#and dissolving into gibberish

[art-of-mathematics]

Today's thought gibberish (random splinters of thought that popped up in my mind)

- - -- --- -----

Durch jeden Missverfolg gewinnt man Erfahrungen.

Demnach ist Versag durchaus ein Schritt zum Erfolg.

Reiht man viele Schritte aneinander - so ergibt sich daraus ein Weg, den man selbst erschafft während man ihn geht.

Das Ziel dabei ist nur der Prozess des Gehens, - des Lernens, des Entstehens, des Erfahrens.

Ich weiß nicht, was mein Ziel ist, doch diese Art von UNgewissheit gibt mir die Möglichkeit, jeden Tag frei zu entscheiden, welchen Weg ich gehen möchte.

Dadurch, dass etwas nicht vordefiniert ist, nicht vorbestimmt, kann es sich frei entfalten.

--- -- - -

- - -- --- -----

In uncertainty lies opportunity.

In uncertainty lies opportunity to change.

--- -- - -

- - -- --- -----

[Self-determination], and [environmental and situational restrictions] can and will co-exist.

--- -- - -

- - -- --- FIO ergo SUM --- -- - -

[cubffections]

𑁥౿ 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂 — jing yuan.

۫ ּ 𓂅⋆ cw. nsfw, 18+ ! fem, sub! reader. yuanie yearnin' lik crazi + he calls u songbird :c ( v self indulged . . mayb gibberish . . it's 6 am gud nite . . )

jing yuan’s thumb hooks around the corner of your mouth, your tongue rolling out to greet his cock home. your pretty doe eyes are expectant as you tap his blushing tip on your eager tongue, such a devastating contrast from the glare that you wear whenever he comes to visit your shop. how cute, the more defiant you act the more he finds his cock aching to fuck it out of you.

he watches with amused eyes as you swirl your tongue around in movement he already has memorized. you’ll start by licking down his tip to pressing wet kiss upon the sides, an action he likes to highlight when you prep yourself to swallow down his dick. it’s unfortunate really— no matter how much he studies your methods he still can't remember when his groans and grunts began pouring out his pursed lips.

“this cat and mouse game is getting quite old, don't you think?” he muses, his eyes shut with a sly grin creeping up the general’s lips. “be my wife. how long will you continue to resist me, songbird?” he inquired, his remaining words dissolving into a breathy groan as his cock gets caught against the ridges of your throat.

“maybe another hundred years, you're tempting me general.” you bite after sliding his cock out the comforts of your throat, fisting him at a quick pace that had him gripping at the arm of his chair. “don't deprive me like that darling, even i can lose my patience.” the general sighs out, his hips bucking into your grip with need. his fingers run through your hair before he caresses your cheek, lingering for a couple seconds as he traces your face with affection.

he needs you like no other, even if its tomorrow or another century, he doesn't mind. he’s already been yours.

he lets out a low breath. “open up.” his voice is firm with the commanding lilt that you’ll never admit made you weak in the knees. though it's not like you need to, he knew everything about you anyway.

shortly after your mouth parted the head of his cock pushed against the corner of your pouty lips. there’s a unwavering eye contact established as he slides himself back inside, now standing bent over his desk as he fucks into your throat with nothing but desire. the feverish feeling of him using your throat for his sole pleasure has your panties feeling damp and soiled, craving more of the man in front of you.

it’s abrupt when he pulls out again, there's not much time for you to protest when he’s soon pressing your back against his desk as he towers over you. he huffs slowly as he admires you, mind occupied with you only. he lines his cock up against your cunt, measuring himself before tapping a finger underneath your belly button.

“focus .. i’ll be hitting here, songbird” jing yuan hums, a teasing smile evident on his face. “so don't go flying away now.”

© CUBFFECTIONS.

[brailsthesmolgurl]

LOSING YOU HURTS

Preview: What have the boys done that got you to go MIA? What lengths would they go to get you back?

Warnings: ANGST, teeth-rotting fluff at ending.

P.S: This is a request from one of you lovely readers. I hope what I had written shall suffice your love for angst and fluff. Rafayel's take is always and always will be and shall be the dramatic route imo, Zayne's just radiating care-bear energy in forever, Xavier? I decided to do him a little dirty and make him a salty boi :3

RAFAYEL - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜

The young artist came home to the smell of alcohol reeked across his living room. The mellow balsamic, saccharine scent created a trail for Rafayel to tail towards his room. The wide span of hallways suddenly seemed so narrow due to the lack of lighting. However, the moonlight provided just enough of a shine to prevent Rafayel from kissing the walls as he led himself towards his bedroom. The scent became more pungent as he got closer to the door and he was wondering if someone had managed to break into his mansion just for a couple of bottles of Cabernet Sauvignon or Merlot. Opening the door with a slight creak, he popped his head into the ajar door to take a peek of the thief. Only to find you, sprawled out on his bed. He could not see your face as your legs faced him but he could see the slight rise and fall of your chest. You are asleep.

Relieved, he walked over to your sleeping figure, studying the situation. A bottle of Merlot emptied out on the nightstand while another half bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon stood still on the floor, next to a wine glass. Someone is clearly in the mood to drink for the night and does not even bother to wait for him. But he did wondered why would you down one and a half bottle of red wine when you have a barely existent alcohol tolerance. Rafayel took a seat next to you, tucking your hair behind your ear and he smiled to himself.

He leaned down to press a gentle kiss onto your cheek, feeling the warmth of your face from your drunkenness. “Mmm…” You hummed out at the slight pressure on your cheek. “Is that you Rafayel?” Your hushed whispers made him pressed another kiss to your cheek again, and another to your jawline.

“Yes, it’s me my love.” Rafayel pressed yet another kiss to your lips, slightly excited at you waking up. Seeing your eyelids opening to reveal your gaze, he leaned back, holding himself up by his palm, taking in your sleepy state. “You want to tell me why you chose to drink all of these yourself instead of waiting for me to come home and toast with you?”

His question only dissolved from words into gibberish as you were too drunk to handle such a heavy topic for the night. “I’m tired.” With a couple more slow blinks, the room disappeared and you travelled back to your dreamland.

The next day came about with you waking up to an empty bed. You slowly sat up, eyes shutting closed when your head cracked a whir and the world started to spin out of control. “Good morning.” A familiar voice tuned in and you opened your eyes just enough to catch sight of your boyfriend walking in casually, a silver tray well balanced on one of his palms. “My beauty is awake.” Smell of pancakes and something spicy filled the air and your tastebuds started salivating. Nothing like a good hungover meal to get things kickstarted for the day. For the talk the both of you are going to have. “I made some breakfast for you. Based on the amount you had drank, you are to be called a drunkard from now on.” He leaned down close enough, nose tip caressed against your cheek. “You’re most welcomed for my care.”

“We have to talk.” You had sat yourself up, hand rubbing your forehead a couple of times when you tried to calm your throbbing pain in your skull and the itch in the back of your throat, begging you to stop what you are about to say. “I want to break up.”

“Awe, is my beauty still—” Rafayel reached his hand out to touch your cheek, a cheesy smile still hung on his handsome features. He had just woken up, shirt messily buttoned, hair tousled and spiking in different directions and face still slightly oily from the sleep he had enjoyed next to you in bed. Nevertheless, his beauty remains inexorable.

You turned your head to the side, leaving his hand hanging mid air with the phantom touch of your warm cheek, and his smile faded when he denoted that you were being serious. “I want to break up.” Your lack of tone and facial expressions led Rafayel to return to his original posture.

“Why?” Rafayels’ eyes narrowed and he knitted his eyebrows together. He was frustrated. Not telling him the reason and just wanting to break up gave the young man a good enough idea that he is no longer wanted in your space. He could have begged, asked, nagged you to stay but he chooses to respect your boundary. “Why would you want to break up suddenly?”

"Have you not seen the news Rafayel?" You grabbed your phone off of the nightststand and unlocked it, revealing a news titled 'NEW MUSE OR NEW COHORT? RAFAYEL FOUND SHARING LIPS WITH THE MYSTERY WOMAN'.

He looked genuinely shocked, grabbing your phone to continue scanning through the article. Hazy from your hangover, you cannot tell if he was being upset or he was actually shocked that he got caught. "Love, that is a mistake. I did not know she—"

"I'm done." You interrupted, snatching your phone out of his palms and pushing yourself off of the bed. Rafayel mimicked you, getting up off of the bed and holding onto you to prevent you from falling and to stop you from leaving. "I should have known earlier given how you had not been coming home recently. All of the promises that you made, it's all just a lie."

"No, it's not a lie y/n. I did not manage to come home because I was busy curating my artworks for the upcoming exhibition. The kiss with Aiki, it was nothing. We were both drunk and—" He started rambling, eyes darting everywhere except meeting yours and face turning red. The lack of detail present within his explanation only pushed your buttons further.

"It's the fact you kissed her and you did not tell me anything the next day, or the day after, or today! That's what made me disappointed in you Rafayel!" You raised your voice, unable to calm yourself anymore. You recalled the night you caught on to the news. Crying became your last resort and you figured by chugging down alcohol you could pity yourself less, seeing the picture of the mystery woman he calls 'Aiki' being so much more alluring than you.

Possessing long blond hair with big wavy curls, tall stature with right amount of curves on her figure. Any man would dream of a model-like woman like her laying in their bed. Not to mention, she possesses the same interest for art, seemingly the only daughter to a family tree of artists. There is no doubt on why she would be hired by Rafayel and why they would end up having an affair.

You squared up against him, pushing him by his shoulders and he stumbled backwards. "I hate you." Your last sentence jabbed him more than anything, maybe it was the tears that ran down your face like streams, maybe the way you bit your lip after you had finished your sentence realising that you had said the ultimatum, or maybe it was your tone of defeat that made him feel utterly useless.

"I'm sorry y/n." Rafayel held onto your wrist, with just enough amount to beg you to stay and not to force you. "It was a mistake of mine, I should have told you about it. I was scared you were going to leave me."

"But apparently not saying it does not change the ending either." You removed your wrist out of his grip and you walked past him and out of the premises of his abode. Your tears streaked your cheeks immediately when the heavy doors closed behind you. Your feet felt heavy with every step you take, secretly hoping for Rafayel to be dashing out of his house, shouting and begging relentlessly for you to not leave him. Despite with that expectation, it remained eidetic to your imagination and you dragged yourself as far as you could. Away from his mansion, away from his island, but primely, away from Rafayel.

Days followed by weeks and then months. That was how long you had disassociated yourself with the purple haired lad. The memories of him are dissolving just like the news of his has dissipated. The last you had seen his name on the news headline was when he chose to cancel his exhibition. The same exhibition that he spent a lot of time trying to curate his artworks and the same exhibition that got him to commit a mistake with Aiki that costed him his relationship. Although the reason behind his cancellation was unknown to the paparazzi, you knew full well that his 'I am moody hence I do not feel like going through with this exhibition' kinda excuse is pure bullshit. But of course, you did not want to jump to conclusions. More like, you are in no position to possess such an assumptive nature towards his acts anymore.

Here you currently sat, on your kitchen table, with a cup of tea in hand and eyes fixated on the hologram showcased in your living room. The holographic news reporter casually stood at the corner of your living room, reading from his cue cards and occasionally pointing towards the graphics that appeared on his left on demand, providing you details on what is going on in the outside world. You were thinking of going out for a shopping spree today as you had been holed up in your home for the longest time ever. Mostly due to paperwork, partially may contribute to the post breakup blues.

The doorbell rang and you swiftly got up, tearing your eyes off of the man in a suit in your living room and you walked yourself towards the door. You clicked the lock open and pulled your door towards you to open it. Rafayel towered in front of you, still looking as dashing as how you always expected of him. His left eyebrow raised, presumably surprised at you opening the door for him. The tension amongst the both of you started arising, one mostly out of anxiety while the other mostly out of frustration.

"What do you want?" You quipped, crossing your arms over your chest as you eyed the young man in front of you. Rafayel clad a suit that puts the reporter's neatly pressed outfit to shame, with the usual combo of black and white, added on with a red tie, there is really not a lot of work required for him to look good. Yet, you could not bring yourself to admire his outfit now.

"I came to apologise." His tone was lighthearted, pressed to crack a joke amidst this tension. You however, caught a whiff of a scent that you do not often smell on him. It smells tangy, fruity even. "I know you do not want me here, but I will not stop like how I had not stopped contacting you for the past months. It took Thomas three months to locate where you are staying and I just had to risk coming here." He pressed one of his palms to his forehead and closed his eyes, body swaying slightly as if there was a gust of wind that blew him. "Can I at least come in? My head is buzzing."

You stood aside to give way to him. His lanky stature nearly manage to fit through your standard door frame and you manage to sneak a whiff off of his cologne of the night. He reeked of alcohol. "Are you drunk Rafayel?"

The man stumbled forward and you lurched towards him, arms secured around his waist to hold him up, not wanting him to kiss the floor just yet and you slowly guided him towards the sofa. Moans and groans and hushed mutters kept tumbling out of his mouth, but you barely focused in on his monologues. The way his rubicund cheeks presented itself, accompanied with his groans; he must not be in a good mood. Although the both of your paths had came to an end, you could not just let him falter to the ground. "Here, lay down." You low-key flopped him onto the couch and hurried off into the kitchen to fetch some water.

It has been a while of silence, with the window opened for maximum ventilation and the curtains that pranced along with the rhythm of the winds. You twisted the handkerchief in your hand, squeezing the water out of the cloth and laying it onto Rafayel's head, repeating the same motion for the next few handkerchiefs that you would use to cover his neck and his chest. He was rather persistent in not wanting you to undress him as the moment is not right and he does not want to be taken advantage of. But again, it seems like you are the one that was getting taken advantage by your ex-boyfriend even after the breakup.

You managed to make him comply by comforting him and telling him that you only want to cool down his body temperature. The permission to remove his blazer was granted with a nod and you unbuttoned three buttons on his button-up shirt, unfoldingthe cotton piece and slowly placing it onto his smooth yet hard chest. Rafayel hissed in response, hands enveloping yours immediately and your cheeks burnt at the touch. "I'm sorry y/n." You looked up to see the man is already looking at you, lids heavy and lips slightly puckered, guilt written all over his features. "I didn't mean to cheat on you at all."

"You should rest." Your dismissive attitude got Rafayel to wrap his arms around your waist in one-go and he pulled you onto him, so you are laying right on top of him. You were frantic, wanting to get out of his arms as soon as possible but his hold was solid. "Rafayel, please. We had gotten over this." "I had never loved anyone like you y/n." His soft voice a total opposite of his iron grip. "Hell, when I kissed her that time when I was drunk, all I could think about was you. I'm sorry I did not tell you about my mistake earlier. I am sorry I let you walked out. I should have tried harder, I should not have gotten drunk that night..." The warm light that hit his face outlined the tears that brimmed around his eyes. He trailed off, words swallowed by the silence. "I'm very sorry my love."

You could not deny it. Seeing him being drunk, standing at the front of your unit that he had searched for relentlessly ever since the parting, apologising being the only thing he could manage to put into a conversation for tonight and the amount of guilt that surrounds him as thick as the smell of alcohol on his body. You could not deny that he melted your heart. "Rafayel, it's okay." You succumbed to your own regret too, revealing the sensations you had felt for the past few months. "I should not have acted so recklessly. I should have listened to you and not let my insecurity consume me. I am sorry too."

"Don't be sorry my love." His finger snaked over to the bottom of your chin and he lifted it up. Your lips only a few inches away from him. "I will always love you, and if you ever plan to leave me again, I will chase you to the ends of the earth even if I have to." Watching him closely, you realised the redness on his cheeks are gone, and the glint of teasing in his nebula-like orbs is back.

Scrunching your face in observation, you asked. "Are you faking yourself to be drunk?" He whined like a toddler and 'fainted' back into his laying position, making you raise your eyebrows in return at his usual mockeries. "Do you even mean anything you said earlier?"

He snapped his head back to you, eyes widened and he pushed himself up with one arm, jaw slackening. "The audacity to assume that I came here just for a show." He pressed a hand to his chest and looked down, the redness creeping onto his ears. "Everything I had said is sincere, I wanted to apologise and wanted to show you just how much you actually matter to me. Because, y/n, losing you really pains me. It affects me greater than what you may think." You did not reply to his laments, but instead just watched this man in front of you conveyed a soliloquy that is so wrapped in sincerity and love for you that it really made you reconsider the word 'break up'.

A snap of a finger made you jolted awake and you realised how stupid you could have looked, with a wide grin stapled onto your face as you admired your suitor in front of you. Rafayel however, has a pout on his lips and he crossed his arms, unsatisfied with the lack of succor he received from his all-time lover. "You are lucky I love you, or else I am suing you for making me look like a fool when I am the least bit interested in theatrical acts." Then, the both of you burst out into laughters, filling the void of the dead silence.

ZAYNE - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝

You flicked your wrist to stare at your new watch that Zayne had gotten for you. It is almost lunch time but you still did not managed to catch sight of Zayne anywhere. You scanned the crowd, watching staffs and patients zooming across the lobbies in various speeds. Weekdays are not an excuse for this famous hospital to have barren hallways as you have figured.

Heavy footfalls against the marbled flooring made you turned your head and you noticed Zayne standing near one of the pharmacy counters, with a girl right next to him. You knew all of the people your boyfriend is associated with but the absence of a memory for the girl's face suggested that she may be new around here. Your eyes started to study this stranger occupying herself right next to your boyfriend.

She has short, neat brunette hair that sits right below her ear lobes. Certainly well-dressed within the premises of the building; with a lilac blouse on and well-fitted jeans, with a pair of low pumps. Her clipboard in her arm and the blue tag pinned against her lovely blouse gave away her position as an intern. Then, this would explain why she would be around Zayne.

But, it does not explain the scenario when she said something with a grin and your normally emotionless boyfriend smiles back, all the while adjusting his necktie. Arbitrarily, you were not really affected by his reactions. He is human afterall. Although humourless most of the time, but it still does not deny him the opportunity to take in a good joke and react naturally to it. The young man nodded his head and you watched the intern walked off before you looked back to Zayne, noticing he already has his eyes on you and is already strutting over to you.

"Hey Zayne." You greeted him warmly, a smile on your face but not lurching forward to hug him as the both of you had agreed to not display any PDAs when he is still within his work premises. "Who's that just now?"

"An intern I was assigned with two months ago." He spoke, eyeing the watch on your wrist. "I see you are making good use of the Rolex. It's about time an adult like you keep track of your own time." You shot him a look of discontentment at his usage of puns but still laughed either ways. "I've gotten us a table at a nearby restaurant, let's get going."

"How's the steak?" Zayne asked, his hazel orbs glided from your face to your plate and back to your face again, expecting an answer.

The restaurant looked amazing, elegantly decorated in shades of white and gold, mirroring the decors and theme from those mythical stories that hailed from the ancient Greek and Roman mythologies. Gargoyles made of porcelain fitted within the alcoves of the vined halls, recessed within the stilts that holds up the ceiling.

"It is good, as per usual from your choice." You catch his eyes briefly and diverted your gaze back onto the meal in front of you. "What is the name of the intern?"

Zayne paused, taking a moment to sip onto the orange juice he had ordered and dabbing the napkin over his lips. "Azalea."

"It's funny how she was never mentioned to me before." It is your turn to lay down your cutlery this time, repeating the steps as what Zayne had done but the only difference is that you sipped onto lemon tea rather than orange juice. "Despite it has been two months."

The man that sat in front of you eased back into his chair, sighing. "I just figured she is an intern and that what goes on between me and her on a daily basis are not worth to be mentioned about. It seemed unnecessary." Your question was not meant to be an argument starter but with the way how Zayne sounded so dismissive about this intern of his, you could not help but to grow suspicious of things between them. When you are about to say something else, a subtle vibration was heard and you caught sight of Zayne's phone screen lighting up. "I have to take this." He got up and left the table to take the phone call outside, leaving you within your own realm of questions.

The phone call took a while. Much to your surprise, the name that flashed across his screen was none other than Azalea. Furthermore, the other surprise factor is that the phone call is taking such a while that you are beginning to imagine fishes appearing in your cauliflower soup. When Zayne came back to the table, he looked apologetic somehow, picking up his coat in a swift motion. "I have to return to the hospital now. I have an immediate surgery scheduled at 3pm later."

Walking beside him, you could not bring yourself to ask who was it on the phone as the name showcased on the screen was bright as day and it would not stop flashing up in your mind. You intertwined your own fingers, mentally encouraging yourself to not worry much about the issue as Zayne had always been loyal to you. However, this is where the devil starts pulling its strings when you started wondering was it because of the fact he had always been so loyal that he got bored? Maybe Azalea turned up to be a whole new, fresh, brilliant individual that may have managed to tempt Zayne. Your confidence in the relationship is immediately questioned at that moment.

"I'm sorry I can't fetch you back. Once you're home, drop me a text." Zayne rubbed his palm on the small of your back but his warmth seemingly non-existent. "I will see you soon."

After the last time the both of you had lunch, Zayne started getting really busy while you, you just got more and more isolated. No, things did not exactly ended between the both of you but at this rate, prepping yourself for the end of days may not be exaggerative at all. The both of you still do have phone calls everyday, but it was textbook-like. The usual greetings and casual singular-sentenced conversations before either one has to run off to work. Maybe sometimes, you might get the luck of hearing Azalea in the background, chattering and laughing off with that nurse that manages Zayne's schedule for the day.

Slowly but surely, the phone calls slowly turned into texts and eventually, your texts became haphazard, even going as far as you having to weigh your mood to determine your willingness to reply. You just could not bring yourself to ask him the question marks in your head, and yet, breaking up is not an option as this may just be a stupid thing to fight and end things up for. So, you struggled alone allowing yourself to be raptured within the palms of your own worries for the future of your relationship. It is also saddening to see that your thoughts now are only full of Azalea; with the memories of you and Zayne but your face being replaced by that intern's features.

A knock on the door made you jolted and you spilled some water onto your shirt. "Tsk, come on. Really?" Muttering to yourself, you got off of the sofa and made your way towards the doorway. Hands hurriedly dusting off the stain the best you could before you came face to face with the person standing at your door. "Hi, how can I—Zayne?"

“I figured you would be at home.” Zayne welcomed himself into your house and you willingly step aside, palms and forehead dripping with cold sweat. His presence has not been exactly expected, but maybe because it was unexpected, you find yourself flabbergasted at his sudden appearance. “You had been very…” He shrugged off his coat, his movements languid but slow, his words churning at the tip of his tongue as Zayne does not want to sound rude. “Distant lately. I came over to check up on you.”

“I was just busy.” You mumbled, toes wriggled against your wooden flooring to trick yourself int thinking time might speed up with this method. It has been a fair amount of time since the two of you had last met up. It has been a fortnight exactly. You missed him dearly but with your own Azalea dilemma, you could not make the judgement for him. Pessimistic one might say and sadly, you admit that you are a prime example for the term.

“Busy catching up on those reality shows of yours I see. That is one way to define busy.” Zayne stepped up to you, his height providing him an advantage to corner you towards your wall. “What’s the matter? You do not look so well. Do you need me to check—”

The extension of his hand was stopped with your grip before he could feel your forehead's temperature. Your cementing grip causing the doctor to raise one of his thin eyebrows. “I don’t need you here.”

“Why?” Subtle but pushy. His deepened voice hinted curiosity. Zayne has never been the one to bear the trait of being assumptive but with how things had developed between the two of you, Zayne himself started realising the amount of doubts that has been growing on him. He is not fond of his particular messy thoughts and he was ought to get an answer out of you tonight.

You released your grip on his wrist and the doctor did not move back, but stayed stagnant in his spot, still staring down at you, hoping that you would at least look up to meet his concerned gaze. He only got slightly disappointed when you lowered your head even further. “You had been cheating on me with Azalea haven’t you?”

Zayne’s eyebrows tilted upwards again, watching your figure growing smaller and smaller in front of him. You are literally shaking, melting, gnawing at yourself for wanting to confront him when your good conscience is asking every bit of you to not mess up what is left of the relationship. Still, a relationship without clarification via communication is as good as not being in a relationship. “Why would you think so?”

You can hear, no. You can feel your mind pushing your heart out of the way like how rugby players be doing on the field, roughhousing the shit out of every opponent they see. “We barely talked, we barely made plans, you are always at the hospital and I had to result to getting updates from your nurse about your schedule and all I see is that intern’s name on most of it. And usually, you would not even have interns on your surgery schedules. What makes her so special?” You wanted to stop yourself but your mouth was no longer yours.

“Not to mention, the way you smiled at her that day when I came by to visit you. It took me a year to get you to at least crack a smile at my stupid jokes but it only takes her two months. Your one-worded responses about her made it seemed like you are really hiding something from me. But, with how things are recently, I am starting to question the basis of our love for one another.”

Tears pricked at the back of your eyes after your yapping came to an end. “When I bought that watch for you to get a sense of time, I do not mean you should be wasting your time on having to crack your head and heart at such wringing issues like this y/n.” His sudden defensiveness made you snapped your head up towards him. How dare he! “I am a man of integrity y/n and I am sorry.” Your anger immediately dissolved, watching Zayne getting down onto one of his knees so that you do not have to crane your neck the whole time while having this conversation. He held your hand slowly, the soft and calloused palms of his matching the heat of yours and he pulled you to sit onto his thigh. “Allow me to explain.”

Apparently, the reason why they are both stuck to the hip is because Zayne was pressured by the medical board to provide her an ‘all-access pass’ to his treatments, surgeries and also anything related to his responsibilities. Zayne is not an advocate for someone who rises through the ranks with nepotism but he was also surprised that she is not just a nepo-baby, but she actually has the brains to be a capable doctor in the future. Hence, Zayne was more willing to overlook his moral judgement for a bit and to actually tutor her according to his own will to create a successful doctor for the near future. When he spoke of the incident whereas he was caught smiling at her, his response is straight. “She is a lesbian and she has a girlfriend.”

Slouched on the couch, you leaned in, nestling your face into his collarbone and you felt the pads of his fingers pressed against your chin and he guided you to look at him. The dashing young man that you are more than glad to acknowledge him as your boyfriend looked extremely seductive under the low light conditions. Zayne’s lips tugged up into a subtle smirk and you noticed the way his eyes flicked in between your eyes and your lips. Perhaps, he owns the talent of being a psychic. “Y/n. From now on, I do not wish for you to worry yourself with such ridiculous thoughts anymore. It concerns me that you are holed up only to yourself when my heart is opened for you and only you my darling. I need you to know that you can always rely on me and I will always be here for you.” The man then leaned down to press a deep kiss onto your soft lips.

XAVIER - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

The last thing you expected was to be attending the reunion party held by Captain Jenna on your long-awaited off day. Several other divisions are invited for this reunion as one of the main purpose for this party is to encourage everyone to let off some steam as well. You tugged lightly at the collar of your turtleneck, feeling like the outfit is not only choking you but your lack of motivation to conduct social interaction is having a grip at your trachea too. "It's nice to see you here." A familiar voice rung past your hearing and you watched your boyfriend approached you.

He is rocking his usual hunter outfit but this time it is in white-grey combination rather than the usual white-navy or full-white sets. He took his stand beside you and covered his mouth immediately, a yawn setting into his palms. Even your boyfriend is rhyming to the same mindset of yours of wanting to just have the day to himself or to spend it only with you. "I suppose you did not want to be here either?" You chirped, taking a deep breath and stepping into the hall, with Xavier tailing your shadow.

"Nothing ever beats a good nap. But, I guess I have no choice when Captain Jenna told me that you are obligated to join." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. Situating himself right next to you. "And I suppose it would not be a bad idea to accompany you in case you get lonely."

The normally neat, simplistic-looking hall is now decorated with colourful streamers and balloons. Standing cocktail tables are aligned near a temporary bar stand that was themed like a Hawaii beach-side bar while fancier banquet tables were placed at the end of the hall. But you gave the party the benefit of the doubt when you noticed a DJ is placed at the very end of the hall, spinning records on their devices. This party is a fun mess.

"I guess this is Captain's idea of a fun party huh?" Xavier asked, question indirectly directed towards you, but mostly towards himself. Cannot blame either one of you as none of you are known to be the best party goers amongst the division. If you both were to be placed into a category for the type of party-goers, the two of you would definitely fit right into the 'non-existent' type.

"Either ways Xavier, I know at least I got you." You turned to him and flashed him a smile and the blond man did the same, patting you on the head as well for his usual comforting gesture. "I think I will go ahead and look for Tara first. I'll see you in a bit."

"Okay. If you get overwhelmed, you can always find me and we can always make an excuse to ride home alright?" His azure orbs were tinted with a shade of baby blue under the garish fluorescent lights. Your nod rewarded you another pat on your head and you dived into the crowds of people, in search for your best friend Tara.

Honestly, at this moment, you wished you had not been looking for Tara as now you are stuck in this awkward social circle of hers. Conversations consisting mainly of newest fashion trends and celebrity gossips are such new grounds to you, more like never-will-touch grounds of conversation. "Hey, you alright?" Tara's pat on your shoulder snapped you out of your boredom and you blinked a couple of times.

"Y...yeah I am fine." Jeez. You should have asked for an opportunity to leave when you got to but your people pleaser attitude does not really grant you the will to just spit out an excuse and peace out. "I am just not the best at these kind of conversations." At least some parts of the truth managed to be rolled out.

"Girls! Girls! The dance is starting." One of the girls came joining the small circle, her smile stretched from ear to ear. "Let's hit the dance floor!" Then you watched as the freckled girl dragged Tara and another girl --whose name you do not recall-- through the crowd and towards the empty space in the middle of it all. The music suddenly had a drastic warped tune to it and it went from sentimental, lovey-dovey songs straight into songs one would blast in the gym or a nightclub.

You looked around and figured maybe this is the best time for you to plan your escape so you started to squeeze through bodies to get to the exit. As you passed by the dancefloor, a familiar figure reeled your attention and you focused in on the figure only to find Xavier standing in front of a girl, talking in the middle of the dancefloor. With the amount of people occupying the dancefloor, there is no doubt some form of physical contact would occur.

Speaking of which, you watched as a man bumped into Xavier and then he hit against the girl, arms reaching around her shoulder to steady himself. The fluorescent lights suddenly went off and laser-like pointers and stage lights becoming the main source of lighting. It is dimmer for sure, but not dim enough for you to figure out that Xavier and the girl are a little too close in each other's personal bubble.

"Look at that couple there." You overheard someone talking behind your back. "I heard they used to date back in the day but then things did not end well."

"Why? What happened?" Another voice chimed in right when the sentence finished.

"The girl got pregnant or so I heard." Your eyes widened in horror when you heard the story. Why have you not heard of the existence of Xavier's ex-girlfriend? He sure is and always have been a man of mystery but you did not expect that he would refrain to tell you such an important information. Here you thought him telling you about his most embarrassing memories of his younger self is considered intimate enough. You could feel your tears welling up, your gaze blurry as you tore your eyes off of the 'couple' and you stomped off and out of the hall, pushing through the crowd like a loaded bulldozer.

You got out of the crowd by jamming yourself through any visible gaps you can see in the aphotic surroundings. Once you got out of the doors, you took in a deep breath, taking in the smell of fresh air that held hints of sourness. Then, you got onto your bike and zoomed off into the embrace of the darkness.

Panting, you wiped the ichor off of the sides of your face, hissing at the gash on your wounded arm. A parting gift from the golem that you had just managed to defeat all by yourself. You flipped your wrist over and looked at your hunter's watch. "No more missions assigned to Agent y/n at this moment." The watch reported, the stiff robotic voice eliciting a huff of annoyance from you. Well, it is late in the middle of the night and you should really be on your way home.

You looked up into the skies as you navigated your way back to your vehicle. Stars littering all over the deadened skies provided a sense of relevancy to your self-isolation for the past few months. Your breakup with Xavier was done through a phone call, with you calling things off without even providing a explanation and blocking him right after. Following up, you requested to be switched to another branch and got yourself moved to a new location. Just like this, it was as if Xavier was never a part of your life.

But, he has been such a part of your routine for the past one year that it had left you in a state of bereft, seeking solace within the past fond memories that you had once shared with him. Before your trail of memories gained access to your mind, you halted your footsteps, eyes studying the three separate routes in front of you. Which one had you taken previously?

"Lost?" A voice startled you and you immediately drew your guns out of your garter belt, aimed directly at head shot level towards the source of the voice. But, you lowered your gun eventually when you came face to face with your ex-lover. "Or you just got caught up in your own thoughts?"

Your act of abnegation was shown with you not entertaining his question and instead, takes a step past him. Xavier however, held onto your arm to get you to stop and your wince alerted him of the laceration on your arm. "I'm fine, I do not seek for your care. I can handle it myself."

"Just like how you handled our breakup. Which is not the most mature I'd say." Xavier loosened his grip and sighed, turning to face you and his voice came off softer. "I have been searching everywhere for you, do you know that?"

"Like I'd said Xavier, there is nothing I wish to clarify to you. A breakup is a breakup." You stood your ground, eyes digging its way through the soil if that is an eligible euphemism amidst this awkward moment.

"You not having the wish to clarify the reasons for our breakup does not mean that I do not wish to know about it y/n. So, are you going to break it to me or would you wish to be left alone?" Desperation came upon his voice as he spoke. If you have a better sense of hearing, you might just be able to catch the slight change of octave in his voice. Oh, how you wish you could just disappear right now, just evaporating up into the night skies. "Y/n."

"Why did you kept a secret behind my back? Especially when it involves your ex-girlfriend having a pregnancy?" You managed to spit out after a minute of contemplation. Escaping is not an option for you either when your ex-lover has the ability to teleport within a good amount of range.

Xavier's lips opened and closed again, hesitation flashed across his face and his eyebrows knitted together now. "What?" His response to a question with another question got you curious so you looked at him. The poor young man looked shocked, eyes widened and jaws slacked. "I do not have an ex-girlfriend."

Your confidence crumbled with a big gaping hole in the middle of your heart as you stared at him with the same expression of his. "That day, at the reunion party. I saw you were chatting with a girl and I overheard the conversation from the people beside me stating that the both of you used to share an intimate connection and you got her knocked up--"

Your voice slowly trailed off when the moonlight peeked through the crevices in between the leaves of the trees, illuminating Xavier's lack of expression in front of you. Although he wears a poker face, you can tell that he was borderline amused and yet in a state of pity for your behalf. "Someone owes me a big apology I suppose." Yes, of course you do. "Just to fill in the gaps for you, the girl I was speaking to used to be my partner till she got married and have to take care of her child hence she got transferred to another division. The story that you heard of, was hers, but the guy part, I am definitely not involved."

"I'm so so sorry Xavier. I just couldn't believe what I was hearing and my emotions got to the best of me. I am so sorry." Your lip trembled as you spoke, voice cracking when you finally admitted that you are the jerk for having to pull such a stunt on him over some petty rumours that you refuse to address to him. "I didn't mean to." Your body was jerked forward and your forehead collided with his warm chest. His arms was quick to pull you in for a hug. "I forgive you y/n. It's okay, don't cry." Yet, you still failed to oblige and started to sob into his chest like a child that received her very first lecture. "I am glad I still managed to find you even after all of these months." His hand rubbed soothing circles onto your back until you regained back your composure. His palms rising up and falling down according to the undulating tempo of your breaths.

"Thank you for coming for me." Your arms tightened around his waist and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss onto the top of your forehead.

"I will be looking forward to you making up for this mistake of yours." He smiled, the moonlight cascading onto the both of you like a stage light. "Let's start with no more breaking up over stupid rumours okay?"

@elysiel is the lovely reader who came up with this idea hence I decided to put my own twist into things so I hope you are very much pleased my love and @prettytemis wished to be tagged when I post this up so here it goes! <3

[sunflowersandsapphires]

I'm back again 🙃 Can I give Frank a sunflower or peony (your choice) for a Reader who talks in her sleep? Can be about whatever because I'd love to see what you come up with! And yes, it's because I'm still thinking about that other conversation 🤣

A short little blurb inspired by a real "conversation" I had with my spouse while they slept.

Frank was gently tugged from sleep by a lengthy hum and the accompanying vibration over his shoulder.

Most nights, he cursed his tendency to wake at the slightest sound. It was helpful, sure—the ability to be coherent moments after exiting REM, gun pointed at the door in the event of a break in. But, more often than not, it was damned aggravating.

An ambulance veering past the window, a neighbor's dog barking, even an especially long rumble of thunder had him bolting upright, adrenaline surging for no reason. If he managed to fall back into slumber, the rest was fitful and short. Though, his heart often refused to settle and allow him to reach that point.

On rare occasions, however, this unfortunate pattern meant that he was awake to speak to you. Or, rather, listen to you.

When you were overly tired, the very same nights where he carried you from the couch to the bedroom after you inevitably passed out on top of him post-work, it wasn't uncommon for you to talk in your sleep. You never believed him when he teased you the next day, but your sleepy brain came up with some of the most ridiculous gibberish he'd ever heard.

Waking up in the middle of the night was never fun, but, if it had to happen, at least he could experience the fond amusement that always washed over him when you mumbled nonsense while squashed into your pillow.

Tonight, your face was contorted with seriousness, bottom lip protruding in an adorable pout. Your nose scrunched up as you grumbled, rubbing your face into his bare shoulder like a friendly cat. Frank's lips quirked in a small grin as you wriggled closer, pulling yourself on top of him.

Leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips met empty air as you sat up. In a sudden burst of happiness, eyes still closed, you laughed heartily, the noise of your giggles piercing through the peaceful silence of the room. After a moment, your giddy chuckles dissolved into a pleased hum.

“What's so funny, darlin'?” Frank whispered, his voice crackling with sleep.

“Heh. I was dreaming of an ice cage.” A content smile landed on your lips as you trailed off wistfully. Sliding yourself back into the crook of his neck, you pecked his chin and then fell silent.

Biting back a laugh, Frank stroked a hand over your back, eyes falling closed to the sweet sounds of your snores.

[stariikis]

𝙞 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙣… [n.rk]

synopsis ; riki comforts you after a long day. this is perfect for you to read if you have imposter's syndrome and a tendency to blame yourself for everything !! 🎀

pairing ; nishimura riki x gn!reader genre ; comfort, pure pure sadness and comfort. established relationship. warnings ; mention of suicide, depression

When you were losing your mind, tears practically a smeared layer over your skin, Riki knew just how to pull you into his arms and hug back some light into your life. 

When you insisted nothing was ever enough, in a delirious, exhausted daze of numbness and emptiness, Riki would take your hands in his. A sad, warm flicker of understanding in his eyes. But he would never say anything; he’d never let out a single word. 

You could be so tired that colourful spirals would blur your vision. So utterly lost in your own little brain that you start to lose parts of yourself. You lose the ability to feel, to reach out and grab your emotions like they’re tangible objects you can manoeuvre with your bare hands. 

Then, Riki would reach out and sweep you into an embrace that solely aims to comfort. With a hug so tight you forget why your head is even spinning anymore. A soft kiss would caress your temple and prevent you from slipping further into crazed oblivion. 

It’s no different this time, as a blank stare graces your face and you mindlessly drop your bag onto the floor. And then collapse right beside it. The tears you’ve been holding back are finally given permission to break free. Riki, who immediately looked up in excitement the moment you got home, dropped everything and came to your side. 

You can’t take it anymore. Your hands shake and you think you’re explaining what’s happened to your boyfriend, but you’re probably just spewing incomprehensible gibberish. Your whole face feels so repulsive and so soaked as he brings your head close to his chest. His lips are moving along your ear, and you can’t tell whether he’s saying anything or not. 

When you finally come down, breaths so heavy they seem to search for no answer, Riki angles your head towards him. The way so much emotion seeps into his gaze should make you dissolve into even more tears. But you just hold his stare, seeking a validation you can’t explain in words. With a helplessness that is so intense you can’t describe it. 

It’s not working. Nothing is. An inky blotch of pain forms in your chest. Riki isn’t helping anymore, and without his help, you’re nothing. You’re absolutely useless. 

Feeling translucent like a ghost, hazy and penetrable but still oh, so alive, you can sense the energy draining from your body. Slumping over Riki’s shoulder, you try and fail to catch your breath. How could you do this to yourself? Just a while back you promised yourself that you would heal. You wouldn’t fall into the demon’s trap again, you wouldn’t plummet into the depths of your struggles. Most importantly, you wouldn’t burden Riki to take care of you instead of you managing yourself. 

You know he, too, has been through a lot. So much more than he would ever dare to admit. But the moment you saw him curl into himself, in an almost foetal position, in the middle of the dance studio… it’s enough for your own heart to break on his behalf.

His voice faltering as he mutters, “It’s never good enough…” 

It’s a memory you would never want to relive. It’s a reminder that replays like a beloved childhood movie, over and over again, every single time your body dares to succumb to the numbness. How dare you. How dare you feel this kind of hurt when Riki has been through so much more than you have? Your vision blurs over once more like you’re cross-eyed. 

“You’re enough,” Riki whispers, scooting away so you can look at him directly. Genuity lies in his gaze. It gives you a flicker of hope. A flame that hopefully will eventually start to spread. “You’re always enough.” 

It sounds like he’s saying it from experience, and it pains you even more at the thought. 

But you slowly feel yourself coming back to earth. Coming back into his arms. Nishimura Riki’s arms. He repeats it like a spell, like an incantation he has to recite for you to get it in your head. “You’re good enough for me.” 

Surprisingly, after he drops a kiss to your neck and rests his head on your shoulder, you can feel wet patches starting to dot your clothes. Riki, your precious boy, who you’d give the world for, and vice versa. 

He will never know how many times he’s saved you from the utter brink of death.

thank you for reading! even though i poured out my heart into this i'm not very satisfied and i don't really know how to be ! but i'll post it anyway and see how it does (dont flop im begging....)

remember to check out you in the rain , a ni-ki fic MUCH fluffier and cuter than this one. it's for all the taylor stans and wifty fans <3

more of my works >

[y-rhywbeth2]

I said I was done, but this still is on my mind and I lied.

Here's me bashing the mish mash of conflicting lore together in speculation on how Bhaalspawn work for my own "fuck you collective of official gibberish, this is my take on it" canon (again, BG2 spoilers):

I have settled on extraplanar outsider rather than native (despite the majority being born to humanoid parents). As outsiders their bodies and souls and intrinsically tied together in a way humanoids' aren't. If they die outside of the plane of Gehenna then their body dissolves and they return to that plane; if they die on the plane the rules are that "To die in this place is to cease to exist," as Irenicus helpfully put it. He's still around afterwards, so I assume he's referring to Charname (Gorion's Ward) specifically. Should the soul somehow depart to the Lower Planes without the living body, the body might follow it there (I think the body dies? I was never terribly clear on the exact details of what happened in that part of BG2...)

When Sarevok died, his body and soul dissolved and returned to the Throne of Blood, where he/his independent part of Bhaal's essence was absorbed into the "pool" of collected Bhaalspawn souls/essence. "Echoes" of dead Bhaalspawns' personalities exist within Bhaal/the collective, much as the mortal mage Midnight is an echo within the goddess Mystra, and sometimes they can be separated back into independent beings if a portion of Bhaal's essence is granted to that echo allowing them to reform a physical body and live again.

Sarevok was able to reform because he was given a fragment of Bhaal's essence (independent from the whole) - not enough to restore him to true demigodhood, but enough to materialise a physical body.

(There is... an interesting way to interpret the Dark Urge's creation here, where they're one of the original Bhaalspawn reborn - although it's not one I personally plan to use. Also the fact that they're apparently born from Bhaal's dead physical body, not the pool of essence, implies something strange happened, regardless.)

I'm not sure where Bhaalspawn stand when it comes to souls; judging by Bhaal complaining that Charname is "strange amongst their kin" because their soul has independence, they're not supposed to have one inherently separate from Bhaal's essence, that independence is just a quirk (Charname was explicitly a special prophecy child, they're the exception to the rules). Bhaalspawn can have the divine essence/their soul extracted from them and still physically exist, although it will eventually kill them. Their bodies are also considered part of Bhaal, he is described as existing in "the very fibre of their being[s]." Even after supposedly ceasing to be Bhaal's children, both Sarevok and Durge are explicitly stated to still carry Bhaal's essence in their bodies and will pass it on to any offspring they have. As 5e lore has retconned the possibility of having Bhaal's essence totally cleansed from a Bhaalspawn, rendering them pure mortal, I am rolling with that one and ignoring the mortal ending (I always go for the god endings anyway). Bhaalspawn remain what they are always. As I like them.

It does seem like their body, soul and Bhaal's essence are one big chunk, instead of the usual division of body and soul seen in full mortals. As he says: "he is [them]"; their "whole being is borrowed"; etc.

Which leaves the question of "Withers what the fuck did you do. What are you planning??" in regards to Durge being resurrected. I have no idea, but I didn't play the special snowflake demigod to have my special snowflake status stripped from me, so I'm clinging to "Durge is still a quasi-deity, and you cannot pry that from my cold, dead hands." Larian can even release a DLC or BG4 that tells me otherwise; I will ignore it.

"BG3-" Larian has left out, changed or ignored/forgotten a load of stuff about how Bhaalspawn work in their story (which is their right, it's DM fiat). There should be no "Little Brother Toop's" corpse on display on the hall of wonders because he shouldn't have a corpse. I'm blaming the tadpole, ignoring it and moving on.

Imoen is disqualified as an aberration; her thing is purely game mechanics not matching the lore that was established before they retconned her into a Bhaalspawn. Doesn't count.

We are not in Larian's house for this interpretation, just as they are not in Bioware's; we are in mine now and I'm ill and grumpy.

[lexygabe]

nandi mokena headcanons/rewriting/etc.

(june/11/1999)

gemini sun | taurus moon | scorpio rising

ENFP (Ne-Fi-Te-Si) - 6w5 - so/sp - 793 - Sanguine [Dominant]

general headcanons:

• either ace-het or ace-bi, cis, she/her,

• i think this is canon, but she is a gifted child in the family. she was in top 5 of the class and popular as hell,

• she is that mf of friend group that will always bring up snacks and drinks with yourself,

• her love language is making edits of funny/embarrassing photos of others with music that totally don't match vibe with anything included in edit,

• her tiktok and instagram likes are full of some people talking gibberish and cringe compilations, so if u want to get her joke you at least need to know lore of all of this people and incidents that happened x years ago,

• when we talking about memes, she loves absurdism humor, so when shakes send something to her that he thinks is funny, her face is like: 😐 how are we even related?,

• i also think she is reading the most surreal literature (franz kafka is her beloved),

• skarra pierced her ears for the first time,

• she is very loyal,

• her notes are full of stickers, adhesive gems and drawings. some of things are even written in glitter gel pen,

• her channel is pretty much all things mixed up. there is commentary, there is gaming, there is some art projects and video blogs, everybody can find something for themselfves,

• she goes to film school.

through the series (og tv show, rewriting)

SEASON 1:

• for me, season 1 starts at the time when shakes is 20 years old, so by this logic nandi is 17,

• there is no physical apperance of her, she is just mentioned by (mainly) shakes.

SEASON 2:

• at the beginning of the season her and shakes are talking about the fact that nandi moved to college (they have their little family bonding time),

• in s2e5 (el sound of silencio) spenz calls her to help him and fran, but she just listened to all of this shit and was like: ok bro 🧍🏾‍♀️*disconnects*,

• in s2e13 she tracked down skarra before this big "all stars vs supa strikas match" and interviewed him about this fucked up rivarly that him and shakes have (she saw both of them in tv last night), and why they even decided to have a bet of the pitch where they had great time together in past (like hell, nandi knew that this friendship was homoerotic, holy shit). ofc nandi "as annoying as the little shit she was" (skarra's words, not mine), she didn't take any type of crap from him about this whole situation. after this, she called shakes out on his stupid ass actions, in his apartament, and just left him with: you both are total blockheads. and shakes was like: both? who is both? wtf.

SEASON 3

• in season 3 nandi and shakes have this conversation about what nandi meant, when she literally lit into him in his own apartament before super league final. to which nandi,, replied with: ahh yeah. but this doesn't matter. at least this debt of yours and skarra's was dissolved :D. after, they had honest conversation and disscus about childhood and how this can't be put before good of the team (nandi wanted to argue with this, but then she quickly give up. all the stress that the shakes' finale cost her was enough for her),

• at this season we see more of nandi as a future filmmaker, because she trolls everyone on twitter with uploading this type of videos like fake interviews with celebrities (and with some footballers ;)),

• in college, she met woman from completely other school (remember this. i probably make headcanons for this semi canon character so wink wink) and became friends with her,

SEASONS 4-7:

• all of her story arcs focus on her career and school and on a few other events that will be described by me as i write about other women from strikas universe.

relationships with (disclaimer: i do not include her relarionship with shakes and their mom, bc it was pretty well managed in rookie season. i will probably make another post but about whole mokena's family dynamic):

• skarra: writers rotally fucked up. WASTED POTENTIAL.

their relationship definitely started as: you are my brother's (boy)friend/you are shakes' sister. and then, they became partners in crimes. when shakes, skarra and nandi went to school nandi always pulled out a card titled: don't talk to me like that, or i'm gonna call my brother and my brother's best friend. in othet occasions, skarra went to nandi and asked some stupid questions like: ey, nandi you have ruler to lend 🧍‍♂️?? (,,yo, nandi you want some hotdogs?", ,,nandi, we are going to shopping mall", ,,hey, nandi you have some time to hide a body----?"). why writers of rookie season acted like nandi wouldn't care that much about skarra, like he literally used to call nandi's mom 'auntie' wtf wtf wtf.

• klaus: YOU CAN'T TELL ME HE WOULDN'T BE HER FAV OUT OF SHAKES' TEAMMATES. nandi and klaus definitely have long conversations about shows that they watched, about ships, about premieres. they are just two little nerds with heads full of ideas <33333

• mara: me and @strudelbbg once talked about mara and nandi's possible relation and we decided that mara, when nandi was younger, probably carried her on her back and stuff. tldr mara sees nandi as "little sis 💞💞💞💞",

• others: ?

fashion headcanons

• i think she would wear these "crazy" make-ups like:

(i also think that people, who would be her fans and shakes' fans would create threads on twitter titled: nandi's makeups as team colors of supa strikas rivals')

(and nandi would reblog these posts🥰)

• has 3 pairs of dungarees,

• a lot of fandom t-shirts but not ones designed in "tomboy" way but in "girly" way, shirts with strawberry shortcake, winx club, princess peach from mario, destiny's child members etc.,

• HANDMADE RINGS, BRACELETS, NECKLACES, EARRINGS EVERYTHING,

• she is fan of crocheted clothes (especially sweaters, tank tops, knee socks),

• even tho she is popular, she wears second hand clothing and buys from smaller companies (rich people clothing ugly and she don't want to be one of them),

• wears bralettes as form of a lingerie,

• when she wears dress she NEEDS to have tights under,

• when it comes to shoes she likes: new balance, converses, CROCKS and mary janes but on a small heel.

music headcanons

• definitely had nightcore phase when she was younger,

• hates slow music,

• like i said destiny's child fan, probably likes also avril lavigne and mariah carey, and maybe blackpink.

[medlarmeadows]

watching grizzly's anime dub video with the council, milo, and schlatt and getting JUMPSCARED because why did charlie's british accent gibberish just dissolve into exandroth voice

[rising-volteccers]

Heya! Thank you so much for reading and enjoying my fics! I wasn't sure how to show the submission so I decided to break it into images like this. Out of all the prompts, I decided to go with the first one! The premise is there but the plot certainly derailed so I hope it'll still be an enjoyable read!

Series: Pokemon Horizons

Characters: Friede, Orla

Mild warning for descriptions of a character experiencing a panic attack and injuries.

--

Friede woke up to total darkness and a frantic voice uttering gibberish. He had no idea where he was or how he had ended up there. All he knew was he hurt all over, from the top of his head all the way to his toes–or he would, if not for the fact that one of his legs was absolutely throbbing.

Panic instinctively swelled within him but he swiftly showed it down with a heavy swallow. Panicking during an unknown situation often spelled disaster–or it already struck and he was now experiencing the aftermath. Right now, he bemoaned the slight memory loss, as if his working memory wasn’t already poor. 

Friede tried to move his legs. It yielded mixed results. He could only move one leg while the other didn’t move–and it hurt, so much so that he gasped out loud.

“Friede!? Friede are you awake? Can you hear me?” That frantic voice had since lost the gibberish quality. It sounded familiar but he couldn’t put a finger on a face right now in account of the panic that resurfaced, speeding up his breathing.

He took back what he said about panic. It was good. Great even. It was such a perfect reaction right now that he couldn’t possibly not panic.

“Friede please, try to calm down!” the voice pleaded. Friede felt a hand probing his arm, trailing down from his shoulder till it found his clenched fists. He felt fingers slowly prying it open so he wasn’t digging crescent moons into his palm. The warm hand that slipped into his had an oddly calming effect, and he grasped back like his life depended on it.

“That’s it, you’re not alone. I’m here. Do you remember how Mollie taught you those breathing exercises? In for four, hold for seven and out for eight? Can you do that together with me?”

Well, seeing that he somehow found himself submerged deep in an ocean where the light didn’t shine and pressure was caving his ribs in, this voice was making quite the impossible request. Yet the part of his brain that didn’t fully dissolve into senseless panic felt like he should give it a shot, if only because the voice dripped with worry. 

So Friede tried to follow the rhythm set by the voice. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. He coughed initially from getting a lungful of dust but he forced himself to continue on through ragged breaths. Against all odds, Friede eventually realized he wasn’t drowning on air. He still didn’t know where he was, only that he laid down on something hard with sharp bits digging into his spine, and that the voice belonged to someone he knew all too well.

“Orla…?” he gasped, eyes sliding shut once the panic receded, leaving behind a bone deep exhaustion that he didn’t need on top of the full body hurt. 

“Yes, it’s me. Oh thank goodness you woke up…” Orla’s voice sounded watery. Friede wished he could see her expression but their surroundings still remained dark.

“Ugh,” came his very eloquent response. Friede hesitantly tried to move his arms. He knew that the one connected to the hand that Orla grasped was functioning but it relieved him that both responded to the command. With his free hand, he reached up and touched his aching head. Something warm and sticky met his fingertips, and his hair felt matted down.

Ah, that probably caused the memory loss.

Next, he tried to move his legs again. With more neurons connecting in his brain, he felt something heavy pressing down on his… right leg. He couldn’t move that leg, only feel them even if it was just a lot of pain. 

Distantly he recalled that feeling something was better than nothing when it came to one’s limbs getting trapped in some shape or form. By no means was it a good something, but still something.

His cautious experimentation still made him gasp in pain. The hand that Orla held squeezed in response.

“Don’t move! Y-Your leg, I think it’s pinned down by one of the rocks and I’m not strong enough to move it without risking it–just I don’t want to make things worse for you.” Orla’s voice gained a frantic edge to it. Seeing that he somehow caused it, Friede squeezed her hand back. That made her fall silent.

“I won’t. Don’t worry.” Despite feeling a slight metallic taste in his mouth, the assurance came easily. “Gotta be honest, don’t remember much. Think I can plead a head injury this time so no getting on my case about it.”

Orla wheezed out a cross between a chuckle and a sigh. “Of course you’d joke around about that,” she murmured, giving his hand another squeeze. “We were tasked in finding materials to repair the ship with. We eventually found a cave, and I wanted to see if there were any nice stones to use. Then…” A soft, shuddery breath. “The ground started shaking. You said it wasn’t natural and we were heading back out when…”

She fell deathly silent after that. While her retelling didn’t loosen the cobwebs for him, Friede had enough facts to work on to deduce that they got caught in a cave-in. That explained the total darkness, musty scent and his trapped leg. 

“Man, this is rough,” was the only response he could give right now. Friede had plenty of choice words to say about this situation that wasn’t family friendly. The only reason why he held his tongue was because he didn’t want to stress Orla out by his uncharacteristic cursing. “Then the reason why my leg’s pinned is…”

In the darkened silence, the soft sniffle might as well have been lightning with how quickly it struck Friede. Suddenly his pain felt insignificant. He wanted nothing more to assure Orla, to wipe the hot tears sliding down her cheeks. Small droplets hit his exposed cheek, and Friede saw the vague outline of her body hovering above his.

“Y-You… you pulled me back when the ceiling collapsed. You weren’t fast enough to get away and… I’m so sorry Friede. You got hurt because of me.” 

Her quiet sobs tore his heart to pieces. It hurt more at that moment to hear the usually cheery, confident Orla cry. Friede hated hearing it back when they were kids and he spooked her by falling out of tree. That feeling never changed, and now he despised the fact that she cried because of him. Because he chose to protect her, as it would always be his choice to do so regardless of the situation. 

“Hey Oreo, don’t cry,” he murmured, using an old childhood nickname. Friede gently freed his hand from Orla’s grasp, mimicking her prior action but in reverse by running his hand up the side of her arm till his hand gently cupped her cold cheek. By feeling alone, he gently brushed the wetness with his thumb.

“Don’t blame yourself for what happened. I chose to protect you. I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“But…”

“Not buts, ifs or anything that’ll feed whatever nasty thoughts your brain is telling you.”

That drew out a short, watery chuckle. Her soft breath warmed his palm. “Isn’t that what I said to you once? Using my words against me now?”

“Yep, no regrets.” A brief pause, where he adopted a slightly more serious tone. “Trust me, I know it’s hard but I want you to not feel guilty about this. It’s my choice, I don’t regret it.”

Several beats of silence passed before she released a soft sigh. “I’ll consider it when we get out of here and you get treated. I tried my best but it’s hard to do much when I can barely see. All I really know is that your leg is trapped and you’ve got a head wound.”

“Yeah, I guessed as much. If it makes you feel better I still feel something. That something’s a boat load of pain, and I’m guessing adrenaline’s taking the worst of the edge of but it’s better than nothing.”

Vaguely he spotted light movement, likely shaking her head. “In a strange way, yeah it kind of does.” Another pause. “Just… hang tight, alright? I’m sure help’s coming soon enough. Metagross was waiting outside when the cave collapsed so knowing it, I’m sure it would alert everyone else.”

As if the universe took pity on them or decided that the timing was absurdly funny, gravel slowly shifted from the pile of rocks separating them from the opening. The pair held their breath, worried that it’d collapse inwards but instead, they heard faint voices. 

“...iede? Orla? Are you in there?” Murdock’s voice sounded muffled but close. Real close. 

“Murdock! Murdock we’re in here!” Orla shouted back. Friede felt hope surging within him at the prospect of getting rescued. 

“Orla? Are you alright? Is Friede with you?” This time, Mollie’s voice came through. 

“I’m doing alright but Friede… he’s hurt and trapped. We need help!”

“Alright, stay put. We’ll get you two out of there soon.” After that, Friede heard no more voices. Knowing that help finally arrived made Orla weak with relief. He heard her heaved out a deep sigh that shook around the edges.

“Guess I didn’t have to hang tight for long,” Friede quipped, trying his best to keep pain from seeping into his voice. It seemed that his body decided he no longer needed distraction so he was really feeling the effects of having one leg be trapped underneath rubble.

Orla’s hand found his again, this time holding it with both of hers. She gave it a brief but firm squeeze.

“We’re going to free you and get you treated. Just hang on a little longer.”

A shaky breath escaped his lips. “I’ll try.”

The first beam of light that filtered through from a hole that appeared was like watching the sunrise; instilling a whole lot of emotions within him. Slowly, the hole got larger as more of the rubble were carefully cleared away. Friede guessed that Orla’s Metagross was using its powerful psychic abilities to speed up the process.

Mollie didn’t waste time in squeezing through once the opening was big enough. She quickly reached their side, a sharp exhale the only indication of her surprise before she fell into her usual cool, professional demeanor. 

“I’m going to need Metagross’s help in lifting this. What can you immediately tell me?” Mollie asked, gingerly inspecting his head wound.

“Head hurts. Leg hurts more,” was Friede’s straightforward response through gritted teeth. 

Mollie nodded. She did some treatment that Friede slowly lost track off seeing that his attention laid solely in keeping himself calm from the steadily rising pain. At some point, Murdock had crouched by his side too. Guess that meant the rubble was cleared up enough that Metagross could now enter.

“Alright, have Metagross slowly lift this from his leg Orla,” Mollie instructed, then turned to him. “This is going to hurt.”

Like it’d hurt worse than what he was experiencing right now. Still, Friede severely underestimated the effects of having his leg finally be freed. The vague numbness that had been creeping up for the past however long disappeared. Sharp, stabbing pain rushed through his leg, moving up his entire body before stopping to do a drum roll right in the middle of his head.

A sharp hiss slipped out. Mollie started to say something but his vision was greying out and he thought it was Orla that squeezed his hand and–

The next time he regained consciousness, Friede found it to be much pleasant than before. A distant part of his brain pointed out the infirmary’s ceiling after some solid blinking. He took his sweet time to make some observations, namely that the pain was at a manageable level and that one of his legs felt like they were encased in concrete.

Oh, and that Orla was apparently asleep by his bedside, head resting atop folded arms. He spotted bandages covering her hands and what peeked out from the sleeves. His memory returned in startling clarity, which was a first for him.

Both of them were caught in a cave-in where he protected her from getting hurt but wound up getting one of his legs trapped. He carefully tested stuff out by wiggling his toes, mildly relieved that it responded to the command. The sigh that he exhaled must have been louder than expected or Orla wasn’t as deep asleep as he thought.

She shifted, eyes slowly fluttering open. When her gaze wandered to him, her eyes snapped open as she sat up with a, “Friede, you’re up!”

“Mmhm, just about,” he replied, managing a small smile. “Guess I passed out, huh?”

“Yeah. Not surprising considering…” Her eyes darted to his leg underneath the blanket covering his lower half. “Well, good news is that miraculously, it’s not broken. Bad news is that it’s still a fracture, so you’re going to have to take it easy for at least a month or two.”

Friede couldn’t help but groan out loud. He really wasn’t looking forward to using crutches to get around, not to mention he’d be unable to fly on Charizard throughout the healing process. Sensing what appeared to be bandages on his forehead, he asked, “Right, and what’s the damage to my face?”

“Probably a light scar but you can easily hide it with your bangs. All things considered, we honestly were lucky to get out of that with only a fractured leg as the worst of the injuries.”

He heaved out a deep sigh but no more complaints passed his lips. Friede knew Orla was correct. The fact that he received an injury he could recover from (albeit slowly) was leagues better than something permanent.

Friede quietly took her in after that. “What about you?”

“Just some cuts and bruises. Nothing as bad as yours.” Her light smile dropped, and Friede could almost hear the guilt running rampant in her mind.

“We’re out and I got treatment. Time for you to consider not to feel guilty about this.”

Orla briefly looked surprised, the she sighed, her lips lifting up slightly. “That easy to tell, huh?”

“How long have we known each other for?” Then he added in a quieter voice. “I know you as well as you know me. I don’t regret my action, Orla. I’ll always choose to protect you cause you’re precious to me.��

Silence briefly enveloped them. Orla eventually broke it with a whispered, “You’re precious to me too Friede. I was scared I’d lose you.”

He pulled off one of his confident smirks, which would have been more convincing if he wasn’t laid up on the infirmary bed. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Orla.”

A soft exhale. “I suppose I’m not. You’re far too stubborn.”

“And you love me for it.”

Friede and Orla gazed at each other after that. Slowly their smiles grew softer, and Orla leaned down to softly press her lips against Friede’s. 

“I do.” 

[rinski]

misconception

some context: this is a notable work of surrealist art in the world of my game. it's often singled out by detractors as evidence that the current surrealist art/political movement is just meaningless gibberish.

part of the art's meaning hinges on "moon stories," which is an old fortune-telling technique from the artist's (and not their critics') culture. the planet has three moons that are visible each night and have one of three states: full, partial, and dark (these states have nothing to do with shadows, like our own moon's phases, so any moon can be in any of the three states on any given night). full moons have positive connotations, partial moons represent change/ambiguity, dark moons have negative connotations. by "reading" the moons’ states, from left to right, you’ll get a short narrative—that’s the moon story. for example, a moon story tragedy would be like, partial > full > dark, to represent things starting out in flux, changing for the better, then suddenly changing for the worse at the very end.

so. as the central figure witnesses the forks changing as they get further and further away, their eyes represent them seeing full > partial > dark, which is meant to be interpreted as order dissolving into chaos. but the moons above them, both real and representational, are all partial: their moon story is constant, consistent change, with no beginning or end.

[shini--chan]

The reader mumbles about how she wished to be an human like.

Don't you wish sometimes you would be an human? I mean they live an normal life marry someday, have kids and die together and the end. And we live so long now, I hate it, my past lovers are now all dead.

A bit of a strange ask, but nevertheless interesting. I’ll be taking England for this one, since the grumpy rat wouldn’t take it well.

Warnings for suicidal ideation, mind break and other shady stuff

Yandere England – Shatter

Arthur stared at you. You had been strangely lethargic lately, dragging your feet do matter how much he snapped at you to walk properly, eyes drooping and smile seeming even more strained than usual. There was something dead to your gaze, a light that had been snuffed out, something that went beyond dissociation.

You didn’t want to be here but that was something both of you had come to ignore over time. Thus, a peculiar insanity had made itself comfortable, where the two of you would pretend that this relationship was normal. It was surely better that the alternative, than the cursing and the crying, the blood on the floor and chains on the bed post. Though, playing pretend had only let the wounds fester and this was the culmination of it.

“Have you ever considered being mortal?”, you asked out of the blue one evening, when the lights were already out and he had tucked himself in bed. You were standing at the foot of the bed, night shirt and scraggly hair making you look like a creature out of a horror movie.

(You hadn’t brushed your hair again. How dare you! You were supposed to take care of yourself, make yourself pretty and presentable for him. He had spent countless hours drilling the rules of conduct into your inferior little skull and by the looks of it, it seemed like everything had gone in one ear and then directly out the other. This needed correcting. Perhaps...)

“No, now stopped muttering gibberish and come to bed”, he commanded. That was a lie. He had often stared at humans, or transients, as he liked to call them, and wondered how it would be like to live such a wretched, short live. Looking back on history, only the fewest of those mayflies really amounted to something. So it was more out of morbid curiosity and pity that England entertained the idea of being a human. But he didn’t want to talk about that with you, especially since you didn’t seem to be in the right state of mind.

However, you persisted on following that dangerous train of thought.

“Don't you wish sometimes you would be a human? I mean they live a normal life marry someday, have kids and die together and the end. And we live so long now, I hate it, my past lovers are now all dead.”

This just kept getting weirder and weirder. Personifications didn’t yearn to have children, because children meant succession and succession meant death. Marriage wasn’t the giddy affair it usual was for humans, because it was either a political alliance that would one day dissolve into war or a mean of establishing control, of colonialism, that ended in blood and vows of vengeance if it ended at all.

You wanted to die. No responsible personification yearned for death. They all lived to be eternal, to strive on and on and on until there was no history and no future, only they.

“You’ve gone insane. Do you hate me that much?”, he ask, slowly clambering out of bed, cautiously opening one of the drawers to his cabinet. There was chloroform somewhere here.

“I’m simply tired of all this. Is it so bad for me to want it to end?”, you asked in a voice that was far to high and with a giggle that sounded like nails scrapping down a chalk board. His fears were confirmed.

Arthur wouldn’t take it well at all. He would think that you would just want to leave him, seeing death as the only option since he had quelled every rebellion, and thwarted every escape attempt. This would probably happen after one of the aforementioned incidents, where your dashed hopes would make world weariness creep upon you big time. How couldn’t you not want all of this to end, when all the days melted together until there was no future or the past, only a miserable present where you had to bow to all the whims of a possessive madman? When no matter how fast you ran, you just seemed to stay on the same spot?

England would seek to eradicate that “rebellious” train of thought as fast as he could. It would necessarily be through words of comfort, but rather mind games, and psychological manipulation and torture. He would very likely make your mental state even worse, but if you would shut up about dying and rebelling then he would be a happy man.

[srbachchan]

DAY 5382

Jalsa, Mumbai                      Nov7/8,  2022                    Mon/Tue  2:40 AM

It was late at work .. late beyond the control of all and in particular moi .. reason .. several .. at times the delayed HOST .. no .. he comes on time and reports for work within stipulated time frame .. but at times the normal exit of the personnel, works outwards .. I shall not give until I do get .. a common phrase or a clause in the realm of justice and extreme covered platitude ..

But there it is .. and it is spoken with grace and forbidden tenure to the express outcomes that have been at length to that which the competition throws up ..

Sir , I speak the truth and speak form experience .. experience of the waves , the harsh winds , the extreme works and guidelines, written in the unwritten books of the legal, to interpret those who somewhere can meet this hard trying ambivalent protraction of the underground maker sankranti .. with the peace and tranquility that be required ..

anyway it shall be most difficult to understand this gibberish .. since at times the writer himself is quite unaware, of what he or she might be involved it .. until suddenly the lady appears .. all positioned in orderly state and in the poverty of those that think they possess the be all and the end all of all that moves on the Earth ..

AND WINS ... !!!!

victory is the elixir of life .. leave it and the victory of the victorious dissolves into the mud of the Earth to be driven to or , scooped up with utmost dignity into a haven of .. hmmm .. the unsaid ..

there is hunger all over ..

and the design of work brings it on .. so be it ..

good night dear all .. be in the well by the morning light ..

Amitabh Bachchan

[silkeared]

“ into the river styx ! ”

i see you’ve settled on cassandra goth ! fill your inventory, you’re heading to litwick. you look 23 years old and i hear you’re from las vegas , nevada ? well, i think sakura avenue will be the perfect fit for you. make sure you stop by litwick central museum and introduce yourself as their new taxidermist ! it’s strange, you almost remind me of cassandra goth from the sims . we hope you enjoy the slow life !

full name ⸻ CASSANDRA CORNELIA SOLARES GOTH . nickname(s) ⸻ CASSIE . age ⸻ TWENTY THREE . gender identity ⸻ CIS WOMAN . orientation ⸻ BISEXUAL . pronouns ⸻ SHE/HER . hometown ⸻ LAS VEGAS , NEVADA . current occupation ⸻ TAXIDERMIST AT LITWICK CENTRAL MUSEUM . faceclaim ⸻ JENNA ORTEGA .

⌗ QUICK FACTS :

cassandra is a virgo.

her hobbies include feeding her piranhas and mourning at tombstones.

her grandmother, cornelia, taught her how to play violin and piano in childhood.

she is incredibly neat. all of her belongings have a specific place.

it's hard to know what she's thinking, but cassie always wanted a family. ever since losing don, that seems further and further away.

cassandra likes tying back her hair and 'tinkering' with things.

the goths really did have everything—a huge gothic home, a father that loved her mother, a collection of graves in the backyard. cassandra never really yearned for anything, there was no need to. when she wanted, she could mourn strangers. when her homework was completed and put aside, she could mess around in the basement with her chemistry set, or practice violin, or talk to the unnerving clown portrait in the hallway. there was a lightness to her, despite her creepy demeanor; pink sunglasses, pigtails, and round glasses that made her look like some sort of insect. at sixteen, after her mother strangely and temporarily disappeared, they started a new life in litwick, away from the fuss—and bright lights—of vegas. but don took her light away, even when she thought life was so bright. the occasional bout of melancholy turned to week - long ruts after their relationship dissolved, a partnership that promised an engagement, a marriage, maybe even children. watching mortimer loving bella throughout her childhood set cassandra up for an almost dreamlike view of love. the rom - coms on the television always brought her to tears, even when it seemed like they were talking gibberish. alone and heartbroken, lost without her childhood sweetheart, all hints of bright colors left her wardrobe, and she became who she is now. dark and withdrawn, always smoking a cigarette. after having her future ripped away from her, cassandra took her rather nice nest egg from her parents and bought herself a home in sakura avenue. the walls are black, the floors are black, the bedsheets are black, the curtains are black. she exists in a bubble of only herself, idly smoking and reading the works of oscar wilde, choosing isolation and melancholy so it can no longer choose her. with a fascination for the dead, and a keen interest in science, she taught herself taxidermy, and is currently working at the museum fixing up the old and moth - eaten specimens, topping up formaldehyde, and staying in the shadows.

[bonezhead]

i am

desperately trying to explain how no surprises ( with vocals ) is L BUT the instrumental of the song is near because the childish, softer instruments are more audible & recognizable in the instrumental. anyway, the chorus sounds more like a "you knew what you were getting into" in the instrumental. idk i can't put my finger on why but in the original song with vocals it's like a tragic "you figured out too soon how horrible this job was"

and i'm not saying near knew what he was getting into exactly i don't think anyone could ever imagine what it's like to truly BE l lawliet however it could totally be roger or watari saying it in that one. anyway i love how you can still tell what the lyrics are in the instrumental i love it when music does that

anyway, the song breaks my heart and there needs to be more amvs/ drawings/ writing/ edits/ i don't know ANYTHING connecting L / near to it.

anyway, i'm sorry if this doesn't make sense but this is so vivid in my mind right now like i'm seeing colours when i think of wammy's house. i honestly thought my brain had dissolved, to be honest. but i think i'm out of my creative block, at least when it comes to death note and i'm ready to start doing everything in my power to bring this silly little orphan-based-cult organization to life. thank you. i am severely sleep-deprived i'm sorry again. if this sounds like gibberish in the morning i delete, if it's understandable to some extent it stays up

[leftistscum]

I AM CURSING YOU FUCKBAGS TO 1000 YEARS OF OWOFIED NONSENSE. I HAVE TO SUFFER, NOW YOU HAVE TO SUFFER WITH ME.

Update:

All this effort and it doesn't even work. I'm not mad, just disappointed. Current theory is that I didn't include an important part of it in the while loop. The bot scans new posts, and I'm not gonna re-post this for the second time. It's only been actually tested two or three times including this try, and I'm keeping this as a sort of devlog. Update 2:

I restarted the OAuth apps that I made earlier today (an OAuth callback server to catch the keys, and another OAuth thing to generate the Authorization verifier). I worked almost all day to get these two to work together. The API ended up sending this error, and I don't know what it means, but it doesn't throw any errors client-side. Here's the error it throws. {'meta': {'status': 429, 'msg': 'Limit Exceeded'}, 'response': [], 'errors': [{'title': 'Limit Exceeded', 'code': 0, 'detail': 'Minor hiccup. Try again.'}]} Like, okay, great. Now I gotta actually look at the documentation and find out what this magic gibberish means, because this could relate to all those times I tried to authenticate, OR I hit the daily limit on posts seen by my bot, which I highly doubt. Update 2.5 after some research, I've learned absolutely nothing. That error code is a giant ball of nothing that basically says I exceeded a rate limit, but doesn't give any explanation as to which rate I exceeded. Thanks, Tumblr. At least Reddit threw client side errors that you didn't have to go to a broken API console to see. Fuck all of you, and I'll see you tomorrow.

Side note: I am surviving off one breakfast pizza from Casey's, one Pipeline Punch, one grape flavored 3D, 4mg Estradiol, 50mg Spironolactone, and I currently have 100mg Progesterone dissolving in my stomach, which at this point, might actually kill me. It's only 9:36 at the time of writing this, but it feels like I've been working on this for days. This is to say that I may have missed something super obvious, and if that's the case, well, I'll leave tomorrows problems to tomorrow's me.

Update 3

Just woke up and re-ran all the assorted programs just to get a fresh start. I'm still getting that error code, but more importantly, my access token and secret changed? I'm not expert when it comes to stuff like this, but I though tokens and secrets are constant and specific to apps. I can't actually test this thing until the API lets me through. Update 3.5

Found the error code. It wasn't way too hard, but it means my bot probably did something way too much yesterday and I have no idea what. It works on the server's clock and goes by callendar day. This means that if a bot hits the error code at 11:59 PM, it can hit it again at 12:00 AM. For an error 429 to happen, any one of the following has to trigger it.

300 API calls per minute, per IP address.

18,000 API calls per hour, per IP address.

432,000 API calls per day, per IP address.

1,000 API calls per hour, per consumer key.

5,000 API calls per day, per consumer key.

250 new published posts (including reblogs) per day, per user.

250 images uploaded per day, per user.

200 follows per day, per user.

1,000 likes per day, per user.

10 new blogs per day, per user.

20 videos uploaded per day, per user.

60 minutes of total video uploaded per day, per user.

So I can't test this until the server's calendar deems it a new day Update 4

It still doesn't work, but I am one step closer. Because of Tumblr's broken-ass console, I've had to find an alternate way to get an OAuth key. It turns out I was using a temporary access key, which is why it changed when I re-ran everything. I had to do this by using two other scripts. One of them is Tumblr's interactive console on Github , and the other one was a Yaml parser because boy do they like to encrypt. This has been my morning so far. Day two and 5 scripts later, just to finally have something that I should've had at the start.

Update 4.5

I FINALLY GOT AN API RESPONSE!!! LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Update 4.5.5

I have implemented a feature that makes the thing wait for a second then search for any comments with a timestamp older than the last time it waited and has the right keyword in the 196 tag. I have obviously accidentally wasted all my API tries today, but testing begins again tomorrow. You will fear my wrath soon enough. Update 5

Decided to check up on the bot, and ran straight into this wall of text. It looks like blog info? Some of those links take me to profile headers. This isn't a static thing either, it updates every 20 seconds like clockwork. Because I made it update every 20 seconds like clockwork. I think this means it's testing time. Wish me luck. Breaking News. Didn't work, but we're a lil bit closer. Again.

[gibbearish]

sorry to repost a blaze but i just had to share how fascinating this ai post is

like

its just so interesting. the reflections and lighting being absolutely perfect while also completely wrong. the apple kiwi hybrid in the center. the meat carrots on the left and poorly labelled real carrots on the right. the black orange slices. the miscellanous pale lumps that probably are supposed to be garlic. the scattered cherry tomatos that have the same half translucence as currants. the gibberish text and graph. the ghost water bottle. the food dissolving into wisps that are still trying to look like food. the VEINS