#also i figured out a better place to put the extra scene

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

"... and then he casts aside the coach he seduced and moves on to the judges..."

In the context of the latest chapter of my YOI novelisation, I subjected the scene in which Yuuri flaunts a big portion of extra sass by blowing that kiss at the start of his short programme a closer examination.

There are two ways to interpret that move. Each one has different implications for the plot as well as for Yuuri's characterisation and motivation. And one is more plausible than the other.

Let's take a closer look at each interpretation!

1. Yuuri blows Viktor the kiss

Such a move would neatly join the ranks of past performances of Eros. What strikes me here as unusual, however, is that how anticlimactic the blow-kiss feels compared to the sensual lip-licking Yuuri did at the Cup of China because so far, he became flirtier with every performance of Eros. One would naturally expect him to double down on that as an escalation to an even lewder gesture.

In a continuous escalation of the Eros intro, the blow-kiss would happen after the flirty nod and before the lip-licking. But that doesn't happen. A blow-kiss for Viktor at this point in the story would thus imply that Yuuri no longer needs to seduce Viktor because he accomplished that at the Cup of China and focuses on keeping the love alight. However, the flippancy of the move contradicts the current stage of Yuuri and Viktor's relationship as them being madly in love and only days away from Yuuri blurting out a proposal at the airport reunion. It also contradicts Yuuri's intention to form a bond with Viktor because it stands in stark contrast to the committment Yuuri has been showing regarding his relationship for the last couple of episodes.

Just by looking at Yuuri's characterisation, this scenario seems not that likely to me.

2. Yuuri performs to the judges

Yuuri's short programme at the Rostelecom Cup has one main theme:

Before the crowd can intimidate me in enemy territory, I must intimidate them.

Skating in Viktor's homeland and in front of the people whose hero he has stolen, puts immense pressure on Yuuri that forces him to skate better than ever. Flirting with Viktor is no longer enough, Yuuri must seduce convince the audience that Viktor didn't waste his time on him and that includes seducing convincing the judges. He is freaking out internally over the possibility that this might be the last competition with Viktor as his coach. Unlike at the Cup of China where his inner monologue during his skate revolved around his prowess of seducing Viktor, his thoughts are centered around the audience. Every skater knows that an excited crowd generates power that motivates them to perform even better, and the effect of that is not lost on the judges, either. By flirting with the judges, Yuuri can increase his chances for a high placing and gets rewarded with a new personal best. Figure skating is a crazy sport and athletes can be quite eccentric, but a direct flirt probably isn't on the list of things the judges see that often—and if they did, they rather saw it from the likes of Chris. (Performing to the judges has become popular in the 2023/2024 season, but only a small part of the skaters bold enough for that move, actually used it to flirt with the judges. Right now I can only think of Loena Hendrickx in her free programme.)

It really takes guts to flirt with the judges like. Yuuri is known to show guts in the most desperate situations and when the stakes are highest, and the Rostelecom Cup puts him to the test. He has grown so much that he no longer needs to rely on performing to Viktor to deliver a perfect skate. He now has the confidence to achieve with his skating any goal he sets his mind on and by doing so in episode 8, shows the world that coaching him wasn't a waste of Viktor's energy and time.

However, at the same time, Yuuri is sending a certain message to his coach and boyfriend. Paying no attention to Viktor in a moment in which Viktor anticipates to be the centre of Yuuri's attention is a small but sweet revenge for Viktor ignoring Yuuri earlier when he was supposed to send him off. This little gesture of saying "I can flirt with the audience, too" has the power to stoke Viktor's desire and make him even more devoted to Yuuri than he already is. It makes me wish that Makkachin was less greedy.

In a way, Yuuri's flirting with the judges is also a reference to the story he used in the beginning to get an idea of Eros: "...and then the woman casts aside the playboy she seduced and moves onto the next man." Not that Yuuri would ever cast Viktor aside for another man, he just knows how to pay him back in kind and get the message across. Beware, Viktor! This extra-large serving of katsudon his spicier than you can take.

Like Yuuri, Viktor has come to Moscow with a goal "I want everyone to focus on Yuuri" that is supplementary to Yuuri's goal to convince the audience of himself. Except for that one time when Viktor greets his fans like an overexcited puppy, all his words and actions strictly adhere to his motto, starting from the interview in the beginning, to lacing Yuuri's boots and kissing his blade. But he didn't reckon with Yuuri's eros that is quick to remind Viktor and the world that Yuuri made this man his. (How fortunate that Viktor forgets his coaching duties when Yuuri needs him most!)

These two kinky dorks absolutely deserve each other.

That Yuuri blows the judges a kiss is more in line with his characterisation and the themes in this episode than Viktor being the recipient of that kiss. The cut towards the judges right afterwards supports this theory from a technical viewpoint. The Rostelecom Cup SP is the first time that we get a glimpse of the judging panel during Yuuri's performance. We've not been shown the judges' shocked expressions right after Yuuri blew the kiss because that move was so scandalous. Yuuri has been more scandalous in the past and the creators didn't bother to show us the judges then and preferred to show us a blushy Viktor and a stuttering commentator instead. The cut towards the judges seems to be a deliberate choice to drive home whom Yuuri was flirting with.

It's amazing how much meaning the YOI creators poured into even these couple of seemingly insignificant but hilarious seconds. And that deepens the love and appreciation I feel for this beautiful show.

A personal note below...

If you like this meta, please consider supporting me by reblogging it or giving this blog a follow. You might also be interested in checking out my canon works on AO3.

[dancy-nrew]

Happy Secret Samol @humanmorph !!! Yo ho ho a pirates life for you!

Id in alt text and also below the cut for legibility

Image one: An Alise Breka book cover. The illustration (meant to resemble an oil painting) features Leap and Figure A back to back, Figure A closer to the camera and Leap behind them. Leap is in a tie dye hoodie, Figure A has a dramatic collar welded to their round torso. Each are holding a sword and fending off attacks on all sides. Laser beams zip across the screen. The title of the book is “High Seas and Distant Stars” and is written on a yellow band across the top of the page. There is a simplified drawing of palisade as a logo for Palisade Publishing. There is a barcode across the bottom left.

Image two and three: Mockup of the inside of the book. Text reads:

The pirate captain, devastatingly handsome — or devastating and handsome, if you put the question to the unlucky sailors across many planet’s seas — lounged about the deck of the ship. A foul wind had blown through the port in the night, and showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. Disadvantageous, and perhaps more terribly, incredibly dull. Exeter Leap had faced down gods and kings and only laughed in their faces; to be trapped here by a measly turn in the weather made his plating itch.

They’d been here a week already, despite no small effort to leave. Unloading, his first mate insisted, takes time if they want it done properly. Leap had insisted he’d never done anything properly in his life and didn’t plan on starting now, but Figure A had tilted their head in that way they had and explained that properly meant more money, which, he supposed, was hard to argue with. Especially considering their other delay. The Bluebird had taken substantial cannon fire in their last battle, and was desperately in need of repairs, as well as the more tedious maintenance work that went into keeping a ship of its size and purpose in fit fighting shape.

So the minutes ticked into hours ticked into days, and here they are, still.

“I’m not a man meant to stay still,” he complains, staring out over the roiling waves.

”Still: up to and including the present or the time mentioned, or still: not moving or making a sound?”

Leap jumps, but only slightly. A pirate can never be too surprised, but he hadn’t realized he had company, lost in thoughts as turbulent as the sea. The familiar red and gold form of his friend leaning next to him is a welcome sight. “Oh- Uh. Both. Either. Not still here, or still physically.”

Figure A nods in easy understanding. They’re better at patience, at being in one place, but Leap thinks they have something restless about them, too. They lean forward as if they have something more to say but then-! A shout! The familiar blistering heat of a laser beam sipping past inches from his face! A scorch mark across metal! Leaps springs into action as

FREE READING PREVIEW LIMIT REACHED

FULL BOOK DOWNLOAD: 45 GLINT

INSTALLMENT PAYMENTS AVAILABLE !

WHOLE BOOK IN 4 ACTS, EASY PAYMENTS OF 15 GLINT EACH!

EXTRAS AND BEHIND THE SCENES CONTENT (AN INTERVIEW WITH THE CAPTAIN HIMSELF!) 25 GLINT!

Image four: A series of sketches of Leap and Figure A.

First sketch; Leap has his arms crossed saying “Thats not how any of that happened!” as he looks over Figure A’s shoulder as they read the book. They laugh and say “I think it’s fun!

Second sketch; Figure A points at the cover and says “Look at my cool collar” as Leap leans forward to look at it and says “it is pretty sick…”

Third sketch: Leap welding a big metal pirate coat-like collar onto Figure A’s torso as they giggle

Fourth Sketch; Leap grins and asks “How’s that?” Figure A says “Thank yo-“ but bonks their face into the collar as they turn their head

Fifth sketch; very small at the bottom of the page. Leap has a hand over his mouth. Figure A’s head slumps forward as they sigh.

[swannieluv]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖꩜ (Almost) free – (PLATONIC) Wriothesley x Teen!Reader

✦⸼࣪⸳𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐖𝐜: 1,5k

✦⸼࣪⸳ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆!!: Mentions of torture (?) and food poisoning.

✦⸼࣪⸳ A/N: HII! This was my first time writing a request and writing for Wriothesley, so I hope you can enjoy it!! Tumblr ate my last (three) draft before I posted, so I had to put an screenshot </3.

✦⸼࣪⸳ @wenutted

╰┈─➤Wriothesley was certainly a man with a lot of work to do. As the Duke of Meropide Fortress, his duty also extended to the most "troublesome" prisoners in the place. Among them was none other than [Name], a juvenile offender bold enough to steal from authority figures in the city of Fontaine.

It was during a summer afternoon that he met them. Wriothesley was on the wait for the arrival of a criminal on reports of serial thefts of jewelry and priceless possessions. There were no witnesses or traces that could lead to the identity of this thief, so even the Marechaussee Phantom was unable to follow their tracks, coming to the conclusion that they were someone ingenious and extremely experienced at what they did.

Well, what he didn't expect was that the notorious bandit he had been waiting for was a teenager with a bad sense of humor and terrible acting.

The "menace on the loose" who was giving the Fontaine authorities such a headache was right there in front of him, caught after falling asleep in a very comfortable seat inside the Court of Fontaine. It could be said that their carelessness had handed them over to their own hunters.

When asked abouth how they had managed to flee so fast from the crime scenes and hide themselves. The only answer they gave, with a straight face, was:

“I was literally just going in and out through the front doors.”

Quite the unexpected answer.

"Your Grace?" Wriothesley was cut short from his thoughts by two fingers snapping in front of his eyes. The only person brave enough to do that, without a doubt, was them. "What are you thinking? I thought we were going to have tea together."

"Me? Well, I was remembering the first time you set foot in this place." He crossed his arms and let out a little sigh. Their sentence was running out with each passing second, and he didn't want to admit that he would miss them if they left.

"Oh, when I gave you the middle…" He quickly shushed them with a hand right in front of their face.

"Yeah, I know. You were terrible to deal with back then." He ran his fingers through their hair playfully, messing it up.

"But I'm better today," they retorted with a simple sentence that carried a deep weight behind it.

A few months had passed since the incident with the Beret Society. [Name]'s behavior had changed drastically since they had been invited to join the group. In the end, it had all been a tremendous lack of humanity on Dougie's part; recruiting the youngest prisoner in the place and putting them through the same punishment he used with adults while handling the Aqua Doloris.

Before, they were sharp in their comments and too relaxed for their own good, one of the reasons that led them to this place after all. It quite amazed Wriothesley at how they ended up avoiding being caught by the Marechaussee, when they definitely didn't even know how to hide or lie.

They played a big part in their little game against Dougie, making Wriothesley start to pay more attention and spend some extra time supervisioning them.

"If I leave, Your Grace will miss me so much that you'll want to lock me up in that cell again. But guess what? You won't,” they sarcastically declared while jumping down the stairs.

“If you fall down those stairs, you won't be able to leave here before recovering; You know that, right child?” Wriothesley could imagine them falling. It wouldn't be their first time hitting the ground hard.

But contrary to expectations, it was Wriothesley who tripped and almost fell down the stairs, holding on tightly to the banister; trying his best to act as if nothing had happened. An embarrassing silence between them.

“Pfft…”

It was all that could be heard, them laughing at him, who remained motionless in place. Maybe he really was going to miss that little pest who, until now, had given him nothing but trouble. There was only one day until they're officially a free citizen again, but even though they joked about the possibility of leaving, their final decision had not yet been made.

"You really are fearless, aren't you?" He chuckled and looked straight into their eyes. "Not everyone has the nerves to joke like that, maybe I should ask for your sentence to be increased or something..."

Click, click.

Soft footsteps approached them, a sound they were both used to hearing through Meropide.

"I brought tea."

From the top of the stairs, Sigewinne had a smile on her face, carrying a small tray with her. At the sight of it, their faces instantly paled. As Sigewinne didn't have the same senses as humans, her cooking was peculiar, to say the least.

"Did you ask her to do it?" Wriothesley whispered to the teen as he watched Sigewinne walk down to them.

"Definitely not. She must have heard we were supposed to do it today."

The two exchanged glances, as if in telepathic communication. The current plan was to escape from the tea without hurting the feelings of the melusine in front of them. So as soon as she got close enough, the lame excuses began.

"Well, Sigewinne, I'd love to enjoy this wonderful drink with you but," she said in a pained tone, a terribly fake performance, "my tummy hurts, so I'll pass this time. You can give my cup to His Grace, he loves tea after all."

They held their belly, pretending to be in pain. But as always, Sigewinne knew how to get around the situation.

"Hm? There's nothing to worry about, this tea is good for the intestinal flora."

"Wonderful news, right, [Name]?" Wriothesley nudged Sigewinne lightly. After all, revenge is a dish best served cold. "Unfortunately, I won't be able to join you two. Duty calls, child.”

Their jaw dropped. That's it, there was no way out of this. Wriothesley could only grin at them and walk away while [Name] was being forced towards their usual tea-time spot. His grin had the exact following translation: "You're doomed."

And so, [Name] had to drink the cursed beverage.

Knock, knock.

Wriothesley's head rose to look at the door. He was just finishing his paperwork, something he could do another day, but which he needed to pretend he was doing so as not to make it so obvious why he wasn't drinking the tea Sigewinne had made.

"Who's there?"

"Someone who’s going to be outside the Fortress as soon as they can," the familiar voice on the other side of the door mocked, sounding like [Name] had finally made his choice, "I don't really like the part about being a juvenile offender or something like that."

Wriothesley let out a low laugh and let them in. He was genuinely not surprised by such a decision. [Name] was a thief on the loose around Fontaine and never stayed in one place for long. Name's preference to not remain contained within the walls of Meropide Fortress was certainly not surprising.

"What made you not want to stay here?" He crossed his arms and leaned further back in his chair; it was a rather comical situation for him.

"Here is nice. I've got food, a roof over my head, people to talk to," they mimicked his action and crossed their arms, "and you're here. But I do miss my true freedom outside those thick walls."

He stared at them with a fond smile on his face. He was quite sad that he would need to say goodbye to that child. Even if selfishly, Wriothesley secretly wished they wouldn't leave Meropide yet. Maybe he did have a favorite prisoner, after all.

“Now, can I get my ‘ultra mega hyper master favorite prisoner’ title before I go?”

They looked at him with stars in their eyes. To be honest, it was quite laughable.

“We’ll see how it goes.” He placed down the papers in his hand, waiting for them to speak more. Wriothesley definitely couldn't do that, even though it would be hilarious to see the other's reaction.

He got up and walked over to them. Unlike expected, Wriothesley hugged them and patted their head. And with a big smile on his face, he could proudly say:

"Enjoy your life out of here, little prick.” He gave them a playful, painless smack on the head.

“Thank you, Your Grace; but…”

They smiled mischievously at him and pointed to the door. Through it, came Sigewinne with her snack tray.

“To show my appreciation towards Your Grace and the great time I had here, I kindly requested my little friend Sigewinne to prepare the best pastries ever.”

The snacks presented to him had a suspicious smell. Maybe Sigewinne was also voluntarily partaking in this small prank. It was hard to say because of her usual smile.

“Just for you.”

In the end, even he couldn't escape getting a taste from his own medicine.

✦⸼࣪⸳♡ BONUS:

“I thought you would be free. What happened, [Name]?”

Sigewinne put a finger over her mouth, trying to understand the reason why they would stay inside such a place when they wanted to be free.

“I got sentenced to more time for ‘murder attempt through food poisoning’.”

“Towards who?” She tilted her head in confusion, an interested look in her face.

“...”

They silently pointed towards the Duke.

“Oh.”

[cherries-in-wine]

I love ur posts on lolita the book- what are ur thoughts on the movies?

aw tysm anon mwah <3

(Made a few edits because my perspective changed a little)

I don't really like the movies- in fact comparing them to the masterpiece that Vladimir Nabokov wrote feels like an insult. Sometimes art can only exist in a certain medium and when you take it out of that medium it loses its integrity. Lolita is art that can only exist as literature. This is what I used to believe but to be honest even as literature it's being misunderstood a lot so it feels as if no matter what medium lolita exists in, it'll always be interpreted wrong.

It took Vladimir Nabokov 5 years to write lolita because writing from the perspective of a pedophile is tough- it's using the abuser to tell the victim's story but in this case the abuser is our unreliable narrator, he had to make Humbert Humbert charming or at least intriguing in a fucked up way enough that the reader would be compelled to read further (lolita will disturb you but you won't able to put it down) but any competent reader would will be able to figure out that Humbert Humbert is just spewing his delusional bullshit.

It feels as if Vladimir Nabokov predicted the romanticization of Lolita as soon as we started putting girls on the book covers- he intended on lolita being faceless

So much of what makes the book incredible lies in reading in between the lines to figure out what's actual going on. Think of it as Humbert Humbert is forcing his heart shaped rose coloured glasses onto you like "see it's a beautiful tragic love story" and it's your responsibility to take them off to see things as they are, a 12 year old child being abused constantly.

Unreliable narrators in general are hard to portray on screen (it's not impossible ofcourse, gone girl, 500 days of summer and black swan do it really well) but extra difficult in this case because lolita and Dolores are 2 different people entirely. Lolita is the persona, Dolores is the person. Lolita is the nymphet, the seductress that only exists in Humbert's twisted mind, Dolores is the 12 year old child. Humbert sees lolita, he wants you to see lolita, but you need to focus on Dolores.

Lolita 1962 was laughably inaccurate, they made Dolores look like an elegant woman when even Humbert Humbert describes her as a messy tomboy. Lolita 1997 is better I guess, it follows the book a little more accurately. The movie is definitely pretty to look at and I don't have a problem with Dolores being an icon or people taking fashion inspiration from her. In my opinion she is an icon, it isn't fair to reduce a victim's identity to their trauma and abuser. Also she's so funny and is constantly insulting Humbert so mwah love her so much plus I relate to her a lot as I went through similar things. I think some scenes of Humbert Humbert being an unreliable narrator were translated really well, for example this argument-

Humbert gave a short description while the movie is more of lo's point of view, it's all screaming and shouting and absolutely devastating, Dominique Swain did an amazing job.

Both of the actresses were 14 during filming and that's just so unsettling to me. Sure you're using a body double for explicit scenes but isn't that just content for actual pedophiles, the closest thing to CP that's legal?. There are many older actresses that look younger but honestly that scares me more, because now there are no restrictions to the scenes they can film, which usually ends up underage characters in extremely exploitative scenes (think euphoria).

My feelings are sort of all over the place on this, I simply can't reach a satisfying conclusion- I don't think it's impossible to adapt lolita into a good film, black swan is one of my favourite movies ever and nina sayers is as unrealiable as a narrator gets, so it's not impossible to portray Humbert Humbert on screen but it will be difficult. On the other hand I just know that people will find some way to romanticize the movie- no matter how well it's written like in the novel it's so obvious Humbert is a pedophile that he might as well get it tattoed on his head but people still think of it as "aw tragic beautiful love story". But part of me thinks that if they write it kind of like gone girl, you believe nick is the murderer in the first half then amy's scheming is revealed in the second, just like that if lolita is shown in the first half but after dolores runs away her perspective is shown to audience, how she's so miserable and gives an accurate depiction of Humbert Humbert's abuse, maybe showing that horrifying reality of the story will end it's romanticization once and for all.

[drewharrisonwriter]

Lifeline - Ch. 5: Out of the Frying Pan

Pairings: Dieter Bravo x Female Reader, referred to as “Honey” 

Series Summary: After basically being dropped and rejected by every PR agency in Hollywood for being such a huge liability, Dieter Bravo must work on resetting his public image in the most unexpected ways.

Author's Notes: I have been working on this fic on and off for the past year, and this story is a little personal to me. Yes, I am trauma dumping in some scenes lol but I also want to say that there will be so many unrealistic things about Hollywood, actors, and PR/Marketing agencies here, to which I apologize.

Warnings: Angst, a little drama, lots of flashbacks. More warnings to come as the story progresses.

Read this on AO3 | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Dieter spent the rest of the weekend drifting through his spacious Sherman Oaks home, a place that now felt more like a cage than a sanctuary. The house was filled with the echoes of a life he was trying—and failing—to put back together. He wandered from room to room, aimlessly flipping through scripts he couldn’t focus on and scrolling through social media feeds that only deepened his sense of isolation. The events and appearances were starting to feel like a routine, but the moments in between were unbearable. Dieter’s thoughts kept circling back to the gala, replaying every second of Honey’s smile and Phil’s hand on her back.

He tried distracting himself with old habits, but every familiar vice felt hollow. By Saturday afternoon, Dieter was staring at his phone, debating whether to call someone—anyone—to break the monotony. But he knew Mitch would hear about it, and he wasn’t in the mood for another lecture. So he settled on the one thing that still gave him some sense of purpose: art.

Dieter had always been drawn to art, sketching, and painting whenever he needed an outlet. It was something he rarely showed others, the way he kept his love of music so close to himself, it’s a space within his own space where he could express all the things he couldn’t say or sing out loud. 

When he saw a post about the weekend art class at the community center where he spent creating Mother’s Day cards with the kids a few weeks ago, he grabbed his keys without a second thought, convincing himself it was just boredom. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go, and teaching kids art sounded like a better use of his time than staring at his empty walls, waiting for the hallucinogens to kick in and change him. 

When he arrived, the room was already set up with easels, watercolor palettes, and brushes laid out neatly on the tables. The instructor, a kind-faced woman named Maria, welcomed him with a smile, thrilled to have an extra set of hands. The kids were buzzing with excitement, chattering about the different techniques they wanted to try. Dieter slipped into the familiar rhythm easily, helping mix colors and showing a few kids how to blend their washes for soft, dreamy skies.

“You’re really good at this,” Maria remarked, watching as Dieter demonstrated a simple wet-on-wet technique to a group of wide-eyed kids.

Dieter shrugged, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Thanks. I used to do this a lot… it’s been a while.”

He found himself losing track of time, immersed in the act of creating something beautiful out of nothing. The kids painted flowers, sunsets, and abstract swirls, each one pouring their imagination onto the paper. Dieter worked alongside them, his brush moving instinctively as he let the watercolor flow. Without really thinking, he began to paint a silhouette—a figure standing alone, surrounded by warm, soft colors that bled into each other like a hazy memory.

As he painted, the figure began to take shape: a woman, standing at the edge of a field, her back turned as if she were walking away. The scene was familiar, almost painfully so. Dieter’s brush moved more deliberately now, adding delicate touches of light and shadow. He painted her hair catching the sunlight, the faint outline of a red dress that bled into the sky. It was Honey, captured in the soft, dreamlike hues of his memory.

When he finished, Dieter stepped back, staring at the painting in silence. It was both the best thing he’d ever made and the most bittersweet to look at. The image of Honey standing alone, forever just out of reach, hit him like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t meant to paint her, but there she was—etched in every stroke, every wash of color, every suppressed feeling he couldn’t let go of.

He took the painting home, propping it up against the wall in his living room. Dieter stared at it for hours, unable to tear his eyes away. It felt like he was staring at all the things he’d lost, every mistake he’d made, and every moment he wished he could take back. He wanted to call Honey, to tell her what he’d made, but what was the point? She had her life, and he was stuck in the wreckage of his own.

As the hours passed, Dieter’s resolve crumbled. He ordered a few lines of coke, the old familiar sting of rebellion luring him in. He told himself it was fine—he wasn’t allowed to go anywhere anyway. He was on house arrest, in a sense, and no one would know. He washed it down with whiskey, drinking until the edges of his memories blurred and the painting became just another part of the wall.

By Sunday night, Dieter was sprawled on his couch, staring blankly at the ceiling, his mind a fog of regret and numbness. He didn’t want to think about Honey, about Phil, or about the mess he’d made of his life. He just wanted to forget, even if it was just for a little while.

–

Dieter woke to the sound of frantic whispers, a dull, persistent buzzing that cut through the fog of his hangover. He blinked against the harsh light streaming through the windows, his head pounding with the familiar aftermath of too much booze and bad decisions. Slowly, the room came into focus—the mess of empty bottles, the painting of Honey still leaning against the wall, and, standing right above him, Mitch and Honey, their faces tight with a mix of anger, fear, and something Dieter couldn’t quite place.

“What the hell, Dieter?” Mitch’s voice was sharp, laced with panic in a way Dieter hadn’t heard before. “What were you thinking?”

Dieter struggled to sit up, his vision swimming. He ran a hand over his face, trying to piece together the night before. “What are you doing here?” he mumbled, his words slurred.

Mitch’s expression darkened, his eyes flashing with a combination of anger and concern. “Your assistant called me. He found you like this, passed out with bottles everywhere. He thought you’d overdosed, Dieter! He thought you were dead!”

The words hit like a slap, jolting Dieter into a clearer awareness of the mess around him. He looked to Honey, hoping for some sign of understanding, but her face was pale, her eyes glassy with restrained emotion. She stood a step back from Mitch, her arms crossed tightly, as if trying to hold herself together. There was no judgment in her gaze, only a deep, haunting sadness.

Dieter’s stomach churned as he tried to stand, the reality of their presence sinking in. “I wasn’t—Jesus, I wasn’t trying to do anything. I just… I just had a couple of drinks.”

Mitch’s voice rose, a mix of frustration and desperation. “A couple of drinks? Look around, Dieter! It looks like you went on a bender. Do you even realize what this looks like? Do you understand how close we were to calling the damn paramedics?”

Dieter’s temper flared, his defenses kicking in. “It’s my house, Mitch. My fucking house! What do you expect me to do? I’m not allowed to go anywhere, can’t see anyone, can’t do anything. I’m stuck here like a damn prisoner, and now you’re pissed because I had a drink in my own home?”

Honey finally stepped forward, her voice soft but trembling with urgency. “Dieter, this isn’t just about the drinking. It’s about what happens when you let yourself spiral. We’ve seen this before—we’ve seen you push yourself to the edge, and every time, it gets harder to pull you back.”

Dieter looked at her, his chest tightening. The last time he’d overdosed, it had been on the set of Cliff Beasts 6, and it was Anika who’d brought him back. The memory of waking up in a haze, surrounded by horrified faces, was a wound that never fully healed. But this—this was different. This was just a weekend alone, a moment of weakness, not a full-on catastrophe. At least, that’s what he told himself.

“And how would you know about pulling me back?” he challenged, his voice dripping with bitterness. “You weren’t there!”

Her voice wavered, the vulnerability breaking through her professional facade. Honey’s eyes were wet, but she blinked back the tears, refusing to let them fall in front of him. She had watched Dieter unravel from afar, powerless to intervene, haunted by every glimpse of the man she once knew losing himself in the public eye. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion, knowing you couldn't stop it, feeling every impact from a distance.

Mitch stood there, absorbing the tension between them, and something clicked in the back of his mind. He had known Honey was deeply invested in restarting Dieter’s public image—it was why she was the best at what she did—but the way she spoke, the emotion in her voice, suggested something more. 

There was a history between them, buried beneath years of separation and, what seemingly, to him, sounds like, regrets. Mitch had always assumed Honey’s dedication was purely professional, that she does the same for each client she handles which is why came highly recommended, and maybe she does– but now, watching the two of them, he couldn’t ignore the sense that he was missing a crucial piece of their story.

He cleared his throat, his voice softer but edged with curiosity. “I didn’t know you two... I didn’t realize you’d known each other that long.” Mitch hesitated, his instincts telling him there was more to this than either of them had let on. 

Honey shot him a brief, guarded glance, her professional mask slipping back into place, but it was too late. The crack was there, and Mitch had seen it. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, unwilling to expose the depth of her past with Dieter. It wasn’t something she could explain in a room full of raw nerves and simmering resentments. It was years of connection, of love, of hurt, and everything they never resolved.

Dieter noticed Mitch’s confusion, his own expression hardening as he pushed back. “It doesn’t matter how long we’ve known each other,” Dieter said, his voice strained. “None of that matters anymore.” But the crack in his voice told another story, one of a man who couldn’t quite let go of what once was.

Dieter stared at her, anger and shame roiling inside him. He wanted to push back, to scream that he was fine, that they were overreacting, but the truth was lodged in his throat like a jagged stone. They weren’t just mad; they were terrified. Honey’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears, and Dieter could see the pain in every line of her face.

Mitch pressed his palms to his forehead, his voice breaking. “Do you think I want to get a call that you’re dead, Dieter? Do you think I want to be the one to have to tell the world that you’re gone because you couldn’t keep yourself together for one weekend? We’re not just fighting for your career; we’re fighting for you. And you keep throwing it in our faces.”

Dieter clenched his fists, feeling cornered, ganged up on, the walls closing in around him. “I didn’t ask for any of this! You think I’m happy here? Alone in this big-ass house with nothing but ghosts? What do you expect me to do, huh? I’m not allowed to fuck up because everyone’s waiting for me to fail. I’m just a goddamn headline waiting to happen.”

Honey stepped back, her composure finally cracking. She wiped at her eyes, her voice trembling. “Dieter, we’re not your enemies. We’re not here to control you. We just… we just don’t want to lose you. Not like this.”

Dieter’s anger peaked, his voice ragged as he lashed out. “Well, maybe you should stop trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. I didn’t ask for this intervention. I didn’t ask for any of you to play babysitter. I’m not a fucking child, and I don’t need you hovering over me, waiting for me to mess up. I can handle my own damn life.”

The room fell into a strained silence, the air thick with tension and hurt. Mitch shook his head, his frustration palpable but tempered by a deep, unspoken worry. He grabbed his jacket, his voice low but firm. “You’re right, Dieter. You are handling your life. But if you keep this up, there won’t be much left to handle.”

Honey lingered for a moment longer, her eyes locked on Dieter’s, filled with a sorrow that went beyond professional disappointment. She wanted to reach out, to pull him back from the edge he was so determined to stand on, but she knew she couldn’t be the one to save him. Not anymore.

“Just… please, Dieter,” Honey said softly, her voice breaking. “Take care of yourself. If not for you, then for the people who still care.”

Dieter watched them go, his heart heavy with the weight of their words. As the door closed behind Mitch and Honey, the silence returned, cold and suffocating. Dieter stared at the painting of Honey on the wall, its colors vivid and haunting, a reminder of the life he kept pushing away. He sank back onto the couch, burying his face in his hands, the reality of his choices crashing down on him.

He was alone again, trapped in a cycle of his own making, and for the first time, Dieter wasn’t sure how to break free.

Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

[lookinghalfacorpse]

You don't have to respond to this one, but @ your last tags on the found family trope post, I can't say I haven't been curious if anything like that was ever the case. You've been so careful in painting everyone's relationship to be on trust and healthy reliance on one another in times of need, and Techno + Dream definitely have something more intimate and close going on (which I deeply appreciate btw- I couldn't bear it if someone tried to stick itwall!Dream as a brother to Techno, or put him in alongside Wilbur as a son figure to Phil :shudders:), so I'm VERY curious how detailed those thoughts have gotten at any point in time /lh /but genuine

(talking about my semi-cursed tags on this post)

yes i can talk about this all day !! i think the dynamic that doomsday trio brings is fascinating, and i don't blame those who see it as a nuclear family dynamic because i think the comparison does work in some places, but it's more complicated than that. i touched on it (in vaguely poetic terms) in this post, but i can give more detail here.

c!philza is an old man and an experienced father, and his instinct as a guardian is strong. this is the closest we get to a nuclear family format in itwall; phil definitely calls on some of his skills as a father when he helps dream, but it's a bit more complex than that. phil recognizes that dream is an adult in human years and doesn't need to be babied (hell, he doesn't even baby Wilbur, his own son who's around the same age!). dream needs care, he needs a mentor, and he needs a better self-preservation instinct before he kills himself. i think their relationship is closer to ancient grecian mentorship than fatherhood/sonhood, the only difference is that the mentee is on death's door for a while and needs some extra attention. phil sees himself in dream, dream sees phil as someone he might like to be, and there's a level of mutual respect there.

i also think that techno and dream have a sense of brotherhood, but in the same way that two athletic teammates have a brotherhood. they have a long history of trust between them, with room for playfulness and teasing. there's a lack of touch aversion (which is HUGE for dream), and dream initiates more of their touches (as opposed to phil, where he tends to be more submissive) (i'm thinkin about ch 12 & ch 19).

and, of course, techno & phil have a complicated relationship of their own. i'm always annoyed by headcanons that techno is phil's son-- we see plenty of interactions where they mutually worry over each other and care for each other. the will is Not written like a boy talking to his father. these two are lifelong partners, and that letter is written to someone who techno knows will understand him and trusts to carry out the more sentimental, intangible tasks, like talking to niki and ranboo, with very little instruction.

highly oversimplified but this is the idea. Techno and dream have similar relationships with phil but it's not really sonhood. all built on trust. they've proven to each other that they will keep each other safe.

and honestly.. none of those relationships would have to exclude sex or intimacy. equals/partners can have sex. comrades can have sex. mentors/mentees can have sex (i think people feel weird about this one, but again: think Ancient Grecian). i have Quite A Few scenes in my head about how their sexual relationships might work (especially in the early days when dream isn't feeling good...). i guess in light of everyone being more open about shipping i would consider writing them, i'd just keep them here instead of ao3.

i think both phil and techno consider dream to be heartstoppingly lovely. i think dream would love to be loved. i think phil&techno and techno&dream may have had some encounters Before the start of itwall, so it would just be a matter of tying it all together.

[winter-seance]

GIF Tutorial

This is going to be a long post, so I'm going to place the majority of it under the cut.

Disclaimer - There are many ways to make gifs, and this is just one way to make them - it's the process that I have figured out works best for me. I am in no way claiming that this is the "definitive" or "best" way to make gifs. There are probably other, better ways to do things, but because people have asked how I do it, I am sharing my process.

Introduction I use a Mac. I am assuming most of this will also be applicable to those of you using Windows as well. This tutorial is divided into three parts. Here is a video of the following process as well: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lBRbWC-iMOM

Actions I use three Actions, that you can download here through my Google drive, if you want. A tutorial for how to install Actions in Photoshop can be found here.

Photoshop Layout I use Photoshop CC, but I used Photoshop CS5 for years, got used to it, so when I upgraded to CC, I arranged it to resemble what I was used to.

I have the following windows open:

And they are arranged like this:

PART ONE - CLIPPING Part 1 consists of using a screen recorder (i.e., Quicktime) to make short clips of scenes or parts of a scene that you want to make gifs of. I have a Mac, so Quicktime is what I use. For Windows users, I’m sure there are equivalent alternatives that are just as good. Years ago, when I was first starting to make gifs, I frequently heard people refer to KMPlayer as what they used, so that might still be a good option for you if you are a Windows user. The most important part is that it takes high-quality recordings, with as little detail and quality loss as possible.

With this screen recording method, you can make screen recordings of video files that are stored locally on your computer (I use VLC to play videos), or streaming on sites like YouTube, Amazon Prime, Hulu, Disney+, HBO, etc. No downloading of the video is necessary. For some of those websites, if you have trouble with getting it to work, you may have to disable your browser’s hardware acceleration. This process is described here (https://www.theverge.com/23715928/netflix-amazon-prime-screenshot-mac-windows-how-to).

I record the clips with sound, to make it easier to transcribe/write out the dialogue in Photoshop later. When I have recorded all the clips I want, I put the clips into my folder where I store all my clips, and into another folder that is labelled with the episode number so I can remember where each clip came from in order to properly label them later when the time comes to upload them to Tumblr.

Example: A folder containing clips from Good Omens 2x01

PART TWO: EXTRACTING/MAKING GIFS FROM THE CLIPS

Open video file in Photoshop To do this, click on File > Import > Video Frames to Layers

Use the markers to select roughly where you want the gif to begin and end.

With videos that have been clipped with Quicktime (not sure about other programs), the vast majority of the time there are twice as many frames as needed – every other frame is a duplicate. For a smaller gif size and smoother playback, I delete every other frame in the timeline box at the bottom of the screen. I used to do this manually (very time consuming), but now do it with the use of an action that I created that will automatically select every other frame. Downloads and installation instructions for all the actions I use are available above.

To use an action, click on the title of the action, then click the play button at the bottom of the window.

I often get an error message that says “The command ‘Extend Frame Selection’ is not currently available”, but it still works. Just click “stop” and every other frame will be selected.

Click the trash can icon in the timeline window to delete the selected frames.

At this point, you will have half as many frames in your timeline as you did before. You will also likely have extra frames at both the beginning and end of the timeline that you don’t want to be part of the gif – from the previous shot, for example. You can delete those now.

This next step is optional: There will still be some duplicate frames in the timeline that were not deleted earlier. It is not strictly necessary to delete these, and I see many gifmakers who don’t get rid of them. It’s usually not all that noticeable. However, because I’m a bit of a perfectionist, I always go through the timeline frame-by-frame and delete each duplicate. This ultimately will reduce the gif’s file size and make the movement in the gif appear much smoother. I usually find that every fourth or fifth frame is a duplicate. Unfortunately, it’s not always consistent, so using an automated action would not work to make this process go faster.

Cropping Once this part is complete, I select the crop tool. I usually make my gifs 540px wide by 350px high. You can change the height to whatever you want, but Tumblr’s max width is 540px. I find the aspect ratio of 540x350px usually allows gifs to feel large, while at the same time not cutting off too much of the sides. Depending on the type of gif I’m making I may adjust this, but generally, if I’m giffing a scene from a TV show or movie, I stick with my standard 540x350px dimensions.

Adding Text Next, I add text. Select the text icon. In the layers window, make sure the top layer is selected, otherwise the text will not show up when you start typing.

The top layer is selected

These are the font settings I currently use:

If I am just making one gifset, or one or two gifs, I’ll go straight on to the next steps. However, if I’m making a large amount of gifs, I save the gif right now, close out of it, and repeat the steps in this section for the next gifs, so I eventually have an entire folder of “raw” unedited photoshop files that have been cropped and captioned, and just need to be colored, have text effects added, and be sharpened. For me personally, I find I make gifs more efficiently by doing it in this “batch” style process.

All cropped and unedited gifs (psd files)

PART 3: COLORING, EFFECTS, & SHARPENING

Coloring I do plan on making a separate tutorial on this at some point, but will include a brief summary here. When it comes to coloring, I generally tend to go by a “less is more” attitude. I am not by any means great at coloring, but nonetheless I’ll explain the types of adjustment layers I typically use.

Note: Before making any adjustments, make sure you have the layer directly underneath the text layer selected, as shown in the screencap below, otherwise it will also apply those adjustments to the text, which makes it look weird.

I start with a Curves layer to change the overall brightness/contrast, then a Levels layer to adjust the shadows and highlights, and then a Brightness/Contrast layer to do some final minor tweaks. The only time I ever reuse gif coloring is when they are from the same scene with the same colors, lighting, backgrounds, etc. Every other time, I tailor the adjustment layers to the specific gif.

You can add adjustment layers by clicking the half light/dark circle on the bottom of the Layers window.

How the gif looks with both a Curves layer and Levels layer

Before adding the adjustment layers

After adding the adjustment layers

A lot of the time, I'll just stick to adjusting the lighting. However, if the colors look gross, or if they are over/undersaturated, I’ll add a Color Balance layer and play around with the settings on that, or use a Hue/Saturation layer and increase/decrease the saturation of specific color channels. It really depends on what you’re going for, and what you think looks good. There is no one “right” way to color a gif.

Text Effects If you are using the Actions I included in the download, you can just run the "Text Effects" action with the text layer selected, and it will do the following automatically. If not, you can do it manually by doing the following.

Right click on the text layer in the Layers window and click on Blending Options.

I use a stroke and drop-shadow on my gifs. Here are the settings I use.

Drop Shadow settings

Stroke settings

Next, to center the text, click on the text layer. With the text layer selected on the Layers window, Select All by clicking ctrl+a (Windows) or command+a (Mac). Then click on the "Align horizontal centers" icon in the “Move tool” option menu.

Important – in the Layers menu, make sure the buttons “Unify layer position” and “unify layer effects” are clicked an enabled for the text layer.

Sharpening Select all the frames in the Timeline window. Then in the lower left-hand corner click “convert to video timeline.”

In the Layers window, select all of the frame layers (do not include the text layer or adjustment/coloring layers in the selection) and right click on it. Select “Convert to smart object.”

Select Filter > Sharpen > Smart Sharpen. In the same way that coloring can differ depending on the gif, the ideal settings for sharpening can also differ from gif-to-gif. It can really depend on the quality of the source of the gif, like whether it’s HD or not. These are the settings I’m using for the current gif:

If you are using Actions, you can run the "Layers to Frames" Action. If not, do the following:

Click on the button circled in red

It will open up this menu. Click on "Flatten frames into clips"

Click the button circled in red, then click "Make frames from layers"

Delete the first couple of "junk" frames

Select all of the frames. Right click on the "0 sec." to change the frame rate. I usually use 0.05, but it might depend on the gif itself.

Exporting Click on File > Export > Save for Web (Legacy)

I cannot add another screencap because I've reached Tumblr's max for this post, but here are the settings I use: Selective Diffusion 256 Colors Dither 100%

You may find that when you try to export your gif, the file size is too big. Tumblr’s gif file size limit is 10mb – try to make it under that – even anywhere in the 9.9mb range. As long as it’s under 10mb, it should work.

To get gifs that are too large to fit under the limit, I usually end up deleting frames from the beginning or end of the gif. If you’re using the 540x350px dimensions, I typically find that the average number of frames I can fit into one gif is between 80-90. Depending on the colors in the gif, it’s sometimes more, sometimes less.

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Olympics AU - Beacon

Beacon the therapy dog! USA Gymnastics Goodest Boy! From this ask

Takes place at U.S. Olympic Trials in June.

Find the rest of the Olympics AU here

Author's note: Since the Olympics are like a real thing now, I have a feeling I might start writing some extra little things for this AU outside of the "main timeline" I've developed. Like this. Or that massage gun scene. People wanted Beacon, so Beacon you will get. I’m also giving Beacon a bigger role on the competition floor itself because it’s more fun that way.

I'll have to figure out a better way to put things like this into a masterpost.

Photo from goldendogbeacon on Instagram

---

Don’t fuck it up. Don’t fuck it up. Don’t fuck it up. 

Don’t don’t don’t don’t don’t 

Don’t fuck this up John. 

Breathe. Focus. Focus focus focus 

Hold yourself together. Don’t think so much. Stop thinking so much. 

It’s just a normal meet. Nothing weird. Not at all. You’re fine. Your leg will be fine. You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t fine. 

Under-rotate the landings if you have to and you’ll be fine. Wear the brace even though it bruises the shit out of your shin. Small price to pay. 

It doesn’t hurt you’re being stupid you only have three events left you’re halfway done you’re doing fine it’s going to be okay stop thinking so damn much. 

Don’t. 

Fuck.

Up. 

Don’t-

Bucky’s internal monologue is interrupted by something wet pressing against his arm. He glances down to see a moist black nose sniffing at him, nuzzling at his hand. Again. 

Beacon. USA gymnastics certified good boy, their emotional support golden retriever who the entire team has fallen in love with. He’s been making the rounds in between rotations, cheering up athletes and lightening the atmosphere of one of the most stressful days of the season: the fight for a ticket to Paris. The gymnasts play with the golden every chance they can get. It’s only rotation 3 and already Curt has had to be half dragged to the apparatuses because he doesn’t want to stop playing with the dog. 

��This is clearly more important,” he told their coach, who could do nothing but roll his eyes and gently shove Curt on to his next event. 

Everyone can benefit from a therapy dog hanging out at the meet. But the dog in question seems to think Bucky, in particular, needs all the emotional support in the world. 

Bucky huffs out a breath and feels his mouth attempt to lift into a shaky smile that falls immediately. He reaches a hand out to scratch Beacon on the head. He’s sitting on the floor in the center of the stadium at Target Center, his left leg stretched out in front of him, awaiting the start of rotation 4. He can’t decide if he’s actually starting to feel pain in his knee, or if it’s his mind playing tricks on him. He’s been paranoid all day. 

It’s the U.S. gymnastics trials, a meet that Bucky didn’t even think he’d be at six months ago. It’s June, and he didn’t even start tumbling on floor again until April. Didn’t stick his first landing until just two months ago, and even then, most of the time it was onto a mat rather than onto the spring floor itself. The doctors warned him not to come back too soon. They told him he may never compete internationally again. They begged him not to do floor, at the very least, because of the pressure it puts on the lower body.

But he’s never been one to back down from what he believes he needs to do, no matter how sick to his stomach it makes him feel. So he didn’t listen, and now he can’t help but wonder if they were right.

He didn’t decide to compete at Championships, much less Trials, until the eleventh hour when he could no longer stand the idea of missing out on the mere chance of competing in Paris just because he was scared. 

Scared. 

Ridiculous. 

Scared is not something John Egan has ever felt about gymnastics. Fearless, they used to call him. 

He supposes they still do, whoever they are. The commentators. His teammates. The whole country, if he’s feeling egoistic. They don’t see the spiraling abyss that is his mind. All they see is the U.S. gymnastics poster boy who was counted out three months ago due to a catastrophic injury but crawled his way back up from the ashes with a blind determination to get back on top. 

They can call him fearless if they want to. But sitting here, in the middle of the stadium, surrounded by other team USA hopefuls, he doesn’t feel fearless at all. He’s survived floor, pommel horse, and rings. He should be feeling more confident by now. He should be calming down the further into this competition he gets. But he finds the opposite to be true. His heart keeps beating too fast and he can’t make it stop. He’s twitchy. He’s nervous. He’s tense. 

He hates it. 

Maybe that’s why Beacon the therapy dog keeps seeking him out in a gym full of other athletes who must be feeling nervous, too. Something about dogs being able to sense how you’re feeling, right? Maybe John’s anxiety is just that much more obvious. 

Great. He went from being cocky, carefree, confident John Egan, USA gymnastics champion to being… well, an anxious mess of a comeback story who can’t afford to let the world see how badly he wants to disappear at this moment. All they see is the smiles he gives the camera, the high scores he puts up on his events, and the way he walks around this stadium with his head held high like he already knows he’s back on top. 

The dog, on the other hand, sees the way his heart is pounding too loud, the way his fingers twitch in his lap, the way he keeps trying to rub the tension out of his bad leg. 

Bucky finds it funny that a dog can see right through him when no one else can. And yet, it works. As he pets the dog, he feels his heart calm down. The tension eases just the littlest bit out of his shoulders. Beacon nudges his hand again and lays down, crawling half into Bucky’s lap. 

“You’re a good boy,” Bucky says. He takes another deep breath. 

“Is he bothering you?” Beacon’s owner asks, even though they know full well that Bucky must be freaking out a little if Beacon keeps returning to him. The dog always knows who needs him. 

Bucky laughs shakily and shakes his head. “No. No, not at all.” He runs his hand over Beacon’s soft hair, looking into the dog’s innocent brown eyes, which look right back at him. “Actually, would it be okay if he stayed with me for a little bit?”

Beacon’s owner smiles at him and tells him of course that’s okay. And so, leash in hand, Bucky finds himself with his own personal therapy dog for a little while. Every time he starts to feel nervous again, the dog knows. He starts licking Bucky’s hand or cuddling against him or booping him with his nose. And it always makes Bucky smile and take a deep breath. 

“You’re monopolizing the dog,” Curt tells him when he finishes on still rings and returns to Bucky’s side. 

“He’s mine now,” Bucky declares. Beacon nuzzles against his leg as if to prove the point. “He’s my new bestie.”

Curt gasps dramatically as he reaches for his water bottle, pressing a hand over his heart. “I’ve been replaced!”

“He’s a hell of a lot cuter than you,” Bucky teases. The dog smiles when Bucky smiles, like making Bucky smile is a great achievement. Like he’s saying yes! Be happy! Good job!

Curt reaches down to pat the dog on the side. “Well we’re moving to vault, so you’re gonna have to give him up to the rest of us.”

Bucky’s vault goes off without a hitch, other than his brace slamming uncomfortably against his leg with every step as he sprints down the track. It’s not the event that nearly ruined his life, but it puts his bad knee through more grief than any other event except maybe floor exercise. He nearly collapses after he sticks the landing out of pure relief, the adrenaline still coursing through his body and making his heart pound even as his leg feels like jell-o. He shakes himself out, wills the feeling to return to his leg, and slowly, carefully, hops down off the vault podium. 

Before he can even sit down, Beacon is at his side, tail wagging excitedly as he smiles up at Bucky. “Hey best friend,” Bucky chuckles. He eases himself down into a chair as one of his coaches kneels in front of him to help him get the brace off and set to work massaging his knee. The dog stays loyally at his side through the whole ordeal, his head resting on top of Bucky’s thigh. 

“Got yourself a friend,” the coach says. 

Bucky smiles, his breathing starting to return to normal. “Sure do.”

—

After parallel bars, Curt and Croz pat him on the back and remind him that he’s almost done for the day. He’s so close. Just one more rotation. Just high bar to go. 

Just high bar. 

Bucky feels like he’s moving in slow motion, slogging his way through reality with far too much effort as he smiles at his friends and walks back towards the chair he left his bag on. He only has one event left today. Just one. But it’s the one that almost ended his career. 

It’s the event that he’s been afraid of ever since. The one that he spent months retraining himself to do, just trying not to bail out of his release moves because of the fear he couldn’t control. The one that made him scream in frustration and think about throwing in the towel because if he couldn't get past the damn mental block what was the point? As recently as the day before US Championships, he was still freaking out halfway through and letting himself tumble off the bar because his chest would seize up and his leg would throb and the world spinning around him would make him so dizzy he thought he might vomit. 

It was a freak accident. Theoretically, he knows that. It’s not something that’s likely to ever happen to him again. But he is not in the business of luck at this point. Luck is an altar at which he’s never worshiped, and he sure as hell isn’t going to now. He’s forcing himself to accept the fact that shit could go south, and he has no control. All he can do is try his damned best to push himself through and do what he’s trained his entire life to do. 

It’s just another meet. Don’t think about it too much. 

He didn’t start competing again until early May. At that point, he wasn’t even doing every event. Hell, he wasn’t even doing dismounts. On high bar, parallel bars, and still rings, he’d simply do his routine and then ease himself off the apparatus. Everyone in attendance, every athlete and every judge, would cheer so loudly for him anyways just because he was there. Just because he was doing it at all. 

But that won’t fly here. Not if he wants trials to count. Not if he wants that ticket to Paris. 

And he told himself yesterday that the win was being here. It didn’t matter what happened. He got himself here, and that was what mattered. But it’s not enough anymore. Not now that he’s in this stadium, pushing himself through this competition with a dizzying mix of anxiety and pure, ferocious determination coursing through him. He won’t have won until he’s on a podium at the 2024 Olympics with a medal around his neck. 

“You’re so close, Bucky,” Curt is saying as he walks away from parallel bars. “We’re almost done. We can do this.”

But it’s not his friends that break through the muffled underwater way he’s experiencing the world around him. It’s a happy-go-lucky golden retriever. 

Beacon breaks away from a group of other gymnasts when he sees Bucky walking towards him, and the other guys can’t even be disappointed about it when they see the way Bucky collapses onto the ground and wraps his arms around the dog. Beacon licks his cheek and nuzzles at his ear, and Bucky hides his face against the soft fur, willing himself not to lose it. His chest feels tight. His leg is aching. It’s not in his head, it’s real. And he’s trying not to let a dull but taunting pain, which historically he would’ve pushed through no problem, pull him out of Olympic contention. 

But the dog won’t leave his side. He knows what his job is, and he tries his best to take all the fear away in the time they have before Bucky starts the final rotation. 

Stay calm, Bucky tells himself as he pats the dog on the head one more time before heading over to high bar. 

Stop thinking so much, he tells himself as he adjusts his grips over his fingers and around his wrist. 

Don’t fuck it up, he tells himself as he rubs chalk over his hands. 

And then his coach is lifting him to the bar and he doesn’t have time to think anymore. Just do it. You can do it. You have to do it. 

“You got this!” Curt his yelling. “You’re good! You got it!”

So Bucky takes a deep breath and pulls himself up, sends himself into his first giant, then his first release move. His second. His third. 

He doesn’t think. He lets himself fly through the air, lets his body do what it knows it has to do, and when he lands, he can’t keep the grin off of his face as he yells out in triumph. 

It’s only his second time doing a full dismount off high bar in a competition since his accident. His second. And he stuck it. He did it. He fucking did it. 

Now he just has to do it all again tomorrow. 

As he hops off the high bar podium, overwhelmed with relief, Curt and Croz flank him on either side, cheering him on as he closes out day one of trials well in the lead. As he walks away from the last apparatus, though, his eyes find a happy golden retriever, staring right back at him. Beacon pulls against his owner’s leash, and the owner lets go with a laugh, letting the dog charge at Bucky. 

Bucky grins and drops to his good knee just in time for Beacon to barrel into his chest. Bucky scratches the dog all over, laughing as Beacon licks his face and wriggles around in his arms. 

“You gonna be my good luck charm?” Bucky asks. “You gonna help me get to Paris?” The dog licks his nose in reply. “Good. I’m gonna need you to help me through this.”

When asked what it took to get to the 2024 Olympics, Bucky will talk about the excruciating recovery process, the training, the frustrating days spent in the gym, the never ending support of his teammates and coaches. He’ll talk about everything it took to get to Trials alone. But then he will also always give credit to Beacon, USA certified good boy, because he honestly believes he wouldn’t have made it through Trials without him. 

…

…

Beacon will return in a future event finals update

[palfriendpatine66]

Making of Monday

This week I offer up a deleted scene from Pining in Preschool chapter 30, where Obi-Wan and Anakin come back home again after reconciling at Qui-Gon’s after their big fight.

I had a major habit of throwing SO MUCH into every chapter of PiP. Part of it was I did want them going through a lot, it was what pushed them to work through their collective baggage to arrive in a much better place. BUT a lot of it was I was new to writing and figuring out pacing and crammed in a ton, worried about showing the downtimes when big things weren’t happening.

This scene got cut because it was leading to Anakin being sick - he was going to wake up in the morning super sick and Obi-Wan was going to take care of the kids and take care of everything work on rebuilding trust and showing the kids he wasn’t going anywhere.

Too much.

[edited to add: ALSO I can’t really remember but I think i had previously cut or at least significantly reduced the interaction between Anakin and Quin when he asked him to come take care of Boga so he and the kids could flee the Obi-Wanless house go camping for a few days]

I instead ended chapter 30 on a positive note at Qui-Gon’s cabin, and then had chapter 31 be the family camping trip where they have family time and solid communication and rebuild that trust all together.

Read below the cut for the deleted scene

***

Luke’s head rolls to the side as Anakin lifts him from his car seat. Both twins had fallen asleep on the ride home shortly after leaving Qui-Gon’s cabin in the woods, as soon as they were convinced that Obi-Wan was coming as well. He arrives to ease Leia into his arms, snoring softly.

“What is Quinlan doing here?” Obi-Wan sounds mystified as he eyes the extra car in the driveway as they pass by.

“Oh, I asked him to stop by and feed Boga while we were camping.” Anakin grunts as he shifts Luke to one side to open the door. From the entryway they can just see Quin sprawled on the floor with the ginger tabby kneading his stomach. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you,” he calls out.

“Excuse me for spending a couple minutes looking after this precious thing, like you asked.” Quin rolls his eyes as he stands. “You look like shit, Obes,” he frowns as he looks him over. “Uhhh you too, kid. Is everything -”

“I don’t think we like camping,” Anakin mumbles in his direction. Now that he’s home everything must be catching up to him, he feels leaden as he moves to take Leia from Obi-Wan. “Take your time and hang with Quin if you want, inspect the damage. I’ll put these guys down and then pass out myself. I’m dead tired.”

“I’ll bring her up first,” Obi-Wan attempts to protest, but Anakin ignores him and shifts her out of his arms with ease of practice. “I don’t know how you do that,” Obi-Wan smiles softly as he watches him adjust one child on each hip and move to the stairs.

“It’s my workout. Got to maintain my dad bod,” Anakin purses his lips in an air kiss as he walks away.

“Oh love, you do not have a dad bod,” Obi-Wan corrects, mostly to himself. Quinlan snorts and scoops up the cat as he plops down on the couch with a scrutinizing look. “Go on then,” Obi-Wan sighs, sinking down with exhaustion. “Get on with it.” He figures he’d rather just get the inquisition over with, he wants to get upstairs to bed. To Anakin.

“Come on Obes, don’t be like that. You look like you’ve been on a bender.”

“I was not,” Obi-Wan snaps, his eyes flashing. “And I’m alright, Quinlan, just exhausted. Thank you for looking in on Boga.”

Quin narrows his eyes. “Why did he ask me?”

“Hmm?” Obi-Wan asks distractedly as Boga lands in his lap and he pets her absently behind the ears glancing wistfully at the stairway.

“Why did your boy toy, who avoids contact with me at all costs, craft a cryptic message worthy of the CIA to ask me to take care of your cat? It’s not like you to take off on an unplanned camping trip. And you just returned in separate vehicles looking like you’ve come home from war. ”

Obi-Wan holds the cat to his chest gently in stark contrast to the rock hard stare he turns onto Quinlan. “He is NOT my boy toy.” He grits his teeth and seems unwilling to address the rest of his friend’s astute observations.

Quin seems to pick up as much and softens his stance. “I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“Yes! Your concern is noted, but I can take care of myself, thank you. Secondly, I am fine. Just very tired at the moment.”

“Okay, okay, I can take a hint,” Quin rolls his eyes as he makes for the door.

Obi-Wan snorts in disagreement. “That would be a first” and

“That reminds me: I’m pretty sure you guys owe me a favor now so I’ll let you know when I’m ready to cash in on that: I have a couple of ideas in mind -“

“Goodnight, Quinlan!” Obi-Wan shoves him toward the door without any heat behind it. He’s just glad he can finally head upstairs to join Anakin. He doubts he would have slept very well the last few nights by himself, even if it hadn’t been for the mess of emotions that was absolutely impossible to keep at bay in the quiet of night; he’s become too used to sleeping with the weight of Anakin in his arms, snoring lightly into his chest.

Boga leaps out of his arms when he peeks into Leia’s room, a relief because he doesn’t know that Anakin would tolerate anything coming in between the two of them in bed this evening. He spends a few minutes lingering in each room, readjusting blankets and watching the rise and fall of chests through peaceful rest.

He’s overwhelmed with the realization that he could have lost this. All of this. He’s not sure at what point after seeing Anakin breathless and on his knees at Rex’s garage, red faced and stammering and perfectly disheveled, he started to imagine a future where he might not just find love but a whole family.

He can’t resist the pull of Anakin any longer. He enters the bedroom and immediately wraps the younger man in his arms. It would seem Anakin had face planted onto the bed directly after his shower, his hair and upper body soaking Obi-Wan’s clothes, his hips still wrapped in a towel. “Ugh, love, you didn’t dry off. You’ll get the pillows wet.” Obi-Wan complains without moving away, in fact, he hugs the wet body to his side even tighter.

“Too tired,” Anakin mumbles into the mattress. He lets out a small whine of protest, still unmoving, when Obi-Wan presses a chaste kiss to a damp shoulder and eases off the bed. He returns only moments later with sleep pants, which he maneuvers onto a supremely unhelpful Anakin after freeing him of the towel and gently patting him dry.

“I try to avoid saying this as a matter of policy, but Quinlan was right. You look terrible,” Obi-Wan murmurs, taking in the bags under Anakin’s eyes as he rolls him onto the pillow. Anakin spares a critical glance that lets Obi-Wan know he hasn’t missed the swollen eyes, gaunt cheeks, and unkempt hair and beard on the face looking down with him in concern.

“ ‘M better already,” Anakin slurs sleepily, and Obi-Wan didn’t think his heart could melt any further until an arm reached up for him. “Hold me tonight?” There isn’t a single night that Anakin doesn’t end up chasing Obi-Wan across any space that manages to move between them during the night, closing the distance and tangling their bodies together even in his sleep, but the request is endearing and Obi-Wan is happy to oblige.

[aealzx]

Better Genes part 29.1

Part 1 of 3 extra, illustrated writing additions to the Better Genes comic.

Takes place between page 29 and 30.

Contains: Use of sedatives, character injury, blood, TV Medicine, TV Science, panic attack, mutation body horror, injured eye, severely sprained ankle, overall body pain

Comic: Start     pg 26-29  

Writing:  Part 2    Part 3

____________

I got a couple comments about being excited for monster Donnie content (despite mentioning that there wasn’t going to be much) and felt kind of bad for not having much. ;v; There was no way I was going to add another 30 pages or more to the comic though, especially since I’ve never even tried to do fight scenes in comic form before. X’D

So instead I wrote 8 pages and drew 3 more flat colored pics as a sort of middle ground.

Talking with my platonic waifu, since the comic is on tumblr I’m also going to put the writing on tumblr instead of AO3 despite it being long because cross platform content can be annoying. Everything will be split into 3 posts, underneath a read more break to hopefully not stretch the screen a horrendous amount.

____________

(Story and drawing under the cut)

With a quick swish of his temporarily manifested blade, Leo opened a portal to the part of the sewers that was a short distance from where he’d sent Donnie. He didn’t want to pop in right next to him and startle him into attacking them after all. It would be better if they could sneak up on him and pop a few rounds of sedatives into him first. Unfortunately, when Leo stepped through the portal he was greeted with Casey’s back coming in hot directly at his face, having gotten bodily launched across the sewer tunnel by Donnie’s clawed hand. With a startled, halfway muffled yelp, Leo dodged to the side slightly and flung an arm up quick enough to catch Casey and help him regain his footing instead of crashing into the others filtering through the portal as well.

“Alright there Case?” Leo asked with a forced grin, trying to remain optimistic despite the scene before him being the unwanted route. So much for sneaking up on their brother.

“Sorry Master-! Ah… Sorry Leo. He noticed we were following him and got angry,” Casey babbled hurriedly. His upbringing made him quick to give an update on the situation, which also ended up answering Leo’s unasked question about what had ticked Donnie off.

“Yeah, that sounds like Donnie,” Leo chuckled, removing his hand from supporting Casey now that he had his balance back. “He always was quick to lash out when we got in his space when he didn't want us there. Too bad it’s time for his medicine, so we can’t give into his cranky wishes for alone time,” he added dramatically, gesturing to the injection pens Mikey had now that he and April had joined them as well. “We got the antibodies, so we’re ready to take him down and bring him back home. Thanks for sticking it out until now.”

Casey’s expression turned into a sheepish yet grateful smile, but before he could respond Raph’s bellowing voice echoed through the tunnel from close by.

“LEO! You didn’t mention he’d grown another meter!” Raph complained emphatically as he was grappling Donnie’s mutated mouth with ninpo covered hands. He didn’t fancy getting bitten by Donnie’s new set of fangs, considering his original set of teeth already did enough damage when he was legitimately angry. And if Raph knew anything about Donnie’s levels of anger, then he would guess Donnie was beyond pissed at the moment. That combined with his new size made grappling him a losing battle, Raph’s heels dragging paths in the dirt as he was shoved backwards.

“I figured that was rather self explanatory considering what he got infected from,” Leo sassed back, loading one of the sedative darts into the gun and taking aim. He was hesitant to fire with Raph directly in the path, but luckily for both of them a quick snap from Splinter’s tail saved Raph from being Donnie’s new chew toy. The forward momentum was broken, and Raph quickly opened his hands as Donnie’s head was knocked to the side.

As April rushed forward, her name belted from her lips, Leo figured he should pass a word of caution to them all just so it would be explicitly known. “Try not to piss him off too much please. We need him rather still for Mikey to administer the antibodies,” he warned, pulling the trigger on the tranquilizer gun when he felt he wasn't going to hit anyone but the intended target. He ended up wincing in apology the dart smacked Donnie in the side of the nose, causing him to recoil slightly from the sting before shaking the dart dart off and turning to snarl at Leo.

“...Maybe you shouldn’t shoot him in the face then,” Casey commented lightly with a weak chuckle, a slight tease, and an analytical pause for an opening before he ran forward to join the fray once more.

“Okay, so aiming in real life is a lot different from video games,” Leo defended with a sheepish shrug. Donnie apparently thought that was enough of an offense to warrant revenge, for he started to charge towards Leo, causing him to start backing up. “Mikey, I need a weight estimate.”

“Got it!” Mikey chirped, securing the injection pens into his belts and darting forward to dash towards Donnie before feinting to the side. Considering Donnie was way too tall for him to grapple anything but his arms or legs now, Mikey had coiling chains wrap around Donnie’s middle as additional ones helped fling him overhead. Twisting in the air, Mikey latched onto the handholds he’d created and used them and his momentum to heave Donnie into a rather gentle toss a few meters away. “Uhhhh….He’s kinda like one of those tiny smart car things?” Mikey called back to Leo after landing on his feet again in a crouch. “When do I start poking him?”

A smart car? That was a weird comparison. But it actually made sense when Leo remembered Mikey’s usual choice of throwing arsenal. But that definitely wasn’t something he knew the weight of by memory. Which meant he was digging his phone out of his shell for a quick internet look up. “As soon as you’re confident you can hold it in place for 8 seconds,” Leo answered, half distracted by the phone. About 700 kilograms? Well, it was better than a complete guess. He’d just have to play on the safe side and maybe do one or two doses less than calculated for that weight. Loading another sedative dart as he calculated the maximum quantity he was allowed to use in his head, he tried to push away the usual second guessing his brain did. Based on the tests he’d done in Donnie’s lab with the left over blood sample, the mutated physique caused him to have a slightly accelerated metabolism rate with the sedatives, and therefore he should be able to safely use 8 darts before he risked an overdose. Now that he had a set number Leo raised the gun and fired another dart, stabbing Donnie in the crook of his shoulder. 

That made two.

This felt too slow. Half of his team was already worn down somewhat, and he was taking too long to aim and wait for an opening with all of them swarming around Donnie like flies on old cheese. Every time they tried to break away from him though he was immediately lashing out at one of them, causing the others to rush back in to support. Sliding another dart into the gun’s slot, Leo started walking towards his brother, hoping that closing the distance would make it easier and faster to hit him with more sedatives. It would also be great if he didn’t have to reload the gun after every single shot. But Donnie apparently hadn’t made the gun for rapid fire. Unusual for him honestly. Taking aim, Leo’s focus was split as he pulled the trigger when Raph gave an unusually pain filled yelp. Donnie’s new tail had caught him in the side of the head, close enough to the tunnel wall to bounce him off the surface slightly. It was enough to cause Leo to suck in a tense breath, knowing that Raph’s scar was fragile, and look towards him before the trigger was fully pulled. Consequently, the third shot ended up missing, crashing into the opposite wall and probably snapping the needle. That was fine. That’s why they filled an excessive amount of darts. There were more important issues at the moment.

“Raph?” Leo called in a nervous question, seeing his older brother pushing a palm against his right eye.

“I’m okay!” Raph assured, keeping his palm in place until the sting subsided, then pulled his hand away. While he checked to see if there was any blood on his fingers, Donnie’s back foot knocked him over and ended up using him as a pedestal to stand on while he avoided April’s swinging bat. Raph’s breath left him in a huff, and he wrapped his arms around Donnie’s toes to try and relieve the pressure on his chest.

Figuring he should help Raph out, Leo dashed forward as Mikey lept into a split arc over the top of Donnie, apparently having the same goal. Splinter was focused on keeping Donnie from hurting the others, knocking his clawed hand away when he swiped at April. “Boy! You better watch where you're swinging those!” April hollered, having ducked and shielded her head before realizing Splinter had protected her.

“Try not to hurt him too much, it’s still Donnie!” Leo hollered in return, rushing to dive underneath Donnie in a slide while also pointing the tranquilizer gun at him half blindly and pulling the trigger while barely missing getting swatted instead. Being this close to him it would be hard to miss. Or at least he hoped as such. But he also needed to check and make sure Raph was okay. Skidding to a stop next to Raph, Leo allowed Raph to use his ninpo to shove Donnie’s foot off himself before he took a glancing look at his squinting eye.

[ultimatemissadhd]

Fuck I don't care this fandom is more dead than my grandma and that no one will know what I'm talking about

Cassandra from Tangled the Series Headcanons (spoilers for the whole show)

Tw: Mentions of self harm, depression, other mental health issues

- Between her leaving and the last episode there is a time skip because the show kinda made it look like there wasn't and I don't like that so there was a few months time skip

- During that time skip, she struggles with her mental health a lot. She keeps finding ways to punish herself like not properly taking care of herself. Rapunzel and others would take care of her and make sure she is well fed and rested.

- The idea of her leaving would actually come early after the finale but she would hesitate. Not only her, Rapunzel would be worried that Cassandra with how bad her depression was at the moment, wouldn't take care of herself properly on the road which could have really bad consequences. Eventually, Cassandra would get better enough for Rapunzel to not be worried about her that much.

- Cassandra did not know how to take off her armour after the finale and had to go to Varian for help. It was all a very embarrassing experience, she doesn't like talking about it.

- She was very wild as a teenager.

- She has lots of scars on her body from different incidents (most from her teenage era)

- She began having really bad nightmares after the finale.

- She and Rapunzel would (obviously) write to eachother while she is away. Rapunzel would write a lot, every minor event would result in a letter, Cassandra would love to hear about all of them. However, Cass would struggle to write to Rapunzel sometimes since she struggles to express herself and her feelings. As much as Rapunzel worries, she understands. On the bright side, it would make Cassandra's letters very long since she would have a lot to write about after putting it off for so long.

- She did want to get included in the search for the lost princess multiple times but her father forbid her from it. He was very strict about it, eventually she gave up on trying. (You may figure out the reason on why he was so strict about it yourself iykyk)

- The only person (probably in the whole kingdom) aware of what happens to the lanterns after they look pretty and fly away. She didn't have a heart to tell that to anyone because of the meaning of the tradition.

- She did have problems with her hand after it got burned and it did hurt her a lot when she used it but she never told anyone and pretended it's fine. (I don't like how fast the show moved on from her hand getting burned like she got over it too fast idk)

- The moonstone had very weird effects on her other than providing her energy (so she didn't need to eat or sleep). One of it being that her chest did hurt sometimes because of the moonstone being stuck there, she did her best to ignore it. There's a high chance that if she kept it for longer, the pain could become unbearable.

- The moonstone effected her brain more than she thought, sometimes making her dissociate or have derealizations. This why she doesn't actually remember many moments of her life after she grabbed the moonstone, especially the moments between the mayor events when she'd be alone.

- Always wanted to explore the world but never had a chance. She was a bit jealous of Eugene whenever he would describe the places he have been to but she would never admit it.

- Actually witnessed the dancing scene from the movie and was a part of it at some point very very much against her will.

- Dissociates when emotions become too much, Rapunzel always gets extra concerned during those.

- Touch starved but also hated touching it's complicated.

- Cold hands

- (This one is based on this one shot I read on ao3 I might put it later when it's not 1am for me)

Growing up she never learned how to take care of her curly hair, since she never had a mum and the other maids working in the castle weren't much of a help. Eventually, Eugene would help her with it and teach her to take proper care of it.

[bun-lapin]

Hello I am not the same person who asked for the game night with the freshmen. But I really injoied it. Can u make a part 2./ gen pos

Hello and thanks for the request! I'm so glad you liked the first one! I loved writing the 'hanging out with your buddies' mood of this prompt. Really brought back a lot of fun memories from my high school days~! Hope it's ok that they're playing a different game this time and that I tweaked the rules a bit to fit the story better. I also tried out a slightly different formatting due to the extra dialogue <3

Game night part 1: link here

CW: humor, platonic friendship, silly time

First Years Game Night: part 2

Walking into the lounge with a broom and dustpan in hand, you take in the chaotic scene of spilled popcorn on the floor, countless empty cans of juice scattered around the room, and your fellow first years excitedly shouting and running all over the place. You stride over to where Grim is lounging on a cushioned chair and hand him the cleaning tools with a stern look. He reluctantly takes the broom from you and sighs, “Yeah, yeah I got it. My mess, my job to clean it up.” He halfheartedly begins cleaning and you turn to face the rest of the group as Ace begins speaking.

“Alright everyone!” Ace shouts and everyone settles down. “Time for our next game which is: Who am I?” He holds up a small box of folded paper scraps and shakes it. “I just finished writing the names and the overall category is important people on campus. So basically housewardens, vice housewardens, staff, you get the picture. The teams have been reshuffled and you’ll have one minute to ask as many ‘yes or no’ questions as you can to your partner to figure out who you are. Everyone understand?” He grins as everyone nods their head. “Sweet! Let’s get this game started then!”

Round 1: Ace ❤️ and Deuce ♠️

Ace stands with his back to the group as Deuce fishes out a random name from the box. He sticks the paper to Ace’s back with some tape and then walks over to stand facing him. The rest of the first years stand behind Ace and read the name on his back. Epel tries not to burst out laughing when he sees the name ‘Vil Schoenheit’.

Ace: Am I a housewarden? Deuce: Yes. Ace: Sweet! That narrows it down to like seven people! Ace: Am I rich? Deuce: What!? How would I even know something like that?! Jack: The rules state you can only answer yes or no! Deuce: (He thinks really hard as many seconds go by) ...Yes? Ace: Do I put a lot of care into my appearance? Deuce: Yeah! Ace: Am I a hard worker? Deuce: Yes. (You hear Epel sigh very tiredly next to you.)

Ace suddenly yells out, “I got it! I’m Azul Ashengrotto!” The timer rings out.

As Ace checks the paper on his back, everyone sits in stunned silence thinking about how Vil and Azul share a surprising amount of characteristics.

Round 2: Jack 🐺 and Sebek 🐊

Jack tapes his selected name to Sebek’s back and then swiftly takes his place facing his teammate. Everyone else leans in to read the paper and then immediately hold their sides with silent laughter as they see the name ‘Malleus Draconia’ taped to Sebek’s back.

As soon as the timer is started, Sebek begins shouting a stream of questions without leaving a single pause for Jack to answer back.

Covering his ears with his hands, a pained grimace on his face, Jack yells back, “Stop! Stop! My hearing is way more sensitive than anyone else here! Plus, you’re going too fast for me to even answer!”

Sebek begins yelling in a slightly reduced volume about how speed is of the essence and the last team lost because they ran out of time. The timer continues to tick away and Jacks yells over Sebek’s voice, “Our time’s almost out! Ask something!”

Sebek shouts, “Alright! Fine! Am I Lord Mal-” The timer’s ringing cuts him off.

The rest of the room dies laughing while Jack and Sebek start arguing and throwing couch cushions at each other.

Round 3: Epel 🍎 and Grim 🐱

Epel tapes the name to Grim’s ribbon (because the tape doesn’t stick very well to his fur) and then stands facing him. The rest of the group raise their eyebrows in mild surprise as everyone reads the name ‘Dire Crowley’ on the paper. Making sure Grim can’t hear, Ace starts a bet about whether or not he’ll be able to guess in time. You’re the only one to wager in favor of Grim.

Grim: Am I a member of the staff? Epel: Yes! Grim: Am I well dressed? Epel: Uhh... (He looks towards you and, making sure no one is looking, you slightly nod at Epel) Yes? Grim: Am I good at my job? Epel: (He looks at you again but this time the rest of the group are watching you like hawks) ...Yes?

Grim laughs and jokes, “Well if I’m good at my job, there’s no way I’m Crowley, right?” Grim sees the expression on Epel’s face and shouts, “Wait! Epel! Am I Crowley!?”

The timer rings and you collect your winnings from the bet as Grim yells at Epel that his opinion of the headmaster is too high.

Round 4: Ortho 🤖 and You 🦐

As you stand with your back to your friends, you hear Ortho grab a piece of paper from the box and then you feel him tape it on your back. You raise an eyebrow in fierce curiosity as you hear everyone burst out laughing behind you.

You: Am I a member of the staff? Ortho: No. You: Am I a vice housewarden? Ortho: No.

You silently celebrate because with those two questions, you realize you must be a housewarden. There are only five people you could be because Vil and Malleus have already been selected.

You quickly go through the list of remaining housewardens, leaving enough of a pause for Ortho to respond, and ask if you’re each one. Ortho responds ‘No’ to each question.

You pause with intense confusion, trying to remember if you’ve left a name off the list. While you’re thinking, the timer rings and you rip the paper off your back to read the answer.

Everyone else in the room falls to the floor with laughter as you read the piece of paper with your name on it. You smile and laugh along with your friends, feeling just how important you are to this close knit group of first years.

[cuntftmtf]

Not Kink!

Hi so i just wanted to say, it's totally okay if you don't post it or don't respond in anyway. I guess I'm just in my thoughts or feels rn. But I just wanted to ask if someone else experiences this.

So I come on Tumblr and look at all sorts of shit and try and get off, you know? As most of us on this side of Tumblr do. I'm into a lot of different kinks, ya know misgendering, noncon, orientation play, etc. The roster, ya know? And usually it's great and fun and whatever, but I've noticed that sometimes, after I get myself off, my mood suddenly changes. The best way I could describe it is somewhere between post-nut clarity and sub drop, but closer to sub drop. Like I get off and suddenly I feel almost empty and not like myself and sometimes feeling depressed and self loathing. And I'm sure I'm not crazy, and I'm not the only one who experiences this, but I never see it talked about anywhere so I guess I just wanted to see if that was something other people experienced. And if you or anybody had any tips on how to handle it ig, idk it's rough in here sometimes.

Again, it's totally okay and understandable if you don't post this or respond. It's not your responsibility to comfort a complete stranger on the Internet. I just figured it couldn't hurt to ask

hey, first off i hope its okay that i'm posting this publicly, i think you said something really important and i think other people would benefit from seeing this too!

to start off, those feelings are totally normal and i've been there plenty of times. especially after taking this kink out of fantasy i would sometimes get uncomfortable, regretful, moody, etc.. you're engaging in dark and personal kinks that sometimes come from a conflicting place. it can be hard to reconcile getting off to things that are also uncomfortable and even triggering sometimes, and when you're suddenly no longer horny that can hit pretty hard.

i guess what's important to figure out for yourself is what's making you feel like that. are you ashamed? did you trigger yourself? is confronting you with your identity in a way you find uncomfortable? sometimes that post nut depression is just a physical reaction too, plenty of people feel inexplicably down after they cum. it's not strange and you don't have to worry about it. but i do find it important to determine the reason for it, because you could be hurting yourself by getting off to these kinks if it's coming from a not so healthy place. remember that kink should be a rewarding exploration and not an actual punishment for yourself.

as for getting past the drop, look up aftercare guides for psychological bdsm scenes. my main ones are:

have something to drink and put some sugars in your body so you get some energy back

provide yourself any kind of self care you like. that could include wrapping up in a nice blanket, asking a friend about their day, maybe taking a nice bath or shower, but can also mean folding some laundry or any other mindless little task you would feel better about if it was finished!

remind yourself that your kinks are not indicative of your value or morality, dark kinks don't make you a bad (queer) person, they're just a way to get your rocks off

put on a show or a podcast to take your mind off things if you find your thoughts are running wild

i hope you feel a little less alone in this experience! lastly, if you're playing with a partner who's into this type of thing, let them know when you need some extra care after a scene. don't just let them drop you if you need to come down gently.

[room-surprise]

Dungeon Meshi Season 1, Episode 3 Review

I think it was fantastic, and like the other episodes my complaints are all so minor, they're basically nitpicks. Spoilers below!

The Japanese subtitles are still kinda bad, when you watch the English dub afterwards it somehow manages to better convey the same information without leaving anything out. Japanese performances are fantastic but yeah the subtitles really suck a lot of the life out of them. There's some gems in the dub performance, like Chilchuck saying "Sword, please" to Laios instead of "can I borrow your sword" or something more elaborate.

Everything that was good about the original manga chapters is in this episode, and this was one of the early chapters that hooked me and my spouse into Dungeon Meshi - seeing how Laios figured out the living armor and how he defeated it was something really cool and thoughtful that stood out from other media to us. It was clever and novel and went into monsters and speculative biology in a way that we both adored. This episode is also the one that really foreshadows the rest of the series and it's themes. If something is alive, it desires something, and if you can figure out what it desires you can find a way to defeat it. If something is alive, you can kill it, and if you can kill it you can eat it.

All of the fight scenes in this episode are incredible, and there's tons of fun camera shots and interesting choices being made. Love the bit where Marcille catches a helmet in the loop of her staff. Also loved the bit where she caught Laios' head in the loop of her staff and shook him around angrily. They found ways to include information from the extra monster tidbits into the main narrative, which is fantastic! I'm hoping they'll be able to do this for the rest of the anime as well, because there's a LOT of vital information and funny jokes in the tidbits that enhance the story.

So nice to finally have our first Senshi panty shot and know that they'll at least give us some of those.

Though the animation is spectacular, there is a noticeable style shift between the first two episodes and 3. They obviously have some very talented animators working on this episode (the suits of armor are all rock solid, detailed, and move in fantastic ways) but they are NOT really good at drawing the human characters on-model and it shows. It's not awful but it is noticeable. I'm glad they at least were able to keep it consistent, the characters look that way through the whole episode and don't switch back and forth between individual scenes. That would have been a lot more distracting. Pet peeve, I hated the gag with the egg sack flying through cosmic space to show Laios had figured out the secret of the armor. I didn't think it was that funny, and I felt it interrupted the flow of the already very exciting and tense fight scene. Just the memory sequence being drawn in such a crazy loose style was enough for me! And the style of it flying through the cosmos and everything just felt very out of place and modern. Oh, and Laios says "oh my god" at one point in the dub, which also annoys me, but I think is better than "jeez" since a pagan could theoretically say "oh my god."

But overall a fantastic episode and it gives me a lot of hope for the rest of the series. I was worried that they were going to compress the story too much and try to fit 4 chapters into this episode, because of how they put 3 chapters into episode 2, but they gave this 2-chapter story room to breathe, which it very much needed. Can't wait for next week! I think we'll get the golem story as well as the orcs.

[beelmons]

Escapade 5

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader Rating: Explicit, readers under 18 are not advised to read this story. Tags: smut, best friends to lovers, possible angst at some point, porn with plot, mentions of weapons, minor OC appeareances for plot purposes, mentions of death for plot purposes, unprotected sex, reader drinks a bit of alcohol. Summary: The case gets stuck, but Spencer is by your side to keep you going. Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 / 3: Bonus | 4 | 5 | 6 A/N: this one doesn't have as much action ifykwim, mostly plot building, but bear with me, lots of action coming. Tag list: @punkndisorderrly @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @amywright

Ever heard the expression ‘do not speak ill of the dead’? One of the most misunderstood sayings in the english language, if you were to say so yourself. Through the many years of working in law enforcement, you had come to realize that all it took for the most heinous, horrendous, and evil crimes to go away in the minds of the people was no other than dying.

The interviews didn’t take you anywhere. Every agent was a god-sent angel in the eyes of their loved ones. No criminal record, no wrong-doings, model citizens if someone were to ask you. No additional disappearances or deaths, either, the UnSub had gone dormant, which meant two things: first, the good news, it indicated the possibility that your friend and the HR clerk were probably still alive. Second, for the bad part, without any more victims, getting new leads would be difficult, and the risk of the case going cold was greater.

—We need to go back to victimology. —Emily pointed out.

—If we go over victimology one more time, I will hand in my resignation. —Morgan answered— we have two bodies, no forensic evidence, no clear M.O. other than the deaths being sloppily staged as a suicide, and the only thing linking these people so far, it’s that they were all part of the same FBI academy class. 

—Okay, what about the profile? —JJ asked.

—We can only have a draft for now, the information we’ve got is not enough. —Rossi responded— We know it’s gotta be someone who is reckless or imbalanced, hence why he got kicked out of the academy, but smart enough to be admitted as a trainee in the first place. He has criminology knowledge, yet that can be easily explained by his time as a trainee. 25 to 35 years old. Underachiever. Narcissistic. Mission oriented…

—So, our average weirdo. —Penelope interrupted him, and Rossi nodded in disappointment.

Everyone’s spirit seemed to be down. Empty containers of chinese food laid on top of the round table mixed with files and gruesome crime scenes pictures. No one was paying attention anymore. Hotch decided to look at the time, it was close to midnight. It had been the third night in a row the team had put in the extra hours, not that it was anything out of the ordinary, but the burn out was evident.

—Alright, everyone, let’s go home. —the boss commanded.

—Hotch, we’re not any closer to finding these men. —the muscular man mentioned.

—We’re not doing ourselves any favors by exhausting our energy. Unfortunately, we won’t have much to go on until…

—Until another victim turns up? —you asked, your tone slightly accusatory.

—I understand it’s hard, but that’s usually how profiling works. —everyone shot you a look at his words, mostly trying to make sure you still felt okay. You simply sighed and shrugged the question off. Aaron kept staring to figure out your emotions, but given the time, and the fact that you were also exhausted, he decided it was better to not profile you— We’ll come in at 10, make sure to rest well, we’ll start fresh tomorrow and, hopefully, we’ll be able to see something new.

The team began to gather their belongings, and one by one gave you a reassuring pat on the back before they exited the building. Hotch and Reid were the only ones left while you were still on your desk, reluctantly putting your stuff in your bag to go home.

—Are you going down? —your boss asked, his briefcase already dangling from his hand, your best friend standing next to him.

—Uh, you can go ahead —you replied— I have to do something, but I’ll be right down. —with that said, you stood up and directed yourself to the bathroom. The two men exchanged puzzled glances and sighed in defeat.

You took your time staring at your own reflection. You looked like hell, gently put. You hadn’t slept much. Mixed feelings and thoughts haunting the possibility of unconsciousness every night since his disappearance. You knew it was their job, but the truth was that your team was working extra-hard to help you through it, and you hadn’t been exactly the most pleasant companion during the investigation. Your hostility towards Hotch was unfunded, his patience with you even more so, and you knew you would have to apologize later.

There was no use beating yourself over it now, but you just couldn’t go and rest while your friend’s body could turn up at any minute. You threw some cold water over your face to scare off the drowsiness and decided to head back to the round table. To your surprise, a familiar shape was already sitting on his usual spot during morning meetings.

—What are you still doing here, Reid? —you asked. His head immediately raised to meet your eyes with a faint smile.

—I knew you would stay behind. Figured you could use some company.

—Well, you could use some sleep.

—I had a very heavy dinner, the kitchen’s coffee pot is filled to the brim with espresso, and if I need a nap, I’ll just take Morgan’s couch. —his talking was fast, not allowing for you to interrupt him at any second, and once he was done, he signaled to the chair next to him which already had an open file before it.

You rolled your eyes at his persistence. However, you knew that deep down you were just trying to deflect the warmth that it spread to your chest, but at last you decided to obey his command. Within seconds, both of your heads were buried in FBI files. You decided to go back to victimology, and after an hour of rolling over it, you had come to the same conclusions as earlier that week. Frustrated, you threw the folder on the table, letting it shut close, and you leaned back on your chair, a loud huff leaving your lips as you stared at the ceiling.

—This was dumb, we’re not getting anywhere. Let’s just call it a night. —you spurted out in disappointment.

—Come on, we can still crack something new. —Spencer said without looking up from the paper he was reading.

—Perhaps these were just victims of opportunity. Nothing about this makes sense. The only person who sticks out is Conrad, and even so, he was just a DC police desk clerk, who would have a problem with him? —you continued to complain, part of it was directed to yourself, still angered that you hadn’t been able to figure it out. After seconds of silence, you realized Spencer hadn’t added anything to the conversation, and so you turned to look at him. To your surprise, he was already intently looking at your expression with pity written on his face, which took you aback— What?

—Nothing. It’s just… —he made a quick pause— I know you’re fond of him, but during the entire investigation you haven’t really mentioned him much.

He was right. You had refrained yourself from saying his name. You figured, maybe, if you held to the same hope the families did, if you kept him frozen in your memories, if you remembered him as your old friend, and not as a victim, he would remain as such, and the next day he would be safe and sound, like he had been years ago. Your brows furrowed and your hands went back to the table.

—You don’t expect doctors to get sick, right? What kind of agent am I if I can’t keep safe the very people I wanted to protect in the first place? —you said, pain vibrating in your voice. 

—Only that doctors do get sick.

—Yeah, I guess you are right. —your tone dropped at his observation, sadness taking over you instead.

—Can I ask you something rather personal? —Reid inquired once he realized the emotions he had stirred. You raised your eyebrows curiously, but nodded in agreement anyways— How come you hadn’t contacted him in so long? I mean, I know this job can get in the way of many things, but not even a phone call?

Yes, Spencer was bad at fixing unfortunate comments. Yet, he wasn’t wrong. There were many reasons to not look back at your old pal, to not seek him after, but just as one shall not speak ill of the dead, you had refused to go over the bad memories that would taint the image you had of him. Nonetheless, there was no fooling Spencer, not only because he was a human lie detector, but because he knew you better than anyone else.

—Have you ever looked back and realized you didn’t really like the person you were? —your elbow propped on the table and your cheek rested on your palm to be looking at Spencer. You watched as he took a quick glance at his forearm, and he cleared his throat before he nodded; reality hit you that he was probably remembering the time he struggled with addiction, and you felt a wave of guilt in you, paired with intense pride. He had overcome it almost by himself, but before you allowed your mind to sink deep into the marvelous being Spencer Reid was, you continued your story. —He guided me through my first days of the academy, I was new to Virginia, everything was scary. He became my best friend, I trusted him, during tactical missions, during exams, he had my back, I had his.

—Then what happened? —he asked once you stopped to gather your breath.

—He was holding me back. —you admitted out loud for the first time in your life, him being the first person you have ever told this to— Gideon was teaching a mental disorders assessment class back then, and I got really into it, and so did Conrad, but I was the one who formed rapport with Jason, a friendship really, and so he would help me outside of class, show me additional techniques and cases, he introduced me to Hotch, all while Conrad was struggling to pass his S.W.A.T certifications.

—We met around that time. —he pointed out, smiling a bit to himself. 

—Right, I was doing research for a class and Gideon showed me around the office, and he ended up introducing us. I met Morgan as well, and Elle was still here. —you smiled as you recalled your first time within these walls— See? I was going places, I was trying to start my career, I really wanted to be hired as a Special Agent, and so did Conrad, no matter what it took. Before the final tactical exam, we had to take the mental disorders assessment test. He was already engaged back then, you know? And I knew he was having problems with his fiancé, he came to me, he said he was feeling depressed, and he wanted to make sure it wouldn’t turn up on his assessment, that it was temporary until things got better. He asked me to make a mock test from him, since I surely had access to the test beforehand.

—Because we, the BAU, were the ones who made the questions. —Spencer mentioned in a sudden realization, and you nodded ashamedly.

—I had already taken mine, and so I told Gideon I wanted to quote it for my research, and he gave me a copy. Conrad took it, I went over his answers, and I taught him what to change in order to pass the evaluation.

—Did you ever tell Gideon?

—No. —you shook your head— I knew him enough to understand he would have ended my career then and there, and if anyone were to find out now, I could have my badge taken away. 

—What were the results? —he asked with genuine curiosity, although disapprovingly shaking his head.

—Lack of social skills, narcissistic tendencies, present sociopathy-related traits. He would have never gotten a badge; he wouldn’t have even been allowed to do the final tactical exam if it weren’t for me.

—You put a lot at risk for him. —he paused as if he was trying to find the right way to phrase his next question— Why?

—He was my partner, I felt like I had a duty to protect him. —you reached over to land a hand on his shoulder— Like I have protected you, and will continue to protect you. 

—Yeah, but I would never ask you to do anything like that. I wouldn’t jeopardize your dreams for my own sake. 

—I know. —you said sincerely— It was stupid and reckless. But it made me realize something important; that it didn’t matter how much I cared for Conrad, he needed me more than I needed him, I was going to be okay on my own. After he got married, I figured, well, he’s someone else’s problem now, you know?

Your latter sentence felt a lot more relaxed, and you said it in a half-heartedly joking manner. You realized, however, that Spencer had stopped paying attention somewhere along the way, his lips were parted open, and he had that dissociated look in his eyes.

—Needed him more…—he mumbled as he reached out for Conrad’s file—That’s it!

—What’s it? —you asked as you watched him stand up away from your reach and toward the board.

—Think about it, you’re an Unsub, if your purpose is to kill, why would you keep someone around?

—Well, —you took a second to rack your brain— if they were the object of my rage, I would torture them first.

—But there’s no record of sadism, in fact, both deaths so far have been rather painless. He hasn’t killed Carlos or Conrad because he needs them to get to the real object of his rage. —he began to speak faster by the second— We know he’s targeting FBI employees that have some connection to his time in the academy, but even administrative clerks have their files protected by the FBI database encryption system, hence why he needs Carlos, he’s a Human Resources clerk at Quantico, he has access to the files, addresses, phone numbers, anything so employees can be localized. However, if his end game is to kill an SSA or a higher rank, their files would be far more complicated to obtain. You need to put in a requisition and it has to be approved by other HR superiors and then accessed with your own password, so he would need to keep Carlos alive until he got the approval. 

—But why would he need Conrad then?

—This is just a theory, but there were no signs of forced entry in any of the victims’ houses, which suggests they either knew the UnSub or he presented as non-threatening. Both murders were late at night and in not exactly the safest areas. Who do you open the door for, without hesitation, in the middle of the night and in the heart of a big metropolitan city?

—The police. —you said with certain disbelief.

—Smith was put on desk duty, but he was hired as a cop, he was never demoted, just moved, which means he gets to keep his badge, and that his badge number is still active. —he pointed at the information on the file— I don’t know how, but I think he’s using officer Smith to have access to the houses, and Carlos to get their locations. 

—There’s one problem, though, how did he get the locations for the first two employees? He didn’t have access to Carlos yet, he was only reported missing after the first two bodies appeared. 

Your observation put Reid back into deep thought, he stared at the timeline drawn on the board again, and suddenly, an idea popped into his head, or so you could notice by the way he fumbled with his phone, quickly dialing a known number. 

—Hi, Garcia?—he began talking into the speaker—Yes, I know it’s 2 am, and I’m very sorry, but I really need you to check something for me. Do you have access to the HR databases from your home computer? —he waited a second for her to respond— I don’t really need anything deep right now, I just want to confirm if Carlos Gonzalez was actively working during the two weeks prior to his disappearance. We might have caught a break, but I want to confirm a theory before I call everyone in again. Okay, contact me back if you have something. —with said words, he hung up the phone and turned to look at you. 

—You’re thinking Carlos disappeared way before he was reported missing, aren’t you? —you inquired as you watched him move some things up on the board

—If I’m right, it means he’s had Carlos help him all along. 

—As hostage or partner? —you asked him, but he simply shook his head, unsure of what the real answer was. He fell quiet, and his hands fumbled with the hem of his shirt, it was obvious he was nervous about something. Your eyebrows raised questioningly, it would be so much easier if he just spoke up his mind whenever he got a new thought— What now? 

—It would also confirm that you’re part of the suspect pool. 

—Well, if he has my file, he’ll know that I was the best tactical in my class, so good luck. —your eyes had traveled back to the board, your arms crossed over your chest as you examined the evidence hung from it. Out of the corner of your eye, you were able to spot Spencer dropping his head, and you turned to confirm he was alright; instead, you heard him sniffle. Panic took over you, and you reached closer to cup his face with your hands, forcing him to look at you. —Hey, hey, what’s going on? 

—I just… —he started, struggling to find the right words— Garcia has been shot, Foyet got to Haley, Gideon couldn’t stop Frank, —he made a small pause to swallow a particularly thick knot on his throat— and doctors can get sick. 

—Nothing’s gonna happen to me, Spencer. You hear me? —you said resolutely. You didn’t realize when, but his arms had wrapped around your middle, and slowly your arms began to circle the area of his neck. —You’re not getting rid of me that easily. 

He still seemed unable to speak. His head simply leaned forward, forehead falling on yours. His eyes fluttered closed, and you allowed yourself to do so as well. After seconds of complete silence, an eternal moment of enjoying each other’s presence, you felt his hands explore further up, he caressed up your clothed back until one of them finally reached your hair. His fingers tangled on your locks and he finally pushed your head toward him, letting his lips fall on yours in a deep kiss. 

This one was different from the ones you had shared before during sex, it was deep, but slow, your lips moved so gently because his were also taking their time. He was savoring you, and you could tell. Your breaths were loud, every so often gasping for air, mouths unable, and unwilling, to pull apart. The ringing of his phone reminded you briefly of where you were and who was kissing you, but firm hands against your cheeks kept your head in place before you could pull away. He had the utter intention to ignore it, but right before the last tone rang he seemed to remember that he was, indeed, waiting for a call. 

—It’s Garcia. —he mumbled against your lips as he pulled away and rushed to get the device from the table, hitting the speaker button right away— Hey, Penelope, you are on speaker. 

—For a second I thought you weren’t going to pick up, and I swear to God, Reid, if you had woken me up from my beauty slumber, in which Ricky Martin was swearing eternal devotion to me, solely so you could fall asleep right away, the punishment I’d have landed upon you would have made those medieval torture instruments documentaries, that you like so much, look like the hairspray movie, and yes, I do mean the one with John Travolta. —Spencer and you exchanged horrified glances, unable to form a sentence to answer her— Anyways, I can’t access the files from my house network, I’d have to come into the office to connect through LAN to get them without being flagged as a national threat, again. But catch this, your boy Carlos bought a complete package deal on GayEuropeanTours.com, and I mean the whole package, Madrid, Milan, Paris, Berlin, Amsterdam, Brussels, like the party capitals. His plane was supposed to arrive in Barcelona one week before the first murder and the entire tour was supposed to last about three weeks. 

—Is there any way to confirm that he wasn’t on that plane? —you asked on the phone. 

—I can’t have access to airline databases from here, this info I got from a facebook post he made two months ago. However, check this out, no one would pay so much money for a trip without posting pictures to brag a bit, right? His instagram has quite the few of them on it. 

—So he did go on the trip. —Reid muttered disappointed. 

—Tonight we finally have proof of who’s the smartest blond in the office, my dear braniac. —Penelope bragged, and Spencer furrowed his brows in confusion— Social media can say a lot about a person, Reid, Carlos would often post pictures of himself, his outfits, selfies, he was all about that self-love, but the europe ones include only food and places, beautiful architecture by the way, yet his face nowhere to be seen, I reverse-searched some of them and found out they were taken off the internet; and it doesn’t end there, I also looked at the metadata of the pictures, they were all posted at the same time, one per day, and through what seems to be an automated third party service to schedule posts. 

—Can we get a location? —he asked 

—My tracking software is at the office, but I’m packing my things as we speak. 

—Penelope, call Morgan and Prentiss, Spencer get Hotch and brief him on what we deduced so far, I’ll get JJ and Rossi, if we can track a location tonight, we might still be able to find Conrad alive. —you ordered the two of them and heard the line go dead at the end of your sentence. 

Spencer hurried to get his phone to dial Hotch’s number as fast as he could, and you stuck to your own orders, getting Rossi on the line almost right away. It felt good, the hope invading your body once again, it beamed, it felt warm and cold at the same time. There was a chance, a chance to save him. A chance for things to go back to what they were.

—Hotch? Listen, we figured out something important, we need everyone back as soon as- —you heard him stop mid-sentence while you waited for the call to connect to Jennifer’s number, but before you heard her voice, Spencer turned in your direction, his voice sounding concerned and surprised— What?

—What is it? — you rushed to ask, his concern quickly rubbing on you. 

—They just found another body that might be connected to our unsub. 

—But we never got a missing person’s report. —you pointed out with disbelief. 

Spencer’s saddened eyes gave you the answer you were avoiding to find. No one else had been reported, so the body could belong to any of the two current missing people. Either Carlos Gonzalez, or Conrad Smith. 

[im-a-king-baby]

Hey, I love ELYN 😭❤️

So my two fave scenes/ moments were the 'keep of the lake house for now' and 'I've been in love with him since' so any commentary will be amazing. Any extra stuff will be amazing so 🪻please 😊

Hiii <3

Gonna put these 3 under a cut because length

“So hold onto that lake house for a while longer,” he says. “Okay?”

Context: i wrote the majority of the first draft of ELYN for Nanowrimo in 2022 (basically a challenge where you write a 50k novel in the month of November) and then I rewrote and edited it over a bunch of months.

So this chapter was actually very similar to the original draft, except that in Draft 1 all of the vote fallout was in one chapter which had the Simon scene first then the Nils scene. In the editing/developing process all the non-Wilhelm characters grew a lot so I knew I wanted to expand Nil's role, and add some more Felice which meant I could bump Simon into his own chapter.

(there was absolutely not meant to be a giant posting gap between the Nils scene and the Simon scene. To be completely honest if I'd known I was going to need that long to finish the fic off I'd probably have chosen to put the gap immediately after the debate because... tension 😈)

The main places where the Simon scene got extended was in the details - Simon's life and career was not well thought through in draft 1 and a lot of the extra length across the whole fic came from building that up - but the lakehouse beat was always there because it was important that Simon's rehab process had to be something he did independent of Wilhelm, so this idea of Wilhelm offering up this house and Simon rejecting it, then clarifying that it's a 'not yet' but hopefully one day when he's in a better place.

Wilhelm's 'I keep thinking about the last time you went to L.A.' was not in the original and was one of those character beats that didn't come to me until months later, but that really pulled together Wilhelm's feelings at that moment and his reluctance to let Simon leave, and that then led really nicely back into Simon saying hang on to the house, because hopefully its not goodbye this time.

“Keira asked what was different about you,” Simon says. “I said: I fell in love with Wilhelm when I was sixteen, and I have been in love with him every day since.”

Okay so this part was possibly the slowest part of the fic to write mostly because I was still figuring out how to articulate this ending which was meant to be optimistic but not magic-wand-everything's-fixed-now. This line in particular came about because I was trying to find where Simon was sitting emotionally and ended up writing a very short therapy in L.A. scene in which Simon dropped this line and I was immediately like 'well, that has to get into the main story.'

It's a nice parallel to Wilhelm's 'I'm never going to stop being in love with him.' in chapter 8, and it highlights that the issues between them have never been a lack of love or not wanting to be together, it's always been these outside forces that they need to break away from.

Also its one of those lines that you write down and then you read it and you're like 'people are gonna quote this one back at me' and its nice when you get that right 😅

And on that theme, your 🪻 is:

“Do you want to tell me what you’re thinking about?” This is the worst part of therapy. “Wilhelm.” Keira’s eyebrows twitch slightly, which is the only reaction he ever gets and means he’s surprised her. “We haven’t spoken much about Wilhelm, not since you asked if you could text him. Are you ready to tell me more about what happened between you?” “You could check the tabloids.” Her ‘you know that’s not what I meant’ look reminds him of Candace, except that she hasn’t figured out how to also convey ‘and I’m disappointed and you’re exhausting and you’d be nothing without me.’ “I’d like to hear it in your own words.” Simon absolutely can’t look at her. “I fell in love with Wilhelm when I was sixteen,” he says. “And I’ve been in love with him every day since. He’s the one I think about every time I sing a love song. Still. I have slept with - I don’t know, hundreds? - of people since I left Sweden and none of it meant anything, compared to him.” “What was it like, seeing him again?” He’d been drinking steadily in the car on the way to the benefit concert so that he’d be able to smile and read a teleprompter and not just stand there staring but it was a close thing. After his performance they’d swept him into a room where he drank champagne and smiled for the cameras. Wilhelm had touched a fingertip to his bare shoulder and Simon had wanted him so badly it hurt in places he’d thought could no longer feel anything. He doesn’t have words for that, except that it was like being in love. “He showed me I could do this,” Simon says instead. “That I could get out. That these systems we were caught up in weren’t infallible.” She frowns very slightly. “Do you think he spoke out against the monarchy for you?” Maybe? He offered once. On a cold night in his ridiculous scarf in so many words that it was Ayub who figured out what he was getting at after he’d walked away. But, no. “He did it for him. Because he needed it. And I did this for me. But there couldn’t be an ‘us’ before. Because of all those things getting in the way. And now… and maybe we both did it a bit for that. For love. Or whatever.”