor $50 because they didn't know what rates to charge) and 1 which was actually talking about Corpse which he maliciously cropped to hide that immediately after saying "he was talking about maybe using fans to do a rough cut to save time" said "he didn't"

Tubbo also reiterated that Dream has a history of misogyny but from this drama ALONE he has: called two women whores, called out only women/fem presenting people with unfounded claims while supposedly being against that, and entirely downplayed, made jokes about, and ignored any criticism about the fact that his best friend sexually assaulted someone.

Today dream and tubbo will discuss this on call live and then god help us we may be free

Someone end the fucking party.

[biceratops7]

This, this fucking image...

It drives me insane, just activates something visceral, and I finally realized why. It's not just an appropriately placed close up shot to denote intimacy between Gabriel and Beelzebub, it's a fuck damn pov shot.

Gabriel is not dressed in accordance to his preferences, he is borrowing Aziraphale's clothes. And Beezlebub, well lets just say a black blazer is a black blazer, not exactly the easiest thing in the world to differentiate. Just looking at those hands joining, the individual identities of their owners melts away. The moment could have so easily belonged to Aziraphale and Crowley... and it's just- it's... it's just like the Rats of Nimh. They've seen this sign everyday for almost their whole lives, and have never once known what it says. They can make inferences, use context clues, wherever they are, it seems to be too so it must be about them, but they couldn't ever know for sure. Until one day, without warning, they looked at the words, and understood them.

And the sign communicated a way out.

Aziraphale and Crowley are the first of their kind. I don't think we really appreciate or understand how utterly unfathomable what they feel for each other is in their lived contexts, even to them. All this painful fear, all these lengths they go to, all to keep safe this precious experience they don't even have the language to name. It's not just unallowed, it's unreal. So then just imagine what the actual fuck they must be feeling when they see someone else... just fucking do it. Just like that. An angel and a demon. In love. Intimate, affectionate, in front of heaven, in front of hell, in front of humanity, in front of GOD, and She knows who the hell else.

For literally the first time, they’re seeing the things they feel for each other exist in others like them.

[burningembers91]

Not Who I Want to Be - Choi Su Bong (Thanos) x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Thanos is tired of life, until he meets you.

A/N: I am determined to make this man likeable. Redemption story arc incoming!

Warnings: Mentions of abusive father, mentions of drug and alcohol dependency. 18+ only!

Thanos couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent 24 hours sober. He’d either been drunk, high, or both for as long as he could remember. When he was a teenager, it was a way to escape his abusive father, but the pills and drinks eventually became a crutch, one he couldn’t function without.

He still had no idea how he’d become so famous, how his music had managed to become such a hit with so many people. There were songs he didn’t even remember writing, days that were completely lost in a haze of booze and drugs. But somehow, people loved him. He was under no illusion that people loved him for who he was – he knew he was a prick. No, people loved him for his fame, his money, and his seemingly unlimited supply of narcotics.

It didn’t matter to Thanos though; he relished the attention, basked in the flirtatious attention he received from women whose names he never bothered to learn. His friends were nothing more than people desperate for fame, clinging to him in the hope he’d make them as big a name as he was.

People seemed to love his outlandish character. Every time he did something insane, his fans would go crazy for him. So, Thanos slowly became more unhinged, forgetting the little boy he’d once been, the one who’d had big dreams. He spent each night with a different woman, attending every party in Seoul. His penthouse apartment was a constant hive of activity, the people he’d picked up along the way using it as a base to get high.

He didn’t even enjoy music anymore, the words he wrote meant nothing to him. His fans constantly demanded more of him, so he worked like a dog to give them exactly what they wanted. Nothing he wrote made sense; it had no meaning, no context behind the raps. His songs were as empty as his soul; but people were eating up his words like they were gospel.

It was a usual Saturday night ritual for him to attend a club in Seoul. To make an appearance to the crowd, before getting blackout drunk. Tonight, he found himself in the throng of a sweaty crowd, so high off the pills he’d taken before coming out that he was barely clinging to existence. The usual scroungers were there, taking as many free drinks from him as they could get, posing for photos that would instantly be uploaded to Instagram for a few minutes of fame. Girls were clinging to his shirt, their slurred words ricocheting off his ears, melting into the thump thump thump of the base from the speakers to his right. He was dizzy, dehydrated and so, so fucking done with this crowd. He needed to get away, needed to breathe some fresh, sweat-free air.

Pushing himself away from his followers, he stumbled up the steps to the rooftop. It was raining, the wind pushing the droplets sideways into his face. If it was cold, his body didn’t feel the chill. It had been a long time since Thanos had felt anything. The roof was empty, expect for a figure to his left. You were stood huddled under a thin canopy, your arms crossed over your chest. You sipped periodically from a glass, shivering every now and again against the stormy night.

You were the most beautiful thing Thanos had ever seen. You seemed to light up the entire space, despite the wind and rain. Your outfit clung to your figure, accentuating your curves and leaving him breathless. You spotted him staring and offered a small smile. Half walking, half stumbling, Thanos made his way over to you. One good thing about the booze and the drugs, it gave him confidence; and he’d need a bucketful to speak to you.

“Hey girl,” he said, instantly transforming into his overly-macho, too confident persona. “You know who I am?” “No,” you simply said, taking in his tall, lean figure and bright purple hair. “Should I?” “I’m fucking Thanos, baby!” He cried, the wind drowning out his voice, making him seem as small as he felt. “Right… Sorry, doesn’t ring any bells,” you shrugged, downing the last of your drink. “Where would I recognise you from?” “My music,” he told you proudly, spreading arms so you could take him all in. This wasn’t the usual reaction he got. People usually knew he was before he’d even introduced himself, but you, you were just looking blankly back at him. “I’m award winning, senorita!” “Sure,” you smiled, “I’ll uh… I’ll take your word for it.” A clap of thunder stopped your next words, the two of you looking towards to the storm-laden skies. “We should get inside,” you said, “wouldn’t want the famous Thanos to be struck by lightning.”

Following you inside, he couldn’t help but eye your figure as you walked down the stairs. You were nothing like anyone he’d ever seen. Your indifference and unfamiliarity with him were refreshing. You weren’t scrambling to get an autograph or clinging to him in the hopes he’d buy you a drink or take you home for the night. “You here with friends?” He didn’t want the conversation to end, he didn’t want you to leave. He’d probably never see you again if you left now. “Yeah,” you nodded, “it’s my colleagues’ birthday. She really loves this place. You?” Thanos looked around, his eyes scanning the crowd for the people he knew were anything but his friends. “Yeah, baby! It’s Saturday night! It’s party night!” If he wasn’t so off his face, he’d be cringing at the way he was speaking. This wasn’t him; he knew it wasn’t. But he didn’t know how to be any other way. “Well, don’t let me interrupt your evening,” you smiled. He could tell you thought he was a joke; he knew you saw straight through his bullshit. “Wait!” He called after you. “Can I get your number”? You turned and shook your head. “Sorry, Thanos,” you smiled, “I don’t give my number to Marvel villains.” He laughed; not only were you beautiful, you were funny too. “What about your Instagram then?” You thought for a few moments, and finally agreed. Typing your account name into the search bar, you pressed the follow button. “Hey, your accounts private!” Thanos remarked, seeing the request pending written across the screen. “Yeah, it’s to stop all the weirdos from following me. You never know, I might accept. Have a goodnight, Thanos!” And with that, you disappeared into the crowd.

He awoke the next morning, his head pounding and his mouth dry. Some random girl lay next to him in bed, a bottle of vodka tipped on his side and dripping the last of its contents all over his custom-made tile floor. His memory of last night was hazy; he didn’t remember leaving the club or getting home. He didn’t remember going to bed with a stranger, but he remembered you. He remembered the way the strobe lights reflected in your eyes, the way you refused to put up with his shit. He grabbed his phone, scrolling through his apps until he found Instagram. Clicking on your profile, he couldn’t help but smile when he saw you’d accept his follow request.

A message popped up on his notification banner from you. His hands shaking from nerves and withdrawal, he clicked on it. Hey Thanos, it read, I hope you didn’t get blown away in the storm last night. He laughed, harder than he had done in months. Finally, he was excited about his day. He couldn’t wait to reply, couldn’t wait to see where this new conversation could lead him. He jumped out of bed, heading for the shower with his phone clutched in his hand. For the first time in a long time, Thanos was looking forward to the day ahead.

[jeaninelatragedia]

wait, doesn't personality predate ideology? ideology doesn't create personality, right? (genuine question, i want to learn more)

"personality predates ideology" is a quirky little rhetorical sleight of hand that implies that: 1. people have an innate inclination toward certain or other aspects of personality, 2. ideologies form out of the emotional impulse of (a certain group of) people. what this boils down to then, if we sit down and analyze it, is that it implies certain people are naturally and innately predisposed to agree with particular ideologies, beliefs, etc. this is, to put it mildly, incredibly idealistic and very very dangerous.

this is a belief that's taken a lot of forms and different ways of being expressed, so specifically what i'm honing in on is the time famous gringo comedian Brennan Lee Mulligan said the quiet part out loud in an interview. quote: "people are not motivated by ideological codes, people are motivated by impulse and construct ideological codes to justify and rationalize what they were already going to do. [...] on the level of individuals and civilization, personality predates ideology, meaning that before you were a fascist, you were a bully and an asshole." again, i think this is symptomatic of a larger, yes, ideological trend, and i don't take like, personal issue with the fact this one guy belives that. if anything i'm thankful, because him saying it this way makes the surrounding concept much more easy to analyze!

so let's move around the center thesis point and analyze the surrounding context. many ideologues have spoken at length about the fact that understanding fascism as some kind of catch-all badpersonist ideology is (to not use the also correct term "unserious") not just untrue, but detrimental to how we can study the material weight and implications of fascist ideologies, as opposed to other ideologies that are, frankly, equally as violent and reactionary. "bully" and "asshole" are terms that mean nothing other than like, a vague social idea of "person who other people find abrasive toward those disenfranchised in a setting of comradery" or really just "person who others don't like very much"! to claim that there are people who are fundamentally predisposed (from birth in some models, but really even without that) to being "bad people" as individuals, that then go and adopt the "ideology by and for bad people" is, well. calling it reactionary is genuinely lowballing it. and that kind of sets the tone for the idea, right?

to get really dialectical with it and get into the negative flipside of the idea, think of the common non-denominational leftist slogan of "i wasn't radicalized to the left, i just have empathy and care about people". it's kind of the flip-side to this belief, right? "i don't need a strong framework to inform my political conceptualization, all i need is hope and to #lovethyneighbor! that's true leftism!" but that's not really effective, is it? i don't make the allusion to christianity for no reason, many christians who live good, sinless, charitable lives, are also like, insanely reactionary in a lot of very particular topics! feelings are fickle, and often do not reflect material reality. and so is "personality", so is "belief", these are frameworks that reduce the human experience into the very point at the start, that flatten discursive knowledge, scientific analysis, etc., into being secondary (if even relevant!) against "impulse" and "instinct". personally, i think it's a bleak view!

the first line about "ideological codes" and "impulse" seems to think it's putting the cart squarely after the horse, but looking closer at it, it's doing the exact opposite. sure, a child is not birthed with a fully fledged ideological framework, but a child is not birthed with a fully charted path of "impulses", either. and this is because a child (and therefore all people!) does not exist in an empty vaccuum, their mind does not develop away from a historical context.

people are shaped by context, people interface with other people, and the people of the present grapple constantly with the weight of history. the weight of a history that, in fact, crystalizes ideology within those who live in it! people do not develop ideological frameworks by themselves, their ideological frameworks are shaped by their context. and the same goes for their personality, for their "impulses", for their "instinct". all of these things are built and trained, not innate. people are not, in fact, motivated squarely by an ideological dogma, but they aren't motivated by base impulse either! people are motivated by context, a context that includes both the interpersonal and the broader ideological machinations that have existed ever since society has.

now we circle back to the core phrase. "personality predates ideology", and to your question, which i'll translate for ease of answering into: "does ideology create personality?" both the ideas of "ideology" and "personality" are... very broad concepts, to say the least. at a glance, it definitely seems like a chicken and egg situation. but just like with the chicken and the egg, it's a solvable issue! it's just an answer that may seem unsatisfying without its context.

in short, neither is really true! personality, being the vague thing it is, can't be much argued to have a "starting point", if we define it by a particular set of social traits that form an "identity". what we can say is that the personality of one or multiple individuals did not give rise to the fact that ideological frameworks began to be created as society began to set. ideological frameworks are also messy to define, even if we limit ourselves to the idea of "political ideologies". but what's certain is that, in the thousands of years of human history, frameworks to define society were needed for the sake of, well, defining said society! and that had less to do with personality than it did with the material conditions that shaped societies, and therefore, the people in said societies.

think of the context of the world (geography, biology, every influencial factor on the first societies) as a line, from which the individual personalities of the people in that context split off. eventually the ideology that forms society splits off the same line of context too, and they almost immediately begin to weave together, like a single thread turning into a woven rope. the ideology of the society in which the individual is raised is influential in their personality, and as society develops, ideology too becomes part of the context that informs that individual development, that shapes the individual's personality. but ideology is now so natural in society, it's not able to be influenced by the individual, but rather, by history as a whole.

so, the answer is twofold. the personalities of each and every human individually in all of history were not informed by ideology, because ideology developed with society, and they're both vague terms to define when looking at such a long timeframe. but both those ancient personalities and ideologies were built by their context. and as generations grew within society, ideology became part of that very same context. and now, in the modern day, the ideologies of the world are so inextricably woven into the context of each individual's life, that claiming that ideology is not a major factor in the development of the individual's personality can only really be said if your idea of "personality" is an intrinsic characteristic of a person, and not something shaped by their context. for what i'd argue is basically all of human history, i'd say yes, personality is (mostly if not entirely) created by the ideological context of the individual.

(as an aside: it's also important to understand that even with this model, personality is not actually relevant to ideology! ideology stands without the necessity for an individual's personality, because it needs to be analyzed through the context of history, not the other way around!)

or in less complicated terms: read Dialectical and Historical Materialism by Iosef Stalin.

[wileys-russo]

Leah williamson, changing rooms, 'you kissed me!"

kissing you II l.williamson

when you first met leah, frankly, the two of you hardly saw eye to eye.

you were still young, hotheaded and easily baited. leah was cocky, confident and held the reel that hooked you in with ease. at first the two of you clashed heads at academy level, fighting for the same position and starting lineup, desperate to prove yourselves and get any minutes you could.

you were called up to the senior team and offered a professional contract first, something that ate at leah far more than she ever cared to admit but you saw and soaked up every second of.

but after spending half a season riding the bench you were just as infuriated when leah was quick to join you, taking the one up as she quickly cemented herself as a reliable super sub, and you were stuck wrapped in a hoodie on the sidelines with a signature fake smile plastered on your face.

you avoided leah more after that, learned to hold your tongue and rise above the sharp quips she'd shoot your way, letting them fall on deaf ears and pretending as if she wasn't even there, your full focus on your football.

but the more you were determined to block her out, the harder leah tried to worm her way back in, and if you were any more wiser you might have sensed there was a little more to the back and forth blows exchanged between the pair of you than first met the eye.

of course all you could think was that leah was just doing it to throw you off, determined to keep her starting position she'd earned over the last two seasons you'd both been playing in the senior team, you now the reliable super sub.

to the naked eye it just seemed like a rivalry, the pair of you often separated by teammates when arguments would flare up, generally after leah had spent an entire day poking and prodding at you until inevitably you snapped.

after a stern warning from the head defensive coach that the pair of you needed to sort your issues or both be benched, you once again withdrew from the back and forth completely, only acknowledging leah in a professional context.

which seemed, without you even trying, to annoy the mouthy blonde even more than when you engaged in her little games.

"oi." you exhaled slowly, refusing to look up from the paperwork you were scanning, laid down on a physio bench awaiting for your ankle to be strapped, leah unfortunately right beside you getting a knot in her shoulder dealt with.

"are you deaf?" you exhaled again as this time a pistachio hit you in the forehead, looking up to meet leahs grin as she tossed one up and caught it in her mouth, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

"they can teach monkeys to do that." you grumbled with a roll of your eyes, contemplating if you really needed your ankle strapped this badly before training.

"are you busy tonight?" leah questioned, a huff leaving your mouth as another pistachio bounced off the papers in your hand. "why?" you shot back at her with a raised eyebrow. "lets get dinner." leah announced suddenly as you looked at her as if she'd grown a second head.

"and why would we do that?" "because i just asked you to." "and why would i say yes?" "because i just asked you to.

"you're so annoying." you grumbled, sighing in relief when the physio returned, tape in hand, sitting down beside you and providing a much needed distraction as thankfully leah made no move to continue the conversation.

you of course assumed it had all been some long winded attempt to mess with you, you agree to go to dinner with her and she doesn't show up, pretends she never asked you and you wonder if you're going insane.

but leah was persistent, that you had to give her, and for the next week she continued to ask, and ask, and ask, and ask. until one afternoon, you snapped.

"jesus christ if i say yes will you leave me the fuck alone williamson?" you hissed, leah sat next to your locker and asking for the tenth time just this afternoon alone if you'd go to dinner with her tonight.

"yes. we could go to the flying fish and i can-" but you didn't even let her finish as you scoffed.

"oh no no no, i am not giving you any chance to stand me up or mess with me williamson. i'll pick you up at six, better be ready to go." and with that you strode off away, making a mental note to message alex to actually get leahs address, far too proud to turn back around.

~

you'd tried to keep track of how many drinks you had, but with the exceptionally strange circumstance of leah seemingly being nice to you, it was far too uncomfortable for you to take on sober.

luckily enough also perturbed by these new and weird situation leah seemed to be matching you drink for drink, every time you'd finish one another would appear in both of your hands as if by magic, and you lost count after four which was poor math even for you.

with dinner long done, the bartender gently cutting the pair of you off and neither of you in any state to drive home you knew it was time to call it a night.

"i'll get a taxi or something." leah offered, pulling her phone out and squinting at it upside down making your eyes roll. "no i will." you argued, rummaging around in your bag for your own phone.

"nah i will. relax!" you stumbled a little as leah shoved you, the pair of you stood on the street outside the restaurant, your car left behind in the lot. "you relax!" you pushed her back as annoyingly the blonde barely moved.

"don't push me!" "you pushed me first!" "i'm ordering us an uber. "no i will!"

"jesus christ leah! do you have to constantly argue with me about everything? do you get off on pissing people off? you are so unbelievably-" but you were cut off as suddenly a pair of lips were pressed against yours.

"oh fuck i'm so sorry i shouldn't have-" but as regret flooded leah and she quickly fired off an apology, she was also cut off as this time your mouth met with hers.

but once again as if suddenly realizing who you were kissing you sprang away from one another as if burned, a tense silence falling as all that filled the cool night air was the sound of traffic on the main road a few streets over.

"you kissed me." you managed to get out, breaking the silence like a whip as leah scoffed. "you kissed me!" leah was quick to fire back. "well you kissed me first!" you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest, another tense silence falling as you stared one another down.

"alright fine. i kissed you." "i kissed you back."

"well. should we do it again?"

[fagtainsparklez]

i may be a toxic gatekeeper but unless they were there all these sad quote/imagine accounts will NEVER understand the intricacies of “what am i without you?” / “yourself?” because they NEVER put a question mark on tubbo’s response. yeah the quote hits hard on its own whatever but the context is SO necessary and adds SO much. tubbo’s response isn’t really. as driven as “yourself.” with that period (.) would be. and, again, adding the period spins the meaning and narrative into something completely different (in a bad way!!! to me!!!! boooo booo tomato tomato etc!!!!)

because tubbo responds in a way that makes it seem like tommy asked him if the sky is blue. like, yeah, obviously yourself, what do you mean, boss man? because tubbo doesn’t value himself in the same way tommy values him. and tommy doesn’t value himself in the same way tubbo values him. there’s a clash of ideals on both sides. that’s what makes it so interesting!!!

but by removing the question mark you create this call and response of “i can’t imagine myself without you / your personhood is important and i am here to remind you to value yourself” instead of the much stronger call and response of “i can’t imagine myself without you / i can’t imagine myself mattering (that much) to you” and it drives me insane

[chronicdelusionistsart]

Bernard Dowd and the Art of Recontextualization

I'm what you might call a "fake Batman fan" - that is, I've only watched most of the Batman animated series', all of the live action movies, most of the animated ones, played some of the video games... so, you know, probably thousands of hours of my life in Batman related media. But not the comics! Fake fan!

Frankly, I find the comics medium the way DC and Marvel do it to be really hard to follow. There's the fact that you can't really follow an individual solo character without them getting caught up in massive crossover events that ruin their arc and pacing, there's the soap-opera-iness that encourages cheap and revolving conflicts inherent to the longform monthly release schedule, the writer roulette, and there's also just that going back to try and thread a particular continuity or character is an exercise in frustration. Oh and the retcons. Everyone hates those. They've (basically) never been good. Don't remember this part it will never come up aga

But, you know, despite this - or maybe because of this - comics is a breeding ground for ideas. Because of the quick turnaround and the demand for novel conflicts, comics just churn out idea after idea. Good ideas, bad ideas, doesn't matter. Get it to print. Retcon it later if we write ourselves into a corner. Comics are often soooooo first draft coded. This is why I personally prefer adaptations - they often reimagine ideas and retcon them into new narratives where they can serve a more coherent plot. But what happens when a character is picked up for a second draft ... without actually contradicting the earlier material? While enriching the earlier material, even?

(SPOILERS for Tim Drake: Robin and uh... 20 year old comics under the cut!)

So, uh, quick disclaimer - because I have very little overall knowledge of DC's Comics continuity, there may be more interesting examples of times that what I'm going to point out was done. But I love Bernard and from a writer's POV I'm impressed with the way they did it so we're talking about Bernard lmao

The Beginning (Robin 1993) - Reading comics from the 2000s hurts in a way I can't describe

Okay so I heard Tim Drake is dating a guy now? (Penny Sonic voice) Whoa he's bisexual I didn't know that! I'm sure people on the internet are being very normal about this. Cool let's find out more about his new bf. I like starting from the beginning... so like yeah hold on while I crack open the Robin comic and take down what this guy's deal is.

😬

So basically the TL;DR of Bernard in his original appearances is that he seems to be an attempt to introduce some normal stakes teen drama into Tim's life. He has all the Funny Guy Friend Classics - he's got an inflated sense of his proficiency at pulling girls, he's inexplicably drawn towards the protagonist (who is cooler than him), he wants to date the most popular girl in school, and he wants to get down with older women!

This might just be me but while I was going through this I thought like, he almost reads a little uncanny, like he's been filtered through a Disney Teen Special. In practice he mostly serves to introduce Tim to the Real Plot, Darla Aquista, and be one of his ties to civilian life, which is, like, fine. He's ultimately just a background character and he's so unimportant that he only has one appearance after their school gets shot up(!!!), which is, again, to be more of an accessory to the Darla plot.

After this display of "wow this guy's kind of lowkey insane for offering to his resurrected bestie supervillainess to be her manager actually", he's dropped forever. Comics! We're not gonna unpack that.

The Sequel (Batman: Urban Legends) - We're Gonna Unpack That

Until almost two decades later when he calls Tim up for a date. And while I'm trying to skim over a lot to get to the point here and I don't really know the FULL context, it is notable that Tim is in the middle of an identity crisis / the cusp of adulthood when this happens (I think he just lost a spleen or something. That sucks dude). It's pretty implicit that part of the reason he's going to see Bernard is because he's someone familiar in a time when he's facing a lot of new and scary stuff.

And at first blush, he really does seem like the same dude. The familiar arm over the shoulder, the banter, it's all very casual and similar to the ribbing from high school -

- and I guess nothing has happened to Bernard in the interim haha he's just the funny friend guy right?

I really like the way they did this. I'm just unambiguously going to praise how good this is if you just came off the 2000s stuff. Comics have kind of breakneck pacing by nature but they really manage to condense down and then pull off a neat sleight of hand over the course of like four pages here. They re-establish Bernard as a silly guy and then wham you with the fact that yeah actually we ARE gonna unpack that. Fuck you Tim Drake life is ever changing and nothing stays the same

So the TL;DR on the rest of the Urban Legends storyline is that stuff like, HAPPENED to this guy while our focus was elsewhere. He learned martial arts, presumably so that he wouldn't be so helpless in the next school shooting level event, he got into a pain cult, he's just Not Doing Well. We find out, reading between the lines, that calling Tim on a date was probably one of his last attempts to reach out to someone when the cult stuff was getting really bad.

I've heard people complain that Bernard is uninteresting or not a character or entirely focused on his relationship with Tim, and I think that criticism is really weird considering that his entire re-debut focuses on the point that he's been having his own life and making his own (often wild) decisions - ones that really changed the course of his life - while Tim was gone. And it's also notable that this story is about how the fact that he's his own person and has changed and has made the nerve-wracking decision to take action and call Tim inspires Tim himself to take a leap and fling himself into the uncertain waters of young adulthood.

Me when I have my bi awakening and call to get out of a rut simultaneously because Cute Insane Guy Inspired Me. iconic

So that's how Bernard has changed. But that's not recontextualization, that's just the writers taking a guy and making him do another, cooler thing. Well hold the fuck on because we're not goddamn done.

What did he mean by th-

The Recontextualizerrrrr (Tim Drake: Robin) - Bernard is the funniest person in Gotham City. I'll not be taking constructive criticism on this

Tim Drake: Robin is the followup to the Urban Legends story and Tim is the main character fr. Obviously. but Bernard is also a major character. Later, he even gets to be a POV character. But they don't do that for several issues, instead treating us to his shenanigans from Tim's point of view as he solves a bizarre serial murder case and like, they're cute! And neither of them are normal in the slightest. I love that for them.

Again, TL;DR, there are a lot of interactions where Bernard talks to Tim both in and out of costume, but we don't get to see his POV until they go out to a restaurant and meet Bernard's parents there by accident and Tim has to run off to do Robin stuff. And like... a lot of stuff happens in this one bois. Whammy after whammy

We're suddenly introduced explicitly to a lot that was only implied or just completely unavailable before. Bernard's parents are ragingly homophobic. Probably were never great even before that. He suffers from depression. All that is a lot to. wait. hold on a second

he knows?????

HE KNOWS????

Okay so if you stop at this point and reread the entire run so far you find out that Bernard is in fact the biggest troll in the entire universe. This is the moment that cemented him as my favourite, by the way. Like I had a feeling that he knew and I was just laughing my ass off when my suspicions were confirmed.

But this is really interesting on top of that because Bernard has been revealed to be, at this point, a guy who you should look deeper than the surface to understand. Someone who masks his true self and whose true motivations you can only uncover if you're really looking past the facade. Even with Tim, he sort of offers Tim and Robin half the story each, taking advantage of Robin's "distance" to give out information he wants Tim to think about but that he's reluctant to talk about frankly while at the same time almost daring Tim to open up about his identity.

Absolutely most normal way to tell your bf about your cult trauma. You'll always be famous to me Bernard Dowd

This is a really neat trick by the writers. It makes Bernard a multifaceted character who got to quietly develop while we were mostly focused on Tim, and there's some clever clever foreshadowing they set up in this run to achieve this. If it were just this, I would call it good writing.

But it actually goes one level deeper than that and becomes something really really special. because as we all know, Bernard was not conceived to be this way, he was a one-off guy who was kind of annoying and he was essentially retconned to be, like. Gay? Have depth? Be funny? All of those things?

The Seamless Retcon (Robin 1993 Again) - We took your guy and we gave him gay subtext and it worked astoundingly well

This is not a new observation btw, I've seen a ton of posts to this effect. But oh my god. Some of these panels really hit different with the new Bernard lore. Like holy fuck just read this back to back

There are tons of moments like this. There's SO MUCH that the revelation that Bernard is queer adds to his initially extremely underwhelming tenure in the Robin comics. A reread almost begs the question of what Bernard must have been thinking at any given moment! BRO YOU SAID YOU WANTED TO FUCK HIS STEPMOM. That's completely believable as a next-level closeting move and goes from kind of annoying to turbofunny.

Like yeah of course he's acting like a douche. His father is a status-chasing asshole and he's five racks deep in the closet. Of course he gravitates towards Tim - his gaydar is pinging and he thinks Tim is cute. And it's also pinging that Tim is like. You know

None of this would hit as hard if the writers had not set up Bernard as someone who masks so much. They worked it in that character trait to mean that you could always glean information deeper than the surface from his top level interactions.

Because of this, Bernard is really fucking interesting and he's a good character and he's one that gets better on reread. Like I said, that's a set of observations that are not new to me. But something that really gets to me is how seamless and intentional it is. It really feels like the writer sat down and took their time devising a guy that is believable as that other guy, but only if you read back with certain context.

The conclusion - Comics. Man.

So is this just about how Bernard is really fucking interesting and he's a good character and he's one that gets better on reread and that he can exist independent of Tim and all the haters are wrong. Yeah of course. 💖

But also like, I have thoroughly proven to myself that I was kinda wrong to just reject the published comics medium out of hand. I see now that there's room for the writer's roulette to hit the jackpot and that something I mistook as an outright flaw, the winding and unfocused and often improvised nature of it, can be ridden like a wave if you're skilled enough to do it. Meghan Fitzmarten is a goddamned genius.

I guess I have to read comics now. Fuck

[felikatze]

QoL as Kindness: ISAT's diagetic tutorials

This is the hopefully first of a series of posts I'll be doing reinterpreting ISAT's Loop through the lens of START AGAIN: a prologue's context. As such....

Major spoilers for both ISAT (all acts, including optional content) and SASASAP (all endings).

One of the biggest differences between ISAT and SASASAP is it’s QoL – it’s Quality of Life. QoL refers to all the little things that make a game just that little bit more playable; quick to navigate menus, quicksaving… tutorials.

It’s not really a surprise that SASASAP is as RPGmaker as RPGmaker gets. This isn’t a criticism, just an observation, and also a compliment to how much Adrienne’s skills with the engine improved between releases. Still, there’s some things that ISAT has over SASASAP.

ISAT’s QoL is absolutely essential to making it bearable. Anyone ever watch an ISAT playthrough where the player sighed in relief as the tutorial on picking where you loop came up?

SASASAP lacks a lot of ISAT’s QoL because it’s an earlier project without a studio backing it, but what impresses me is how this change ties into narrative.

Because the greatest chunk of ISAT’s greatest QoL is provided by Loop.

Even before you ever meet them, they’re already over your shoulder. Loop is the tutorial, speaking to you inside your brain. It’s genius, in that no player is ever going to question this. Hell, SASASAP’s movement tutorial is the exact same thing with less flavoring

This reframes what the QoL is – it’s not just a convenience to the player, it’s a convenience to Siffrin, too. It’s diegetic. It’s not something the game is giving you, it’s something Loop is giving you. Let’s look at what Loop gives you, and more importantly, why.

Zone Out

The first of the QoL features I want to talk about is the Zone Out function, the absolute bread and butter of not making this game a total slog.

The Zone Out feature as is did not exist in SASASAP (because Adrienne didn’t know how to do it yet) – instead, some doubled scenes let you just skip them entirely outright. There’s only two extremes: listen to all of it again, or none of it.

ISAT’s zone out system is much more dynamic, since it fast forwards dialogue line by line, letting you zone in whenever you’d like, and forcing you to zone in whenever a) something notably new happens, or b) whenever Siffrin speaks.

The way this feature is introced by Loop is kind of genius. Because Loop’s tutorial is about one thing – it’s okay to skip.

“You might miss what your party is saying, but who cares, right? If you make them mad, you can always loop back and they'll have forgotten all about it!”

It’s a cruel joke, or at least it seems that way on the surface. It’s also genuine advice. And a cruel joke at the same time. For Siffrin, freshly starting the loops, this is scandalous, but for Loop, who’s long since desensitized, it’s the same old same old.

What Loop’s doing here, by joking about Siffrin not listening to the party, is alliviate Siffrin’s guilt when they inevitably take Loop up on the offer. Because, even though Loop loves their party members…

From SASASAP, when sitting outside the bathroom:

(Will you get farther this time?) (Will you live this time?) (Or are you stuck listening to the same lines forever?) (…) (Stars, you’re so tired.)

Loop knows intimately well that Siffrin is going to drive themself insane trying to be a people pleaser every single loop, so this joke is telling the outright – don’t bother.

At first, Siffrin (and the player) still might. I really enjoyed reading the same conversations five times minimum because they’re fun and I’m deranged, but at some point I did start skipping them. And it was a relief to know there wouldn’t be anything new.

Siffrin: “Should I check everything again?” Loop: “You mean, should you check the same barrels, the same closets, the same objects on tables every loop?” Loop: “I mean, you can, but… You know things won’t change, right?” Loop: “If you really want to get a certain item again, or listen to your friends repeat something funny, you should!” Loop: “I personally would only check two or three things every loop, and ignore the rest.” Loop: “It will just make you crazy to expect something to change, when nothing will.” Loop: “All that might change is your reaction to it!”

The game is telling you, Loop is telling Siffrin, don’t drive yourself insane playing, please. The characters aren’t going to remember if you skipped something.

In the course of my script wizard activities, I’ve gotten an in-depth view of just how much that actually holds up. Pretty much all major differences are by Act, unrelated of how often you’ve done something. Minor variations apply for other things, but… those variations are minor.

And this also points out what all those variations are. Siffrin’s reactions!

Loop’s pre-empting Siffrin’s guilt, cuz they probably felt it themself. Hell, we do know they felt the pressure to perform and make sure nobody notices anything’s wrong, in SASASAP! Right up until the finale, Loop was driving themself up the wall.

(You have to act, you can't crack, you have to fake it and play it exactly as you did the first time for the whole way through so your friends don't find out anything is wrong) (You don't want to know what would happen if they knew their quest was in vain) (If they knew their quest for justice and change always ends in stillness and death!)

Acting everything out perfectly is one of the ending paths for SASASAP, which results in… complete and utter failure. Obviously.

(You acted perfectly normally, didn't you?) (Nothing out of place, nothing weird, every line the same as it might've been the first time?) (Ah…That was your mistake, wasn't it…?) (Because… Didn't your very first time… end exactly like this?) (The King throws the Housemaiden's body onto the floor again.)

Zoning out for too many conversations actually awards weird points in SASASAP, locking you out of the Perfect Ending. On the other hand, acting “perfectly” in ISAT… has no awards whatsoever. No special scene or or optional event or anything at all. You get nothing for paying attention!!!

So spare yourself the pain already, m’kay?

(On that note: I don’t think Loop not being sarcastic about it would’ve like… worked. At the start of ACT 2, Siffrin isn’t going to believe Loop when they say “Stop forcing yourself to relive the same thing over and over because you’ll start seeing your friends as disposable actors and lose touch with reality.” That all comes later, when Siffrin can look back on Loop’s words and see how right they were.)

Loop Back

The second biggest sigh of relief in any given ISAT playthrough is probably this specific tutorial.

Loop graciously shows you that you don’t need to loop back all the way to the beginning every single time. You can pick and choose where to go, even going forward by paying up with Memories of Skirmish.

This is a feature SASASAP does not possess, for the reason that it is much, much shorter, only covering about as much as one floor of ISAT’s three floor House.

But… since this is a character showing this to you, Loop showing this to you, we can ask… when did Loop learn this? After all, START AGAIN, Loop’s loops, do not have this feature.

“It'll save you time, so it's important, so listen up!”

This feature not existing in SASASAP means this is a thing that Loop did not know exists during their own time as Siffrin.

And that’s just the thing, isn’t it? SASASAP’s Siffrin does not know how to do this. They cannot pick and choose where they end up, as demonstrated wonderfully by SASASAP’s True Ending. There’s an even more wonderful implication, though –

On SASASAP’s Perfect End path, when exiting the final room before the King, Isabeau says this:

Isabeau: “…I'm glad you're feeling better, though!” Siffrin: (…?) “What do you mean…?” Isabeau: “Oh!!! Um, you were…” Isabeau: “Well! You were acting a little weird when we were way closer to the Castle's entrance……” Isabeau: “You weren't really listening to us, you were kinda smiling the way you do when you're actually not happy…” Isabeau: “…and you like, almost acted like you knew exactly where you were going?” Isabeau: “But clearly you're feeling better now! You're acting just like normal!!!”

SASASAP’s Siffrin knew how to do this, somehow managed to lock themself into the House’s last floor… and then forgot how to get back. By making this tutorial, Loop is ensuring that Siffrin never will.

“What can I do next?” – SASASAP’s greatest flaw

So, if you’ve had the pleasure of playing START AGAIN START AGAIN START AGAIN: a prologue yourself (as you should), then you’ve probably faced this scenario, or some variation of it:

I got to the end, I died to the King, but… what do I do next? The game tells me to go for the extremes, but how do I do that?

(edit: apparently some of yall just managed to speedrun sasasap in two loops. You're gonna need to stay with me here, please. Suspend your disbelief a bit, because a lot of people [including me] were dumbasses about it)

Maybe you try another loop, but just get the same ending again (or a differnet one, depending on a coinflip). You’re getting frustrated. Getting the Perfect Ending demands pinpoint precision to avoid everything weird, the True Ending demands good memorization of every single damn key in the game, and the order you do everything in. (Though, to be fair, the requirements on that one are actually more merciful than one might expect.)

Point is, in SASASAP, it’s incredibly easy to get stuck in that endless loop of “What the fuck do I do now?” It’s not uncommon to think you got it right only to get the same result anyways. What does one do in this situation?

They consult a guide, obviously.

START AGAIN’s ending requirements are frustrating. They are. When I tried to go for either the Perfect or the True Ending, I saved inside every single room, just so I could get right back to it when I inevitably fucked up five times minimum. This is both criticism… and praise. Because Loop is the major reason that ISAT does not suffer from this same problem.

Whenever you’re stuck in ISAT, Loop is just a single loop or call away at any times. And besides that, no plot requirement in ISAT demands nearly as many moving pieces all at once as SASASAP does – the “Sus Route” has been relegated to an optional ACT 4 exclusive event, instead of the game’s True Ending.

Instead of consulting an external guide on how to progress, you have one right there in the game, always ready with the next tip. They’re not infallible, mind you – enough time in Isatcord’s #game-help proves that, but Loop solved all of the moments I got stuck and frustrated in ISAT for me.

(Primarily that one time you need to figure out that a photo is similar to being stuck in time. That moment in particular is actually commendable, as you need to ask Loop about it twice before they tell you, leaving you a last shot to try and figure it out on your own.) Loop is a feature that nullifies SASASAP’s greatest flaw in its successor, and they choose to do so.

Memory of Keys

In my humble opinion, Loop does this because… they do not want Siffrin to suffer as they did. They want Siffrin to escape. And there is no greater example of their kindness than how Loop treats keys.

First of all, all keys in the game have a sparkling effect on them if you’ve picked them up at least once before, making it immediately clear where in the room they are. This means you don’t need to search every single room top to bottom for them, as you had to do for any keys and Star Crests in SASASAP. It’s some nice QoL that just means you don’t have to re-search the same area if you happened to forget which specific cupboard the key was in.

Key point being: SASASAP did not have this feature. In SASASAP, you did have to memorize where all the keys are, and doing so is expected if you want the True Ending.

Loop does not want Siffrin to have to do this. Because…

From SASASAP’s True End:

(The torch in the infirmary? That’s important!) (The key in the book? Soooo important.) (The names of your friends, that have been by your side throughout this entire adventure?) (Not worth remembering.)

Compared to ISAT’s ACT 2:

Siffrin: “How come I can see where the keys are?” Loop: “Whaaaaat? You caaaaaan? How can that beeeeeee?” Siffrin: “Is it thanks to you?” Loop: “Maybe.” Loop: “I figured you'd have other things to worry about than where a stupid key is.” Loop: “No need to thank me.”

To Loop, that they memorized the House’s layout over their friends’ names is a defining moment to their own failures. After all, in all likelihood, the True End of SASASAP is the last loop before they called it quits. It’s a traumatic experience from them, one that came from having to remember all the dumb fucking keys.

They do not want Siffrin to experience this. They do not want Siffrin to have to memorize the House, to push away what actually matters in favor of efficiency. So Loop is directly, personally, giving them a boon, so that Siffrin does not have to.

Conclusion

There’s probably more tutorial things I could talk about, but I feel like you’re seeing the pattern now, even if I don’t bring up saving level ups or keeping equipment or the “You’re stuck” signifier, least of all cuz they don’t have direct points of comparison with SASASAP like my other examples do (SASASAP has no changeable equipment, and saving levels doesn’t matter if you only have one floor, and you can’t softlock either.). So.

Loop’s tutorials all belie a fundamental kindness to their character. Everything that made their own experience trapped in the timeloop just that bit worse, they’re choosing to do away with it for Siffrin. They are choosing to make Siffrin’s time here easier.

Zoning out too much lead to them never paying attention to their friends, forgetting their names, so they make sure that Siffrin can still zone back in whenever something new happens.

Loop trapped themself for years on the final floor, locking themself out of progress that might lie further back, so they’re ensuring Siffrin knows exactly how to loop forwards and backwards so it doesn’t happen again.

Loop lets Siffrin keep equipment across loops to cut down on time spent doing the exact same thing over and over.

They are saving Siffrin time, and they are giving Siffrin comfort. At every single turn, Loop is saving Siffrin from the same pitfalls they fell into without anyone to guide them out.

It's honestly incredible to transform an increase in skill into an actual narrative element. Yes, SASASAP sucks more to play. But ISAT sucks less, because Loop wants it to. It's the perfect marriage of real world circumstance and storytelling. I could... probably pull another comparison here, saying it's like a game and its remake - overhauled graphics, expanded story, and loads and loads of QoL, because the makers of the remake realized something. They love the original, but parts of it do suck, and there's so much that can be done to make a new player's experience smoother. Metanarrative commentary,,,, woah,,,,,

Every single one of these QoL elements I’ve mentioned function as a crutch for a player’s failing memory, but also Siffrin’s (similar to what I talked about in my previous essay on ISAT’s ludonarrative - the player and Siffrin are always in sync, even in how tutorials benefit them). Loop doesn’t know the player exists though (only the Change God does), so they do everything for Siffrin.

To keep Siffrin from forgetting. To help Siffrin focus on what’s important. To make Siffrin’s journey just a little bit less miserable. Loop directly improves ISAT’s QoL. For you. For Siffrin.

From Loop’s introduction:

Loop: “See, I’m useful! I’m very useful! That’s why I’m here, helpful Loop.” Siffrin: “Why are you helping me?” Loop: “…” Loop: “Because I think you should be helped.” Loop: “I won’t always have the answers, but… I think having someone on your side to talk to is better than dealing with this alone.” Loop: “Right?”

From Loop’s hangout:

“But it’s fine.” “Whether you believe me or not, I’m here to help you.” “So you can escape this loop.”

And finally, from the start of ACT 3:

Siffrin: “Are you really here to help me?” Loop: “Stardust…” Loop: “…” Loop: “Yes.” Loop: “If you can believe anything, believe that.” Loop: “I asked to be here, so I could help you.”

And I do believe them. Loop’s feelings on Siffrin are… complex, to say the least. They love Siffrin, and they hate him in equal measure. They’re jealous, and spiteful, but underneath everything…

In SASASAP, if you die to a Sadness thrice, you get this monologue:

(Sometimes, when you loop back here…) (In the corner of your eye, you can sometimes see someone that looks just like you.) (Is it a you from another loop? Remnants of your past failures?) (Are you going crazy?) (May they succeed where you cannot.)

[nanamincreampie]

Omgomgomg hiiiii 🥹🥹🥹🩷🩷🌷🌷🌷🌷 can I request an instance where Sukuna’s pregnant wife visits him at his job and he’s the CEO.

Context:

So like no one in the office knows what his wife looks like. He’s insanely private about his life. (Also cause he’s involved in shady stuff and doesn’t want anyone to know the identity of his wife. He meets with a lot of crooked business men on and off the clock.)

But yea the office only know he’s married because of the ring he wears.

So when his gorgeous, thick and very pregnant wife goes to the reception saying “Hi, is Ryomen busy? I’m his wife. I brought muffins for everyone I ate a couple I hope that’s okay.” in the sweetest voice with the biggest smile, the entire floor is in shock. (They know she’s not lying because of the ginormous light pink rock of a wedding ring that’s on her finger. It’s identical to his hair obvi hehe)

But like yeah! She comes to the office for the first time and all the workers just fall in love with how sweet she is. So they scramble to help her and hold her bag and offer her food from the break room and tell her how pretty she is and maybe Sukuna’s personal assistant even gets pulled away and that’s when he notices that everybody’s nearly gone and he finally finds her surrounded by everyone in the break room and maybe he takes her to his office and his mind is reeling thinking something’s wrong with the baby but it just ended up her being like “I’m sorry I know I could have called but look! The baby’s kicking!” And he falls in love with her all over again.

I think it’d be so cute 😭🩷 he seems like the type of hubby to call his wife “flower” or “petal”. Smut is totally up to you I won’t be opposed to it. But eeee!!! I thought it’d be a cute fluffy little fic

One Sukuna fic with a side of Sunshine and a Pregnant Wife coming right up!!! <3

Sukuna x Black pregnant reader

The bustling office of Sukuna Enterprises was alive with its usual energy phones ringing, keyboards clicking, and hushed conversations about deadlines. Ryomen Sukuna, the enigmatic and ruthlessly efficient CEO, was in the middle of one of his intense back-to-back meetings. His presence cast a long shadow over the entire floor. Everyone knew to tread carefully; Sukuna tolerated no mistakes.

The only personal detail anyone knew about him was that he was married, courtesy of the massive, rose-pink diamond ring he wore on his left hand. But beyond that? Nothing. Sukuna was intensely private, and no one had dared to ask for more. Speculation abounded, but without any concrete details, his wife remained a mystery.

Until today.

The receptionist was the first to spot her: a stunning woman in a flowing maternity dress that hugged her very pregnant belly. Her curls framed her glowing face, and she carried a basket of muffins in one hand and a slightly overstuffed purse in the other.

“Hi there!” she greeted with a bright smile, her voice warm and melodic. “Is Mr. Sukuna in? I’d like to see him, please.”

The receptionist blinked, momentarily thrown off by the casual tone. "Do you have an appointment?" she asked, her professional instincts kicking in.

“Oh, no, no appointment,” the woman replied with a light laugh. “But I’m sure he won’t mind.”

The receptionist hesitated. No one—no one—saw Sukuna without an appointment. “And you are?”

“Oh, just a friend,” the woman said coyly, her warm smile never faltering. “I brought muffins for everyone, too! I… might have eaten a couple on the way. They smelled so good.”

Her charm was effortless, but the receptionist wasn’t entirely convinced. As she considered what to do, a curious junior associate walked past and froze at the sight of the woman. His gaze flicked between her and the receptionist.

“Who’s she?” he whispered, not quite quietly enough.

“I don’t know,” the receptionist whispered back.

Within minutes, whispers began to spread. A stunning, heavily pregnant woman had walked into Sukuna Enterprises asking for their untouchable boss. No one knew who she was, but the expensive jewelry on her hand, especially the light pink diamond, caught more than a few eyes. The resemblance to Sukuna’s wedding ring sparked theories.

Could it be… her?

The whispers grew louder as more employees found excuses to pass by the reception area, stealing glances at the mysterious woman.

Despite the growing attention, she remained perfectly at ease. When someone offered to carry her purse, she laughed softly and accepted, the basket of muffins still in her other hand.

“Oh, thank you so much! It’s a bit heavier than I thought,” she said, her tone dripping with gratitude.

Soon, the break room became her destination. Chairs were pulled out for her, snacks and drinks were offered, and she was surrounded by employees eager to accommodate her. Her gentle laughter filled the space as she chatted with everyone, thanking them for their kindness and answering their curious but polite questions in a way that revealed little.

Meanwhile, in his corner office, Sukuna noticed something strange. The usual buzz of activity on the floor had dwindled to near silence. His crimson eyes narrowed. Something was off.

Stepping out of his office, Sukuna’s gaze swept over the nearly deserted floor. His jaw tightened. “What the hell is going on?” he muttered under his breath, following the faint sound of laughter.

When he reached the break room, the scene before him made his steps falter.

Her.

His wife.

The woman no one in his office had ever seen, the woman he kept carefully hidden from the chaos of his professional life, sat there, glowing with happiness, her round belly resting comfortably as she laughed with his staff.

“What is going on here?” Sukuna’s deep, commanding voice sliced through the air.

The room went silent instantly. Employees scrambled to make space for him, their faces pale as they realized they’d been caught slacking.

Her head turned, and her smile brightened at the sight of him.

“Ryo!” she said warmly, completely unfazed by his intimidating presence. She gestured for him to come closer. “Come here!”

He crossed the room in two long strides, his crimson eyes scanning her from head to toe. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice quieter but edged with concern. “Is something wrong?”

Her expression softened as she reached for his hand and placed it on her belly. “Nope! I just missed you. And look the baby’s kicking!”

For a moment, Sukuna’s icy demeanor cracked. His sharp features softened as he felt the gentle thump beneath his palm.

“You could’ve called, Petal,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with something uncharacteristically tender.

“Where’s the fun in that?” she teased, her eyes sparkling.

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but then his sharp gaze flicked to the stunned employees still lingering near the door. “Get back to work. Now.”

They scattered like leaves in the wind, murmuring apologies as they fled the room.

Turning back to his wife, Sukuna wrapped a protective arm around her and guided her toward his office. Once inside, he helped her settle onto the plush couch, his eyes never leaving her.

“You’re going to cause chaos every time you visit, Flower,” he said, a rare hint of amusement in his voice.

“Maybe,” she replied with a cheeky grin. “But I brought muffins to make up for it.”

He shook his head, his thumb brushing over her knuckles as he sat beside her. Despite the whirlwind she’d caused, Sukuna found himself staring at her, utterly captivated. She always had a way of turning his world upside down in the best possible way.

And the chaos? Oh, it didn’t end there.

For the rest of the week, the entire office buzzed with stories about her surprise visit. Who could’ve imagined that the stoic, intimidating Ryomen Sukuna was married to such a sweet, cheerful woman? The way she smiled, the way she treated everyone with kindness, the way she looked the staff couldn’t stop talking about her.

Rumors swirled, theories were formed, and every detail was analyzed. But one thing was certain: Mrs. Sukuna had left an impression that no one would forget anytime soon.

Divider by : @bernardsbendystraws

[alchemistc]

you know what is currently Wrecking me about all this? buck's whole thing this whole show has been that people keep leaving him. abby, ali, maddie, eddie, tommy. but this time, bobby asked HIM to leave, and he did. the one time it's permanent, buck's the one who left. because bobby asked, of course, but still. he left bobby there, and bobby died.

Hey nonny? Hey?

With absolute love and adoration in my heart, fuck ALL THE WAY OFF.

"I think I need to, like, talk to him?"

Tommy's already reaching for his keys, like he understands, like he's there in the same place as Buck, like -

Buck wishes he knew who Tommy had lost.

It's been a month, and this anger has surfaced out of nowhere - he's been short at work, mean on calls, he was an asshole to Jee yesterday, and he just spend twenty minutes absolutely tearing into Tommy.

Buck hadn't even told him what 'he' he meant, but it's not like Tommy wasn't - there, or hasn't been here since. Everything lately distills down to Bobby.

("I just want it to get better."

"It doesn't really get better, sweetheart. You just...learn to manage it. Learn to appreciate what you had, and be grateful for the time you had it."

Buck had been so pissed off by the idea of being grateful that he'd picked a fucking fight about Tommy's habit of romanticizing things instead of living in them.)

The ride is quiet. Tommy doesn't say anything, doesn't defend himself from all the -now that he's had a second to think about it - truly rancid shit Buck just spewed at him. He keeps his hands at ten and two and his eyes on the road and he doesn't complain when Buck leans forward to turn off the radio, NPR fading out into a silence that doesn't seem as heavy for Tommy as it does for Buck.

"He made me leave," Buck says, three minutes out from the long lines of headstones, the gated swaths of green and grey. "He made me leave, Tommy."

Tommy's eyes don't leave the road - it's close to rush hour, and LA roadways are insane even without that added rat trap - but his right hand reaches out, palm up across the center console. Buck grasps it like the lifeline it is.

---

"Did you really kick his headstone, or was I imagining that?"

Evan has the grace to look abashed. "It's, uh... solid. Good handiwork."

"Do we need to make a stop at Urgent Care before we head home?"

Home, he says, and tries to remember when that had sent him into a panicked tailspin. It's still there, simmering, waiting for him. Waiting for the time he decides he can take a break from being the only solid thing in Evan's life besides his captain-cum-dad's headstone.

Evan eyes him carefully, red rimmed eyes and swollen nose, beautiful in the dying rays of sunlight. Tommy wants to crack open his ribcage and tuck him inside. Keep him safe. Keep him warm. Allow him to shove his way through all the viscera to cling to the center of him. "Are you staying, again?" he asks, cracked voice and tentative hope, and Tommy had left him to his private rage, stayed in the cab while Evan paced and gestured and yelled and knelt to trace the curves of a bold B. So he doesn't know, exactly, what Evan had said to Bobby. What he needed so desperately to get out.

There'd certainly been some context clues, though.

"You'll have to make me go," he says, and Evan's face is a whirlwind - pain, fear, disbelief, understanding. It settles somewhere around hope.

"You, uh... You don't mind? That that's never gonna happen?"

Evan's had that mantle ripped from him in the worst way possible. Maybe it's Tommy's turn to bear the weight of it, until they can share it together.

Tommy curls a hand around his neck, awkward though it is in the space of the cab. He's choosing to allow himself to read into the way Evan's whole body relaxes. "I don't mind at all."

[powderpinkprincess]

Pressure [Lando Norris x reader]

description: Lando finds out about the Helmut Marko comment. But did anyone he trusts give him out?  warnings: a few bad words, mentions of panic attack

Lando had always considered himself lucky. He got to live his dream. Driving in Formula 1, competing with the best, being in the motorsport elite. It was insane to think about. He was living a life most people could only imagine. He had a great, supportive family, a good team around him, friends he trusted, and a girlfriend he loved. From the outside, it looked like he had it all figured out. And in many ways, he did.

Naturally, his job and his lifestyle came with their fair share of difficulties and stress as well. Travelling a lot, switching time zones often, always pushing himself beyond his limits – it was difficult. Not only for him, but for everyone who worked in Formula 1. They had to be mentally tough to be able to perform under the extreme pressure that was on them, but that sort of mental toughness didn’t mean they were immune to stress and anxiety. They were all only humans, after all.

Lando never wanted to lie and say he always had everything sorted. Yet, there were things he preferred to keep private. Some things about his life weren’t public knowledge, and he preferred to keep them that way. One of those things was the fact that he had dealt with panic attacks since he was about sixteen.

It had never interfered with his driving. If anything, racing was often the one thing that grounded him. But still, it was there. A part of his reality that he’d learned to manage over time. Therapy helped, so did the right people around him, and in the past few years, working with McLaren’s sports psychologist had made a real difference. He’d gone almost eight months without experiencing one. That was the longest it had ever been.

He didn’t talk much about it. Only a handful of people knew, and even fewer saw, people he deeply trusted. His family, his best friend, and you, his girlfriend of three years.

That is exactly why that quote hit so hard.

It was just a quote. A random article someone forwarded to his WhatsApp. Just another thing people like to send him: memes, photos, race edits, media noise. But this one… This one made his blood run cold.

 "We know Norris has some mental weaknesses,” Helmut Marko told Motorsport-Magazin. “I've read about some of the rituals he needs to do to perform well on race day."

He blinked. Reread it. Reread it again.

It just didn’t seem like the usual trash talk. It was specific. Personal. Like… What was he even talking about? Would he know about that? How?!

He put his phone down on the kitchen counter, his coffee suddenly forgotten. Then picked it up again. Scrolled through the article. Searched the interview’s context. There was none. It wasn’t a publicized McLaren feature. It wasn’t a documentary. It wasn’t common knowledge. It wasn’t even supposed to be.

He felt his stomach twist, rage building in his chest. What was even going on?! Did someone… Talk? But who? And how…?

You walked into the kitchen, humming a song, you weren’t even sure which one. You carried two mugs in your left hand and a bowl in your right, which was left in the living room from the night before. Lando had a few days off, so the two of you could finally start the list of movies you wanted to watch.

Your glance wandered to your boyfriend leaning against the kitchen counter, and your smile faded a little. He had his phone in his hand, jaw clenched, his thumb hovering over the screen as if he was about to type something that was supposed to be well-composed. He had a frown on his face, he was chewing on his lower lip, and he looked like he wanted to throw the phone across the room, but couldn’t quite justify the drama.

You walked closer. “Lando? You’re good?”

He glanced up, and you were sure your expression just mimicked his. He seemed troubled. He turned the screen toward you, not saying a word.

You read it, slowly. Then you read it again. “Oh.”

Your eyes met his. His voice was quiet. “How the fuck would he know about that?”

Your heart dropped. You knew what he meant. The article wasn’t the issue. The article was just the fuse.

 “The only people who know are…” he trailed off. He locked the screen of his phone and placed it on the countertop beside him before looking back at you.  “I mean, it’s not on record. Not on media. Not anywhere.”

You saw it then - not just the anger in his eyes, but something colder. Fear. Betrayal.

 “I never told anyone outside the team. You. Jon. The psychologist. Maybe…" He silenced, shaking his head. “Someone talked. Someone had to talk.”

You wanted to stop him. That quote was nasty, but it was vague. You didn’t want him to jump to such harsh and hurtful conclusions based on those two sentences. No one you knew who knew about his past struggles would give out Lando like that… Or would they?

You took a deep breath. “Lando…”

 “No, don’t say it’s nothing. Don’t say he guessed. You don’t guess that shit,” he cut you off before you could even start.

 “I wasn’t going to say that,” you replied gently. “Just… Maybe it’s not even about that. Maybe he saw something and twisted it. He didn’t say anything specific. For all we know, he’s just throwing stuff around to stir drama.”

 “Or maybe someone I trusted opened their fucking mouth.” He made eye contact with you again, but this time you couldn’t quite read him.

You didn’t even know what to say. What could you say? That it wasn’t even a possibility? That it didn’t matter? That no one cared?

But it mattered to him. He cared. And a quote like that coming from Helmut Marko himself would certainly make a huge noise in the media, even if it was just something as vague as it was. People will talk about it, and they will try to guess what he meant exactly. Just like you and Lando did right now.

You crossed your arms and leaned against the counter next to him. “Okay, then who do you even think could’ve said something?” you asked, your voice calm but firm. You wanted him to see what you were getting at.

Lando didn’t respond.

 “Seriously. Your family? Max? They have never even talked to this man as far as I know. Jon? The team psychologist, who has a literal obligation of confidentiality and could legally not say anything unless you murdered someone? Or me?” you asked, ticking the options off on your fingers. “We are the only people who know. You haven’t told anyone else. So, unless you think one of us suddenly decided to go behind your back and give Helmut Marko, of all people, personal information about your mental health, maybe you should take a breath and think this through.”

 “I don’t know,” he muttered. “Maybe someone let something slip without meaning to.”

 “Or maybe it wasn’t even about what you think,” you answered, softening your voice a little. “Maybe it’s just a bitter old man trying to sound like he knows everything. Don’t give this more power than it deserves.”

He nodded slowly, deep in thought, his shoulders still tense. You understood him. A lot depended on his mental well-being. This was something even Zak didn’t know, and he liked to dig out lots of information about his drivers that could affect their performance. Especially now when they had the best cars on the grid.

 “We all love you so much. We know how much it means to you to keep it a secret,” you continued. “Don’t hurt yourself by thinking any of us gave you out before you see actual proof.”

He stayed quiet, chewing on the inside of his cheek, his jaw clenched like he was holding something in. The heavy silence stretching between you was lightly filled by the soft buzz of the fridge, the birds chirping outside, and your quiet breaths.

You reached out, letting your hand rest on his arm. “Lando.”

His eyes flicked to yours, guarded.

 “You’ve done so well,” you said softly. “You haven’t had a panic attack in what… Eight months? That’s not nothing. You’ve been handling everything better than ever. This comment doesn’t undo that. Besides, you guys operate under so much pressure. Constantly. It’s not normal what you do week in, week out. I’m not even sure you’re the only one who deals with stuff like this. You might just be one of the few who’s been brave enough to talk about it.”

He let out a soft breath, something between a sigh and a scoff. Yes, he did talk about mental health, but he purposefully never mentioned anything that personal.

 “Maybe that’s where this comment came from,” you continued. “Cause you were open once. But you gave space for conversations that matter. And people look up to you for it. They admire it. What you did was real mental toughness, you know that. And Zak knows that as well.”

He looked down, his voice nearly a whisper. “It just felt like… Like someone cracked the door open. Even if it was only a little.”

You nodded, your thumb brushing gently against the inside of his wrist. “Then you close it. You don’t owe anyone your story. Especially not someone like Marko.”

He took a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it out. He forced a small smile on the corners of his mouth and nodded again. “Right.”

You weren’t sure any of your words got to him until his hand finally found yours and gave it a small, grateful squeeze.