#and project said feelings & thoughts unto them

[synthshenanigans]

Continuing from my last post bout Mind, we also need to talk more about how paranoid & untrusting/second-guessing your mind can be cause i think its very interesting

[top-egg-1337]

just wanted to throw my hat in with everyone else immeasurably pissed off about the Gale section of That Interview.

Yes this is all projection, no I don't fucking care. CW for suicidal ideation etc etc

Gale killing himself is not the "right ending". Not only is it ridiculous to suggest that such a concept exists for a game with as many permutations as BG3, it's also blatantly affirming that suicide is A Good Choice, Actually, for people with disabilities (including neurodivergence and mental illnesses).

Like Gale, I talk way too much about the things I'm passionate about to the point where people find me annoying. Like Gale, I fumble social interactions a lot. Like Gale, I have never had many friends. Like Gale, if I fall for someone, it happens fast and I'm super awkward about it until I feel secure with them. Like Gale, I have made mistakes that felt catastrophic. Like Gale, my continued survival relies on assistance from others and this makes me feel like a burden. Like Gale, I have spent extended periods of my life thinking I was better off dead.

If any of these ring true for you, first of all...

Fuck, lads(gender neutral), we're really playing through life on honour mode huh? it couldn't be fucking easy...

Secondly, asking for help, and being vulnerable enough to accept that help, is a bigger show of strength than Minsc climbing out of a mimic.

Thirdly, you really, truly, are not better off dead. If you read that and think I'm lying to make you feel better, I get it. I've felt that way countless times. But there are countless moments for your life to improve, and those moments die the moment you do.

I didn't think I'd make it to 20. I'm 27 now. I'm married, and we're in the process of buying a house. We have a delightfully grumpy dog who we recued 4 years ago. He's 14 now.

It's still hard. This year felt impossible at times. I thought I'd finally got my life on track after starting ADHD meds, started my first ever full-time job, and had to quit after 3 months - 2 of those months being on sick leave.

I felt mortified. Everything I'd worked for crumbled, what even was the point in trying to improve myself if I couldn't trust my body or mind to keep their shit together when it mattered most?

But here I am. And weirdly, I'm maybe the happiest I've ever been, despite being in the middle of months of medical investigations where cancer is a real possibility.

I often felt like it was my destiny to kill myself.

Fuck destiny.

As Elminster said:

Be a moon unto yourself. Even the waves of fate can break upon the shores of will.

[suchawrathfullamb]

Hii! What do you think Will and/or Hannibal feel for Abigail? I don't understand them manipulating her if they feel something towards her, especially if in some way she reminds Hannibal of Mischa.

And it seems Will thinks of Abigail in relation to Garrett Jacob Hobbs. Her "resurrection" only to be killed would obviously be upsetting to him.

I would love to know your thoughts!

I think Hannibal sensed she was like him, she enjoyed killing (which a lot of people forget but she does end up admitting it in a flashback in s3), and he wanted to "collect" her, to build a family for himself but at first he saw her as a means to get closer to Will. And that's why I think him killing her was inevitable. In s2 he lets Will think she's dead, imo, to test if Will wants to be with him for him, not for Abigail, that's why he was waiting to show her the night they were going to escape, as a "gift" for Will passing this test. Except he didn't. The only reason he didn't allow himself to fully embrace that and escape with Hannibal was because he believed H killed Abigail (he says so to Freddie, after she says she won't let Abigail's death go, "believe me, neither will I").

I think Will projected unto Abigail, he barely had a real connection with her. I don't think he manipulated her, though.

And H did it because he doesn't believe anyone would stay with him out of free will. He coerces, blackmails and makes others dependent on him so they won't leave him. He does that to Bedelia, too.

But Hannibal does not love anyone beyond his own ego, except Will, hence the chaos and destruction this causes. And that's why he kills Abigail, even though he cared about her. Because Will said "I already did", when H asked him if he believed he could change him. He was trying to show Will he did not change, that his affection for him was not enough to make him vulnerable, pliable or soft. He does his act of cruelty as if to say "see? You have not changed me". He did, of course lol, but H was heartbroken.

[cheshire-silent-cat]

Move my heart

Hobie x y/n (pt.1)

This may as well me the new series I’m coming up with, I’m obsessing over this man so I hv too many story ideas, I am writing this hungry but gosh I’m way too lazy to go but what I want to use to cook so Hobie is distracting me from my problems so I help he can distract you from yours

For now there are no warning asides from the fact that I think it’s cute

Feedback is always welcome and if you see any mistakes in the piece let me know in the comments so I can fix them

**************************************************

“Hobie? Hobart” a mystery lady spoke, Hobie standing in a field, clutching unto his throat he could not breath, but regardless he still turned his head to her “I finally know what to say to you when I find you, please find me in the future” you said coughing out a black substance, before dropping to the ground, a black goo spreading across the field, Hobie with a terrified expression takes a few steps back, suddenly feeling a sense of obligation runs towards your body, as it her body dissolves into the black goo covered ground, desperate to get to this person, unable to breath he runs even faster, not minding the goo latching unto him, slowing him down, he still wanted to try and y the time he got to her, she was gone he started to slow down and as his vision glazed over he too collapsed in that field. And he woke up.

He quickly sat up in his bed, taking big breaths, his Shallow breathing was loud , he looked breathless his hands shaking and beads of sweat forming at his forehead, he looked around to find Gwen and pav, they had crashed at his place and now he wished they hadn’t “shit, are you ok, you look awful” Gwen stated slowly reaching her hand out to his back, “I’m fine” his cold tone forced Gwen to retract her hand before it made contact with him, “you sure dude, we heard grunts and you were tossing and turning you did not at all look peaceful” pav joked trying to lighten the mood but it wasn’t working “I said I’m fucking fine, mate, now go to sleep or some shit….. piss off” with that he roughly laid down facing away from them, he thought to himself how his friends were being silly, he had had these dreams several times, it’s really no big deal, he is fine, isn’t he??

“Hobie, get your head in the game this is serious” spider woman yells motioning at the zoned out spider punk to do something, anything. Hobie vigorously shook his head he caught sight of long hair, with a familiar hue, grabbing the civilian with such speed that he himself almost tripped but gazing at the civilian’s face it wasn’t the mysterious woman, he let go of the woman, raising his hands in the air in a surrendering motion. He backed away slowly.

Because of his new detrimental moves during battles against anomolies he was called to HQ, by Miguel “mate, what is this, the Human Resources phone you or sumthin” he tried to deliver a joke but his voice trailed off into a mix of cold and tired every time he spoke, “Hobie what’s actually going on?” Peter b Parker spoke up “man, I don’t know what you are on about, so lay off” Hobie spoke leaning on a nearby wall, “dude you seem exhausted” Peter tried again to reason with Hobie, “and did I tell you I was tired” Hobie spoke his voice even darker, he did not like to admit his problems but when Peter handed mayday to him Hobie found himself spilling his guts like the baby had held him at gun point, “astral projection” Miguel diagnosed, then he chuckled which seemed to set Hobie off based on his expressions Miguel was lucky mayday was holding him back “sorry, it’s just that you were trying to find this person in your present time, Eres tan estupida, there is no point to that even if you did meet the person, lo que harás, the person won’t know you because-“ Miguel stated before being rudely interrupted by Peter b Parker’s voice of realisation “you are seeing their future self”

“Exactly, but don’t worry you will definitely meet this person, seems like a canon event at this point, but don’t tell them about tho stuff it could stop the canon event from happening” Miguel said scrolling throught the tablet screen in his hand, “damn…. Imagine how much I could have saved on fortune cookies” Hobie rolled his eyes, “there is just no winning you over is there, whatever” Peter said rolling his eyes “shit the new recruit kind is today and spider woman is u available…uhhhh hobart take care of this” Miguel order “fuck no” “yeah give the man a break he sounds exhausted” “Oi I ain’t exhausted” “see he isn’t exhausted and that’s good because the recruit is already here” Miguel looked at Hobie with a cocky grin “where” Peter asked frantically turning his head, “what for it” Miguel said his face now looking impressed, you dropped from the sky view, crashing through the ceiling “oh there she is”.

Landing infront of Hobie you ride up slowly allowing him to assess your figure, your suit had a hoodie as well as an opening at your lower back and your stomach, the pants part of your jumpsuit were shorts complimented with high knee sock-shoes to show off your thighs, you were gorgeous, you smelled so nice too hang on what the fuck was he thinking, he just met you there is no way he is thirsty for someone he hasn’t actually seen the face off, staring at him, you cock your head to a side “what you staring at love, I got sumthin on my face” he said feeling his mask, “hmm.. funky mask style, oh cool outfit, instead of a traditional suit, definitely a rocker with that sexy punk rock attitude” you said basically circling him, Hobie got tired of using his eyes to follow you so he just stared straight ahead “look love I don’t know what your getting at but-“ Hobie protested but was interrupted by your actions, you grabbed his face is a playful yet loving way “and the cutest British accent, there is not a doubt in my mind you are Hobie” you added and that got to him.

Hobie was used to a lot of things but his accent being called was something that made him blush so hard he was happy to still have his mask on, looking into the eyes of your mask that reflected his own, he suddenly felt calmer, much more relaxed and vulnerable, even though you were just holding his face and he was bent over to meet your height it was comfortable for him and he never wanted to leave, seeing Hobie in a tamed manner was weird to all the others in the room, “oh my how rude of me I did not introduce myself I’m spider-belle” you say sheepishly as tho you were embarrassed by your own name “spider-belle?” Gwen asked as she walked into the room, with miles looking confused at the name, “yeah… originally I was called spider woman but then the people started calling me spider-belle and it just stuck I don’t exactly like the name because it’s directed to my body but yeah” you say “.I can tell” she continues and you chuckle several times trying to get comfy with the conversation “it is what it is innit” Bobbie said regaining his senses after you let go.

Simultaneously everyone in the room received a notice on their watches, and within seconds a portal was opened, a green goblin anomaly had appeared in a spider less world, a big team was needed considering that the anomaly was big and over powered, it was an actual green goblin with wings and a sonic roar and it was on a rampage, it had already taken down the scarlet spider which meant it was a big deal.

[darkaviarymc]

hello! i see you asked for mumscarian headcanons so :3

scar thinks it’s funny when grian yells at him for anything, so he gets into trouble on purpose (this is basically canon who am i kidding)

when someone gets too caught up in their work the other two sneak up on them and drag them away (this frequently results in cuddle piles)

in grian’s case, if he ISNT doing his work, they are So Motivational and try to get him to do it.

grian is Very motivated by sweet things, so scar bakes cookies as a reward

mumbo gifts scar little silly redstone contraptions because scar loves silly little things that move

tbh ive never made a headcanon post before (no head thoughts empty) but i hope you enjoyed and hope you feel better :D

More mumscarian asks!

"SCAR, NO!" Is basically a love language at this point 😆

Scar is the worst of the three about neglecting self care when he gets caught up in something. Yes the garden is beautiful but have you eaten anything besides ice cream cakes in the past three days? When was your last shower, you smell (affectionate) They have kidnapped him and dumped him in a babble bath fully clothed on more than one occasion.

The back of Grian’s base. Enough said.

Actually not enough said, because I'm going to go off on a tangent here. I am DISAPPOINTED in the hermits as a whole because NO ONE thought the knock out the "ed" on Grian’s giant "FINISHED" sign, sloppily squeeze in an extra N, and build a giant Finnish flag. Shame be unto all hermitkind /lh

You are the second anon to say that Scar bakes them cookies, and it's really not even a headcanon at this point. I'm a sucker for it, though, so I imagine that Grian has been trained like Pavlov's dog to expect cookies every time he accomplishes the most mundane of tasks and pouts when he doesn't get them. No, Grian. A basic animal pen does not earn an entire tray of sweets.

Mumbo builds silly little piston-powered slime bouncers all over Scarland, and Scar has neglected some of the more tedious projects around the park in favor of going boing on those things more times than he cares to admit.

Thank you anon for sending this! And yes, I am feeling better now 🩷

[blackfangedreaper]

RENDEZVOUS

Summary: Co-workers by day, Lovers by night.

Pairings: Aizawa shouta x Fem reader

Warning: lemon🍋, cunnilingus and grammatical errors.

(〃'▽'〃)

You perked up feet padding on the floor as you made your way to your front door. You  wondered who in their right mind would be visiting you this late.

You had made dinner for yourself and shouta; was meant to show up an hour ago. You guess he wasn't coming anymore, maybe he was working overtime. Whatever, seems like your eating dinner alone.

Exhaling you opened the door but before you could see who it was you were shoved inside and pinned to the closed door.

"Sorry i'm late, had to round up some files." He said placing his head in your neck, littering kisses all over them.

"S-Shouta?!" You stammered figuring who had been knocking on your door. You both were co-workers, being a secret admirer of his you only watched him from afar, only becoming closer when you both were assigned to a project together.

He felt drawn to you so he asked you out, only going for a couple of dates and he was falling hard. But then an obstacle he had to overcome; Asking you out.

It seems easy enough but the problem was co-workers weren't allowed to be intimate with each other in order to promote a carefree and drama free work space.

Of course he's willing to break the rules for you but you just seemed scared or hesitant rather, many what ifs coming to mind, but surprisingly you folded and accepted after a passionate night between you two.

The feeling of his lips against yours brought you back from your disorganised thoughts. You circled your arms around his neck as he continued to kiss you, licking sucking and biting on your bottom lip.

You opened your mouth welcoming his tongue to tangle with yours, you moaned as he sucked on your tongue before giving you a peck on your plush and swollen lips.

You sighed feeling him rub his palm on your clothed cunt before hooking his fingers on the hem if your loose shorts and pulling them down along with your panties, letting them slide down your legs, you stepped put of them as they made contact with the floor.

You shivered as the cold air made contact with your wet and throbbing clit, you flinched the presence of his warm hands circling around your hips.

Going down on his knees, he threw your legs over his shoulders. Moaning, he relished in the warmth of your thighs around his face squeezing him in allowing him to take in the addicting scent of your lady.

"Look at you, your dripping." His breath brushing against you had your breath quickening. "And I haven't even started yet."

"Ah!" He begun to hear your whimpers as he continued to massage your clit with his tongue, making a mess out of you, he had barely even started but here you are moaning like a bitch in heat.

You jolted feeling his wet muscle roam your insides sloppily, eating you out like you were his last meal. His stubble brushing against you brought you more stimulation as he continued to devour your every being.

Your insides tightening against his tongues as he hummed warned him of your incoming release.

"I'm c-coming!" You warned arching your back against the door as you pulled on his hair ruining his uptied hair-do.

He hummed out a sultry 'come' and you were done for, the line present in your abdomen thinning before snapping on his command.

"A-Agh-!" Your head rolling to the side as you came undone. Shouta licked his lips before ridding his shoulder of your legs to stand up, when he was sure you could stand on your own.

"A-Are you ready to talk now? Like d-decent human beings." You said breathless holding unto shouta shoulders for support. He embraced you, leaving kisses up and down your neck.

"No... Let's stay like this for a while." He hummed against your neck.

"Ok... Let's stay like this then." You sighed running your fingers through his hair. Seems like dinner will have to wait, and so will your bottomless half. Thank God it wasn't winter.

(〃'▽'〃)

Hi!...Bye!! ❤

[lord-squiggletits]

4, 13, 23, 26, 47, 65 :)

4. what is the plot bunny you’ve been carrying for the longest? optional bonus question: do you ever wonder why you haven’t written it yet and experience deep existential dread?

The first story idea I ever came up with for Transformers/IDW MegOP is a novel idea named "The Blade Called Trust", I literally thought it was going to be my first Transformers fic until the initial concept of Pay Unto Evil came to mind and supplanted it (as I had more/better plot ideas to make an outline).

The main reason I haven't worked on it is because TBCT is intended to be (even when I first conceived it) a magnum opus of IDW MegOP as well as possibly even IDW1 as a whole. It's not just gonna be megop-centric, but it's also going to be me picking and choosing my favorite parts of IDW1 and remixing them into my own fic that's basically an "alternate continuity" of sorts. Though not a fix-it fic so much as as it is a love letter to IDW1, making my own version of it but also paying homage to all of the coolest parts of it IMO.

As such, it's a super mega intense project that I need to do another read of IDW1 so that I can refresh myself on the lore, favorite characters, plotlines/themes I would've liked to see more of, etc. And THEN I can make a proper outline for it, and once that happens I'm home free to actually start writing.

13. talk about a writing experience that has pleasantly surprised you.

idk how to answer this one so I'm just gonna say N/A lkdsfklds

23. how do you deal with writers block?

Cry into my friends' DMs lamenting the limitations of my mortal form and why it is I can't be 100% creative and energized all of the time (not joking, my hubris is real bad). Suffer and wait for it to be over. Get really depressed about it. Usually focus on my other hobbies (gardening, sewing) while I wait for the writing juice to come back.

26. do you like to write one-shots or series, and why?

I don't have a preference. If an idea is meant to be a one-shot, I'm happy to write it as a one-shot. If it's meant to be a series/multichapter, likewise. I think being able to write a one-off piece that scratches some brain itch idea I had in my mind is just as good as an idea that takes multiple chapters/pieces to fully realize.

47. what story are you most proud of?

NOOOOO DON'T ASK ME TO BE PROUD OF MYSELF NOOOOO

Somewhat surprisingly I think it's actually An Endless Form Most Beautiful. I reread that fic somewhat recently trying to motivate myself to finish chapter 10, and holy absolute fuck. Past me was a genius writing it. The pacing is perfect. The slow tension and reveal of OP's backstory is also perfect. The romance between OP and Megatron feels natural and develops in a very deep way throughout the fic, centered on them developing trust and sharing their deepest thoughts/fears/goals/affirmations to each other. Impactor is an amazing secondary protagonist whose platonic love for Megatron hits just as hard as the main romantic plot between Orion and Megatron. The recurring themes of community, friendship, love, and collective support are CONSTANT and reinforced by basically everything that happens in the plot. Past me was a genius. I don't understand why I was so worried about the romance feeling unnatural/rushed or the themes being poorly represented.

I don't really like to compare my longfics to each other since I think each is different, but I think the entirety of AEFMB has thematic strength comparable to the epilogue chapters of Pay Unto Evil. Everything is so tightly knit together, but instead of PUE where the themes of mercy/restorative justice were basically an emotional payoff for a long story of suffering and hard choices, AEFMB's themes are a long, slow burn that keep the reader warm throughout the length of the fic, giving it a much more optimistic feeling.

That being said I'm also really proud of Pay Unto Evil for being the first novel-length story I've ever completed. And also for the fact that people keep leaving me comments saying how deeply the story impacted them or made them cry or gave them hope in happy endings.

65. what is your favourite title for a fic you’ve written? 

Pay Unto Evil is probably my favorite, given how succinctly it summarizes the theme of the entire fic. When you first pick it up, I imagine some readers might take "pay unto evil" to be phrased as a sort of declarative statement, an implication that this fic is going to be about karma and people getting what they deserve based on their past actions. But then you read on through the fic all the way to the end (or you already recognize/know the Bible verse the title is stolen from) and realize the actual plot/theme is quite the opposite.

It's a short, catchy, clever, deceptive (if you don't know the original quote it came from), insightful (if you do know the original quote) and meaningful title all in one. Technically a fic title only needs to make some kind of sense to be "good," but it's always nice as a writer when you find that title that's a real ZINGER, as clever and profound as something that would be published as an actual great work of literature.

But also, shout out to one of my Tarnma one-shots little death because even though it's quite a generic/cheesy title (everyone knows that "little death" is based on a French euphemism for orgasming sdlfdjlsk), it feels really fitting for how cheesy and romantic Pharma and Tarn are for each other in that fic, as well as the fact that Pharma having sparkplay done on him via Tarn's voice literally is flirting with death in a way. Thus, little death.

Other shout-outs: Love's Harvest, Of Tides Inevitable, and the joke titles of the one-shot Not According to Plan leading to a sequel fic called Exactly According to Plan. Besides that I literally get most of my fic titles from stealing song lyrics and/or lines of poetry so lmao 😂😂😂

[lina-al-sereno]

The Dangers of Assumptions

Never assume to know for a fact what a man thinks your place is in his life or what kind of thoughts he has about you, wait until you hear them directly from his mouth. Being told by anyone else (his friends or yours), rumors, or whatever intuition you believe you possess, do not count. Stop deluding yourself and trusting others explicitly, most people will not have your best interests at heart.

Do not project what you believe your relationship to be unto your interactions and feelings towards them. Always maintain some distance until you know for a fact (he has told you), what he thinks of you and where in his life you belong.

Do not be naive in regards to your relationships with men, specially if you are newly acquainted or have interacted only sporadically and at a distance. It doesn't matter if a friend/family member introduced you, or you met through work or other commitments. Wanting to see the best in people, and assuming men you barely know are good and that your safety is guaranteed, is extremely stupid. Only time and exposure will show you truly who you're dealing with, and what intentions they have towards you.

Do not trust that whatever social barriers you believe are at play will keep you safe, not age differences, not degrees of separations, not work spaces, not commitments and relationships in their lives. Understand that a man will play by whatever rules he wants to, and can, and will not think twice about doing so, of overstepping them.

Do not rely exclusively in your past experiences. There will always be similarities and common themes throughout your interactions with men, specially if you are meeting them in the same ways and places. But never forget that every single one of them is their own person, and thinking that there are guaranteed and universal responses is dangerous.

Speaking from personal experience, I made the mistake of assuming what kind of relationship I had with a couple of male coworkers once, believed myself to be safe, and have never made that mistake again. I was young, naive, and it was not only one of my first experiences interacting with adult men as a woman on my own, but also one of my first job experiences. They were both far older than me, had partners and daughters at home (one of which was quite close to me in age), and we were half of the handful of workers employed at the time.

I perceived one of them as something of a guiding influence. He had been working there far longer than I had, and he even introduced his daughter (my contemporary) and asked me to give her university advice. Our interactions were completely platonic, he was kind and helpful, and nothing else was ever insinuated. The other man I held at somewhat of a distance, we were cordial and our interactions were almost exclusively work related. However, about six months into being coworkers, they thought it was acceptable to approach and proposition me together.

I would be lying if I said I remember the exact words they used, but what I do remember and will most likely never forget, is exactly how those words made me feel. The horrified disgust, and feeling absolutely blindsided. They thought it was appropriate to invite me to a threesome for a night, in the middle of the work day. Not only had I met their children/partners and was nearly 20 years younger than them, but never had I given an indication of being receptive to any kind of advances. I assumed and believed there were clear boundaries in our relationship, and never did I see them as more than coworkers. However, they still thought it acceptable to get together and discuss how they wanted to share my body, how they would proposition me, what might happen afterwards, and who knows what else.

I'm sharing all of this, just to caution you. I fooled myself into believing that I knew exactly where I stood with these men, that I had a clear picture of what they wanted from me, what the boundaries of our relationships were, but until that awful moment they had never uttered a single word about those things.

Do yourself a favor, and never forget that initially you are in possession of only your own cards, and that in order to grasp the full picture you must wait for a man to show his hand. Don't let assumptions color your reality, it makes you susceptible and leaves you very much vulnerable.

Lina.

[canonicallysoulmates]

So there I was casually scrolling, minding my business when I came upon a reaction to something Tom Hiddleston said in a recent interview. Some of y'all already know where this is going yes I am talking about what's being passed around as the "siblings comment" regarding Loki and Sylvie. Now because I know how fandom is, and how antis are, I decided to go ahead and look up the moment myself to see what was actually said and the context. After watching it, I was slightly confused as to some of the reactions I had seen but I was like whatever and planned to continue on with my day because the quote is really not that big a deal.

Plans obviously changed. Two reasons why: the first is that it's been a whole year but some still don't know how to stay in their fucking lane, the second being that I saw some fellow shippers point out that the antis are gonna take this and run with it and use it as fuel to attack us which is true, they're already doing it.

So I'm gonna address this, the first thing I'm gonna get out of the way is that Tom is allowed his opinion and feelings regarding the Loki and Sylvie relationship regardless of wether or not those opinions and feelings are positive towards my ship. I, as a fan, am also allowed my opinions and feelings regarding the Loki and Sylvie relationship regardless of wether or not those opinions and feeling match Tom's. Sorry to dissapoint some of you but this sylki shipper is not crying into her pillow over his comment. I love and respect the man but I do not need his approval or validation of my ships.

That out of the way let's get into his comment which was actually not a negative one. The way I saw this being portrait by some painted it as if he had said that they were siblings and he had had a problem with the romance aspect of things but what he actually said is that what he and Sophia really enjoyed about Loki and Sylvie's relationship was the exploration of their mutual curiosity in each other and what qualities they share and don't, that it was fun for them to create that dynamic. This is when he says that "it's almost like long-lost siblings or something", almost like does not mean that they are or even that he thinks they are he was just looking for a comparision that matches with the explanation he was giving of a relationship where two people who are so alike yet so different meeting for the first time and being infinitely curious about each other thus "almost like" followed by "or something".

We need to bring back the trope of childhood best friends who say they are only platonic/family-like until they drift apart and reconnect years later and end up falling in love cause some are failing to understand how one can go from only platonic feelings to romantic feelings.

Anyways afterwards he proceeds to give some praise to Sophia for her work as Sylvie, and says that Loki and Sylvie's dynamic (as well as the Loki and Mobius one) were central to the whole show. Timestamp for those who want to hear what he said themselves: here. I would highly reccomend it.

I did not just watch that moment though I watched the whole interview as well as another one that I came accross while looking for this one and I'm glad I did because some of the reactions that I saw of this project their hatred and dislike of Kate Herron unto Tom, once again, babying him trying to make it seem like he hated it and it's all her fault, and he had no input in the show and wasn't listened to at any point. Even though in this very interview he mentions that Kate was very helpful to him getting back into the mindset of Avengers!Loki after so many years. x And in a previous interview he said Kate had the most wonderful take on what the series is about saying that when he heard her answer to him asking what she thought it was about he thought "she gets it!" x

In that previous interview he also mentions how the "Loki 101" came to be because he kept being asked by various department heads for his input and opinion so he went to Kate and assembled everyone in a room for a couple hours so he could explain and talk about the character and how he has developed him through all these years. x I would reccomend checking out both interviews they're pretty good and you can tell how much love and thought he puts into Loki and how much work he has put into the series.

Can't wrap this up without mentioning Crimson Peak because some y'all really think this man would be pressed over a romantic relationship between "almost like siblings" when he worked in a movie where his character fucks his own sister.

In conclusion, antis are annoying, and context is always key.

[stormy-seasons]

picking up the threads of the war prize AU again, after a very extensive writing jag for a project that'll get revealed later.

This would go after the current chapter of War Prize on AO3

He takes them to bed, and pleasures them thoroughly. It is... nice – Xiao gasps through more orgasms than they had thought their body capable of, and Morax even deigns to make use of them. He keeps them with him, in the afterglow, and cuddles them in his arms. It is very pleasant. It... isn’t where they should be, where they deserve to be, but... Morax had said they had earned a reward, Xiao reminds themselves. He had said they could have this. 

But it grates, to be given unto over and over, without giving themselves. That is not... that is not their role. That is not their position, as Morax’s prize. They should be serving him – not being served by him. A soft whine cracks from their throat at the latest overwhelming wave of pleasure – they should be... doing... more.

Morax pulls back. Looks at them piercingly. “What is it, Xiao?”

They shiver with unease at his tone, but answer, “This one... this one should be more... more...”

They don’t know the words. Morax frowns at them. “This is your reward for your excellent obedience, Xiao. You are serving me like this.”

It feels odd. It feels wrong. It is wrong – this is not service, this is indulgence, wanton indulgence of them, of something unworthy of such kindness as they are. They haven't... earned such kindness, have they? Morax strokes their cheek kindly, too kindly, for the small obediences they have given him, and Xiao whines. It's too gentle a touch, now that their head is clearer. 

"Xiao?" Morax murmurs, stroking their cheek again. They would answer, but they have no words that Morax would accept. Xiao remains quiet. He sighs. "Perhaps I have asked a little too much of you, you seem weary. Come, Xiao, rest with me."

It is a sign of favour that Morax bids them stay with him. 

It feels like a favour that Xiao does not deserve. They lay very still in Morax's arms, lest their movements disrupt his rest. They don't intend to sleep, precisely, but... sleep bowls them over sooner than they expect.

Small mercies. They do not dream. 

Perhaps they sleep too deeply. When they wake, Morax is not there. When they wake, they are not in his bed, but in the bed – in the bed, the space, that Morax had deigned to allocate to them. The door is unlocked. There is no restraint whatsoever on Xiao, not even a ... token, a reminder. Not even the collar that Morax had once placed on their neck. Obscurely, Xiao finds themselves longing for that weight upon their neck and shoulders. Finds themselves longing, for one bitter moment, for Morax to be inexplicably cruel. They could deal with that. They were used to dealing with that. This kindness, this patience for something long since too broken to properly appreciate such restraint... it frightens them. 

Xiao shakes the thought away before they can dwell on it further, and looks around. Had Morax left any instructions for them, like before?

[mage-and-the-tantrums]

I am not hungry anymore

A ritual. A couple of cigarettes, water, 1 AM. The streets are vacant, just like I love them, except for the occasional lurkers at the Cafes, killing time so it won't kill them. I am one of those.

I go back to the office, I figure I have enough time to sit down, and scribble, yet another text about her. 4, 5th time ? No one got this much posts in my blog. Except for her.

24 days of static. Zilch. Not a single word exchanged past that weird conversation in which I confessed that I always liked her, then a diplomatic, generic rejection, afterwards, the very useless information that someone had a crush on me from the start. Someone else, who was her friend. I wish I cared.

I don't know what I am wishing to fulfil writing this. Closure ? For what ? Organising my thoughts ? Organised flawlessly. I just have been feeling that mystical urge to spit my soul unto a digital paper, and before talking to her again, (only because I said I'll be a good sport and hold no hard feelings (none to behold after all)), I needed to finish it with this.

It all started that day. We had spent 4 solid years without talking to each other. 2 of those while we lived in the same town. No one walked the extra step of finding the other, and we were perfectly fine with that. I was healing from another relationship and surviving in settings that challenged my very soul, and she was with someone else.

That day, I felt I was poked in a certain fashion that would suggest to the most cynical that she might be interested in me. And that was the final shove that nudged me over that edge, on which I was already standing. Suddenly I remembered how beautiful she is, how intelligently humorous she was, and how gracefully she carried herself. Suddenly she was all I could think of. I found it in my heart to be able to see someone in that light, once again, after so fucking long.

More importantly, if there is a winner in all of this, and despite how arrogant and cruelly funny it may sound, it is me. Seeing her in that light and projecting myself with someone like her made me see a lot around me. It's like this gigantic floodlight that has been cast unto my life. A lot of my routine has changed, I went back to sport, to prayer, to consistent writing. I killed time, and did it effectively, after so many rounds lost during which I danced in the abyss, with ghosts.

Yet, I feel like I was being a little bit played with. It may come across as an exaggeration, but why girls always say stuff they do not mean ? Why the fucking mixed signals ? What's up with the intimate questions, and the promises of fake plans ? At least I know the answer now, but it is not as if I wanted to exhibit interest in a friend who lives overseas, years after we shared the same town and nothing had already happened. It is already a dead end that even if I wanted to walk, she would not.

Do we really mean it when we say we are friends ? Can you go 4 years without talking to a "good friend" ? Not even once you'd ask about their lives, whether they are well or no ? I believe that we were never good friends. Well at some point in time, but then we simply disappeared from each other's lives. Do I really mean it when I say I am interested in being her friend ? I do not know. It is not vital for me. Never has been.

I was watching the show we accidentally discovered we both adore. Two of my favourite characters started kissing. The woman looked nothing like her, and there I was, imagining another man unbuttoning her shirt, grabbing her waist, and torridly kissing her lips until they both run out of breath. I felt, like shit. The whole point of someone else, being enough for her, someone who would share her life, and not me, stroke me like an incoming locomotive at full speed. I was in awe of where that thought came from.

I am almost certain that this would prepare me for something better down the road, and I am very happy that now I have a proof that eventually, someone would spark my interest, and pluck my chords in the right order. It has been so long that I thought that part of me broke forever. I am also very glad I broke up with my old ways. Sometimes when I remember how I used to spend my day, I want to throw up. I would cut myself some slack after all, because I believe that certain settings are favourable for blossom, while others suffocate the living soul out. Unequivocally I fall into the latter category. But I simply do not care anymore.

I just can't throw away the thought that we would make a hell of a match. I still believe that. The only difference is that I do not want it anymore.

Now I don't care what the future holds As long as I love and grow old I always thought that I would die If I didn't have you by my side But I've changed my mind Yeah, I've changed my mind Been feeling like myself more than ever before And now I don't even know what I need you for Been feeling like myself more than ever before And now I'm not hungry I'm not hungry for love, your love anymore Now I feel like myself, myself More than ever before Marina & The Diamonds - I Am Not Hungry Anymore

[justawannabe-princesss]

Btw I know nobody follows me but like

I need to put this somewhere

I think I'm a lesbian

Maybe

🌸🌺🌸🌺🌸

I kinda want to be wrong, which ik is internalized homophobia 100%

But like I'll overcome that some day because it's not homophobia that projects onto anybody else, just back unto myself.

What would happen if I was a lesbian?

Could I find love that doesn't scare me and make me feel nauseous at the thought of it if I just accepted I probably just want to date a woman instead of a man?

Rahhhh

Could I skip to the part where I just know who I'm supposed to be and how I'll find happiness????

It's been four years since I started calling myself bi almost to the day, anything else would be unusual.

I thought I was asexual for a bit then but that didn't feel right

The difference between when my guy friend said he liked me and a girl friend saying she liked me.... Like I've tried to tell myself it's because of my dynamic with each of them, that I only felt sick and guilty about the guy instead of warm and giggly like the girl because of the dynamics I had with the two of them being so different.

But like...

I really don't know anymore.

I wish my mother would hug me and say "it's okay if you like girls I accept you" , i haven't even come out to her as bi yet because I didn't feel I had a reason to but like

What am iiiiii

[justmightyshadows]

Chapter 4 is finally done! I was moving a bit slow trying to get the dynamics of Muira and Minthara right. Two nobles who are both kind of power hungry but are on opposite sides of luck at this point. I don't think I could make all the chapters this long though, hopefully it pays off with showing their bond.

Minthara slowly poured over a thick tome of the complete history of the city of Selkanarth that she had stolen from one of the shelves in Shar’s library. At the time she was amazed to see it sitting in the stacks of texts forgotten to the world, she had waited until the others were preoccupied with tending to Shadowheart and slipped it into her bag. Now that so many of the others were out of camp scouring for the last orb in this never-ending temple she finally had time to search its contents. Within the pages of detailed and tedious city construction was a small image of the cities founder - a short, tan woman with bushels of curly brown hair, adorned with glyph like tattoos. An arrow pointed to another image which showed the same woman supposedly, this time covered with dark obsidian scales and holding a golden trident. Minthara looked up and saw the golden trident that rested at the edge of Muira’s tent, the glow of its point made it feel as if it were watching her. ‘If she was the founder of this city - she was not hiding it, or she was unaware that anyone had written of her at all.’ Minthara thought. She placed one of her ribbons to mark the page and rested it at the edge of their bedroll -‘Her bedroll’. Minthara corrected herself. Though they had come to be quite close the thought of being one still gave Minthara pause. There seemed to be much to learn about her lover if this book was to be believed and much they still had to decide.

“Minthy! Come join us for dinner. I made your favorite, mushrooms!” Karlach stood by the fire showing off an array of mushrooms each more charred than the next as she dished out giant servings to Lae’zel, herself and Minthara. She ignored the nickname, it was useless to get Karlach to stop and did nothing to better their ties. “I will partake, though it seems you cooked them to your internal temperature. In the Underdark we usually barely kiss them with flame.” “Yeah I guess they are a bit over - but better than eating ‘em raw!” Karlach responded with a large smile. Lae’zel sneered at the dinner before looking around the camp for any sign of protein. “Minthara - I know that Muira keeps fresh and dried fish at all times. Where is it?” Lae’zel snapped locking her eyes on Muira’s tent “If she has not told you - it is not for you to know.” Minthara teased, wagging a finger towards Lae’zel. “She would not want the warriors by her side to eat only dirt outgrowths. I need more to fill myself.” She showed off the plate of burned mushrooms and made a disappointed face at its contents. Minthara chuckled lightly - she had to admit that both her and Muira shared a soft spot for Laezel. They tended to her growth and imparted any wisdom they could unto her. Muira had said many times they should groom her to be a captain of one of their raiding ships when this was over, ensuring her the chance to etch her name among the legends of the astral plane. Rising from her seat she retrieved two large fish for the camp to share, which were hidden on a small drying rack behind Muira’s tent. Lae’zel’s eyes widened and she seized the fish, determined to cook them before Karlach could torch them to cinders. “You’ve done enough; let me show you the skill of a Githyanki chef.” Lae’zel said confidently towards a seemingly dejected Karlach. Soon dinner was ready and they quietly went about eating, none among them wanting to bring up the passing of time with no words yet from their companions.

The unspoken weight hung in the air as they shared the silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Karlach jumped to her feet seemingly unable to endure the stillness any longer - shifting nervously around and fidgeting with the silver necklace Tav had given her. “Seems like they’ve been gone a long time. I should have gone with her.” She said to her seated companions, turning to each for looks of reassurance. Minthara watched her with a look of mild disgust and chided her swiftly “Have faith in our warriors, Karlach. I cannot think of a mortal alive who could best Muira in battle and they have the overly emotional cleric with them as well. She should be able to at least heal minor wounds in between her brooding. Speak of it no more, words alone can allow what we feared to become what is reality.” She tried her best to settle the rising emotions around her but speaking Muira’s name only caused her to think uneasy thoughts herself. Raphael had warned them of an ever lurking danger within the temple, could it be this beast had bested them, even Muira? Impossible, and even if it had come to pass she would seek revenge throughout faerun. She could see Muira’s face even now, hear her voice “Do not let them see you weak. We must lead at every moment until we have won them to our side.” She steeled her face and made herself seem immune to worry in the eyes of her companions. She could feel Lae’zel’s watchful glances probing her as if checking that she was maintaining her composure. She refused to look pitiful, particularly with her pupils eyes on her.

The immense stone doors that lead to the rest of the shrine suddenly began to move and open. Out of the foreboding darkness stumbled in Shadowheart, Gale and Tav. Each appearing more battered than the other. Their bodies bore the story of their battle on them - covered in burn marks, dripping blood from various slashes and Tav even sported a stray arrow through the arm. Shadowheart was holding up Tav gingerly under the other arm, who seemed to have a broken leg as well. “Hells” Karlach said through a choked voice. She rushed over, traversing the room in what looked like one very large step and lifted them all into her arms, hurriedly placing them by the fire. Gale and Shadowheart were closest to Lae’zel who begrudgingly began to bandage up the wizard, he leaned his head into her shoulder causing her to scoff loudly. She made a motion to bandage the cut on Shadowheart’s hand, holding her wrist softly until Shadowheart felt the others eyes on her and pulled away. Instead she asked for more healing powers from her God. While everyone was taking the time to heal Tav nestled into Karlach’s lap and took a large healing potion from her hands, drinking it back so violently that some dribbled out the side of her mouth, and down her chin. She lowered her head with a gasp her body unaccustomed to the air it was suddenly receiving.

The fire crackled in low pops and ebbs of wood as silence once again settled over them. Lae’zel shared expectant glances at the other companions before becoming frustrated and blurting out “Where is Muira?” The questions hung in the air between them as the survivors looked down at the ground. Only Tav dared answer, albeit with an air of feigned confidence. “Didn’t make it. We were ambushed trying to find that powerful cambion or devil by about 20 of Hell’s soldiers. I called for a retreat pretty soon in but she couldn’t get out of the fight I guess. Siffi*.” She shruged her shoulders and leaned into Karlach who looked troubled by the statement, but wraped her arms around her nonetheless. Minthara was the only one besides Shadowheart who would know the insult for what it was - ‘idiot’ Tav had called her. Idiot, she dared to say, when the one down a soldier and without the final orb sat in front of them. She clenched her fists but held her ground - the squabble would have to wait. “Tchk! So you’re a coward?” Lae’zel responded loudly before Minthara could inquire further “You’d leave her to die to save yourself?” Minthara interjected before Tav could respond “She would leave her behind without any cause at all, Lae’zel. There is no love lost between them, Muira believed them at least united in the same cause, she will not make the mistake again when she returns. Do not worry yourself with this one’s honor. She has none.” She rose to go to her tent, her head spun and the ground seemed barely able to contain her, the darkness suddenly seemed to be the only comfort she would be able to find. To her departing back Tav launched another quip. “When? You mean if. She wasn’t smart enough to run away and I am not sure in her prowess to fight her way out. She has been only words and broken promises since she arrived here!” Karlach lifted her and breathed a quiet “That’s enough.” Before carrying her back to their tent her eyes full of worry at the changes happening before her.

Minthara fell to her knees behind the velvety curtains of her sanctuary and began to frantically look for a stray spider. She saw one dangling from a frayed edge and cupped it quickly in her hand. “Find her.” She whispered to it as she placed it down - where it scuttled off into the darkness. ‘It’s useless’ she thought. Lolth would not heed her call and the spiders would no longer do her bidding. Her mind flooded with visions of Muira bleeding out in the hallways of the temple with no one there - with no one even looking for her. She reached out for her weapon and called for Lae’zel to come to her. “Lae’zel, Waelin uss**, to me.” Her young warrior appeared quickly kneeling softly at her side. “We should look for her - she could still be fighting.” Lae’zel nodded and they rose in unison picking up blades as they headed to the entrance of camp. An almost violet raven fluttered down in front of them in the corridor outside, it landed urgently on a small ledge and spoke with Muira’s strained voice freezing them both in their tracks. “On my way back, moving slowly. I return with our victory. Ultrinnan!***” The raven flew off just as quickly as it came - hurtling into the dark mist of Shar’s embrace. “I did not know she knew raven magic. Is it not a forgotten art here?” Laezel inquired “also I am pleased to know she lives but I must confess I am disappointed my blade will not know flesh today.” Minthara grabbed the shoulder of her companion and responded “She has lived a long life and I’m sure knows many arts we have not even heard of. Do not worry, that long life will know the way into many more battles.” with a reassuring squeeze, she motioned for her to return to the camp hall. They turned around and sat close to the fire their eyes pointed to the door - waiting until they could hear the slow footsteps of Muira making her way into camp.

The other companions stood sleepily by the entrance of their tents amazed at the sight of her. Muira, adorned with arrows, a leg slashed to the bone and a deeply burned right arm, carried the evidence of a fierce battle on her body. It seemed she had taken most of the fighting on alone. In her blood stained hands however, she carried a small purple orb which she tossed at Tav. “You forgot something elf.” Tav caught the orb with a surprised but eager look on their face. They nodded curtly then headed back into the tent without a word. “Not even a thank you these days.” Muira mulls to herself but the sound carries to the ears of all who are awake. Minthara watched with pride as Muira made her way into camp, suppressing the urge to carry her or even run to her, understanding the necessity to show strength, particularly in the face of Tav’s cowardice.

Approaching Minthara, Muira allowed her smile to fade into a grimace. Sensing the change, Minthara lowered her voice, whispering “Our tent is ready for you. Come, your wounds need tending - immediately.” Lae’zel stood by Minthara and leaned in urgently “I will assist you. She is filled with arrows.” There was a moment of shock on her face, quickly masked. “True, but I will heal her tonight.” She reached up a hand to cup Lae’zel’s face. “You must rest - I believe we will be called upon tomorrow.” Muira grinned handing a fiery crossbow to Lae’zel “Would that you were there young fighter - there was glory to be found in the battle today. I will tell you of this devil Yurgir, his displacer beast and the infernal legion tomorrow.” Lae’zel’s eyes brighten with admiration as she takes the crossbow. “I will rain fire upon our enemies tomorrow.” “Yes, yes. Tomorrow, tomorrow But today- now , you will go into our tent ussta velve****! I will not suffer another foolish act.” Minthara moved Muira towards the tent and called out a farewell to Laezel “Sleep well, little blade.”

After finally getting her into the tent Minthara seated her onto a stool and started to take the arrows out of her. “I can’t even have you lay down with all these arrows. You look more like a pin cushion than a warrior.” She joked, her voice trembling - she made a small cut extending each arrow wound and then pulled them out forcefully before cauterizing the flesh back together. She counted 10 arrows in the back and 6 in the front, anyone else would have passed out from the sensation of the arrows being ripped out of their body but Muira barely flinches, simply steadying herself with her hand on the back of Minthara’s leg, teasingly rubbing her head into Minthara’s hip “You may lie down now. I just need to heal your arm and attend to that gash on your leg.”Minthara said, avoiding eye contact with Muira. She feared that looking into Muira’s eyes would complicate things further. Her voice was already catching, and she could sense Muira searching for her gaze. Muira laid down, her exposed body covered in healing slits. The leg wound had stopped bleeding but still needed stitches to mend the flesh. Threading the needle, Minthara’s hands shook , ‘no’ she told herself. ‘You cannot fail now, you’ve made it so close.’ Her nose became hot and tears threatened to follow. After three shaky stitches Muira shifts uncomfortably. “Look at me - ussta ilindith.*****” she reached out and tried to grasp her hand but Minthara pulled it out of reach. “Keep moving and I’ll sew your hands to your side.” A tempered voice responds with a pained look in her eyes.

Muira reached her hand out and placed it gently on Minthara’s face. “Look at me.” Minthara glanced up, her red eyes meeting the dark brown pools of Muira’s. “I’m here - I’m fine. I could not deem myself worthy of your love if I did not triumph over our foes.” She leaned her head against Muira’s hand and felt the white hot flash of tears budding to her eyes. “You live, but you should not. You should be dead - tell me how you sit before me now. I have pulled more arrows from you than are shot in most of our battles.” Tears fell unchecked and Minthara allowed them. She did not want the attention on such useless emotions. Feeling helpless either the sight of Muira’s body covered in arrow marks and burns enraged her. She should have been there - side by side with Muira. They would have made it out together with far less wounds. Tears splashed onto Muira’s chest as she sat up.

“I guess it is time you knew all, love. I cannot expect you to run into battle next to someone who you do not know fully. I am a child of the god Umberlee, I am without age but I believe not without death.” She laughed and showed off her razor sharp teeth. “It might not seem it today but I do not like to test the limits of my mortality. I do know that It would take more than this” She motioned at the arrows, cuts and burns “To fell me.” Muira wiped Minthara’s tears with a small silk fabric and goes on. “You know where I am from and seeing from your reading you know who I am. This is the whole of me.” Pausing, she observed Minthara’s red-tinted face “Will you stand beside me now, knowing that to be close to me is to be in danger? Many have tried and will try to take my crown, my kingdom, my immortality and even my life.” Minthara took the small napkin and cleaned some of the dried blood from Muira’s body absentmindedly . “I am yours, my blade. We will face many battles but I will be by your side and if you fall in battle I will be the sword that avenges you.”

Muira attempted to rise, but Minthara pushed her down forcefully “You have damaged MY body enough today. Lie there and rest.” Muira closed her eyes and placed her hand on Minthara’s hip “Join me then, I battled without you by my side for a day. I long for your closeness.”Smiling, Minthara reached past her, retrieved her reading, settled into a pile of furs and allowed Muira to rest her head on her lap. “Rest, my love. I have much to learn while you do.” Minthara allowed her to sleep - engrossed in another book of aasimars and god relatives that Gale kept in his mobile library, no doubt thinking of a life with Mystra. The pages gave way to her and she saw the fate of many of their kind end in tragedy - let down by their god parents or unable to deal with society in the world they were thrust into. She found no mention of Muira or Umberlee but did find many mentions of a paladin of Selune that had fought in this very area.

Muira slept for about an hour before the change of her breathing alerted Minthara to her waking. Setting aside the book, Minthara lifted the covers to inspect the healing process. The arrow wounds were almost nonexistent, but the gash on Muira’s leg and the burn remained raw, possibly due to infernal weapons. “You will remain at camp tomorrow and heal my love. Allow me to carry the burden for a day.” Minthara said before Muira could even protest. She glanced at the book beside Minthara and her face became steely. “What is it?” Minthara said tensing up as if preparing for an attack.

“Tomorrow I believe you will find the god child I search for, Aylin. Everything at this place has led me to believe they, well Ketheric is harnessing her immortality. I warned her long ago when I visited, I had heard she’d fallen in love with a mortal and had come to share my insights with her. I believed that she could share her immortality with a bit of bond magic, extending the life and power of her fragile lover. She would not listen to me, in fact she fell into a rage and called it a cursed power, an affront to her mother.” Shaking her head to dispel the idea, she continued, “What weak thinking! Is our purpose not to gain power, to survive? In the end, it seems I was not the only one who thought this was a possibility. If she had bound herself to her mate - she would not be open to the whims of a foe.” Muira grimaced and Minthara soothed her with soft strokes of her head “It is not your fault that she was too cowardly to take the opportunity in front of her. We will not be so passive, once we have slain the absolute we can look into a bond of our own.” Minthara’s face curls into a twisted smile as Muira grabbed her hand and pulled it into a kiss. Muira sighed but then let out a satisfied, toothy smile. “You must not let the Sharran kill her - it is vital that I know all that has transpired, for our sake. It will lead you one step closer to immortality.” Minthara stared into the eyes of her lover and answered with great authority “It is done. No one will get in my way.”

[2023dingdong]

i'm debating posting this cause i think it would be tmi. but honestly at this point i don't care anymore. every time i try to make peace with things in my life that i can't change, something happens that just triggers all of my insecurities. it took me a really long time to realize that i wasn't special to anybody except my parents (all parents think their kids are special in some way). over the years i met a lot of people and made some friends. but i can really count on one hand the friends that i kept. whereas somehow people that i know managed to make long lasting friendships. all my so called friends from middle school and high school still talk to each other but they don't talk to me. there is just something about me that makes me forgettable and i don't know what it is. in all areas of my life i always feel like an after-thought. and honestly at this point i'm starting to make peace with it.

the other day i just proposed to my friends to go the bookstore and then restaurant but none of them said yes. and i mean i get it, people have lives and stuff, and i wasn't really hurt tbh because i'm used to doing stuff by myself and i enjoy it. but i found myself thinking about it for the rest of the afternoon because i know for sur that if one of my other friends had come up with the idea, everyone would've gone along with it. also i really am greatful for my friends and i love them so much because not long ago i didn't have any. it just breaks my heart to know that they don't love me as much as i love them because as mentionned above, they have managed to keep stronger friendships throughout their lives and i haven't. all i can do is learn little by little to make peace with that fact and learn to live a life free of resentment. also do everything in my power to not project my insecurities and deep loneliness unto them.

[ghoulical]

Charlie: Hazard

An original Danganronpa character one-shot.

Word Count: 2,977 Warnings: Mentions of murder, implied stalking & sexual assault Summary: The Ultimate Psychologist pays a long-dreaded visit to an old enemy. Notes: Heavily inspired by Criminal Minds S7E22 “Profiling 101″, and Mindhunter.

Lena King. Ashley Harper. Rose Ballard.

“Charlie.”

Jamie Carter. Louise Sherman. Victoria—

“Charlie.”

A shrill buzzer bounced through the hollow walls. Charlie flinched in her seat and turned her head sharply to her right, when she found herself staring up at the man standing off to the side, a soft smile appearing across his aging face. Harvey looked tired today; his jacket was folded and wrapped around his arm, and his hat was pinned between his elbow and his side, leaving his clean-shaven head exposed. He took his time bending down to sit beside her, before gently touching her shoulder and averting his gaze from the expectant glint in her eyes.

“They’re bringing him out now,” he murmured, low enough that only the two of them could hear them, and not the seven other men scattered around the room they were currently in. Harvey stared at one of them now, the one standing in the far side of the room, beside a chain-link door that led into a hallway that she knew led further deeper into the complex. “Apparently, there was a stabbing in the yard early this morning. They’ve had the entire block on lockdown, keeping the prisoners isolated for now. I had to pull a few strings—let them know it was urgent.”

Charlie nodded and forced herself to lean back against the wall.

“Is that a new blazer?”

She immediately turned her head to look at him, suddenly frozen in place before her eyes flickered down to her attire. “No,” she muttered quickly, frowning. She sank down on the bench, staring straight ahead when she caught the man in the brown uniform standing across the room averting his eyes from them. She pulled her knees together despite her leggings and pinched the rib of her sleeve, as the school emblem patch suddenly felt heavy above her breast. “Mom’s using a new fabric softener.”

Harvey nodded thoughtfully, turning his gaze to match hers. “That boy you were with earlier,” he said instead, speaking in an even quieter tone now as he leaned slightly to his side, towards her. “He’s not coming over tonight or anything, is he?”

Her eyes immediately darted up to him, but he seemed to be ignoring her growing scowl. “Group project,” she muttered curtly, almost mumbling it under her breath. “He wants to mooch off my work.”

Harvey hummed lowly—in amusement, she thought, while trying to hide the scoff beneath it. “The spring formal is coming up soon, isn’t it?”

“Two weeks.”

He nodded. “Have you maybe thought about—”

She shook her head sharply. “I’ve… better things to do.”

Her eyes went over to the movement in her right periphery—one of the guards walked down the hall and stopped at the other side of the chain-link gate, then caught the attention of his colleague before they began speaking in equally hushed tones. Though her eyes remained locked unto them, she could feel Harvey’s gaze softening beside her.

“Such as?”

“College applications.” She turned back to him, twitching the corner of her lip. “Scholarships, internships, last week’s case report, the risk assessment—”

“All of which can wait,” he said gently, eyebrows arching upwards. “The applications aren’t due for another two months.”

“I want to get a head-start.”

“You have time, Charlie. We can assign someone else to do the risk assessment.”

“I want to.” She drew in a deep breath and stiffened her neck. He sighed and turned his gaze toward the right wall.

“What about that girl—what’s her name?” he murmured instead, then tilted his head down while pretending to reach back into the corners of his memory. “Uh, it was something with an ‘L’—”

“Leslie.” Her eyes flickered to the floor. “What about her?”

“Well, wasn’t she the one who—”

“Sir.”

She hadn’t realized something had appeared in front of them until she looked up and to the side. It was the man who was standing across the room, she quickly recognized, whose eyes she met briefly before he immediately averted his gaze back to the older man between them with a curt nod and squared shoulders. “The prisoner is ready for you, sir.”

Harvey thanked the man courteously, who took a step back as the police captain dusted himself off and slowly stood up from the bench, before turning around to face the younger woman who, in one swift, graceful motion, had stood up as well to join him.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Harvey asked, and from the peripherals of her vision, she saw the guard’s eyes growing wide, glancing unsubtly between the two parties before him.

“He wants me alone,” Charlie murmured, shaking her head once and offering Harvey a blank, feeble smile, which he returned with a mourning frown. “I’ll be fine.”

She might have dissuaded him if he didn’t know better, if she hadn’t grown up under his watchful eye the past few years. He heaved a brief arduous sigh and patted the back of her shoulder. “The guards will be standing outside—call them in, yell if anything comes up, and I’ll be right—”

“—Here.” She wouldn’t have it any other way. “I know. Thank you.”

The man in the two-tone uniform led her down the halls, past several turns, through several security gates, into a medium-sized room akin to a small cafeteria at first glance—no food stalls except for what looked like a small but closed, square window to the left side of the room, and the eight metal picnic tables spaced out evenly across the otherwise empty space, welded firmly onto the floor.

She continued inside the room, sitting down at a table towards the back, shoulders back and spine straight, paying little mind to the prison guard left behind at the entrance staring a hole into the back of her skull. Her eyes flickered over to the clock hanging above the closed window—eleven to five. Ignoring the growing perspiration in the back of her neck, she fetched a notebook and a pen from her leather messenger bag, buried between her textbooks and manila folders, that barely passed through the security checkpoint earlier; she placed them both side by side on the table in front of her, then placed her arms flat horizontally on the table, and waited.

Another buzzer blared down the halls, followed by metallic grinding. Someone shouted a command barely audible to her ears. She stared straight ahead at the centre of the table and took a deep breath.

The buzzer and the grinding stopped, leaving only heavy footsteps in their wake. She exhaled slowly, counting the seconds it took before all air was expelled from her lungs.

“Charlotte Beckett.” 

She closed her eyes only briefly, before turning her head back towards the entrance. Led into the room by two prison guards was a tall man in a bright orange jumpsuit and handcuffs wrapped around his wrists; he was, if she remembered correctly, in his late thirties, and though his skin looked duller and his hair thinner, his cheeks seemed just slightly fuller than the last time she saw him. His charcoal eyes, same as they were when she first saw him across those train tracks, flared to life when she finally met his gaze.

“Charlie,” she murmured politely, watching the guards lead him to the other side of the table, but he quickly sat down on his own volition and lightly brushed the other two men away.

“I was beginning to think you forgot about me,” he said, stretching a thin smile across his wrinkling face.

She matched his gaze, doing all she could to resist tightening her jaw. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Russ Milburn grinned. Once, she had the perfect image in her mind of what she wanted him to be: crooked, yellow teeth, balding head, bushy moustache, maybe even a goatee. Once, she would have mistaken the man sitting opposite to her as her neighbour, or a middle school teacher, or someone from the construction crew working on the pavement just down the street.

“I’m glad. I mean, it would be a shame if we only stopped at two.” The handcuffs rattled softly when he shifted his weight on his seat and leaned forward by half an inch, eyes quickly flickering down her neck before he looked back up to meet her gaze. “How’s school? Came right after just to see me? I’m flattered, I really am.”

Her eyes panned down to her blank notepad, and she waited until the guards dragged the metal gate shut, trapping the two people in the room with each other, before panning her gaze back up to him and speaking again. “It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

“Choice?” His voice was suddenly louder and more pronounced than his usual raspy drawl, but then his lips stretched wider as he chuckled lowly, slowly to himself, each beat echoing through the vast empty space surrounding them. “What do you mean? Well, of course you did. I didn’t force you into this, did I? I gave you a choice, and you made yours,” he spoke quickly, all in one breath, then stopped himself for a moment to pause, to stare down at her, letting the quiet stillness slowly creep back into the room. “You chose this, Charlotte dear, didn’t you?”

She breathed deeply, barely making a single audible sound in the wake of his echoes still resounding from the brick walls around them. But never once did she break the stare, not even to glance at the clock in the wall behind him, or the tiny black spots fading out of view from the narrow rectangular window beside her.

But when she looked behind him, she felt like she was back in the room when she made her choice—Harvey standing across from her with the phone receiver in his hand, her mother sitting in the chair beside her wrapping her daughter’s hands in hers.

It’s your choice, Harvey had said. You can say no. It’s okay to say no.

“Charlie.” Her voice came out smoothly but softer than she imagined it to be, and she forced herself to blink, and found herself staring at the man in the jumpsuit again. “It’s Charlie.”

Milburn remained frozen still for another longer moment, as though deliberately letting her voice seep into his skull and his thoughts, before he finally leaned back just slightly, and offered her a despicable, amicable, smile. “Charlie.” The word easily rolled off his tongue, like a cat gently tossing an old ball of yarn across a carpeted floor. “Shame. Dan gave you such a beautiful name, hmm? Beautiful name, for a beautiful little girl. It’s a queen’s name—did you know that? Of course you did.” He let out a single fleeting chuckle, then hummed lowly to himself. “What about Lottie? I’ve heard people toss that one around. Never considered it, no?”

She shook her head gently, only once, and he nodded.

“You know, Charlie, I know it doesn’t seem like it.” He inhaled sharply and suddenly, rolling his shoulders on their joints and stretching his back out for as much as he physically could, handcuffs rattling increasingly underneath the table. Then, very quickly, he finally tore his gaze away from her, glancing first toward the door then out the window beside them. “But I do so enjoy our meetings, I really do. Nobody ever visits me anymore. Can’t help but get excited for this, you know?” He sighed expressively, and she thought she felt a draft slowly crawling its way back into the frigid space. He snapped his head back at her, pupils dilated. “Oh, I’m sorry, where are my manners? I should’ve asked—have you eaten today at all? Yes? No? You need to put some more meat on those bones. Stay away from all that load o’ crap on social media, let me tell you—”

“What’s her name, Russ?”

He froze, her soft voice surprisingly enough to break through his apparent trance but only for a moment—he blinked at her, and the sun outside was peeking through through the ashen clouds and the window sill just enough to illuminate the liminal space in his slate-tinted irises—then he suddenly snapped his head away and toward the door and their silent observers.

She remembered that look on their faces—the same look those other men had when Harvey first spoke to them about the terms of the agreement, and the federal agents in the same room as them; the same look that were no doubt on the agents’ own faces when they interrogated Milburn, and he was laying out the terms—the script they had to play along with.

“The mess hall’s been closed all afternoon—didn’t even get a chance to finish my breakfast, you know, before all that ruckus went down. And now we’re cooped up like pigeons in a hole. You know, there’s this diner just off Highway 97—best apple cobbler in town, trust me. They’ve got this homemade whip and ice cream—vanilla, of course. Been trying to convince Tom to spill the secret behind his recipe—six years, still no luck, that sonofabitch. It’s only ‘bout a half an hour drive from here—you should really stop by when you get the chance. Treat yourself for the big day, you know? Bet Mona will like it, too.”

“What’s her name?”

Thirty-two, he had told them. Thirty-two, in addition to the twelve they already knew about. And he remembered them, each and every single one of them all—their names, where it happened, where they were now. And he was more than willing to tell them, he had said, but only one each year—to keep them honest, he had said—on a day of his choosing, and only to one person.

Those were the terms—that was the stage. All that the rest of them had to do was play their parts.

“You should really go out more, you know. You’re young, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Don’t—don’t worry about all this crap about work, and those things in your bag, and you—Go out. Have fun. Don’t drink though—still another three years before we get there. But, like, I don’t know, go to the mall. Go shopping. You’ve still got that piano at home, too, don’t you? I know Dan was really proud of you for that one. Pick it up again. Can’t be that hard with all that muscle memory, right—”

“Russ.” He stopped, and time stood still. “Her name.”

She barely even realized how quiet her voice was until the echoes fell, and all that was left was her drowning in the silence she had unwittingly willed into existence to take their place, to suffocate the words permanently away from his head and his mouth.

Why did you do it?

That was always the question, wasn’t it? When she asked, Milburn never gave her his answer. But when Harvey asked, she gave him hers, all too willingly. They need closure, and I’ve had mine. Then she thought of her father, and what he would have said to him, had he been in her place. It’s part of the job.

Milburn stared at Charlie, and she at him, locked again in this endless stalemate—on this grand stage, this glorious script he had so meticulously orchestrated. He dangled the strings in front of her and she tied them around her wrists—she made her choice—so she would stand now centre-stage, in the spotlight he created, playing her part to the hollow theatre of lost souls and broken promises.

But the curtains behind his eyes were finally closing for tonight—he had taken the microphone back, and stared at her from across the table.

“She had long blonde hair, pretty hazel eyes—really pretty one, she was,” he said wistfully, softly, his voice barely a reminiscing whisper. “She worked at the soup kitchen downtown on Thursdays and Fridays. Sometimes she’ll take the bus to the library after six.”

She could almost see the images playing in his mind through his hollow eyes, and it was times like these when she wondered what would happen if she had been there, standing on the other side of the street, watching Milburn and watching the girls—the sisters, the daughters, the mothers. Would she had done something? What would she had done? Could she?

He closed his eyes. “Jennifer Hayes.” Her name spilled from his lips like honey and wine. “I buried her in Leelan Park, under an oak tree thirty feet south from the end of the path, twenty from the park bench, towards the fence.”

She breathed slowly through her nose as the pen in her hand glided across the surface of the notepad, his words inked into the page in surprisingly neat penmanship despite the haste. After she tucked the notepad and pen back into her bag, she looked up, and her eyes very briefly locked with his before she tossed her gaze toward the guards standing outside and began standing up. One of the men snapped out of his trance when he saw the signal and immediately launched himself towards the gate with the keys jangling in his hand.

Lena King. Ashley Harper. Rose Ballard.

She only finally felt herself exhale when she crossed the room, retracing her own steps from only fifteen minutes ago, barely registering the metallic dragging and the men brushing past her to march back toward Milburn—because all she could really hear was his voice, echoing after her image and clinging unto her shadow, even as she strode back up the hall, back to the rest of society.

Jamie Carter. Louise Sherman. Victoria Chapman.

“Happy birthday, Charlotte Beckett,” he said, the same way he did last year, and the year before. “I’ll be looking forward to our next meeting.”

Jennifer Hayes.

The same way he would for all the years that has yet to come.

[the-world-of-jo]

Sometimes I feel like the Universe is trying to tell me something...

I have an issue completing things.

A project will have me crazy excited, but then some doubt always creeps in.

I can't do it.

It won't be good enough.

It won't matter.

People will think it's stupid.

It's a waste of my time.

So I stop working on whatever 'it' is. Which.

Can I just say, that's pretty fucking stupid?

I can say that now, but when I'm in the moment, I feel like a kid being told by a well meaning parent that their efforts are better off elsewhere.

And then there's days like today.

The Light Seer's Tarot is one I don't use often enough, without a doubt. The art work is beautiful, the images resonate with my brain, and in all honesty, I feel like we vibe, ya know?

I pull the deck out during a quiet moment at work, and I start asking "What do I need to know today?"

A card pops out the minute I ask the question.

I can kind of tell when I'm being exceptionally clumsy and a card is tossed because how do hands and fingers work? But this one wasn't that.

And it was the Empress in Reverse.

I still use the guide book, but even without that and just looking at the imagery, it kind of fit what I've been going through? What I took away from it is 'take care of yourself, body and soul.'

Which. How the fuck do you do that? I mean, I sort of get it? Sort of?

But then, I did a two card pull.

I'm finding out this deck has That Aunt Friend Energy. You know what I mean. That Aunt friend who will say something that isn't necessarily blunt, but it's so spot on and when you give them A Look, they just sip their drink.

My deck said unto me, "look. You have your moments where you're scared to take the next step, and I get that. Like, I feel you. But.

But.

Hear me out. Why not ask for help? Or at the very least, accept it when it's offered? How about if we tried that, hmm?"

To other people, it probably doesn't make sense, but the entire thing combined with my recent thoughts and what not.

This deck needs to get outta my head. It's not safe for her in there.