#but now i feel like i was wrong. and its kinda haunting me

[caffeinatedopossum]

Realizing that my trauma was actually life threatening feels really weird

[chickencowcow]

Vent under da cut or smth

Every now and again I get so brutally reminded of the fact that whatever I do I will never feel "autistic" enough. And it's like whatever sure I have autism I'll always have it and it's not like I hate myself for having autism or anything it's just. Somehow I managed to absorb so many neurotypical habits that make it so much more difficult to communicate with ANYONE. I'm too. Fucking. Off-putting for neurotypical people and I'm too. Complicated for autistic ppl.

Like the whole thing ab ragging on "neurotypicals not saying what they mean" -- those rules make Sense to me! The social customs of like. Not saying when you're mad but wanting the other person to pick up on it bc you don't rlly wanna talk about the issue it's like. I get it. Mostly from the perspective of like "if I say I'm mad people will either get mad at me For that or want to Talk about it and I want neither of those" and. Like. It's so often that these rules are called stupid but like. They Make Sense to me. Sure maybe that's masking but like. At this point it's so much more to "unmask"

Also somehow some way I manage to talk ab my special interests in a way that either annoys, bores, or like. Disturbs people. And it's like. I don't know what im doing. Wrong. Ppl in my friend group seem to get it right. I mean I've gotten the "you always wanna talk about that why are you so self centered" from neurotypicals but I've also gotten a lot of "oh of course it's that when isn't it that" from autistic friends.

Idk. I just feel like I'm doing so much wrong and that I'm not. Idk. "Good" enough. I'm tired

[marvelfilth]

The Witches Trap

Part 2

Pairing: dark!Wanda Maximoff x f!reader

Warnings: ghosts, description of death, paranormal activity, gore, blood, a bit of horror ig, typical ghost hunting stuff, nothing too scary tho

Words: 5.5k

Summary: you go ghost hunting with Peter, Yelena and Kate. What could go wrong?

A/n: first time trying out some spooky stuff, so bear with me. Heavily inspired by Sam and Coby on YT.

Masterlist

The way Yelena drives is far from smooth and sound, but she vehemently refuses to let Peter behind the wheel, so here you are, yelping and griping the sides of the driver's seat headrest like your life depends on it. You hiss when your head meets the roof, and Kate sends you another toothy smile from the front seat, her eyes flickering to look at Yelena every few minutes. You look to your right to check on Peter, but he is busy fumbling with equipment, his camera carefully stored away in a bag as he keeps checking the microphone.

You sigh and relax against the seat when the road finally smoothes out, and think about why you even agreed to this. Peter asked you to tag along for a new video for his YouTube channel, and by asked you mean begged you with his best puppy eyes and a bag of goodies in his hands. Apparently, if you agreed to go, Kate will go too. And if Kate goes, he won't even have to ask Yelena.

He was right.

So now the four of you are on the way to one of the most haunted places of America - Westview hotel.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Yelena asks, turning her head left and right.

"Yes," Peter answers, glancing up for a second.

"Honestly, this is too creepy already," Kate mumbles, her eyes locked on the numerous dolls pinned to the trees surrounding the road.

"The owner probably made someone do that. No way they had this type of dolls back in the eighteenth century." You try to reassure Kate as much as yourself.

"Actually, the first doll like that was made-" Peter finally looks up with an excited glint in his eyes, and you immediately press your palm against his mouth, "No. I don't need to know that."

"Ha! Little Y/n is scared," Yelena laughs, but her laughter is cut short when a twig hits the side window, making her shriek like a maniac.

"This never happened," she grumbles when the laughter finally dies out.

Relaxing against the seat you try to remember everything Peter told you about this hotel.

It got notoriously famous in the late eighties, when a high schooler got possessed by a demon and later died in a psych ward. The room the girl stayed in was closed off for twenty years after that. You wonder if Peter managed to book it.

Another thing you remember is numerous sightings of a dark, cloaked figure appearing in most random places, whether it's a supply closet or a presidential suite. It always managed to scare the shit out of anyone who was unfortunate enough to catch its interest. You shudder at the mere thought of encountering that particular entity.

"We're here," Yelena cuts off the ignition, and leans against the wheel to take a look at the building.

Your breath catches in your throat the second your eyes land on the magnificent hotel. At seven stories high it stands proudly on a hill, overlooking the vast grounds. The facade is noticeably worn, but no less majestic - a blend of dark wood and stone, a balcony stretching along its entire length. A dark figure on the corner of the rooftop makes you squint, and you gasp when you realize it's a gargoyle, albeit a very rickety one. You make a note to yourself not to walk under it.

Yelena ushers you along, shuddering as she notices the stone figures. “The air here is kinda thick,” she mutters.

You nod, feeling your chest tighten. She's right - the air grows heavier with each step you take. You hope the hotel itself is ventilated enough.

When you finally step inside you take a deep breath, looking around the foyer and spotting who you presume is the owner.

"Welcome to Westview Hotel! My name's Agatha, I'm the owner of this happy little place and your guide for today. Hope you have the worst time of your life here!" Her voice is too cheerful for the late hours, and you cringe at the full on villainous laugh she lets out.

Peter goes to speak with the woman while the rest of you look around. Yelena plops on the loveseat, her backpack thrown on the carpeted floor near her feet, and Kate just stands beside you with her mouth hanging open - you're sure you're wearing a similar expression.

While the outside of the hotel looked somewhat old and weathered, the inside completely blows you away with its beauty. It's elegant, if a bit eerie, with a grand chandelier and high arches that make the space feel even bigger.

You frown, sensing someone's eyes on you, and notice Peter glancing in your direction every so often. You send him a questioning look, but he only shakes his head, his lips pressed together and his cheeks puffed.

"Do you think he's going to sacrifice one of us to that witch? Scarlet Witch, right?" Yelena muses.

"Yeah, but I don't think you're her type." Kate winks at the blonde.

You snicker at her annoyed expression, and stumble back, accidentally bumping into someone. You turn around, an apology on your tongue, only to choke on your words when you are met with an empty lobby.

Your friends stare at you quizzically, but Agatha seems to be lost in thought, her eyes trained on the space right above your shoulder, then she slightly shakes her head, her lips pressed in a tight line.

"Sorry. I thought I bumped into someone…" You trail off, your back burning, an eerie feeling settling in your stomach.

"Sure thing, buttercup." Agatha winks at you, her mood changed back to normal in an instant.

You shudder, looking back at your friends. Yelena whispers something in Kate's ear that causes the younger one to chuckle, and Peter has his camera pointed at you.

"We already got some paranoid activity ten minutes into the night," he blabbers behind the camera, motioning for you to explain what happened.

"Um... It felt like I bumped into someone?" Talking to a camera is weird, but you manage to explain what you felt. "... I think it was nothing though, just my nerves acting up." You force a chuckle, your eyes moving to meet Agatha's stare.

She moves closer to be in the frame, and tells everyone about how much the Scarlet Witch loves to mess with younger women, her favorite pastime in this hotel seems to be entertaining the ladies. However, her idea of entertainment slightly differs from yours, and you gulp when Agatha mentions her choking sleeping guests and locking them in elevators.

"This is going to be incredible, guys," Peter says to the camera, his excitement too contagious for you to worry about your safety.

×××

The next two hours are spent walking behind Agatha and listening to her stories about various tragic deaths that occured in this hotel over the past hundreds of years. She stops every ten minutes or so in front of different rooms, each story worse than the previous one, and you shudder when she tells you a story of a woman buried alive in one of the walls, Agatha's hand casually resting on said wall.

She is telling you another story about a guy that danced on a ledge to impress a girl and fell on one of the spikes in the lobby, when you suddenly feel a tug in your chest. You stop, checking to see if anyone else felt that. Kate is staring at the ledge with her mouth wide open, Peter's busy filming Agatha and butting in with commentary (much to Agatha's displeasure), and Yelena grips Kate's hand so hard, you are sure she couldn't possibly see anything other than the wall in front of her.

You exhale and look around, trying to spot anything interesting, even though you've been looking at the same set of stairs for the past ten minutes. Strangely enough, you notice a door that surely wasn't there before, because you would've noticed it right away if it was.

While every part of this hotel was renovated, this door looks like it belongs in the past, with heavy iron hinges and a weird looking handle. There are no signs on the door, nor any numbers or words, and when something tugs on your hand, you follow the feeling.

You walk almost in haze, your friends' voices blurred in the background, unfamiliar warmth surrounding you, your chest lighter than it ever was and your mind in a euphoric state. You turn the knob and it gives in, the door rattling loudly as you tug it open, but before you could even glimpse inside, a hand slaps harshly on the wood, the door closing with a loud creak.

You blink owlishly, warmth gone and your head suddenly clear, as you take in Agatha's furious expression.

"It says 'Employees only'," she hisses through gritted teeth, and you step away from the woman.

"No, it doesn't, there's noth-" you choke on your words when you look back at the door, because now it looks like every other door in the room, 'Employees only' written in bold.

You look back at Agatha and apologize, but it seems like she doesn't hear you, her brows furrowed and her eyes flickering between you and the door.

"Okay that's hella creepy," Kate breaks the silence, her unoccupied hand digging in a pocket of her jeans to present a cross. "God will protect us." She puts it around her neck, and nods to herself.

"You don't even believe in God." Yelena jams her in the ribs, not letting go of the brunette's hand.

"You really should," Agatha casually advises, tugging at your elbow to move you further away from the door, "follow me, I'm going to tell you the story of the Scarlet Witch."

You cast one last look at the door and follow her down the hall to the very last room, something warm pressing at the low of your back to lead you. Shuddering at the feeling, you wonder why it is only you who feels something weird. Kate keeps sending you worried looks, but, other than that, she seems okay with Yelena's hand pressed firmly into her side. Peter isn't fazed at all, excitingly recording everything in sight.

Exhaling, you try to relax. If something here wants to harm you it wouldn't use such a gentle approach.

Or maybe it's just luring you in.

When you finally stop in front of room number 208 you feel a poke in your ribs, Yelena nods her head for you to look at Agatha, and you confusedly look up. Apparently, she wants you to open the door. Gulping, you move forward, your hand reaching on its own accord. You turn the doorknob with some hesitation, your hand trembling slightly. When you're met with a sight of a regular hotel room, you let out a quiet breath.

The walls are painted an unassuming beige, with green and brown accents, the earth tones bringing a feeling of calm. The four poster bed is pushed against the farthest wall, with nightstands on either side, and you could already imagine how soft it would feel to sleep in it. But the only thing that truly gets your attention is a floor to ceiling window and a french door, which hopefully leads to a balcony you spotted from the outside.

Agatha walks past you into the room, resting her weight against the foot of the bed. "It was locked," her eyes seem to be glued to yours as she speaks, "second locked door you opened today. I find that… interesting."

You are aware of Peter's camera being shoved right in your face, you're aware of Kate's hand reassuringly clasping your own, aware of Yelena's calming presence, but you are focused on something else entirely. There is this feeling again, now familiar warmth taking root in your chest, almost singing to you. You briefly close your eyes, savoring the sensation, wishing you could feel more.

"This is our most active room," Agatha says, "last year some teenagers decided to use a Ouija board in here and it got even worse. So you're in for a wild ride."

"This is nuts," Kate says from the other side of the room, trailing her hand over the painting of a burning witch.

"Oh, this actually happened here," Agatha drawls, taking note of your surprised faces, "almost a hundred young alleged witches were burnt at the stake here, on these grounds…" Agatha continues on with the story, but your eyes are stuck on Kate, on the other side of the room, your body frozen in shock. You can still feel what you thought was Kate's hand on your own, but with her standing on the other side of the room, and Yelena looking at you like you've grown two heads, you decide it's enough.

"Can you tell them to stop?" you shriek, stepping further into the room.

The warm feeling in your chest intensifies, the ghost of a hand sliding up your arm to settle on your cheek, turning your head to look at the painting. It's so gentle, so soft, it makes you lean your head in search of more.

"Them?" Agatha's voice grounds you. "I believe there's only one witch who is interested in you."

"What's going on?" Kate asks, moving away from the painting. Panic starts to rise in your chest, making you struggle to breathe. "Y/n, are you okay?" Kate's by your side in an instant, hands rubbing your sides, and you lay your head on her shoulder, silently reminding yourself that no ghost can hurt you.

"I thought you were standing beside me, I felt you take my hand, but you were on the other side of the room," you whisper against her shoulder.

"No. We're going back home." Yelena pales and tugs at your elbow, smacking the back of Peter's head with her other arm. "Your idiotic idea is going to give her a heart attack," she hisses and leads you to the door, hurriedly turning the knob.

It doesn't turn.

"What the fuck." She tries to open it again, and again, and again, until Agatha gets pissed and yells at her for trying to break the door.

"If she wants you to stay, you'll stay." She places her palm on the wooden door, and gives everyone a stern look.

"Say the word and I'll break that door open." Peter reappears by your side, looking guilty as ever, his camera now hidden away.

You take a deep breath and look around, now feeling much safer with all of your friends (and Agatha) by your side. The room looks like no one has touched it in years, and the warm, calming feeling in your chest only intensified after your little break down.

Maybe the witch just wants some company.

You meet Peter's eyes and manage a smile. "I survived Yelena's driving, I'm sure I'll be fine after this."

"Are you sure?" Yelena and Peter ask you at the same time.

"Yes, guys, I'm fine. I'm just not used to it like you are," you smile at Peter, and he nods in understanding.

He spent his college years filming in haunted places, a little hobby turned into a full time job as his channel grew bigger and bigger. Usually he invites his friend Wade to film together, but this time he really wanted you to come.

"Glad we settled that. Now sit," Agatha commands.

You take a seat on the bed, Yelena and Kate immediately placing their arms around you. Peter settles in a comfortable looking chair by the window, and Agatha stays standing, clearing her throat before venturing into the story of the Scarlet Witch.

"I'm sure you know that being a redhead, green-eyed, and exceptionally smart young woman in the 17th century meant one thing."

"Barbecue," Yelena mumbles, earning a scathing glare from the older woman.

"Yes. But here's the thing - the Scarlet Witch was never burned at the stake, and not because she was so good at staying hidden, but because she has never had a physical presence in this world, at least one that we know of. There's no proof of her existence, no paintings and no pictures, no sightings either."

Yelena shifts beside you. "Then how do you even know-"

Agatha cuts her off with another scathing glare, before continuing on. "We know because every single one of these poor women cried out her name before their inevitable death. They begged her to save them, but she never did."

"That still doesn't-"

"For the love of god, just shut up and let me finish!" The older woman shrieks, throwing her hands in the air. Momentarily closing her eyes, she clenches her jaw. "She never saved any of these poor girls, feeding on their fear, anger and desperation. She enjoyed what was happening. Hell, she spurged it on, manipulating minds, changing people until they became unrecognizable, and after this hotel was built she took charge, driving owners and residents away, leading people to their inevitable death, and lately possessing unsuspecting women. All of those poor people had one thing to say - 'it was the Scarlet Witch'." She shifts on her feet, turning to look out the window. "Hundreds of years of terror, but there was one good thing she's done. There was a particularly nasty witch trial, the poor girl was accused of seducing a priest's daughter. Imagine the horrors she was bound to be faced with if they got their hands on her. They never did, she escaped their clutches, and every single man involved in the hunt on the girl was brutally murdered. The girl died of old age in the safety of her own home, forever protected by the magic of the Scarlet Witch." Suddenly, her eyes lock on yours. "There's no trace of the Scarlet Witch, but there's a painting of the woman she saved. I'd show it to you, but for you it'll be the same as looking in a mirror, so I'll save myself the trouble."

Peter suddenly sits up straighter, nodding along to Agatha's words.

Kate slides her hand away from your shoulders. "Don't want to make her jealous or anything," she whispers, looking around.

"Do you say this to everyone or..?" You hesitantly speak up.

Her eyes turn serious, causing a chill to run down your spine. "Oh no, buttercup, you're a spitting image of the only woman she deemed worthy enough to save."

"She's not lying," Peter says, "that's actually the reason why I asked you to come." He sends you a sheepish smile, and shows you a picture on his phone. It's an old painting, weathered by time, but undoubtedly beautiful.

The woman looks just like you.

You gulp, your heart hammering in your chest. "Well, I'm not her."

"Maybe not. It's not like it matters." Agatha mumbles, standing up, a faraway look in her eyes. "She must've had her reasons to save the poor girl, and I suspect they were far from noble. Be careful." She looks at you one last time before turning to Peter. "Well, it's been fun entertaining you, but it's nearing midnight, so I'll leave you to your ghost hunting, or whatever it is that you're doing." Her lips purse at the numerous cameras Peter's unloaded from his bag.

"Wait!" You jump up, stalling Agatha. "How do you even know about what happened at the trials? Is there some kind of document?" You're aware of the absurdity of your questions, after all you are the one who experienced all of the activity so far, and while some of it could be blamed on your nerves or your brain playing tricks on you, the door accident still burns at the back of your mind.

"You don't believe me?" Agatha smirks, making you shift uncomfortably. "Don't worry, you'll see, you have a long night ahead." She sends you one last look, and easily opens the door before disappearing behind it.

You fall back on the duvet, pressing your palms against your face. The past hour puts an uncomfortable weight on your chest, and you struggle to wrap your mind around the fact that you're probably going to be targeted even more as the night goes on, either by your terrified, overly anxious mind, or the Scarlet Witch.

The warm feeling you felt when you first stepped into the room slowly disappeared, leaving you to wonder if it's done its job in luring you in.

"Okay, it's time to-"

"We're not using a Ouija board."

"- light up some candles." Peter says, looking quizzically at Yelena. "I'm not stupid, you know." He huffs, rolling his eyes.

You snort, shaking your head at your friends' antics. "Why do we need candles?"

Peter rolls his eyes. "To communicate with ghosts."

"Don't you have some fancy tech for that?"

"I prefer to keep it simple," he shrugs.

You share a look with Yelena. "And we'll be left talking to the AC," you mumble loud enough for Peter to hear and send you a middle finger.

"There's no AC in this room. Some people use flashlights, but I prefer candles. We'll also use a spirit box."

"We're not catching any spirits in a box, right?" You sit up, eyes darting between your friends.

Peter sighs and goes on a rant about his tools, explaining how everything works. To your great relief, you won't have to catch anyone, just put on a blindfold, some noise canceling headphones, and let some spirit talk though one of you.

"Sounds fun," Kate gulps.

"I'm not doing that." You shake your head, crossing your arms.

Peter looks up from the floor, where he adjusts the rem pod, the piece of equipment going off when he touches it with a tip of his finger, calibrating the sensitivity. "Yelena will do that."

It's almost comical how far Yelena's jaw falls. "And why is that, Parker? Why don't you let some spirit use you as a radio?"

"Um… my tarot reader told me you'll do best out of all of us."

Kate starts cackling like a maniac, clutching her stomach and bending over. You can't help laughing either, burrowing your face into the pillow to keep quiet.

Yelena continues arguing with Peter, and you decide to leave them to it and satisfy your curiosity. You smile at the questioning smile Kate sends you, and gesture to the balcony door.

You were right, it is the balcony you saw from the outside, stretching all the way to the other side of the hotel. You sigh and lean against the railing, taking in the view. If you thought it looked terrifying on the way here, it looks even worse from high up. Moonlight shines on crooked trees surrounding the land around the hotel, dark and menacing, broken branches hanging on the last threads. There is a well within walking distance, not too far away from where you parked the car. You swear to yourself you won't let Peter drag you over there, it looks way too creepy.

You finally relax, letting your eyes fall shut for a second, but a blurry movement to your left forced them open. You grip the railing, squinting.

Nothing.

"What the fuck." Kate's voice sounds from the inside, and you rush back just in time to see her exit the adjoined bathroom, snapping the door shut with a terrified look on her face. "No. Oh fuck no. Oh no, no, no."

Peter sits up, alarmed. "What is it?"

"There's blood on the mirror," she whispers, her hands shaking violently, "and in the tub, and on the floor."

Peter immediately gets up, taking the only camera that's been filming the whole time with him. You follow your friend, not paying attention to your shaking hands and your hammering heart.

When the door opens you see a pristine bathroom, so clean it's almost mocking. He inspects every corner from every possible angle, only to come up short.

"Guys?" Kate calls out from behind the door. "Are you good?"

"There's nothing he-" you freeze mid sentence when your eyes land on the mirror.

It's fogged up, one word clearly written.

Your name.

You reach out - not of your own violation, your hand guided by some unseen force - and touch the reflective glass right where your name is. You're hit with a vision, bits and pieces of what feels like distant memory escaping the prison your mind put them in.

You see a wrinkled face of an old man, his expression pure disgust as he spews something right in your face. The scene changes abruptly, and now you're in a dark cell, with only the moon to keep you company. Your heart clenches at the pure anguish you're hit with, the desperation drowning you, leaving you no room to breathe. There's a sudden blur, and everything turns blinding white, and then… you feel that warmth again. A woman stands in front of you, reaching out, her eyes glinting red. She looks ethereal, her skin pale, almost sheer, her unruly hair pushed back by a red tiara. You gulp, feeling the power radiating from her, chest aching with the need to submit to it.

You stumble away from the mirror. There's no warmth in your chest now, only pure, unconcealed dread. You lean against the door, palms pressed to your face. Peter doesn't dare breathe, his hands only shaking slightly as he makes sure to get it in the frame.

"Where did you just go?" He whispers, not daring to speak any louder.

You shake your head, blinking back tears. "Tell me you did this. Tell me it's a prank."

He looks at you, eyes full of fear. He bites on his lower lip, eyes wide. "I did this. I totally did this." He nods rapidly, ushering you out of the room.

Kate and Yelena wait on the other side, each holding a candelabra. You don't even bother to ask where they found them, heading straight to the balcony for a breath of fresh air while Peter explains what happened.

You look at the full moon, rubbing your chest in tight circles.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Again, and again.

The floorboards of the balcony creak, along with the railing, and you wonder if it's all gonna fall to the ground, and bury you in a mess of wood and cement. Maybe that's what the witch wants - for you to stay here forever.

You feel the remains of that need, that hunger for the witch. You long to see her again, even if it's just a glimpse, a whiff of her presence.

When you come back, the lights are off, and Peter is already asking questions, Yelena's terrified expression telling you everything you need to know about the answers they've been provided with.

The candle on the nightstand goes out, and Peter blinks, looking at you. "Weird."

"What?" You ask, looking around, hair on the nape of your neck standing up.

"He asked the ghosts if they wanted us to leave." Kate answers.

"That means they do." Yelena points at the candle.

You shiver, a breeze from the balcony making you curl in on yourself, eyes flickering to every dark corner of the room, flinching whenever you see shadows from the moonlight that look a little too ominous.

Someone is watching you, you're sure. A part of you hopes it's her.

"And why is that weird?" You ask Peter, watching as he collects the candles. You sigh in relief, glad to have missed the conversation.

"I thought they liked us - you - at least," he mumbles.

"Maybe they want us gone so the witch can have some alone time with Y/n." Yelena's brows jump up and down suggestively, and you can't help, but laugh, some of the tension finally seeping away.

That is, until the last candle on the nightstand lights up again, completely on its own.

Peter staggers back, dropping the stack in his hands. "No fucking way," he whispers, "that never happened before."

He pulls back to check the camera, making sure it's still recording.

"That's a yes, right?" Kate gulps, looking at you with wide eyes. "She wants you wants you. It's not a coincidence."

You take a seat on the rocking chair in the corner and close your eyes, reminding yourself that nothing here could ever hurt you. It doesn't really work when you still feel eyes on you. Your hands tremble, and your legs feel too heavy to stand on. Every sound is amplified, your senses going into overdrive, so when a clock stops ticking, you immediately notice.

The clock reads 12:08, the hands still for a moment, before resuming their course.

You're slowly starting to wish you never agreed to come to this place.

Agatha's words ring in your head. What if the witch thinks you're that poor girl? That'll explain the witches' interest in you. Maybe she made you see those visions to help you remember.

But… What if it's not even her that's been following you? What if it's one of the dark entities Agatha told you about? The thought makes you even more uncomfortable - you'd prefer the Scarlet Witch to haunt you instead of some dark, trapped soul, no matter how absurd it sounds.

"Hey," Kate approaches you.

You blink, and offer her a hesitant smile. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" She bites on her lip, her hands on your knees.

You nod, and take her hands in yours. "I'm fine. Just a bit shaken up."

She sighs heavily, head falling to rest on your lap. "Same," she mumbles, "I feel like a prey."

You rub her shoulders, hoping to ease some of her tension. "We'll be out of here in the morning."

She looks up, smiling. "Actually, we're not sleeping here. Peter said we'll try to talk to them one last time and then go."

You hum, wondering why the information makes you feel worse. Shouldn't you be relieved to leave earlier?

"Okay, come here," Peter calls, putting noise canceling headphones on Yelena's head.

Kate jumps up, her eyes lightening up at the sight of Yelena sitting rigidly on the chair, a blindfold and headphones in place. "Oh, this is gonna be good," she smiles, settling in front of the blonde.

Peter looks at you. "I think you should ask the questions."

You nod, biting on the inside of your cheek. You think of something appropriate to ask - something that would reveal information without offending any of the spirits here.

"Are we here alone?" You ask, and everyone turns to look at Yelena, awaiting an answer.

Yelena's head bobs up and down, like she's listening to her favorite song, but you know for sure it's just white noise.

"Hello," Yelena says, smiling slightly.

Not alone, then.

You nod, and Peter gestures for you to continue.

"My name is Y/n, what is your name?"

It's quiet for a little while, occasional squeaks from the balcony making you jump up and look around.

When Yelena doesn't answer, Peter decides to speak up. "Did you follow us here from the lobby? Was it you-"

"Shut up," Yelena barks.

Kate stumbles back on the floor, and settles against the foot of the bed. "Oh fuck."

Peter takes a step back, raising his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Sorry." He nods at you, urging you to continue.

"Do you not like him?" You ask.

"In… in the way…" her voice is unsure as she trails off.

"Peter's in the way? In the way of what?" Kate speaks up, looking at you.

"Deal," the blonde whispers, "owe."

Peter frowns. "You made a deal and you owe someone?"

Yelena purses her lips, tilting her head to the side like she can't quite figure out what is being said.

The bathroom door slowly creaks open.

"Are you in the bathroom?" Kate's voice shakes, and you take her hand, shuffling closer to the girl.

"Blood."

You exhale, looking at the open doorway with wide eyes.

Kate nods rapidly, her hand trembling. "There was a lot of blood. You scared the shit out of me."

Yelena chuckles, "Feed."

So whatever is here has been feeding on your fear.

"Who are you?" You ask again.

"You know," Yelena replies. "You all do."

"What's behind that door?" You have the strongest urge to go back there.

Yelena chuckles, shaking her head. “Go see for yourself.”

Light starts flickering, tears spring to your eyes, and you fight the urge to curl into a ball and cry. Yelena turns her head and sits up, leanings towards you.

"You forgot."

"Forgot about what?" You shudder, eyes darting between the door and Yelena.

"Our deal."

Peter darts to the other side of the room and snaps the door to the bathroom shut, his mouth set in a flat line. "We're leaving."

"She can't," Yelena singsongs.

"There's no deal. You're mistaken," Peter snaps, collecting the equipment.

"What deal?" You hesitantly ask.

Lightning strikes outside, a loud boom of thunder following. The painting of the burning witch falls.

"I own y-"

Peter tugs off the headphones, Yelena's mouth snaps shut. She tugs off the blindfold and blinks, brows set in confusion. "Are we gonna start any time soon?"

Kate groans, falling face first to the floor. "Fuck my life."

_______________________

Before you yell at me - yes, there will be a part two

[lowgothree]

𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ━━ ❛ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 ❜

chapter no. 000!          

𝗈𝗈𝗈.                 ⠀CONTENT : angst-ish. reader is lowk insecure and paige is lowk not good at reassurance (its for the plot trussst)

𝗈𝗈𝗈. ⠀      WORD COUNT : 637

𝗈𝗈𝗈.   ⠀AUTHORS NOTE : lmk if yall like this or not!

THERE WAS A TIME WHERE PAIGE KISSING YOU, having you underneath her warm lips, was the best thing that could happen to you. you loved how human it was. how natural it felt for her to be on top of you, her body heat engulfing you. whenever you were together; it was like you entered a little bubble…one where only you and her existed. 

but everything is temporary, (including humanity, apparently) because one november night, she had you pinned against her bed and all you can think about is how much you hate the feeling. you’re alone together now, in the private comfort of her apartment. the blinds were drawn shut but it wouldn’t matter because by now midnight had already rolled in and everyone looking in was most likely sleeping. you had her to yourself, finally –– nothing about the setting was unusual, most of the alone time you and paige had was past 11pm. she only loved you in the dark. 

but it wasn’t enough anymore. 

perhaps you had gotten greedy, finding yourself wanting to hold her hand in less private spaces. you’d been with her for months, six to be exact, and yet it felt pointless. she wouldn’t tell anyone. she said she loved you but she couldn’t tell anyone. and it didn’t help that she was possibly the biggest flirt most likely ever. she pulled away, noticing your lack of usual enthusiasm. 

“is something wrong?” three words that jump started the end of the relationship—if you could even call it that. it was inauspicious at best, nonexistent at worst. that was your greatest fear when it came to the two of you––that there was really nothing there. those three, almost dismissive words, completely shattered you. 

you bite your tongue but it’s futile. when you open your mouth again the words escape before you even realize it, much less stop yourself from saying them. “why did you say that?”

“cause you’re being weird and i wanna know what’s up?” she says in an obvious tone, confused as to why you’d even question her motives for trying to know what’s wrong with her girlfriend. 

“no, not that.” you sigh, realizing your vagueness. “earlier.” 

paige’s confused expression doesn’t lift for even a moment, in fact, it seems to increase. 

“to the girl at the shop. when she asked if you had a girlfriend.” you reply simply, annoyed that the situation clearly meant nothing to her when it meant everything to you. at the moment, at least. “you said you weren’t looking for a relationship.”

“well, that’s not exactly a lie.” she’s mostly joking but it’s clear that you didn’t take it that way. your hand, which was running up and down the length of her spine subconsciously, stops abruptly. her words are spoken lightheartedly but they suffocate you.

“i just mean…i’m kinda with you, y’know? so i’m not actively looking.” she doesn’t know why that’s what she chose to say in that moment and those words would prove to haunt her for long after.

“would it kill you to call me your girlfriend?”

she pauses, tensing like she always does whenever you talk labels. her silence is the worst answer. her silence is indifference. she doesn’t care, of course she doesn’t. why would you even expect her to? it was clear she only wanted a good time from you.

so you decided to make this easy for her. by saying what she never ever wanted you to say to her. you sit up, standing from the bed. “i think it’s best if we don’t keep seeing each other.”

she hates how formal you sound. she hates even more how she can’t say anything. she hates how she can’t speak even when you gather your things to leave her. she let you go, too frozen to stop you.

[heavenlyraindrops]

smut writing tips (TW: sexual stuff cause like. Cmon. It’s smut)

I did one for character so now I’m doing one for smut what’s wrong with smut huh so what if I’m writing tips on how to make smut so what SO WHAT HUH

Smut scenes aren’t that different from normal scenes. Probably because they’re normal scenes. Remember that.

Therefore, they should have dialogueeee because boy oh boy the amount of smut I have read where they are just dead silent is insane I could rebuild the wall of china with allat

so… dirty talk

BUT DONT MAKE IT TOO LONG! OR TOO WEIRD…

“Do you think they’d watch?” he asks. “Do you think they’d enjoy the sight of your naked flesh on display? Maybe they would get off on seeing your dripping pussy reflected back at them everywhere they look. Or the pretty flush on your chest when you come. I think they’d even enjoy watching your eyes roll to the back of your head when my cock fills you so fully, you can’t fit any more of me inside you.”

That’s from haunting Adeline… and… just.. no. NONONONO ITS DISGUSTING ITS GROSS…. WHO TF SAYS THAT BRO. Why is tHIS BOOK SO POPuLAR

more gross examples: “You want to know what I’d do?” he questions. “I would let them watch. I would let them watch me claim you as mine and own every inch of your body. They would watch my cock fill every one of your holes and then watch you cry because of how hard you came. And then I’d fucking kill them. My cock would still be wet from your cum as I’d slice their throats for even daring to look at what’s mine.”

dont write like that guys… like ew. Just ew

also.. epithets.. ok idk what they’re called because English = not my first language but

like

”his member” “sword” “love button” “seed” “her peaks/ nubs”

look my dude if you can read a smut scene like “he inserted his sword inside her cavern and spewed his seed inside her while fondling her mounds” then sure pop off I guess but tbh

no.

JUST USE COCK DICK AND PUSSY OR SOMETHING IDK WHY U GOTTA DO THIS TO ME I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO SEE CERTAIN THINGS THE SAME WAY EVER AGAIN

“his member” I’m sorry is his dick joining a club?

anywaysysystst

research human body stuff. Like, dicks need to recharge before they get hard again yk

“Recharge” idk bro yk what I mean

cumming more than once for women do be kinda painful unless there’s an amount of time in between the orgasms

like depends on the woman, can range from a couple of hours to at least a whole day

although this doesn’t apply to everyone and some people do just go for it a bunch of times in one session so it’s a very variable thing

so yeah! Make sure to educate urself on biology

spemd more time talking about how they feel physically and emotionally than what they are doing so that the scene actually does have some depth

consistency! I have read shit that goes along the lines of “he grabbed her waist then with his other hand stroked her cheek and then she wrapped her legs around his feet and he pressed his elbow againts her knee flipping her upside down while she nibbled on his ear” how am I supposed to imagine any of that

they keep sprouting a third arm

or do things that completely contradict the position that they are in.. he can’t slap ur ass if ur in the cowgirl position..well, not very comfortably

so. Consistency! :)

that’s all for now ermmmm so yah tell me if this was helpful guys

[mrs-gauche]

...and also the only time that Solas of all people, is completely speechless, for once at a loss for words in response to an irrefutable argument.

Throughout the whole game (with a few exceptions in which he actually admits to having misjudged), whenever you get the chance to debate him on something you do not agree on, Solas, Mr “I’m a trillion years old, you know nothing, so listen carefully” will practically verbally jiu-jitsu you for every possible argument you might have, like, he’s an absolute master at playing Ace Attorney refuting any of your points, much like playing mind chess with Iron Bull, there is no chance to win an argument with Solas if he’s determined to have you recognize the flaw in your logic or at least understand his perspective, making you feel like this gif at the end of every debate.

But when Lavellan says “I would have had you trust me”, finally, there is no counter argument, no clever comeback, no objection... He has nothing. Because Lavellan is right and he knows. There’s just silence until he turns around and continues with the rest of the dialogue. And I think it’s interesting how this is kinda the culmination of all the little hints throughout the whole game at his ingrained distrust, leading up to this moment.

“An enemy can attack you, but only an ally can betray you. Betrayal is always worse.”

"The next time you have to mourn, you don't need to be alone." “It’s been so long since I could trust someone.”

“That’s when you should lean on your friends.” “Apologies, Inquisitor. I have learned not to do that.”

“I’ll rely on those I trust.” "You think to share your power, to avoid the temptation to misuse it. A noble sentiment... but, ultimately, a mistake." (...) "Because while one selfless man may walk away from the lure of power's corruption... no group has ever done so."

“You created a powerful organization, and now it suffers the inevitable fate of such. Betrayal and corruption.”

"I trust my friends." "I know that mistake well enough to carve the angles of her face from memory."

“She was betrayed as I was betrayed. As the world was betrayed!” - Flemeth about Mythal

You get the sense that him witnessing Mythal being betrayed and murdered by the Evanuris was probably the catalyst for his immense trust issues, so much so that it still has that big of an impact on him centuries later. And of course it has, when 1) it was this batrayal and power corruption that set everything in motion, it almost lead to the end of the entire world, which in turn lead to the creation of the Veil and finally the loss of his world and his people, 2) he has spent the last 1000 years walking the Fade, having to look at the ever present Black City in its center - their prison - as a constant reminder of what happened. (I know it’s not confirmed yet, but come on! 😂)

And then there is Lavellan (or any high approval Inquisitor for that matter) at the end of all this. Who proved him wrong with every action throughout DAI. Who has shown wisdom in their decisions and that the power they were given mustn’t corrupt them. That there is no reason for him not to trust them. And yet, he simply can’t, because the past still haunts him and centuries of history have taught him otherwise (and like a bunch of other reasons for him to not tell Lavellan the truth in that moment in Crestwood, but that’s beside the point here lol). 

And then at the end of Trespasser, Lavellan finally throws it straight to his face, and while he could pull any of the excuses listed above, he simply can’t refute them anymore. Look at his expression as he just looks at them in response, at first still frowning for a second, as if he’s still about to argue them again, but then suddenly shifting into sorrow, slightly shaking his head in defeat. “I got nothing.” Solas, who easily managed to own you in any debate prior to this, is all out of arguments. It’s the final argument and the Inquisitor won.

(Well, technically, it even happens twice in this final conversation, if we’re counting Solas’ internal debate with himself. lol)

"We aren't even people to you." "Not at first. You showed me that I was wrong."

But going back to his distrust, it surely can’t be a coincidence that this whole issue was also topic in a recent interview with DA4′s Creative Director, talking about what defines a hero.

I’ve talked about this numerous times now, like here, here or here, but what it all comes down to is basically just one more penny for the “Solas needs to learn how to trust again in order to be saved from himself” jar. lol

“We will save our friend from himself… if we can.”

Like. It’s literally his name. Pride. Saving Solas from himself does quite literally mean to strip him off his name and the belief that, to quote John Epler again, “only he has the answers, that he is the only one who can solve this” and to accept the help of others. Which is why he has to get a new name by the end of all this. I’m dying on that hill. 😂

[octaviasdread]

I hereby conduct this tortured poets society album meeting in all of its mania and sorrowful blues as I move from unhinged impressions to unhinged first-listen analysis because I am incapable of saying less.

(and to all the Aimees i’m so sorry but that’s on Kim)

This Anthology is taking me so long to process, but nothing feels like the first jarring moments of I Can Do It With a Broken Heart - the cacophony and flashes of a birthday breakdown bopping to 80s arcade game synth. It's crumbled cake and mascara streaks when Bejewelled is actually a delusional Mirrorball,

and The Secret Garden reference in I Hate It Here, oh god, she’s so me:

I hate it here so I will go to / secret gardens in my mind / people need a key to get to / the only one is mine / i read about it in a book when I was a precocious child

I need to come back to that. But the whirlwind of Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me? Plans cancelled. IM THE ONE barricaded in the bathroom with a bottle of wine, actually. It's me chained-up in that poor things victorian mourning dress shrieking elegies in my tortured nightingale screams.

She's Grammys Taylor looking at the crowd of her peers rolling their eyes, she's the litany of snide jokes diminishing her success, and the children, sisters, friends, and girlfriends of those who wronged her loudly singing her songs.

so i leap from the gallows and i levitate down your street / crash the party like a record scratch as I scream / who’s afraid of little old me

i was tame i was gentle til the circus made me mean / don’t you worry folks we took out all her teeth

ohhh, the throwback to Speak Now and the significance of MEAN. The song and its titular word show how childish language encapsulates that pointless spite and the bone deep hurt mean behaviour breeds - but now she’s a phoenix risen, and they hurl her youth and her downfall back in her face - word for word, surprised face - its the dark side the The Lucky One, of not escaping the cage of fame games.

you lured me and you hurt me and you taught me / you caged me and then you called me crazy

i wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me / you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me / so all you kids can sneak into my house with all the cobwebs / i’m always drunk on my own tears isn’t that what they all said?

PUT NARCOTICS IN MY SONG took me out. This album is funny in the most sardonic and absurdly humorous ways,

like the classic cowboy western guitar strings in her crime songs (I Can Fix Him, No Really I Can - pistols drawn), but especially the ones leading into Fresh Out The Slammer. Fucking genius, and to follow on with static sounds at 2:26ish to the house where you still wait up, is exactly the kinda detail I adore.

Naively, I thought Florence was done with me after Florida!!! It's a lyrical meme for single 20 & 30 somethings who moved away from home,

my friends all smell of like weed or little babies / and the city reeks of driving myself crazy / little did you know your home’s really only / a town you’re just a guest in

and the haunting morphs from the ghost of your girlhood into the catalogue of decisions and delusions which get you through adulthood. Yet it feels almost like an interlude within the song when

me and my ghosts we’ve had a hell of a time / yes i’m haunted but i’m feeling fine / all my girls got their lace and their crimes / and your cheating husband disappeared/ well no one asks questions here

appears like an alternative pov for No Body, No Crime with the girls and their ghosts and their pacts made over wine. Every Action has an Equal Reaction. Run away to Florida, or Texas, and lose yourself to lose the heartbreak. Its self-destruction, it's trauma-healing, bonding, and its breaking.

(what a song for an angsty girl collab, problematic girl in hand with problematic girl, lyrically and thematically, maybe the real love story is the friends we make along the way.)

And that wasn't even the last of it. It's Florence 2.0 with B side Cassandra, but instead of Dance Fever, its Taylor’s glorious mythology with all the allusions, parallels, intertextual and lyrical ruining of my mind:

when the first stone’s thrown they’re screaming / when its burn the bitch they’re shrieking / when the truth comes out its quiet

so they killed cassandra first cus she feared the worst / and tried to tell the town / so they filled my cell with snakes i regret to say / do you believe me now?

No apologies anymore. A girl given the gift of prophecy by Apollo, the GOD OF POETRY, is cursed with her prophecy never being believed: Burning all the witches even if you aren't one, indeed. She saw the truth of the Trojan horse, and the Trojans insulted her. Rep snake branding and the current cultural view of KK and Ye. I don't need to say anything else.

i was in the tower weaving nightmares / twisting all my smiles into snarls

the family the pure greed the christian chrous line / bloods thick but nothing like a payroll / bet they never spared a prayer for my soul

I literally played that THREE times before I got over it enough to finish my first listen,

and i’m still thinking about Clara Bow and that Stevie Nicks tambourine we collectively freaked over from the Spotify installation, and all the silent movie speculation from the track title release.

you look like Clara Bow in this light - you look like Stevie Nicks in '75 - you look like Taylor Swift

Three women whose public profession became entangled with their pain. Silver Springs. Boyfriend songs. The jokes. Clara Bow.

Clara feared being left behind by 'talkies.' Miss Americana. The fear of 30 bringing death to a woman's Hollywood/Musical career,

beauty is a beast that roars down on all fours demanding more / only when your girlish glow flickers just so / do they let you know?

Three women who beat the odds - three women whose talent, craft, and popularity carried them through.

But there's something more to unpack here with cycles and patterns - of the past endlessly repeating. It's the transient nature of fame and our fleeting view of beauty mapped out in the untouchable, ever-changing, and culturally worshiped moon.

It's a body of physical craters, a natural body we call discovered, and fight to claim. We project emotions and create rituals of worship - you're the new god we're worshipping. Endless stories are told about her, but we can never fully see the moon with human eyes. Eclipses, shadows, - 'half moonshinе, a full eclipse' - half-truths and half-moons:

this town is fake but you're the real thing / breath of fresh air through smoke rings / take the glory, give everything / promise to be dazzling

There's a play on light and a play on words in the repetition of Dazzling, shining so bright so blindingly bright. Who is dazzled? Who is doing the dazzling? There's an instability between Director - Public - Star. It's Hollywood lights, No one in my small town thought I'd see the lights of Manhattan / No one in my small town thought I'd meet these suits in LA.

She beat the 'War Big Machine' - but for me, there's ambivalence and illusion on all sides of the final lyrics, you've got edge, she never did / the future's bright, dazzling.

(and ‘Edge’ is particularly ironic when you consider the songs on this album…)

Moving again into the B Side, it's Taylor's departure from Invisible string, red strings of fate, and golden threads à la the golden chain of fate in Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities that strikes me.

First, I thought her writing was a complete departure from the themes of destiny and fate, but then, The Prophecy:

cards on thе table / Mine play out like fools in a fablе

it isn't an absent symbol; it transformed. It's the evermore forest amped to the max. Witches, folklore, fairy-tale and fable - a homeric epic. Its the hero's journey distilled as she opens the song with a move from 'full throttle' adventure, to slowing down 'Hand on the Throttle' to appeal for Supernatural aid at the hero's transformative fall.

and it was written / I got cursed like eve got bitten / a greater woman wouldn't beg / but I looked at the sky and said / please I've been on my knees / change the prophecy

Lover asking Traffic Lights becomes spending my last coin so someone will tell me, and this might be the most slept-on heartbreaking line. Her search for reassurance can't be framed as an arbitrary musing anymore. It can't be dismissed as a mere thought on her drive home, or something triggered throughout the day - its intent. It's a quest for answers, a plea, a last-ditch hope difficult to deny.

and I sound like an infant / feeling like the very last drops of an ink pen/ a greater woman stays cool/ but I howl like a wolf at the moon / and I look unstable /

gathered with a coven 'round a sorceress' table / a greater woman has faith But even statues crumble if they're made to wait / i'm so afraid I sealed my fate / no sign of soulmates

She's asking for a gift from the Gods, and when the God's won't answer, she plunges straight down from heaven or Olympus into the self seizure of power in witchcraft. And when it fails, she descends further - Spending my last coin so someone will tell me it'll be okay - paying mortal fortune tellers, even if they lie.

The song leans on figures without redemption, on the Eve's, on the women cursed and punished, and those who scream like infants rather than enduring burdens and pain in silence. She's poisoned, infected like Aurora from the wound of the pricked hand with dreams of him. Is this a punishment?

She's infected, cursed like Eve got bitten, [lyric of all time!!!!] but does a monster always do monstrous things? Who is the monster? Who is the folkloric, the literary Mad Woman? Perhaps she's written from the desperate, the scarred, and the wronged.

and the transition into another tale with Peter? As in Peter losing Wendy? Is it an epilogue to the Betty trilogy? or a different use of the metaphor?

and I didn't wanna hang around / we said it was just goodbye for now /said you were gonna grow up / then you were gonna come find me / words from the mouths of babes / promises oceans deep / but never to keep

The triangle is echoed in love's never lost when perspective is earned, reflecting the different povs of Betty, August, and James, and placing Peter as the new conclusion - the shelf life of those fantasies has expired / lost to the lost boys chapter of your life/ the woman who sits by the window/ has turned out the (porch?) light.

Promises wear out. Wendy's window closes, and so does this chapter in her life.

my lost fearless leader / in closets like cedar / preserved from when we were just kids / is it something I did? / the goddess of timing / once found us beguiling

is also - intentionally or not - Narnia coded. Is the storybook collecting dust in her closet? Or is the closet still holding a portal to another fairytale land accessible only in youth, another home you can't return to (and another folklore parallel with mtr, anywhere I want just not home).

Side B is so harmonious with ttpd being the end of a chapter as the anthology moves through all the seven stages (or Taylor playlists) of grief.

The Manuscript, the signing of the autopsy, is the Death of the Author. It's the Roland Barthes realisation of All Too Well reborn in joy and fan culture, the story isn't mine anymore, of the Eras - 'I hope you hear these songs and think of this night' - Tour. She knew what the agony had been for - art. connection. - and its these things that create the hope lost in ttpd's journey through mania, disorientation, loss and despair. It all leads to healing, nothing left but a manuscript.

So many thoughts from listen no.1 and they’ll probably change, but i’m so exhausted from this 31 song rollercoaster that I'm just gonna let this sit. death of the author, I guess.

[phoenix-before-the-flame]

not a hc but can you rank lucy's stardresses?

A fit rank huh? Sure I can do that. Just gonna preface n say that obviously this is my opinion and whatevs and that I won't be includin any of the ones introduced in 100yr because I don't care about the sequel :]

Alrightie lets get into it! This gonna get long tho, so imma put it under read more so I don't murder ppl who are scrolling.

Aquarius Stardress

This one honestly might be on the lower tiers for me. Like for the first stardress shown its rather, boring. The colour choice of green and yellow is weird, and visually disconnects it from Aquarius (like seriously? No blue anywhere?). The wrap skirt is cute and I do love how she has Aquarius' collarbone tattoo. That's fire. But the basic bikini top is meh. Overall its serviceable, 6/10 on the Phoenix scale.

Leo Stardress

Honestly can't go wrong with a nice black dress. I really would've preferred a pants suit for this one but the dress regardless is fun. I has a nice shape with the asymmetrical skirt and I like the ruffles all over. I also like how the anime gave her stockings

If I had nitpicks i'd say to get rid of the center line down the middle of the chest, the two under the bust are enough and get rid of the purple hair clip, it feels tacked on and just tosses in a random colour to the palette. I'd also maybe change the yellow to something more orange so it pops more (maybe even make the interior of the dress something eyecatching to add some extra oomph visually when she's kicking.)

But good fit, 8/10

Virgo Stardress

Well, it's about what you'd expect tbh. It's a maid outfit lol. There ain't much here to say cept that its cute. 6/10

Tauros Stardress

Oh hell fuckin yea. HELL YEAH

Unabashedly this one is one of my favourites solely because of the uneven pants. It's so fun and stupid. I also like how she and Tauros have matching belt buckles.

The basic ass bikini top does bring it down though (sorry i'm a bikini top hater. If you're gonna put a character in a bikini top at least make it a different style! There's different types of tops that can be both sexy and interesting!!!!). It also looks wack at certain angles.

My chest hurts lookin at this.

Apart from that I don't think the double buns works best with this dress, I think it'd work better if swapped with the double braids of the capricorn dress. Also I just think it'd be cool if this dress gave her an axe, like how the cancer dress gave her weapons.

but because of how much joy the stupid pants give me, 9/10.

Sagittarius Stardress

Another banger stardress despite a glaringly obvious issue.

This shit's great to me. Good colours, fun patterns, i fuckin love that its backless and the high ponytail is great here. The issue?

That deep ass coochie cut.

On god it just looks so uncomfortable. The anime tried to even it out by giving her tights but that just tossed in another colour to the palette and just unbalances it. A simple fix would've been just to make it white leggings under there. Skin tight, sexy and still practical. Apart from the coochie cut the only nitpick I have is that I think the boob window should've been star shaped and i wish her sleeves also doubled as archery gloves.

Apart from that and how much the coochie cut haunts me, its a 9/10

Aires Stardress

Now I have no idea why, but I was never exactly big on this one. Like it's not awful, all the stardresses have a baseline cuteness to them. The alternating pink and white tiers on the dress is nice, but the cut under the bust kinda kills the uniform pattern it had goin on. Likewise the leggings don't feel coherent to the rest of the fit. Like still cute, but the stripes and the introduction of black makes the whole thing feel busy and plain all at once. Though ironically when it's in the manga and purely black and white i think it looks better.

But I dunno, i think this one actually might be my least favourite. 4/10

Gemini Stardress

Ok. I like the alternating blue and white all over. That's cool. But, that headdress on top of the already busy outfit feels like its a lil too much on top. Also the random gold baubles on the outfit itself feels sorta thrown on. The belt can stay I suppose but nix the tassels near the collar and trade in the boob window for a deeper neckline.

We can just get rid of the headdress altogether and change her hairstyle to like, crown braid with a hanging blue and white ribbon on either side to keep with the alternating colours and we golden. 5/10

Scorpio Stardress

Gonna start this off to say, not a big fan of the bottom (the leather panty thing with the chain on it? Dawg idk i don't like it lol). and the chain on it looks so silly and not in a fun way. If anything I think she should have a bigger tail, not as big as scorpio's but defs something bigger that what she has currently. And as much as I like backless fits I don't think it works here, the deep cut boob window can stay though. I do like the headband and how her hair frames her face but overall its another 5/10.

Also here's a scorpio stardress redesign that I like. Doesn't fix all my issues with the og but it's still pretty dope.

Cancer Stardress

I like this because it looks cool and gives Lucy weapons. I don't like it because it doesn't connect well with Cancer the spirit visually. But Cancer's design sucks and I like this better than Cancer himself. Truly a design with conundrums for me. 6/10

Capricorn Stardress

I don't like this dress! Not one bit! Why is it a bdsm tit dress! The hair is cute and I like the shades and the horn clips with the bows but the dress!!!!!!!! Why is it so visually disconnected from Capricorn the spirit! Why isn't it a skirt suit with sexy fishnet leggings like in the concept art!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Why isn't this the canon design!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tragic/10

[awakenedsalamander]

Alright, so I’ve obviously given Mage and Vampire some attention. It’s about time I talk about Werewolf: The Apocalypse, you know, round out the “big three.”

Truth be told, I have kind of a love/hate relationship with Werewolf, though that kinda implies it’s an even split of things I enjoy and things I don’t, but that’s not quite correct.

A more accurate breakdown of my feelings would be something like:

- 60% stuff I really love and appreciate

- 20% stuff I go back and forth on

- 15% stuff I dislike but can tolerate (pretty standard for WoD)

- 5% stuff I really, truly, passionately loathe

And it’s honestly that last 5% that I struggle with most. To be clear, a lot of the WoD games have things in them I don’t just dislike, but find sincerely objectionable or harmful. (A certain Vampire sourcebook, the title of which I can’t even comfortably write out, immediately comes to mind.) But I get past those things, because 1) no work of art is morally flawless, and your tastes as a hobbyist or audience member are not your ethics as a human being and 2) a lot of that stuff is from the older editions and has largely been divorced from the game.

So what’s different about Werewolf?

Well, some of it lies in point 2— there are things in Werewolf that are bad and (barring the controversy of 5th Edition’s lore changes, which is a whole other kettle of fish that I’d rather not dive into right now) are still part of the game. Improved somewhat? Absolutely. But the ugliness of some choices still haunts the game.

The ways Werewolf: The Apocalypse talks about native peoples, from Indigenous Australians to First Nations Americans, is a big example. I don’t feel it prudent for me to go into those details, if only because I think it’s not my lane and voices from those cultures should really lead those discussions, but the game has a very weird attitude toward indigenous groups— at one recognizing their history and the atrocities they’ve come through with respect, while still finding ways to exoticize that history, and appropriate much of it. To say nothing of the ways in which it feels comfortable speaking over indigenous groups, even in matters of their rights.

That’s just one example. There’s the way Werewolf conceptualizes ethnicity and ancestry in general, which is weirdly archaic in places despite seemingly trying to criticize that view. There’s its approach to disability and bodies that differ from an assumed norm, which as many have observed can sometimes come across as genuinely eugenicist on occasion.

And of course, the game is about monsters— you’re not meant to agree with the Garou on much of their beliefs, and you’re meant to engage with those very real issues and wrestle with the right way forward.

And honestly? That last part— the reality of the issues at hand— that’s what makes the bad parts of Werewolf so hard to look past. You know, the other games in the World of Darkness deal with real world issues, but they do so in a fairly abstract way. Like, sure I can and do identity the Technocracy of Mage with destructive and cruel systems of power in the real world, but like… there isn’t actually a league of hypereconomists using secret math to influence the fate of the world. That’s just an exaggerated and metaphorical way to engage with the problems at the heart of a late-capitalist world.

But Pentex? Pentex is basically real. The Apocalypse in Werewolf: The Apocalypse is climate change. It’s happening now. When the game tells you that you need to Rage against the dying of Gaia… that’s almost as literal as it gets. And that makes its fumbles, its mistakes, and yes, its deliberate offenses, harder to swallow. The stakes are high enough that when things are wrong, it really hurts.

But… let’s also acknowledge: The reality I’m talking about it? It’s what makes that 60% stuff I like so amazing. The lows of Werewolf are hard to stomach, but the highs are just… exhilarating.

Like, Werewolf is a game that says, “You see the state of the world? You see its monstrous past? Its insidious present that only hides the horror? Do you see the doomed future its on a crash course with? Let’s take it, and let’s rip it to fucking shreds. It these tyrants and thieves want to kill the world, then we’ll kill them first, if that’s what it takes. If the Apocalypse happens, it happens on our terms, on the terms of the people being victimized and shoved to the margins. You and I? We’re gonna build a better world or die trying. All our anger might ruin us, but we have to try. The consequences of our actions are dire, but we don’t go down without making the bastards work for it. Not without a fight.”

And fuck, when the game is saying that? It’s priceless.

In fact, this has all been too down on Werewolf as a whole. I want to get my problems with the game out front, just to acknowledge them and keep space for the critique and change that they demand, but at the end of the day, I am a Werewolf: The Apocalypse fan (if one with a lot of notes). I want to do something a little unusual and show you an outline for an Apocalypse chronicle I haven’t yet had the chance to run, to show you what I love about the game.

So, stay tuned for a glimpse into that later— a glimpse into “Blood Ripples Out.”

[l0verf0rever]

request for angst with trent alexander arnold. maybe you’re FWB but want more and he says he doesn’t so you end things, but then he sees you out flirting with someone else and gets upset

ʙʟᴜᴇʙᴇʀʀʏ ᴍᴏᴊɪᴛᴏ | ᴛʀᴇɴᴛ ᴀʟᴇxᴀɴᴅᴇʀ-ᴀʀɴᴏʟᴅ

Trent Alexander-Arnold x Reader

Warning : Angst Painfull Angst

Summary: At some party you’re at the biggest regret you ever made cause of some alcohol made you lose someone you loved so much

Masterlist

Past

“Trent Please talk to me “ desperate pleas “What do you even want?” He’s cold gaze “I’m sorry “ holding he’s arm

“ sorry for what ? Were nothing okay you ended things already and i’m just avoiding you okay” he’s tone gets angrier he shoves your hand away truth be told you still loved him and maybe he did too?

“Please Trent don’t make us each other remember this way” as He walks to He’s car. “Y/n you made YOURSELF feel this way” he closed the door as You stand alone in that parking lot

Current

Weeks Passed but it always feels like a day ago You never allow yourself to ever drink cause of how much you regret it You hated the way it ended

It felt like he took you’re everything and ended at that Parking lot It hurted so much to know he’s doing well hearing a ping from you’re phone just another spam about how he’s doing well

You didn’t bother calling him for days you tried texted him if he will talk to you “Can you please talk to me ?” You try to not make you’re days focused on hoping he will reply seeing figures of guys who reminded of him

Maybe its hurts to be nothing with you? Than to be something with you? Running wild on you’re mind all day and night

you still did You’re tasks but everything felt so bland now “why can’t i let go of this?” You question yourself you were at a midnight stroll with you’re dog and a sight of a boy who looked like Trent. After the walk you called him

You closed the call tears were about to fall you risked it all for him just to fall back and pushed away how much you would give just to rewrite you’re mistakes sacrificed friendships just to be with him

But nowhere to go to you had friends of course but nothing hurted more than Knowing each other for a long time since childhood just for him to forget you like a stab in the chest felt like dying of a broken heart everything was wrong everything hurted you’re mistakes haunting and taunting you nothing more it was you’re fault you felt this way and for hurting him.

Hi this is my first full angst no happy ending i don’t about a part 2 for this one but this kinda hurted me too ngl…😭 i listened to alot of sad songs and thank you for the request! I write another Story about Joao Felix its random but its ANOTHER ANGST AHHAH.

@ky-ky-ky-ky just wanted to @ them cause they wanted a Trent story also thanks again for the Request! 🫶

[jellieland]

In hindsight, he probably should’ve expected something like this.

He did, after all, agree to go into the sinister magical fog of unknown origin with nothing but an axe, a dream, and what is turning out to maybe, possibly, be an unwarranted level of self-confidence.

If he’s being a hundred percent honest with himself, (Which, well. Most of the time, why would you be?) he was mostly hoping to kill some stuff with the big cool axe. And while the fog is cloyingly, impossibly dense, trailing around his wrists and ankles like barely tightening rope, it is not yet quite dense enough for him to actually slice it away.

If things continue like this, though, he’s not going to rule that out as an eventual possibility. Keep your options open, you know?

He keeps moving forward, because he’s nothing if not deeply stubborn and unwilling to drop a bad idea before it kills him. Also he doesn’t really know which way he's going anymore.

Although… he really doesn’t want to admit this, even to himself, but at this point if he knew a way out he would probably take it. He can feel his heart beating faster, and his hands trying to tremble on the haft of the axe. Not that he’s gonna let them, obviously. But it's something he hasn’t felt in… a while.

It’s probably some kind of magical effect from whatever it is that’s haunting this place. Yeah. Yeah, that’s what it is, he decides. No need to consider any other possibilities.

The mud makes walking hard, dragging him back with every step. Or maybe that’s the fog. It’s hard to tell. He can’t really see the ground at this point, or the axe he’s holding up in front of himself defensively, or the tree roots trying to trip him up.

The sensation of something watching him, waiting for him, only grows, and finally he falters, freezes in place. With no-one there to see it whose opinion matters to him, he listens to his own breathing, shaky and shallow.

Closing his eyes doesn’t change how much he can see, but it does increase the feeling of something inches away and hungry for something more than flesh.

He knows hunger like that.

He opens his eyes.

He tries to tighten his grip on the axe, but his hands are numb. He can’t tell whether he’s still holding it. He can’t move. He can’t see anything.

A deep voice, one he hasn’t heard before, hums in the back of his mind.

“A new vessel, delivered to me? A sacrifice, to appease me?” It purrs.

“…Nah, sorry.” His voice shakes very little. Now this, this is something he knows. This is something he can do. “Think you’ve got the wrong guy.”

“A sacrifice that knows not its purpose, then? No matter. You will be ours whether you are willing or no.” Its tone darkens.

“Ehhh, I don’t know about that. I mean, I’m pretty sure you’ll get more use outta me if I come willingly, right? That’s usually how it works.”

There is a brief, heavy silence before it speaks again.

“You think you have the power to bargain.” It’s not quite a snarl. But there’s clear malice there. He makes a note of it. “The witch who sent you here. You mean nothing to her. She chose you as someone she is not afraid to loose.”

That stings a little, but he gets looking after your own first. And it’s not as though he didn’t suspect it. “Yeah, I figured that was obvious. I was still kinda curious, though, so. What difference does it make?”

A sliver of anger enters its voice. “Your friends will not save you.”

“I mean, sure. They never have before.” He shrugs, or at least he thinks he does. “But I’ve always come up with a way to deal with it by myself, in the end. So it works out, y’know?”

If whatever this is has eyes, somewhere, he thinks they’re probably narrowing. “…You have done this before.”

“Weeeeell, not this exactly. But close enough. Close enough.”

“You know, then, that you are weak.” It says, measured and deliberate.

“Hey now, that feels a little harsh. I prefer extremely possessable, just not a drama queen about it.”

“Your mind is easily molded by the lightest of touches.” And now disdain has entered its voice. Condescension. He hates it. “We could take you in a moment. In a thought.”

It’s never pleasant being reminded of that – a weakness he has no way of hiding from anyone with the ability to look for it.

That just means he has to make up for it in other ways.

“Let’s see.” He says thoughtfully. “There’s the convex, obviously, that probably goes without saying. Grian’s “subtle” suggestion magic in demise – don’t think anyone was even supposed to notice that, but he really did want people to die and then kill, you know? Scar’s magic crystals, can’t forget those, that was pretty wild.”

“What is the purpose of this?” It asks coldly.

“Sure, you can take me.” He lets just the faintest hint of steel enter his voice. “But you won’t keep me. Nothing ever has. No-one ever will.”

“You sound very sure of yourself for one so afraid.”

“Hey, I have a track record, I’m just taking note of trends here, honestly. I did get called in to do some science, after all.” He hesitates for a moment. “I mean, I’m not opposed to making a deal with you. Not opposed at all. Just think we should both know where we stand.”

“Very well.” It hisses. “You shall give yourself to us, body, mind, and soul.”

“I- yeah, I mean, sure, but then what?”

“We shall sow the seeds of an old world born anew. There shall be death, and fear, and chaos. The shadows of that which was once life shall spread across the land, and the light of the surface shall reach deeper than it has for many, many years.”

“Huh, is that all?” That’s not so bad. “I’ve done worse than that when I wasn’t possessed.”

“You care not for the others of this land? For those you travel with?”

“Course I do! You’re not gonna hurt any of them with that, though. Not in any way that matters.” He laughs. “Might be fun, actually.”

“So. You accept?” It seems unfazed by his casual dismissal. Good. The best alliances, in his experience, and the ones where both parties think they’re playing the other. Keeps things interesting. Probably doesn’t hurt that so far, he’s always managed to come out on top.

“Sure.” He says. “Why not?”

“You are proud, little vex.” He hadn’t thought it possible, but the fog pulls around him tighter, pressing against him, curling around his neck. “Magician of misdirection and dedication.”

He lets it happen. If it wants to have its moment, sure. It can have one. He is reminded, momentarily, of Ren’s kingly speeches.

“You think that we have miscalculated. You are wrong. Or maybe, maybe you are not. But one day, you will be.” The voice grows louder. He’s no longer quite sure whether the fog he can see is in his eyes or his mind. “You will always solve it alone, until one day, you do not. And on that day, it will long have been too late to find another who would save you. To you, though, this will matter little.”

He feels suddenly, unexpectedly warm, the chill of the evening gone all at once. He can feel the presence pressing against his thoughts.

“You will be happy. This, we will grant you. This, we promise.”

It’s all talk. He’ll be fine. Definitely.

Probably.

The fog swells one last time.

Something gives.

---

As he makes his way back out of the forest, he has a spring in his step. He can’t quite remember what happened in there, but he feels great, if a little sad to leave the comforting warmth of the fog behind.

Nearing the witch’s place, he finds that the lights around here are a lot brighter than he remembers. Has she added more since he left?

That won’t do.

That won’t do at all.

[nerves-nebula]

Sorry bout this thing but I kinda wanted to tell my thoughts about your stuff. Im kind of hoping this will get drowned in your inbox honestly, since this is just a really long unsolicited rant of mine.

Sometimes when i scroll through your account and I encounter csa, incest and mentions of suicide in your posts I get uncomfortable but then I remember that one phrase that goes something like "Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comforted" and I just feel kinda bad bout myself.

When I was a kid my nannys bf forced me to kiss him in the lips whenever we met. I was 6. It was uncomfortable. I never did tell my nanny about it. My parents are both police people and my mother had long explained the concept of rape and how unconsensual touch is bad and you shouldnt allow that but something prevented me from telling anyone what was happening. I dont know why. I know they would immiedietly jail that guy if they did but somehow it felt like no one would believe me. I never told them until now, then when I was what, 6-8 years old? I cant even remember. Yeah somewhere around that, he molested me when my nanny was few feet away and asleep and for the next 4 years of my life i felt dirty. Desecrated. Stupid. I couldnt even look down at my naked body when i shower back then, but somehow I managed to trudge on living by trying to forget the fact it happened. Its been 8 years since Ive last seen him. Ive told anyone who I knew who doesnt care enough to be friends with me but cared enough to listen about it but my Parents are none the wiser and i plan on keeping it that way.

Also. Im a year away from being legal now. Ive thought about killing myself or just generally not wanting to exist anymore many times since then, cuz lifes equipped with motolov cocktails of "get fucked dumbass" and i somehow managed to get a coupon for at least a million of them.

(I hope that line made you laugh if you read this).

Coming back to the phrase i mentioned earlier, it feels weird whenever i feel something similar to the feeling of being triggered while looking at csa being depicted. By definition, i would be considered a victim, and id of course would be comforted by seeing similar experiences happen to people because relating to something usually induces a positive feeling. I dont. I see your art and it guts me. It guts me and the fact that it does also guts me, because what does that mean? I am supposed to be the comforted? Despite the fact that I was taken advantage of as a child and spent night after might thinking how stupid i was and why I let that happen to me even when I was equiped with the information that makes me less vulnerable than other children? So i do I correspond more with those who are defined as comforted then, was i not disturbed after all? Was i victimizing myself all along? Am I a bad person for thinking i was? No wait, that doesnt make any sense at all. Its all wrong. Why am I so guilty about this? Why am i subjecting myself to this?

And then it repeats.

I still go through your blog because well, i love tmnt, i love your artstyle, i love the way you tell stories, I love how you dont sugar coat csa, incest and other darker topics like body horror, erotism and sadism, i hate how much it haunts me, i love the fact i can relate, i hate how much you hurt them, i love the fact that you dont hold back, i love how you show the ugly sides of healing, i love how you depict how much people can change and struggle. Its comforting to me. Its discomforting to me. I stick hand into the fire knowing I would be burned, then I do.

And i like it. I like it somehow, like taking a nice smoke break when you have mild asthma, but like, better. Its a nice change of pace to feel so conflicted like this, its a nice change of pace to feel anything at all really.

But yeah. Tldr. Sorry for the trauma dump and your art makes me feel complicated. Its neat 👍

lot to reply to here! also, unfortunately for you, i check my inbox obsessively and dont get nearly as many asks as you seem to believe i do.

so firstly, no snappy saying is meant to encompass all of human experience, and you certainly shouldn't judge yourself for not fitting into it. easier said than done, i know, but still. i'm gonna try to address some things here, not gonna touch on all of it, but just know that i appreciate you sitting down to write me this.

(I hope that line made you laugh if you read this).

it made me smile, but i laughed at this, because it's a very sweet look into you writing this. puts into perspective how, even though this is public, it was written TO me. like a letter in victorian times or something. that's sweet, i like that.

and id of course would be comforted by seeing similar experiences happen to people because relating to something usually induces a positive feeling. I dont.

you're making a lot of assumptions here that are kind of wild in that "this thought process was clearly designed by your mind to upset you specifically" sort of way. I mean, would you say this to literally anyone else when they feel uncomfortable or triggered about viewing media that relates to their trauma? There's really no telling what a survivor will feel comforted by and you aren't Doing It Wrong by having a different reaction.

there's a reason i tag it as "csa tw" and that's so people can AVOID it as well as search it up.

how stupid i was and why I let that happen to me even when I was equipped with the information that makes me less vulnerable than other children?

i know you recognize at the end of the thought process that this is not true, but i feel the need to reiterate: there is no such thing as being less vulnerable than other children through your own actions. you can try to equip kids with knowledge that might protect them, but that doesn't make them any less vulnerable.

my dad told me about rape and molestation all the time, but he never accounted for the kinds of scenarios i was actually the most likely to fall victim to, partly because i don't think he actually knew much about childhood sexual abuse, and partly because he was more obsessed with the idea of me being kidnapped and raped/murdered than he was about forms of sexual abuse he'd consider more "mild"

No wait, that doesnt make any sense at all. Its all wrong. Why am I so guilty about this? Why am i subjecting myself to this?

i can't answer that one, unfortunately. personally, i like to feel gutted, it's cathartic to me. might be something like that to you, based on how you go on to describe it, but you might also be doing some kinda self harm.

I stick hand into the fire knowing I would be burned, then I do.

saaaaame. i triggered myself into a breakdown in class once cuz i'd been reading fucked fanfiction before class and i got SAD lol.

Its a nice change of pace to feel so conflicted like this, its a nice change of pace to feel anything at all really.

we are shaking hands over this.

anywho, no need to apologize! i am glad, if nothing else, to provide you with a strange and upsetting experience that is not entirely bad.

I really do adore hearing how my stuff makes people feel. it's like, a solid one third of the reason i do this. i still make stuff that doesn't exist to be shown off but WOW showing shit off and getting a response feels FANTASTIC. like, i'm in your head now!! you have been CHANGED by my ART. it's maybe the best part of being alive.

[zoroslost]

AU where sanji can see ghosts and kuina has been haunting zoro. They become friends after she realizes that he can see her and also once she manages to beat it into him to be a normal person around her.

Both of the swordsmen are in rough shape after the fight and Zoro passes out for days after securing his victory. He doesnt know much about what’s happening outside while he sleeps, but he can hear talking when he manages to swim into consciousness.

“-were just here to see what happens to him right? What happens to you now?” the voice is deep but warm, Zoro kind of wants to curl up in it.

“How the fuck should I know, no one explained this ghost thing to me. You’re the one who’s been able to see them for the past 25 years and you already know that I can’t talk to other ghosts,” it sounds like a kid, high pitched and grating. He kind of wants to tell her to shut up, but he feels a longing to keep hearing her talk. But he’s still asleep so he can’t tell her to do anything anyway so she continues, “Haven’t you seen one fade before?”

“Of course I have,” the man replies, “Usually they just vanish as soon as their reasons for staying are complete, which we both thought was to make sure this idiot completed his goal before he got himself killed.”

Zoro feels a soft hand brush against his forehead as the girl hums in reply. He wants to ask what they’re talking about, wants to see who they are, but the warmth of the hand brushing his face pulls him back into unconsciousness.

He's woken by the same voices sometime later.

“-still doing it wrong, idiot,” the girl complains.

“You’re the one who told me how to do this,” he can hear the eye roll in the man’s voice, “Would you rather I just leave her, I’m sure the moss-head would appreciate that.”

“Better that than doing it wrong,” she grumbles in reply, but seems content with his reply and let’s the other continue. Zoro registers the sharp scent of sword oil and steel as it cuts through the bitter smell of smoke that fills the room.

The two continue the sword cleaning in relative peace, only broken by the girl correcting the man’s work occasionally. Zoro wonders why she doesn’t just do the work herself.

"You going back to your ocean now?" the man hums in reply, "I mean you only stayed to see everyone finish their goals and he was the last one."

"You sure you won't be lonely without me Mellorine."

"As if you damn womanizer!"

"I won't leave until you figure out where you're going."

"You're just looking for an excuse to stay around your Marimo~"

"Not at all Kui-chan, I'm only here to make sure such a beautiful lady doesn't get lost with this oaf."

"You're not fooling anyone love-cook."

Their feeble back and forth lulls him back to sleep.

The next time Zoro rises to the surface, its quiet. His hand is warm, clutched in someone else’s, and he can hear their even breaths clearly in the silence.

“You’re the greatest now huh? Guess I’ll really be the only one who’s ever above you little Zoro. I would say it’s been nice to watch you get here but I’ve seen so much shit I never wanted to. You’re gross!”

The girls voice is quiet and wistful; she clearly isn’t expecting anyone to hear her. He wants to wake up, to argue with her, but his body won’t cooperate.

“Still, I should say thank you, I guess. For carrying my dream. Still kinda pathetic that you had to copy mine but it’s impressive regardless,” her teasing tone turns somber as she continues, “I don’t understand why I’m still here. You completed my dream, we’re the best. I thought I was stuck here to make sure you saw it through but you’ve done that, so why?”

She remains in contemplative silence for a while after. Zoro is almost back under when he hears her, “He’s waiting for you you know. You need to let me go already, there’s someone who’s been waiting for you for far longer than you know. Go with him and find your new goal. God knows you’ll be lost without it…”

He drifts back into the abyss, but not before feeling a cool brush of air across his forehead. It almost felt like a hand.

His head is clearer the next time he hears them and he finally has enough consciousness to recognize them as the cook and Kuina. A weird duo to dream about, but who said dreams had to make sense.

“So you figured it out then?”

“Yep, just gotta make sure someone trustworthy will keep an eye on this idiot and then I’ll fade. For sure this time.”

The cook sighs, “I assume you are making me take care of him then?”

“Don’t act like you weren’t going to anyway. I just need you to confirm it for me.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to wait for him to wake up? Say your last goodbyes and all that?”

The gloomy silence hangs on the hair until she speaks again, “I’ve had more than enough time to see Zoro. Far longer than I would’ve had even if I had lived. It’s your turn now. And I don’t want to watch you two being gross anyway. I’ve had enough of that already no thanks to you.”

“I can’t promise to keep him from getting lost because that’s a hopeless case already, but I will make sure to always bring him back… Goodbye swordsman above the greatest swordsman.”

Her laughter is the last thing he hears before he is gently tugged away again.

When Zoro finally wakes from his slumber, Sanji is still sleeping by his bedside, Zoro’s swords held gently in his precious hands. His sunken eyes and messy hair are enough to tell Zoro that the cook hasn’t been sleeping. Even so, the cook looks beautiful in the afternoon light.

Zoro thinks back to the two people talking in his dream. About the girl who told him to move on, who, in retrospect, was clearly Kuina. About how he’s already found a new purpose. He holds the cooks hand tighter.

[brainworms-all-night-long]

I don't know the story in your head, I don't know the lore

But what I DO know is the brainworms you've given me so-!

You shared the concept of Sonic (canonverse Sonic) being practically haunted by Nightmare who'd keep showing up in his dreams and making him experience so many of The Horrors. And that he'll appear in Tails' visage.

And today we've been introduced to the idea of the og Dream and Nightmare but in your au basically, they are Sonic and Tails respectively if I understood that right.

I'll keep the canon Unbreakable Bond brothers and your Dreamtale au brothers from today's concept separate here by referring to them as Dream and Night.

So now then, you said only Dream (Sonic) can defeat Nightmare. But their backstory is tragic. Dream lost his brother when they were mere children and was petrified for five centuries. But clearly his brother isn't dead dead, more like changed or came back wrong or corrupted (something along those lines.)

So what if, both these concepts occur in the same story? Aka Sonic & Tails, and Dream & Nightmare are from different dimensions. Nightmare (aka Tails' counterpart if sorts) somehow found a bridge to this world and is now haunting Sonic. And Dream (Sonic's counterpart) is the only one who could defeat him

And can you how tragic and painful that would be for all of them? Sonic has to defeat Tails so another pair of brothers don't lose each other like they did. What if Nightmare is haunting Sonic specifically because deep down somewhere, he just wants 'to play' with his brother. Or hurt Dream. And Sonic looks so much like Dream... He specifically targets him because that hedgehog looks like - is, in a way - his brother. And Dream when he gets there to stop Nightmare, sees Tails, alive, happy, well, cared for. Untainted by the darkness.. would he be protective? Would he be sad? How would seeing Tails effect him? What kind of pain would it bring? Will it make fighting Nightmare even harder?

So many thoughts...

Ok ok oh boy, so I originally had these ideas completely separate, but this Oh Marie I'm kissing your brain.

Dreamtale is kinda vital and integral part of the multiverse in its og story, I'm not exactly sure how much of that I want in this AU, but that would definitely have an impact on how Dream!Sonic would react to seeing Tails again. He's been around the multiverse a lot he's gotta be a bit desensitized to it, he'd be used to hunting Nightmare!Tails down and stopping him from causing unnecessary harm.

Except this time, this particular instance is different somehow. It feels the most familiar, the most innocent and painful.

Something akin to a deja vu with how warm the shade of Tails' coat is, the light in his eyes exactly the same he remembers in his brother before everything went wrong, the innocent smile and closeness he has to the Sonic of this universe. With the hedgehog himself being the most uncanny of mirrors he's seen yet.

Seeing the almost exact face of his little bro again after so long of it only being a fuzzy and distant memory would definitely hurt and make him want to protect Tails at all costs and from everything and everyone. It always does. But then he turns around with an arrow ready to shoot, and sees the same face agan. Dark and corrupted, a reminder of his past failure to save his own little bro. It tears him inside but he knows what the right thing to do at the end of the day is. It always ends the same way.

[nagazmulagan]

SUMMER GAMES 🫧

...god, i wish i never spoke.

after many failures concerning love, you decided to give yourself some time and peace, and most importantly, decided to not search for love in vain. that was, unless you saw him. and he abruptly turned your world around.

— childe x reader, modern au kinda, angst. kinda chaotic, kinda weird, kinda disturbing, mentions of death, unsettling relationship dynamic, kind of obnoxious but i haven't written anything for quite some time T__T i need to get back ""in shape"" somehow riiight... so for now yall have to b satisfied with this.. thing but i swear i'm coming back. ᥫ᭡ᥫ᭡

special mention 4 @spierredalay my biggest supporter neva left me🛐🗣️🗣️

you couldn't help but look at your phone screen, wondering if you've done something wrong. after your silly attempts to create any type of bond and getting positive responses, you'd never think that it will end up like this. summer had barely started, and you two were already done? you couldn't help but reminiscence about the beginnings.

you first saw him some time ago, you couldn't really pinpoin, while waiting for your bus. your classes ended up way faster than they were supposed to. you rarely went outside without a reason - specifically in this part of the city. that would explain why you never saw him before. he looked so mysterious, so captivating... definitely the type of guy you'd have a crush on. short ginger hair, flying onto every direction possible, but he still was mesmerising. it definitely suited him.

eyes the color of the sky; like something to look forward to everyday. indicating either calm, beautiful heaven or the consumptive, neverending storm that could wipe out nations. worlds, even. skin so pale you would consider him a vampire: the twilight type of vampire, because he was just oh-so-pretty. everything about him was straight up addicting. you were sure he wasn't about to leave your head for a while.

and so he has not - he continued roaming through your thoughts, consuming every free second in your day to just think about him. him, him and once again him. he was haunting you; aware of that or not, you weren't sure. the only thing that you were absolutely positive about was the fuzzy, butterfly-like feeling in your stomach. you didn't know much about him, right, but is having a silly little crush so bad? not like you were harming anyone.

too bad, you actually were causing harm. to yourself. you were debating; the urge to contact him anyhow so strong it was barely manageable. having a few popular friends had its benefits; one of them recognised him from your depiction and gave you his name. but what would he think of you then? "hi, i saw you one day and was absolutely mesmerised. i was wondering if you maybe wanna go out one day?" wasn't a good idea. in this situation, nothing seemed like a good idea. with your heart desperately aching, you decided to give up on your little crush and live as if nothing has happened. if only you could stay true to your own words...

saturday came. your friends, concerned about your lack of social activites, invited you out to grab a drink and have fun. sure, what could go wrong? it's not like you're an irresponsible drinker. you never did anything questionable while drunk, and you never got yourself into a barely conscious state - so why this time anything would be different? well...

you all got, let's say, a bit TOO drunk. and what did you do? you texted him. you texted him, the mesmerising, your ideal of a man, one-of-a-kind - tartaglia. what's even worse, you texted him that you love him. and it wasn't just one message; there were dozens of them, talking how pretty he was in your eyes and how you absolutely fell in love back then when you saw him. and to your surprise, he replied. and he was chill about the whole ordeal.

and that's how most of your saturday went - chatting with scaramouche, you confessing love to him, childe taking it all surprisingly gentle and in a soft manner. you definitely wasn't expecting that. he seemed so... disconnected? from the outside world when you first saw him. nonetheless, you were glad that he reacted this way. but looking back on this day, one could wish that he simply ignored the messages.

sunday. you spent the whole day laying in your bed, contemplating death and your own existence. you were, quite obviously embarrassed, and ashamed, but there's nothing that you can do now. just... live on. maybe forget that you even did anything, gaslight yourself. but the guilt was eating you up, not leaving any room for sane and mature solutions. pretending none of this happened it was, then. but who could've guessed that the things will take this turn?

while you were enjoying your evening tea, your friend texted you, talking about childe. your mood suddenly bitter, not being ready to continue on topic which was making you feel ashamed and wishing you were dead. she pleaded you to ask ajax about some guy, which he supposedly knew. you can't just leave your close friend in the dark. so you messaged him, apologising for the whole situation, explaining you weren't sober, and asking about another mysterious fella. and that's how your real first conversation started - him talking some deep, dark shit and blaming himself for whatever happened with the one and only, mcgee.

next days were even better - it seemed like a regular relationship between the two of you. just like a pair of acquaintances. maybe you were a tad closer than regular acquaintances, but you couldn't call the two of you anything else. after all, technically, you still were strangers. that didn't stop any of you with unfolding tiny bits of your darkest secrets, most depressing situations and current problems. you found comfort in your little mr.perfect - and you couldn't believe it. how did this all happen? did he really not care about your whole love confessions? maybe it was for the better. but the more you think about it, you are getting sure that maybe he should've just shunned you and told you that you're creepy. would be better for you.

and he was so nice; always ready to talk, almost as if he was ready for anything you'd prepare for him. comforting you, reassuring you, doing everything he could to just make you feel better. your long talks at night were something you started to look forward to everyday. your little crush didn't disappear at all - quite the opposite. you found yourself getting even more smitten. that was, until that one particular conversation.

sunday, a few weeks later after the start of your weirdly blossoming friendship. it was now common for you to get a little flirty with him, childe didn't mind that at all. he didn't always reciprocate, but he sure was happy to receive all your attention. so, when this particular night you decided to ask him if he's a tough one to get, you definitely didn't expect that answer. and maybe you should've - it was all too perfect anyway.

his reply was crushing you from the inside, making you want to just bawl your eyes out and cut your ears off. "hmm, probably. as of now, i sure am, since i already love someone, sorry." he was still in love with his ex. and how could you pretend that everything was fine? you already knew that it will leave a permanent mark on your relationship. you tried your best to pretend that it didn't phase you, but ajax was quick to catch up - noticing your odd behaviour, perfectly pointing out that you started to act like that after he told you those painful words. you didn't want to leave him, not yet, you still thought you had a chance - so you reassured him that it's not about him.

monday was full of tears. you just couldn't stop crying; it all being too painful to bear with. even with the support coming from all your friends, you weren't able to pick up the pieces of your poor, shattered heart. and yet you still had to pretend that everything it fine between you two. as if he didn't break your heart. but he did, although it was not tartaglia's fault. nor yours. but it was oh-so-cruel, to know that he loves someone, and this particular someone being your complete opposite. life is cruel - always has been, but you thought you suffered enough to get some happiness now.

so you pretended. you tried your best to not distance yourself so childe won't suspect anything, and although it was hard - you managed. as painful as it was, it wasn't your concern anymore. that's what you've been trying to tell yourself, repeating it over and over in that monotonous voice. after some time it really did get better; even though you still felt the 'scar' of it all happening, it didn't ruin your relationship with tartaglia. for now.

you showed great concern about him; even though he didn't reciprocate your silly feelings, you still wanted the best for him. how could you not? being bitter and pessimistic wouldn't help you heal, and this way you can be at peace with yourself and with childe. but nothing lasts forever, right? small group of your besties, your girlfriends, decided to go out, without drinking this time. encouraging you to invite ajax. no wonder you were a bit hesitant at first, but after some coercing you agreed. he and your friends were fine with this, but you? the amount of doubts you had was enormous.

could you really look him in the eyes again? without all the pain and hurt piling up again? you didn't want to suffer again, but avoiding the situation would be even worse. so there you were, on a thursday afternoon, sitting outdoors with your group, childe and his friend zhongli. and that's when you realised you actually couldn't look at him without feeling awkward and uneasy. you tried to avoid every possible conversation, while keeping the atmosphere friendly. it was hard, but manageable. but what hurt the most?

the way he was touchy with a few of your friends. they were intoxicated, obviously not sure of what they were doing, but the image of ajax sharing a beer, cigarette and doing fun little pics with your friends was engraved in your head. and back then, while you were still laughing at the unfunny joke zhongli has said, you decided that it was the last one of your meetings. there is no need to torture oneself.

so you tried to distance yourself. but it was hard, with him and his bubbly personality all over you. he never gave this much effort, you thought. and too bad he woke up too late, when you already made up your mind to leave all of this behind and move on. but he was holding you; captive. like a prisoner. like a pair of shackles. not letting you go for even a second. so you stayed.

until he suddenly gave up on you. he got distant, too, but all too sudden. all to quick. like he got influenced. you didn't understand any of it; you decided to put your pain aside for him, and now he had fun and runs away? you're not gonna chase him like a dog again, are you?

no, you're not going to. it was sad; all that which happened, but you can't do whatever you please. maybe the gods in teyvat had a different plan for you. maybe you said 'i love you' too fast? maybe this, maybe that... honestly, you just expected more of him. because how can you get so indifferent, so angry at someone who gave you this much warm and was about to never leave your side? you kept it decent, sane, peaceful. maybe this whole peaceful life - maybe that's not him?

whatever was the reason, you just decided that holding ajax inside of your head, inside of your memory as a warning will serve it's purpose. salvaging isn't always the right thing to do - sometimes it's better to just let some things go. you may say this milion times, yet you know that you can't let go.

he became a part of your life; a part of you. even if you don't know him for ages, even if he may appear and disappear any second, you know damn well that he will be present. you will look for him everywhere now - everytime you will meet someone new, you'll see a trait similar to childe's, and hell will arise.

you don't want to throw all your life away just because of some sort of failed situationship. you cannot let yourself go down rabbit hole and lose yourself once again. the thing is, no matter how many times you will convince yourself this, you will always see his face in the window and he will be stuck on your skin; just like a tattoo, a scar.

but this one cannot be erased.

[cherry-dr0p]

I WISH TO RAMBLE!! IM NOT GONNA INCLUDE IMAGES BECAUSE I DONT WANNA BUT HERE WE GO

HUGE TWF4 SPOILERS

I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY!!!

Im not gonna lie, the start kinda had me like "This is what I waited ages for?" But then when the animatronic testing came around, thats when my interest truly started to pick up.

First of all, WHY WOULD YOU TGINK THAT FACIAL RECOGNITION FOR ANIMATRONICS IS A GOOD IDEA??? GENUINELY DID NO ONE HAVE THE COMMON SEMSE TO GO "HM, THIS MAY END NOT GOOD". Like I kind of understand the appeal for it because they may want the kids to feel,, more connected to the animatronics?? I dunno. But like?? I can understand for that time period the desire to have the animatronics interact with the audience (Not saying its a good idea but at least I can understand with this one why they may think it is in my head), but cmon..

Then from what I remember, the sprites came. And Good god did they creep me out slightly when I first saw them, especially Edd and Molly. I dunno, there was something extra creepy in my eyes seeing kids' faces messed up like that. Crazy. I also screamed when I finally saw "Bon" because Ive been keeping up with the Twitter TWF community somewhat, which means I already technically knew about "Bon". It was pretty cool to have him finally introduced in the actual story himself. Also Charles and Susan talking about Felix's addiction and if they should tell Rosemary and Jack(?) is crazy.

Aaaahhh but then the scene with Jack came around. Was rooting for him ngl. I honestly thought he died at the well scene but I dont see any correlation to that quite yet,, mayhaps. Felix almost jumping did make me feel a tiny bit bad for him bit like,, still. Fuck you Felix. I still hate him and 100% think hes getting what hes deserving. He feels guilty? Good. He should.

I cant remember if the Susan scene comes after this or not but I erm uh,,, That was VERY well done!! It gave me chills how you could still hear her breathe. Genuinely. The blood as well and Rocket closing their eyes?? Crazy. The jittery animation drove me insane, it was such an amazing detail that made things far more uncomfortable.

I cant remember where abouts the other Felix scene came but,, HE DOESNT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH ROCKET. I DUNNO,, DO ANYTHING OTHER THAN TAKE IT WITH YOU?? PUT IT IN YOUR HOME OR RESTAURANT?? WHY DID YOU THINK THAT WAS A GOOD IDEA. I SWEAR, MY GUY HAS NEGATIVE BRAINCELLS... But I also think we all know why he's so attached,, him getting haunted by the kids is wild.

The last scene very much makes me think "Bon" is Jack. I unno, very much could be wrong but just the way he talks and is dressed makes me think he is. The fact that he knows so well of what hes talking about and the voice,, maybe the general face shape too. Me thinks its either Brian(Ive saw that theory floating around) or Jack, but Im more leaning towards Jack. It also freaked me out slightly the way Susan came on all deformed too, that was freaky. The voices of all the characters in this new afterlife were very VERY cool too. And the whole mask being given and "Bon" talking about making her "beautiful" too? That was cool. The scene with Edd and Molly debating whether to save Susan too filled my heart with a weird sort of awe. They have a great relationship as siblings together imo, I do very much love their dynamic.

It'd be cool to see the other two episodes for the finale which I think are coming out very soon!! Which is very exciting!! I 100% reccomend TWF4, it's phenomenal and the wait was 200% worth it in my eyes. You can definitely see the developers heart and soul being put into this project, which is very nice to see. In my eyes, you dont see it often. I dunno if I missed out a scene or two from my rant but overall? I adored watching this (Ive already told some of my friends to watch it >:3).

Rant over anyways, buh bye for now :3